Dahuan lay sprawled on the ground, eyes half-lidded, tail giving an occasional lazy wag. Monkey Gray crouched on his bed, a pair of bright eyes fixed unblinkingly on Zhang Fan, whose face looked drawn and haggard. Zhang Fan shot it a glare and snapped, "What are you looking at?"
Gray naturally had no human words to say to Zhang Fan—it let out two cries, and looking at its monkey face, one could tell that now that its master had been injured, far from showing any concern whatsoever, it actually seemed to be gloating all the more.
Annoyance flickered in Zhang Fan's heart. "Go on," he said impatiently. "Get out of my way!"
The sound of footsteps rang out. Before he had even stepped through the door, Zhang Fan had already heard them, and said with a smile: "Sixth Senior Brother, why are you bringing food so early today?"
His voice cut off abruptly. Tian Buyi's short, stout figure came ambling slowly through the doorway. Zhang Fan was startled — over all these days, Su Ru had told him only to rest and recuperate in peace. His fellow disciples, Tian Ling'er included, had visited him just the once; every other time, it had been none but Du Bishu who came to deliver his three daily meals. It had never once crossed his mind that Tian Buyi would suddenly appear.
He sat dazed on the bed for a moment, then suddenly came to his senses and hastily scrambled to his feet. He had barely climbed out when he moved to perform a deep bow, but Tian Buyi, his mind heavy with troubled thoughts and his expression shifting between shadow and calm, gave a dismissive wave of his hand.
Zhang Fan murmured his assent, rose, and stood to one side, watching as Tian Buyi walked over and settled into a seat at the table. He did not dare to breathe a single breath.
Tian Buyi gave his disciple a look. Judging by the reaction just now, this disciple seemed in no way like a hidden genius of extraordinary gifts—if anything, he appeared even duller than an ordinary person. And yet
Tian Buyi shook his head and sighed. "Qi, come over and sit down."
Zhang Fan was startled once more. Tian Buyi had never shown him so much as a kind expression before, yet today the man had been noticeably warmer toward him — so much so that Zhang Fan could hardly trust his own ears.
Tian Buyi waited a moment, only to see Zhang Fan staring at him with an expression of bewildered uncertainty, as though he had not yet come to his senses. Another surge of irritation rose within him, and he said with mild displeasure: "Do I have to personally invite you to sit down?"
The scolding came with full force and commanding presence. Zhang Fan immediately caught a glimpse of his master's old authority, and to his own surprise, snapped back to his senses at once—sitting down without another word.
Tian Buyi, seeing his expression, was instead brought up short for a moment. He looked at him once more, then let out a wry chuckle and shook his head. "How are you holding up?"
Zhang Fan replied with utmost respect, "In answer to Master's question: since my return from Tong Peak, and thanks to the treatment provided by Master and Mistress, as well as the attentive care of my senior brothers, I have nearly made a full recovery."
Tian Buyi looked at him and said calmly, "More than a month has passed since the Seven Meridians Martial Assembly. It seems you have recovered well enough. I have a few words I wish to ask you now."
Zhang Fan's heart sank. He had a faint, creeping sense that the thing he had always dreaded had finally arrived—yet with it now standing before him, all he could do was say: "Father, please speak."
Tian Buyi said slowly, "That black staff of yours—how did you come by it?"
Zhang Fan's heart skipped a beat. He couldn't help but glance toward Tian Buyi, only to find Tian Buyi already staring straight back at him. Though Tian Buyi's face remained as impassive as ever, his eyes gleamed with a piercing, almost divine light—exuding an authority that needed no anger to command awe.
At that moment, a thousand thoughts raced through his mind, and for a time he found himself utterly unable to speak. Tian Buyi slowly darkened his expression, his face growing unspeakably grim, and said once more in a low, heavy voice: "You!"
