THE ATMOSPHERE within Loyalty Hall was so tense the slightest spark would set it ablaze. Sisheng Peak's disciples stood off against the disciples from the other sects, neither side willing to budge. Like a bow pulled to full draw, either the arrow would fly, or the string would snap.
Taxue Palace's leader, Ming Yuelou, stepped forward out of the crowd. "May I remind everyone that the law is not a living, breathing thing." Her mild, melodious voice broke the strained silence. "In Sisheng Peak's view, with no definite proof that they've created any pawns, the call to dissolve the sect must indeed appear extreme. A suggestion, if I may. Let us confiscate Sisheng Peak's scrolls on forbidden techniques as a precautionary measure, then come to a decision after we've had the chance to properly investigate."
Master Xuanjing shook his head. "Palace Leader Ming, do not let your close relationship with Xue-zhangmen cloud your judgment. Sisheng Peak has already violated a taboo of the cultivation world. What need is there for further investigation?"
"Sisheng Peak is not the only sect to have committed such a violation, Abbot; you know this." Though her voice was pleasant, Ming Yuelou's tone was resolute. "If you wish to press on details, I would remind you of your own sect's Master Huaizui."
"You—!" Xuanjing scowled and shook his sleeves out before regaining his composure. He put his fingers together and said, "A technique used to save lives is not the same as the Zhenlong Chess Formation."
"Is that life-saving technique not one of the three forbidden techniques?"
The one who'd spoken this time was Xue Zhengyong. By now, those close to him were beginning to realize something was wrong. The sect leader's breathing was labored, and his lips were pale; his demeanor was a shadow of his usual confident swagger.
"That is true," Xuanjing reluctantly conceded.
Xue Zhengyong closed his eyes and sighed. After a moment, he opened them to look at Master Xuanjing and said in a hoarse voice, "Then how can the abbot make an exception to the rules just because it's a technique that can save people?"
Xuanjing hesitated, unable to think of a rebuttal. He eventually landed on: "They are two entirely different things."
"What do you mean, two entirely different things?" a disciple of Sisheng Peak burst out in reproach. "The upper cultivation realm has its fair share of those who've studied forbidden techniques, they just weren't successful. If you're going to use this law against us, shouldn't you lead by example and disband your own sects?"
"Wubei Temple has Huaizui and Guyueye has Hua Binan," the Tanlang Elder said darkly. "So why is it only Sisheng Peak that's being called to account? If Jiang-zhangmen wished to shut down Sisheng Peak, why not first announce that you're dissolving Guyueye?"
Hearing their own logic turned against them, the gathered sects felt their consciences pricked. Those who had been loudest earlier were now silent, hoping their own sects wouldn't be dragged in next.
Xue Zhengyong coughed weakly, lashes lowered as he discreetly swiped away the blood he'd coughed into his palm. He looked up and forced a laugh. "Well, it seems no one here is innocent. And I've seen no evidence of the ridiculous claim that Sisheng Peak is creating pawns to—what was it, turn the cultivation world upside down? If I may be so bold: Perhaps it's time for you all to take your leave."
"This…"
The mob, so self-righteous in their efforts to stamp this sect out of existence, had never expected the confrontation to end in such a mortifying stalemate. Their expressions had grown truly ugly.
Jiang Xi had only made the journey here with the other sects because the conclusion seemed inevitable; he'd had no enthusiasm for the endeavor to begin with. On seeing that the mob was vacillating, he closed his eyes and said bluntly, "Let us leave for now."
These words brought no small measure of relief to Xue Zhengyong's heart. He couldn't help sighing, the tension in his spine easing slightly. Yet in the next moment, he felt a stabbing pain. He glanced down: Bloodstains were spreading across the dark blue of his robes at his waist. The injury he'd taken yesterday was much worse than he'd realized; he'd need to get the Tanlang Elder to take a look at it soon…
He'd scarcely finished the thought when the doors crashed open, and a dozen Tianyin Pavilion disciples charged in with swords drawn. Their expressions were icy, and as they flooded into the hall, they shouted in carrying tones, "For shame, Xue Zhengyong! How can you claim Sisheng Peak has never made pawns!"
