After the fifth-grade grandmaster he had possessed died, Ning Songjun immediately left Sword Pavilion in his true body and hurried toward the site.
The convoy of Shilin and Ning Caiyong was much closer than Sword Pavilion, almost an entire route nearer, but with Ning Songjun's cultivation, he easily erased that distance.
Gu Fangchen had just arrived; Ning Songjun followed right on his heels.
After crossing swords with Gu Fangchen, Ning Songjun instantly determined that this person was absolutely not his nephew. Even if the original nephew had still been alive, the one before him was clearly an impostor.
Someone pretending to be Gu Fangchen, even bringing up Ning Caiyong's name, this person clearly had ill intent toward his elder sister.
He had rushed here in fury, and what he saw was Gu Fangchen raising his hand, that hand resting at Ning Caiyong's neck.
He didn't hesitate. He drew his sword and struck.
But Gu Fangchen had already been wary of him. Standing close beside Ning Caiyong, even clutching her hand, he forced Ning Songjun, the ultimate sister-complex, to hesitate for the briefest moment, in that instant running through his mind for a way to kill Gu Fangchen that would not splatter blood on his elder sister.
And that single breath of hesitation was all Gu Fangchen needed to shout,
Gu Fangchen activated the skill Complaint.
The effect was overwhelming.
Ning Caiyong froze, then her expression changed. She stretched her arm out to shield Gu Fangchen behind her and scolded,
"Ah Song, what are you doing?"
Ning Songjun's icy expression faltered. The killing intent in his eyes scattered, though the sword in his hand still pointed at Gu Fangchen.
He forced himself to keep his face composed and said coldly,
"Please step aside, Elder Sister. This person is not Gu Fangchen, but an impostor who means you harm.
Let me kill him, and then I will find your good-for-nothing nephew's whereabouts for you!"
Ning Songjun wasn't at all concerned about whether he could kill Gu Fangchen.
At such close range, if he couldn't finish the job in one strike, he didn't deserve the title Sword Saint.
Even if Gu Fangchen possessed that bizarre instant-kill method, Ning Songjun had already discerned that it most likely required the blood of both parties to activate.
As things stood, Gu Fangchen could not possibly obtain his blood.
He would not give him the chance to cast that art again.
Ning Songjun spoke with conviction, and Ning Caiyong frowned, her heart filled with uncertainty.
After all, this was the younger brother she had watched grow up. She knew better than anyone his strength and character,
He was like his sword: pure, direct, and unwavering. Whatever he said was true. He had never once deceived her.
When they were children, he once secretly went down the mountain to buy her a gift for her birthday, wanting to surprise her. But in his nervous excitement, he got caught by Ning Caiyong's questioning.
He couldn't lie, so he hung his head and handed the gift over, dejected.
Yet even so, Ning Caiyong would never believe Gu Fangchen was a fake.
He had returned safely with Gu Lianqian, and even both the Martial Saint and the Xiyin Attendant hadn't doubted his identity. How could it be a disguise?
So, there must be some other reason why Ning Songjun was so mistaken.
...Hopefully, it wasn't Gu Yuye.
Ning Caiyong's eyes darkened. Looking at her younger brother, she spoke gently,
"Ah Song, did someone tell you something that made you misunderstand Chen'er?"
Ning Songjun shook his head coldly.
"What misunderstanding could I have? It's well-known that my nephew cannot cultivate, and yet this person stands here with the power of a sixth-grade martial cultivator, he even fought a fifth-grade grandmaster without losing ground, killing him in one exchange through calculation, "
He stated firmly, "Could that possibly be Gu Fangchen? He is absolutely not him!"
In truth, Ning Songjun was already being lenient.
Setting aside cultivation, Gu Fangchen, that fool, didn't even have the mind to pull off such schemes!
It was so obvious. How could he be wrong about this?
Ning Caiyong blinked in surprise, her eyes widening. She turned to look at Gu Fangchen in disbelief.
Just as Ning Songjun thought his sister had finally realized that this was an impostor,
Ning Caiyong spoke with delight and worry,
"Chen'er, you've reached the sixth grade? Did you use some body-harming secret art?"
