Chapter 204.5: My Mother Likes the Sword Pavilion Patriarch
Chen Huaiâanâs two consecutive strikes didnât just terrify Zhang Tinghai.
The surrounding sects that had gathered to watch the spectacle were also shaken.
For those like Lingxi Valley, the Pill Sect, and the Zen Sectâsects that had participated in the demon purgeâthey werenât too surprised. They had already heard rumors of the Sword Pavilionâs newly returned ancestor, a man of unparalleled strength.
As for his actual cultivation realm? That was still up for debate.
Some claimed he was in the Fusion Realm, others said Fusion Perfection, and some even suspected the Void Refinement Stage. But one thing was certainâno one in their right mind believed this Sword Pavilion Patriarch was weaker than the Fusion Realm.
After all, he was merely an incarnation standing there.
If he chose to show his full strength, that would depend entirely on his mood.
"Patriarch, isnât the Sword Pavilion being a little too aggressive? The Shaoyang Sect is still a major sect, yet theyâre given no face at allâitâs just a Dao Inquiry PlatformâŠ"
Daoist Qingxuan trailed off mid-sentence.
Because he saw his mother gazing at the Sword Pavilionâs war chariot.
Through the layers of clouds, her longing gaze practically radiated from the pavilion.
A bad feeling welled up in his heart.
Thinking back to her recent odd behaviorâŠ
He arrived at a ridiculous conclusion.
âHis mother had fallen for the Sword Pavilion Patriarch?!
"Qingxuan, what did you just say?"
Daoist Qingxuan swallowed hard, glancing at his mother before forcing out, "N-Nothing⊠I was just saying that the Shaoyang Sect has no shame for stealing the Sword Pavilionâs platform."
"Indeed." Rong Qingyun let out a cold snort. "From now on, our sect will not sell them any pills or magical tools. No disciples of Qingyun Sect are permitted to associate with the Shaoyang Sect. If I find anyone disobeying, they will be expelled!"
Daoist Qingxuan: "âŠ"
It was over.
This all but confirmed it.
His mother was smitten.
He clenched his fists as he stared at Chen Huaiâanâs back, filled with resentment and helplessness.
He had imagined countless reasons for his motherâs sudden change in attitude toward the Sword Pavilionâbut never in his wildest dreams had he considered⊠that his own family had been stolen!
Meanwhile, on the Qingyun Sectâs flying vesselâ
Lu Changtianâs gaze locked onto the ethereal figure beside the Sword Pavilion Patriarch.
He wasnât the only one watching.
The disciples of Chixiao Peak were also staring.
"Thatâs Junior Sister Qingran?" Lu Changtian murmured.
She had changed.
So much so that even he found her unfamiliar.
It was as if a delicate ink painting had been cut from old parchmentâonly to be suddenly filled with color.
The girl who once stood at the end of the corridor, lowering her head to adjust her skirtâ
Had now become a lively young doe, adorned with golden bells, stepping lightly through the spring breeze.
He remembered how Li Qingran used to smileâher gaze always carrying a hint of hesitance, like the reflection of moonlight trembling over thin ice in early spring.
Serving tea to Daoist Qingxuan, she would force a polite smile.
Being scolded by the elders, she would bow her head in helplessness.
Even when seeking him out for sword guidance, she had been cautious, always carrying a touch of unease.
But now?
The girl standing beside the Sword Pavilion Patriarch smiled gently, her brows dusted with the glow of dusk.
Even her eyelashes shimmered in the honeyed light.
The hem of her pale moon-colored dress revealed lotus-embroidered shoes adorned with silver bells, chiming merrily with every step.
The once pallid wrist that had always been hidden beneath faded sleevesâ
Now bore delicate golden-threaded bangles, shimmering as she wiped down the Blackscale Swordâs scabbard.
The red silk cords wrapped around her wrists and anklesâsymbols of longing for love.
Had she really started wearing these things?
And for whom?
Lu Changtianâs gaze instinctively fell on Chen Huaiâan.
That was the Sword Pavilion Patriarch⊠It couldnât be him, could it?
But this Sword Pavilion Patriarch had somehow maintained a youthful appearance. His sharp, dignified features made Lu Changtian suddenly feel like Qingyun Sectâs so-called "most handsome disciple" was a complete joke.