The mob of cultivators hadn't expected anyone from Tianyin Pavilion, and their heads snapped around in shock. Yet what surprised them more was the line of several dozen plainly dressed commoners meekly following in Tianyin Pavilion's wake. Some of them were familiar faces—village heads from a few of the smaller villages in Sichuan.
"What's happening…" someone asked.
"Didn't you ask for proof?" a senior disciple from Tianyin Pavilion said darkly. "Well, will these witnesses do?"
Another disciple turned to the mob. "Sisheng Peak is a cesspool of evil, and their leader's the worst of them all. They've been treating Sichuan like their own personal hunting grounds these past few years, forcing the commoners they claim to protect into sacrificing their own children to become Zhenlong pawns. Here are the witnesses—what more proof do you need?!"
Xue Zhengyong leapt to his feet, eyes sparking with fury, and choked through the blood in his throat, "What nonsense!"
"You say it's nonsense, I say otherwise. Ask them yourself and see."
The villagers, clustered together like a group of startled ducks, shrank into themselves, all staring at their feet. None dared to be the first to speak.
"Village Chief Liu?" blurted Xue Meng, his keen eyes spotting a familiar face in the crowd.
Chief Liu shivered violently, darting a quick sideways glance at Xue Meng before skimming off like a slippery fish.
"What are you doing here?" Xue Meng was pitifully naïve when it came to certain things; he still hadn't realized what was happening.
"I…" Chief Liu swallowed thickly, his withered fingers twisting anxiously in his sleeves. He kept his gaze fixed on the floor, shuffling awkwardly in place.
"Speak the truth," a Tianyin Pavilion disciple ordered him. "Tianyin Pavilion will tolerate no lies."
Another shiver wracked Chief Liu, and he dropped to his knees, kowtowing frantically on the floor. "I…I'll talk, I'll talk! Over the years, Sisheng Peak has pretended to perform exorcisms for free, but in truth, they—they've been forcing us to give over our children to them as payment…"
"Bullshit!" Xue Zhengyong roared, slapping the table.
"Continue." The voice of the Tianyin Pavilion disciple overrode his outburst. "What did they want your children for?"
"I…I don't know…" An oily sheen of sweat gleamed on the village chief's brow as he swallowed again, still shivering. "They said they'd teach them cultivation, but we never saw them again. Xiao-Huzi, Xiao-Shitou… They never came back home."
The Tianyin Pavilion disciple turned to the group from Sisheng Peak.
"Are there any children with these names among your number?"
There was no response—how could there be?
Xue Meng's blood boiled with fury. Xiao-Huzi, Xiao-Shitou… By the time he'd reached this man's village to save it, those children had long been eaten by the demons attacking the villagers. "Liar!" Bile rose in Xue Meng's throat as he shouted, so enraged he felt ill with it. "This is how you repay our kindness? Have you no conscience?!"
Tears streamed down the village chief's face, but whatever coercive hold Tianyin Pavilion had on him compelled him to continue. "Sisheng Peak is not a good sect… They—they put up a righteous front, but…the truth is…they've done all sorts of—all sorts of awful things in Sichuan…" Snot joined the tears flowing down his face, yet he still didn't dare look up, directing his next words at the ground in a howl: "Sisheng Peak is a scourge on the lower cultivation realm!"
The crowd exploded with chatter. In any other circumstances, cultivators wouldn't give a moment's consideration to the words of common folk. But the mob had come here today with the goal of disbanding Sisheng Peak, and their minds had long been made up. They latched onto this "proof" with a fervor and turned it into fuel for their outrage.
"I knew there was some ulterior motive behind their so-called good deeds!"
"Xue Zhengyong, what do you have to say for yourself now?"