Urged by him, Zhang Fan felt sweat beading on his forehead in an instant. Though he was not well-versed in the ways of the world, the incident from years ago in the secluded valley—where the Blood-Devouring Bead and that strange black staff had clashed violently before merging together by some freak accident—was far too bizarre to explain away. What was more, it carried a murderous, sinister aura and possessed the uncanny ability to devour one's vital blood essence. From conversations with his senior brothers over the years, Zhang Fan already knew that such things would never be tolerated by the righteous sects. If Tian Buyi were to learn the truth, the consequences would be too dreadful to imagine.
Besides this, deep within his heart, there remained one matter that had always been a profound taboo — especially since he had learned that the monk Puzhi was one of the Four Divine Monks of Yinsi Temple, and then thought again of the set of mnemonics Puzhi had passed on to him
In that instant, he had already made up his mind — no matter what, nothing about Puzhi must ever come to light, not even the faintest trace of him.
Tian Buyi stared at him.
Zhang Fan, beneath that overbearing gaze, rose to his feet—then knelt back down.
"Master!"
Tian Buyi furrowed his brow, let out a cold snort, and said icily, "."
Zhang Fan bowed his head and said slowly, "That black staff — I came across it by chance several years ago, when I went to the secluded valley behind the mountain together with Senior Martial Sister."
Tian Buyi was momentarily taken aback, then recalled that such a thing had indeed occurred two years prior—Tian Ling'er had inexplicably fallen unconscious while in that secluded valley. Su Ru had gone to investigate but found nothing amiss, and he himself had afterward gone to look, only to confirm the same. The matter had lingered as an unsolved mystery, yet as the days wore on, it had gradually faded from his mind. Now, in hindsight, it was most likely due to this black staff all along.
But a single black staff — with no one driving it — had been enough to render Tian Ling'er unconscious. What manner of deadly and malevolent object was this, and how could Zhang Fan have possibly obtained it, let alone wielded it? The more Tian Buyi turned the thought over in his mind, the heavier his doubts grew. His voice dropped low as he said, "How did you come by it?"
Zhang Fan dared not raise his head, fearing that Tian Buyi might catch the look on his face. He had never been a quick-witted man to begin with, and at this moment his anxiety had reached its peak — no matter how desperately he racked his brain, he could not think of a single decent excuse or explanation.
Tian Buyi saw him hesitate. A man of such worldly shrewdness and experience, he immediately bellowed: ""
Startled, Zhang Fan broke into a cold sweat, his heart hammering in his chest. He no longer dared to conceal the truth, and at last gave a rough account of what had happened that day. Yet even as the words reached his lips, he forced himself to swallow back any mention of the Blood-Devouring Bead. He claimed only that while in the shadowed valley, he had spotted the black rod and, seized by a moment's curiosity, picked it up—whereupon the rod had somehow drawn out his essence blood, leaving him queasy and on the verge of retching, before he lost consciousness entirely. In the last moments before he blacked out, he had caught a faint glimpse of the black rod drinking in his essence blood and absorbing it into its own body.
When he finished, he didn't dare raise his head, didn't dare look at Tian Buyi again. Tian Buyi, however, furrowed his brows and sank into deep thought: this disciple didn't seem to be lying — those various Artifact abilities were not something he could have fabricated. Yet such a strange Artifact, even he was hearing of for the very first time in his life. If anything bore some resemblance to this black rod, it was most likely only the great evil object of the Demonic Sect from a thousand years ago — the "Blood-Devouring Bead."
But it was evident that this black rod was utterly different from that Blood-Devouring Bead.
Tian Buyi rose to his feet and began pacing the room with his hands clasped behind his back. After a long moment of silent deliberation, he turned to look at Zhang Fan. "Rise first."
Zhang Fan murmured his assent and rose to his feet, yet kept his head bowed low, standing to one side.
"But even so, that Artifact shares a blood-and-qi bond with you—it is a blood-refined object."
Zhang Fan asked in surprise: "Master, what is a blood-refined object?"
Tian Buyi froze for a moment, then said impatiently, "Never mind if you don't know—just listen carefully when I ask you."
Zhang Fan immediately lowered his head and murmured, "Yes."