Not to mention, the other men from the Sword PavilionâXu An, Duan Fengâthey were all striking in their own way.
The more Lu Changtian thought about it, the more his mind spun.
Beside him, a few junior disciples whispered in confusion.
Xiao Yifeng shook his head. "Li Qingran seems to be living quite well in the Sword Pavilion⊠Werenât we told the Sword Pavilion was struggling?"
"Tch, sheâs just obsessed with dressing up now. Not focusing on cultivation," Yun Zimo scoffed, gripping his sword hilt tightly, his tone laced with bitterness.
Zhang Hanxiao rubbed his eyes in disbelief. "She looks⊠She looks even prettier than Junior Sister Mu BaishuangâŠ"
"Shut your mouths!"
Lu Changtianâs gaze sharpened as he turned toward them.
"Enough of this gossiping! She is no longer a disciple of Qingyun Sect, let alone Chixiao Peak! She belongs to the Sword Pavilion now!"
"Zhang Hanxiao, comparing her to Junior Sister Baishuang? Thatâs an insult! How do you think Junior Sister Baishuang would feel if she heard that?"
"Senior Brother is right." Zhang Hanxiao shrank back, forcing an awkward smile.
Lately, Mu Baishuang had been distant.
At first, they tried to approach her, but after being ignored enough times, they eventually lost interest.
"Speaking of which, where
is
Junior Sister?" Yun Zimo scanned the area but found no sign of Mu Baishuang. He turned to ask Daoist Qingxuan.
Daoist Qingxuan, still brooding over his
stolen
mother, was in no mood for their nonsense.
Irritated, he snapped, "The secret realmâs gate is about to open, and the three great holy lands are about to appearâyet youâre still fussing about your âJunior Sisterâ nonsense? Have some damn ambition!"
"Mu Baishuangâs a grown woman. Sheâs not a lost child. Sheâs not entering the secret realm anyway, so she probably went off to some mortal city to pass the time. You can look for her
after
you come out of the secret realm."
Lu Changtian and the others didnât dare argue and kept their concerns to themselves, waiting for the secret realm to open.
Meanwhile, on the Sword Pavilionâs war chariotâ
After losing his arm, Zhang Tinghai no longer had the courage to provoke the Sword Pavilion.
Not a chance.
That old monster from the Sword Pavilion hadnât even drawn his sword and had already severed his limb.
If he actually
unsheathed
that blade, wouldnât he just cleave him in half?!
With no choice but to endure the humiliation, Zhang Tinghai slinked away, leading his disciples deep into the Ten Thousand Mountains.
But the dark glances he kept throwing toward the Sword Pavilionâs war chariotâŠ
Clearly, he wasnât letting this grudge go.
Deep within the Ten Thousand Mountainsâ
Inside a hidden formation.
Mu Baishuang placed a tombstone before the cave where the Demon Heir used to cultivate.
She knelt among the shattered rocks, her fingers tracing the blood-red inscriptionâ"Grave of the Demon Heir."
Tears splashed onto the still-wet bloodstains.
"You always said that blood should only be spilled on the battlefield to restore the Demon Sectâs glory."
A cold, hollow laugh escaped her lips.
Her bloodstained nails dug into her palms, crimson seeping into the carved name.
"But
my
bloodâ"
"Will soak the entire Sword Pavilion!"
A cursed talisman in her sleeve smoldered, its edges curling with dark flames.
Nine Nether Demonic Qi coiled around the silver bells in her hair.
As the last strands of her severed hair drifted to the tombstone, the cave behind her echoed with the wails of ten thousand ghosts.
Slowly, she turned.
Bowing deeply, she addressed the elderly nun standing behind her.
"Senior⊠please, perform the ritual."
Lingpo, the old nun, gazed at the overwhelming hatred in Mu Baishuangâs eyesâ
And beneath it, an untraceable flicker of delight gleamed in her own.
"You understand that by using this technique, you will be offering your soul to the Nine Hells? There will be no turning back. Certain death awaits you."
"It matters not."
"The Heir is dead⊠so I shall die too."
"Very well." The old nunâs voice was steady.
"But rememberâ"
"That Sword Pavilion Patriarch is a formidable foe. And he is merely an incarnation. I advise you to strike when the secret realm is closingâwhen the chaos may grant you a chance."
"Yes. I will remember."