Xue Zhengyong and Xue Meng were stunned, to say nothing of the disciples and elders of Sisheng Peak. It was one thing to face the mob of cultivators who'd joined forces to besiege them—then, they could wave their arms about and decry the injustice, the slander. But it was another thing entirely to be set upon by these village chiefs and commonfolk from Sichuan. These were the same folk who had offered them eggs and flour as a tearful thanks for saving their lives, who had sworn their undying gratitude, who had said they'd never be able to thank them enough.
These traitorous wolves had personally driven the knife into their loyal hearts. It hurt. Like falling through a hole in the ice into the freezing water beneath, the shock was so painful it numbed them to the core.
More villagers came forward, one after another. The first had eyes that at least held traces of regret, and the second stepped out on trembling legs. The third, though, was able to meet the gazes of the cultivators. The fourth spoke with righteous conviction. By the fifth, the speaker was comfortable adding embellishment to the others' tales.
They were like a flock of wild geese: They merely needed one bird to take the lead, and the rest would follow. Enough voices singing the same tune could turn fiction into fact, and as witness after witness came forward, they grew increasingly impassioned, increasingly convinced of their own rightness.
Although Xue Meng's blood ran cold, he couldn't help curling his lip in a sneer. He'd once believed everyone had a backbone, a line they wouldn't cross. He'd never expected so many could stomach the taste of manure to save their own skins.
"That's right, it's that what's-it-called chess piece…" The speaker was the matchmaker from Jia Village. She hastened to add, "They made us give up our children to them in exchange for their help clearing out demons. Sisheng Peak doesn't seek wealth, all they want is children—this is something everybody in the lower cultivation realm knows."
Jiang Xi knit his brows. "If that's so, why seek their help at all?"
"We had no choice." The matchmaker wiped at her eyes with a pink handkerchief. "We're too poor to afford help from the upper cultivation realm. We had no choice but to send over our little ones. They said the children would learn cultivation at Sisheng Peak, but everyone knew…" She sobbed. "We all knew we'd never see those poor children alive ever again."
She thumped her chest and wailed in agony.
"That's right, Sisheng Peak takes payment in people, not coin," a scholar chimed in. "We had to survive, didn't we? So we could only grieve in private. But thank goodness the heavens have eyes and revealed their true nature. Now Sisheng Peak's evil deeds have finally caught up to them! Honored cultivators, please bring justice to the commoners of the lower cultivation realm!"
"Fear not!" Someone from Jiangdong Hall leapt to the call. "The upper cultivation realm is upright and honorable. All of us here today are from respectable, prestigious sects with long histories. Justice will be served."
The villagers who'd come forward as witnesses began weeping in gratitude, stepping up one after another to sob their grievances against Sisheng Peak's evil deeds. All of them knew that once they'd spoken, there was no turning back. If Sisheng Peak didn't fall today, a reckoning awaited them.
In that moment, it was as if the hall was filled not with people but with circling, scavenging ghosts, opening their bloody maws to gnaw at the weathered pillars supporting the roof, to tear at the simple hangings on the walls, to rip through the plaque above the door that bore the words LOYALTY HALL, fallen into disrepair from lack of funds, and tear it into bloody shreds.
"How…" Xue Meng shuddered, his eyes closing against the tears that fell in spite of him. His voice, when the words emerged at last, was hoarse. "How can you say all this?"
Were they blinded by Tianyin Pavilion's prestige? Had they been threatened? How could they say such things? How could they do this?
The matchmaker was still going; scraps of the vitriol flying from her red-painted lips drifted into Xue Meng's ears—"Sisheng Peak secretly made pawns," "they treated human lives like cattle," "stealing our own children from us."
Every word, every sentence, twisted the truth into a nightmarish refrain.
"A scourge on the lower cultivation realm."
"Wolves in sheep's clothing!"
"Chu Wanning and Mo Ran are the worst of the lot. How many innocent lives did they ruin to make all those pawns…"
Hatred gnawed at Xue Meng's bones. His hands trembled with the intensity of it, all rationality crumbling in the face of its venomous touch. "How—how can you say such a thing?! How can you do this!"