Tian Buyi could tell that the black staff was a peerless rare treasure, yet regardless, one must Cultivate to at least the Fourth Layer of the Jade Pure Realm within the Taiji Profound Clear Tao before being able to wield it.
Zhang Fan's expression shifted.
Tian Buyi said slowly: "That day on Tongfeng, I asked you this very question. Today I ask it of you once more—who exactly was it that passed the secret arts to you in private?"
Zhang Fan's body gave a shudder. He knew that because of this nameless black rod, he was already in serious trouble—and if the matter of his secretly practicing cultivation arts without permission were added on top of that, the punishment awaiting him would be beyond imagination.
Yet at this moment, the image of Tian Ling'er seemed to drift before his eyes: her silhouette leading him up the mountain to cut bamboo in their youth, her gentle face beside a lone lamp on a rainy night, and the laughter and chasing that filled the peak of Big Bamboo in days long past—even the faint, elusive fragrance that clung to her in memory felt, in this moment, startlingly clear.
Bit by bit, it all rose to mind!
He knelt down once more, kowtowing heavily, yet not another word came from him.
He lay prostrate on the ground, utterly still. His frame, lean from a wound not long healed, carried a quiet strength — yet there was something desolate in the sight of him.
Tian Buyi fixed him with a long, searching look. After a prolonged silence, he let out a slow breath. "Get up. Follow me to Tong Peak. As for whether you'll come back alive — that depends on your own fortune."
※※※
Deep within the white clouds, immortal mist curled and drifted — tranquil and serene, exactly like the celestial realm that exists only in the dreams of men.
Qingyun Mountain, Tong Peak, Yuqing Hall.
The heads of all seven branches of Qingyun Sect were assembled here, their gazes fixed upon the youth kneeling in the hall below.
True Person Daoxuan gazed at Zhang Fan kneeling before him, and unbidden, the image of those two children rescued up the mountain five years ago rose once more in his mind. Clouds had shifted and the world had turned — in what felt like no more than the blink of an eye, they had already grown into young men.
He let out a quiet sigh deep within his heart, his gaze leaving Zhang Fan as he turned to address the others: "Everyone, what do you make of what Zhang Fan just said?"
Everyone fell silent. After a long moment, the voice of Daoist Cangsong suddenly rang out, cutting through the quiet with finality: "Not a word this one says can be trusted."
Zhang Fan, kneeling on the ground, gave a slight shudder, yet did not raise his head.
True Person Daoxuan furrowed his brows. "Junior Brother Song, why are you so certain?"
Daoist Cangsong cast a glance at Zhang Fan. His refining technique was sinister and vicious; had he not been guided by the fiends of the Demon Sect, how could he have possessed such knowledge and magical power to forge an Artifact of this kind? Therefore, this man must be a spy of the Demon Sect—his life cannot be spared."
Cangsong had long presided over the penal affairs of Qingyun Sect, his authority vast and his standing unrivaled. The words he spoke carried a resolute, iron-hard edge, and as they fell upon Zhang Fan's ears, every trace of color drained from the young man's face—he could barely draw breath.
No one spoke. Tian Buyi's face darkened as he said slowly, "If he truly schemed so deliberately to infiltrate our Qingyu Sect, why would he intentionally display his Artifact in plain sight of everyone?"
Daoist Cangsong let out a cold snort. "Demonic practitioners are inherently unpredictable in their conduct, their motives inscrutable — it is hardly surprising that they would do something strange."
Tian Buyi said furiously, "Is this not simply grasping at straws and twisting logic to suit your argument?"
Daoist Cangsong said coldly: "I am twisting words? I would ask you, Senior Brother Tian — is this blood refinement technique something that belongs to those of us on the righteous path?"
Tian Buyi was left speechless, his face flushing crimson. Anyone present could see it plainly now — Tian Buyi had, in the end, taken his disciple's side. Just as the awkwardness hung in the air, a cold voice suddenly cut through. A single note was enough to tell it was Bamboo Peak's Master Shuiyue:
"Senior Brother Cangsong, you have repeatedly claimed that the Blood Refinement method is sinister and malicious. Allow me to ask you plainly: in precisely what way is it sinister? In precisely what way is it malicious?"
