Chapter 73: A Conspiracy? A Broken Heart?

This reason was, after all, plausible enough. Upon reflection, it made sense—he had come here in search of his junior disciples, and as for the martial world of the Central Plains, it had little to do with the Western Regions from which he hailed. Matters such as the so-called Demonic Sect or the death of the Lord of Cold Mountain Valley were, in his eyes, trivial and inconsequential. Naturally, Qiu Wan’er had no intention of forcing him to stay. Though the crowd was dense and tightly packed, it was not impossible for a single person to slip through. With a deft shift of her slender body, first to the left and then to the right, the young girl soon vanished from Zhuo La Weiyang’s sight.

On the stage, the voice continued. Though Shen Wansan’s face was shrouded in grief, he had no intention of stopping. The death of Dongfang Mingyue was, to him, merely an opening gambit. In light of the scene before him, he needed to play his part to perfection. The very structure of the Martial Assembly depended upon the unifying principle of a common enemy. If the earlier examples he cited had not been enough to rally everyone’s hearts in a single direction, then now, the news of Dongfang Mingyue’s death would certainly serve as a powerful jolt: “The Blue Lotus Sect has come for revenge, but what right have they to speak of vengeance? A demonic cult responsible for countless deaths should only be despised by all honorable people. I only blame myself for not discovering these remnants sooner, for not eradicating them root and branch, and so Brother Dongfang has fallen victim to their evil. This time, we must unite as one, protect ourselves, protect those we hold dear, and never allow such tragedy to happen again!”

“Protect ourselves, protect those we hold dear!” No sooner had Shen Wansan’s words fallen than several disciples of Bright Moon Manor, scattered throughout the crowd, echoed the call. Of course, people by nature tend to follow the lead of others. At this moment, it hardly mattered who was the first to cry out. Almost immediately, nearly everyone found themselves shouting the same words, their voices swelling and surging until they filled the entire square. In that instant, all seemed seized by a newfound sense of heroic purpose, their shouts growing ever more fervent. The sound rolled forth in mighty waves, its grandeur surpassing even the roaring waters of the Xiang River. Though Zhuo La Weiyang was considered a person of some importance in the remote lands of Western Kunlun, even there, the population was sparse and gatherings seldom rivaled the spectacle before him—let alone a display of such unified passion. Standing amid the throng, he was utterly overwhelmed, so astonished that for a moment he could not find words.

For Shen Wansan, however, this was precisely the desired effect. All he needed was to incite the hatred of the martial world towards the Blue Lotus Sect. Whether the Blue Lotus Sect or Shui Linglong truly existed was, in truth, not especially important. Even the death of Dongfang Mingyue was merely a pretext. His real ambition was to become the so-called Leader of the Martial World. Surveying the entire realm, his chief rivals were, of course, the Lord of Cold Mountain Valley and the Master of Qilian Mountain Manor. Shao Changchun of the Eastern Flower Sect, though capable and well-regarded in recent years, was still young; his reputation and abilities were far behind those of Shen Wansan and thus posed little threat. Only Daoist Tianji, Daotianfeng, and the late Lord of Cold Mountain Valley, Dongfang Mingyue, were worthy of concern. Between these two, Daotianfeng bore a blood feud with the Blue Lotus Sect over his wife's death, and the presence of such hatred made even the strongest of men vulnerable. No matter how great his skills, he would inevitably be weakened by this enmity. Moreover, for the moment, Shen Wansan still had use for Daotianfeng, and it was not yet time to move against him.

Thinking this, his gaze drifted unconsciously to Xiao Jinghao. This lofty prince of the imperial court now looked upon the scene before the stage with an air of calm detachment, seemingly unmoved by recent events. In this, he resembled Zhuo La Weiyang, though there were subtle differences between the two. Zhuo La Weiyang was indifferent because he felt uninvolved; Xiao Jinghao, on the other hand, concealed his intentions beneath a deeper reserve. A man determined to achieve great things would naturally calculate every step with utmost precision, never acting rashly without absolute certainty. For in matters of great consequence, any misstep could carry an enormous price—indeed, it could mean life or death—and so carelessness was not permitted. The present circumstances were unfolding just as he had arranged; since he had anticipated such a scene, he felt little. His expression was simply the most honest reflection of his heart—there was not even any need to mask it.

Even so, he nodded slightly to Shen Wansan, indicating his approval. Given the current momentum, persuading the people of the martial world to select a new leader should meet with little resistance. For Shen Wansan, his goal was already half-accomplished. Once he forced Daoist Tianji out of contention, the position of Martial Alliance Leader would be his for the taking. At this thought, a faint smile played about Shen Wansan’s lips. He knew he still held his most crucial piece in reserve. He had planned and arranged for this moment for a long time, and now the time had come to let that piece play its role. Once it was revealed, Daotianfeng would have no chance to challenge him for the leadership. As for Xiao Jinghao, his aims were even more straightforward: so long as Shen Wansan became Alliance Leader and remained beholden to him, the entire martial world could be wielded as a tool at his pleasure. In truth, he would be the greatest winner in this game.

Of course, Daotianfeng himself was still in the dark. His heart was now filled with rage, partly due to the news of Dongfang Mingyue’s death, which he found hard to accept, and partly because he could not believe the Blue Lotus Sect no longer existed. Sixteen years was a long time—long enough to change many things, long enough for his own heart to grow indifferent to fame and power. Yet it was not long enough to erase his hatred. Love and hate are, after all, the deepest of human emotions. Thus, his steps were swift and urgent, with no sign of slowing. He knew well the location of the main hall of Bright Moon Manor and needed no guide. Despite his age, when he moved at full speed, even a young man like Han Tanyi struggled to keep up.

Bright Moon Manor was the largest sect in the martial world, and its main hall was the symbol of the entire sect—its construction was anything but simple. Not only were the red brick walls and grand draperies imposing, but the eaves and carved beams were exceptionally exquisite. Compared with the mansions of wealthy families, it was far more stately; even among the homes of high officials and nobles, it would not be out of place. Most remarkable were the two massive stone lions flanking the gate—one on each side, their eyes glaring fiercely, exuding an aura of might and kingship. At this moment, few guarded the great hall. After all, with the Martial Assembly underway, everyone had long since been assigned their duties, so even a handful of sentries was not easily spared. That Dongfang Mingyue’s body had been placed here was a testament to Shen Wansan’s attitude, and on this point, Daotianfeng found nothing to reproach.

Having reached this place, the light from within the great hall could be glimpsed indistinctly. The old man’s steps slowed noticeably—if before he had been driven by anger or urgency, now a sense of dread and sorrow weighed upon him. To meet an old friend again should have been a joyful occasion, but under such circumstances, it was only awkward and painful. With every step, he felt himself trembling, as if he had suddenly aged. Han Tanyi followed closely behind. Having never witnessed death before, the impact was not as profound for him as for the elder, but even so, Daotianfeng’s demeanor filled his heart with a rising sense of sadness. He had never seen his master like this before; to him, his master was always vigorous and robust, his age never a matter of concern. But now, this feeling of frailty appeared suddenly, and Han Tanyi struggled to accept it. Without conscious thought, he hurried forward, reaching out to steady the Daoist, softly saying, “Master, please be careful.”

Daoist Tianji did not resist. He simply leaned slightly against Han Tanyi, his face etched with sorrow but with a trace of comfort as well. The grief was for the loss of an old friend; the comfort, for Han Tanyi’s care. Though the youth was nominally only his disciple, in their eyes, their bond was little different from that of father and son. In the end, nothing else truly mattered—this alone was enough, was it not?