Wrath was like a termite, burrowing through the last of his heart's foundations. Xue Meng shoved his dislocated shoulder back into place with a pop and reached for Longcheng. It hissed out of its sheath in a deadly arc—before anyone in the crowd could react, its curved blade was stained with blood.
The matchmaker, spouting off about how Sisheng Peak disciples went around raping young girls, froze mid-word, then lowered her head to look at her own chest. She opened her mouth, but all that emerged was a splatter of blood before she crumpled to the ground, silent at last.
The hall went deathly still.
Yet wasn't it strange—though there were several Tianyin Pavilion members standing near the crowd of villagers, not one of them had lifted a finger to defend the woman. Were they taken by surprise? Or did they not care to help? Nobody knew, and nobody would think further on it now.
All eyes were fixed on Xue Meng. Droplets of blood ran down the curve of Longcheng's blade and dripped onto the floor. One drop, two, until a small crimson puddle pooled at his feet.
The phoenix chick had plummeted into an inescapable abyss.
A scream rang out, splitting the air like a death knell. "M-murder—!"
"Xue Meng killed a witness! He's gone mad!"
Chaos erupted. Who moved first was impossible to tell as hot tempers and old grudges flared past their breaking point, like a bowstring pulled until it snapped. Sisheng Peak members and cultivators from the upper cultivation realm clashed openly in the center of the hall.
Vengeance, fear, prejudice. With so many underlying motives, the scene spun out of control almost immediately. In the middle of these furiously clanging swords, Xue Zhengyong gritted his teeth through the pain of his injury and hollered, "Stop fighting! Put your weapons down!"
But even if those from Sisheng Peak heeded him, those from the upper cultivation realm would not. And so the fighting continued.
Xue Meng's heart had been shattered, ground to dust. The rims of his eyes were red as he swung his scimitar at these ghouls. Ugly sobs wracked his body and tears ran down his face. Perhaps, at this moment, the phoenix chick understood what Mo Ran had felt in his childhood, when he'd used the machete to take the lives of everyone at the House of Drunken Jade. There was despair, revulsion, and self-loathing—yet there was also a sickening thrill. Nothing else mattered anymore; the only thing that could quench the fire of fury consuming his heart was shedding hot blood.
A sword cut in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. The blade shone a lustrous blue, distantly familiar—but Xue Meng was too far gone to recognize it, and only shouted at the man holding it, an ugly disciple in Taxue Palace robes, "Get out of my way!"
"Calm down; stop fighting or it'll be too late."
The voice was familiar as well. Who was it? Xue Meng couldn't place it, but then he didn't care to. Pain and rage churned in his heart. There was only so much a person could endure—past that point, even gods would become demons, and saints become sinners.
A single moment was all it took to change the course of one's life. Xue Meng's eyes flashed with hatred, an endless hatred that had taken root at Tianyin Pavilion and now consumed him with the force of its eruption.
"Fuck off!"
Longcheng and the blue blade screamed as they scraped against each other, but to Xue Meng's surprise, the ugly man was his match, meeting him swing for swing. His eyes, the green of jade, were pinned on Xue Meng's face. "If you don't calm down, you'll make things worse for Sisheng Peak."
"What the fuck do you know! Mind your own damn business!"
Each swing of his scimitar was more frantic than the last, yet every one was blocked by the unyielding blue blade. Green eyes met black. That gaze was so familiar… Who…
"Ziming, stop."
The low voice resounded in his ears. It wasn't an impassioned plea by any means, but there was a discernible trace of anxiety and sorrow in its deep tones.
A bolt of clarity cleaved through the chaos of Xue Meng's mind, and he halted his offensive, chest heaving. He was covered in blood, his hair a bedraggled mess as he pinned that ugly stranger with a furious glare. "You…" Yet before he could continue, a chill ran up his spine.