Ning Songjun: "..."
He knew his elder sister doted on Gu Fangchen, sometimes to the point of absurdity, but surely she couldn't ignore reality this much?
Wake up! Gu Fangchen's meridians and dantian were destroyed. No secret art could ever make him cultivate!
But because her reaction was so unreasonable, Ning Songjun began to sense something strange.
Why didn't Ning Caiyong find it strange that Gu Fangchen could now cultivate, almost as if she already knew?
While Ning Songjun was still suspicious, Gu Fangchen shook his head, shot him a sidelong glance, and pitifully raised his hand.
"Mother, look, he admitted it, it was him who hurt me!
He used the body of a fifth-grade grandmaster to try and kill me. I admit I was in disguise at first, but he already saw through me and still said I wasn't worthy to call him Uncle!"
Ning Caiyong turned toward Ning Songjun, her face finally showing real anger.
"Ah Song, is that true?"
Ning Songjun hesitated, opened his mouth, but in the end, answered honestly,
"It's true."
Ning Caiyong clutched at her chest, her breathing heavy with indignation.
"Ning Songjun!"
The Sword Saint who once cleaved the land with a single stroke now looked like a scolded little brother in an ordinary household. Hearing his full name made him flinch, his face changed, and he instinctively wanted to run.
But Ning Caiyong extended her hand, her voice sharp,
"Come here!"
Ning Songjun still held his sword but obediently walked over, lowering his head.
Ning Caiyong reached out her slender jade-like hand and pinched his ear, scolding angrily,
"So this is how you treat your own nephew? Do you deserve to be his uncle?"
Ning Songjun's face tightened in confusion.
"Elder Sister, aren't you even a little surprised that he can cultivate?"
Off to the side, Ding Xingfeng munched on melon seeds as he watched, clicking his tongue. So this was what it meant for one thing to restrain another.
It was only now that Ning Songjun noticed him, the man who had concealed his presence so perfectly that not even a trace of his aura could be sensed.
His pupils contracted.
"Martial Saint?!"
Ding Xingfeng grinned, tossed aside the melon rind, hopped down, and walked over to Gu Fangchen, patting his shoulder.
"This one, my disciple."
...
Gu Yuye stepped out from Purple Extremity Hall. Above him, the sky was dim and heavy, brewing a violent storm.
As the National Preceptor, Xu Fu could easily alter the weather.
In theory, he could keep all of Huangtian City eternally clear and sunny without effort.
In the past, there had been sycophantic ministers suggesting that, as the center of the nation's fortune, Huangtian City should always remain "bright as the sun at noon," its skies perpetually clear, to manifest imperial grace and let the people bask in royal benevolence.
But Emperor Yong'an had firmly rejected this notion, believing that forcibly altering the weather harmed natural balance and disrupted human harmony.
At the far end of the shadowed corridor of Purple Extremity Hall, several figures slowly approached.
At their head was an elderly man in resplendent robes.
He was thin and hunched, his flesh already shriveled and clinging to his bones. Sparse white hair was tied up and held in place by a golden crown and a jade hairpin.
What had once been a refined, scholarly face was now so ravaged by age that his features were almost unrecognizable, his gaze sharp and venomous.
No matter how luxurious the garments, on that skeletal frame they hung loose and hollow, giving off a faint, ghastly chill.
Two palace attendants at his side bowed respectfully, supporting him carefully as he walked forward.
There was only one person in the Purple Extremity Hall who could command such reverence,
The Crown Prince, Xiao Sheng.
Gu Yuye passed by him, watching the old prince enter the Purple Extremity Hall, his eyes dark and unreadable.
The Heart-Poison Mark, the world's foremost incurable venom.
From the age of three, it had already fused with Gu Fangchen's heart, suppressed only by the Buddhist Flower-Grasping seal, the two locked in balance.
The poison was like a parasite of the bone, inseparably merged with his body, impossible to extract or purge.
And today, the monk who had cast the Flower-Grasping seal upon him years ago, Master Juehui, had finally arrived.