Xue Meng spun around, raising Longcheng to block too late—with a spray of blood, a blade bit deep into his arm, revealing the white of bone.
"Meng-er!"
At the sight of his beloved son injured, Xue Zhengyong rushed down the stairs to aid him.
The dozen or so Tianyin Pavilion members were Mu Yanli's right-hand men, willing to lay down their lives for their leader. Seeing Xue Zhengyong start forward, their eyes flashed, and they flew at Xue Meng. Any one of them would've been more than a match for an elder from Sisheng Peak, but they circled around the injured Xue Meng like a pack of wolves, intent on taking his life.
"Meng-er… Meng-er!"
But Xue Zhengyong was too far away. As he waded through the melee, more and more people rushed toward him, surrounding him and blocking his path. Desperate to protect his son, he let the blows fall on top of the injuries he'd already suffered, blood soaking his robes.
Gritting his teeth, Xue Meng brandished his scimitar, driving back two attackers with one slash. But the gash on his arm was bleeding heavily, and his entire arm shook. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of something red—
"Look out!"
The very jade-eyed man who'd faced off with him earlier blocked the spell meant for Xue Meng.
A Tianyin Pavilion member narrowed his eyes. "Taxue Palace is defecting? Planning to side with Sisheng Peak?"
The jade-eyed man didn't answer, his blade reflecting a frosty light as he turned to the pale Xue Meng. Ignoring his vicious glare, he said, "Go to Uncle. Now."
"I…" Xue Meng pressed a hand over the gash on his arm, blood seeping through his fingers. The wound was so deep that the pale bone beneath the flesh and muscle was exposed, and his whole arm was soaked in hot blood. His lips moved, but nothing came out.
His gaze swept over the crowd, looking for Xue Zhengyong. When he found him, what little color remained in his face drained away. He staggered toward his father, heedless of the danger. "Dad!"
Eyes flashing, Xue Zhengyong surged forward again, raising an arm to block an attack from behind him with his bracer. With a twist of his wrist, he sent his assailant flying backward.
Xue Meng huffed an explosive sigh of relief, then rushed to his father's side, ignoring the fighting around him. "Dad…" When he reached him, he grasped Xue Zhengyong's arm, knuckles white, and said, relieved and agonized, "You're okay… I'm so glad—you're okay…"
In truth, Xue Zhengyong's last block had torn open another old injury. His torso was bleeding afresh, but his robes were already dark with blood; Xue Meng couldn't see it. He gripped his father's hand. "Dad, they need to pay. I won't let any of these people make it out of here alive, I—"
Hacking coughs cut him short. Xue Meng stared as Xue Zhengyong dropped to his knees on the floor, choking out a mouthful of blood.
"Dad…?" The phoenix chick could only look on in a daze. Never had he seen his father so badly injured, and his brain struggled to process the sight. "Dad, what's wrong? You—"
Xue Zhengyong's bloodied mouth opened and closed as he grabbed Xue Meng's arm, the hoarse words coming only after a delay. "Stop this."
"What…?"
Xue Zhengyong's eyes were fixed on Xue Meng's face, but at the edges of his vision, he could see the chaos swirling around them. Was this violence something he wanted? The air was filled with screams and shouts. Crimson blood splashed onto the floor, mingled with the white of brain matter. The mastermind behind these tragedies had yet to be found, but already the sects had turned on each other.
"Sisheng Peak has to stop fighting," Xue Zhengyong said.
"But they—"
"And fighting here is going to help how?" Xue Zhengyong's ashen face was weighed down by defeat. "We have no choice. Either the sect gets dissolved, or it gets wiped out."
Xue Meng couldn't reply; his eyes were red-rimmed, and his hands trembled down to the tips of his fingers.
"Go on…" Xue Zhengyong gently pushed him forward.
Tears spilled down Xue Meng's face, but he stumbled to his feet to stand in front of his father before shouting the order: "Everyone, stop fighting! Put your weapons down!"