Daoist Cangsong opened his mouth to speak, then abruptly choked on his words, and could only say: "Demonic cult sorcery—what more need be said?"
Shuiyue said coldly: "If that is so, Senior Brother Cangsong also knows nothing of the Blood Refining method — how is it that he simply assumes this technique to be sinister and vile, and would have this young man put to death?"
Daoist Cangsong turned his gaze toward Master Shuiyue, eyes sharp and piercing, his aura bearing down with undisguised pressure. "Junior Sister Shuiyue, then what exactly do you mean?"
Master Shuiyue said calmly: "Fellow senior brothers, regarding this matter — first, we know little of the Blood Refinement method; what we have heard is largely speculation. Should it so happen that this so-called Blood Refinement method does indeed operate by such coincidence, would we not be wrongly killing an innocent person? Second, this young man is only sixteen, and his background and origins are perfectly clear. To insist that he is a member of the Demonic Sect, I fear, hardly holds to reason."
Daoist Cangsong narrowed his eyes, yet a sharp light gleamed through the slits. Why had Junior Sister Yue acted so out of character today, going to such lengths to speak in this young man's defense? It was truly baffling.
A flash of fury crossed Shuiyue's lovely face, and she said at once: "I am merely speaking to the facts of the matter — nothing like certain people who cannot bear to see talent rise from another branch of the same Sect, and who, fearing for their own position, seize upon any pretext to hunt others down and destroy them utterly, without a shred of humanity!"
When it came to a sharp tongue, six of the seven present were men — yet not one of them could match Master Shuiyue. Daoist Cangsong's face drained white with fury as he shot abruptly to his feet.
True Person Daoxuan hastily cut in. "Alright, alright—now, now, how did you two start bickering again? Sit down, sit down."
Daoist Cangsong dared not disregard the Sect Master's words, and could only sit back down in his seat with seething resentment. Shuiyue, by contrast, sat perfectly upright in her chair, her expression one of complete and utter indifference.
True Person Daoxuan shook his head and turned to the others. "And what is your meaning?"
The other peak lords were silent for a moment. Zeng Shuchang, lord of Wind Return Peak, spoke first: "Sect Master, I believe Junior Martial Sister Shuiyue makes a valid point. This young man comes from an unblemished background, and since joining the sect he has never once left the mountain. It is most likely that he came upon this treasure through sheer happenstance—if so, it is a blessing for our Qingyun rather than cause for alarm."
True Person Daoxuan stroked his beard and gave a slight nod, then turned his gaze toward Daoist Zuoyun of Luoxia Peak. Zuoyun glanced at Cangson and said, "I agree with Senior Brother Cangson's approach."
Daoist Cangsong had gained an ally; he gave a nod toward Daoist Yun.
In the end, only Zheng Liang, the presiding elder of Chaoyang Peak, remained. He glanced at Tian Buyi and the others, then at Daoist Cangsong and Daoist Yun, and finally let his gaze drift carefully to True Person Daoxuan from the corner of his eye. After a brief moment of deliberation, he said: "I believe Junior Sister Shuiyue has a point."
Tian Buyi's expression eased. Daoist Cangsong let out a derisive snort, and True Person Daoxuan immediately nodded, saying, "Since everyone has had their say, I won't hold back either." At that, however, he first turned to Zhang Fan, who was still kneeling on the ground, and said, "Fan, you may rise."
Zhang Fan's body gave a start. He raised his head to look at the gathered masters, then slowly rose to his feet.
True Person Daoxuan studied him for a moment longer, as though trying to see him clearly, then turned to address the others seated around him: "Fellow cultivators, I too am of the opinion that Zhang Fan does not appear to be one of the Demonic Sect. Although this black staff carries a sinister aura, it is contained within rather than radiating outward — it is nothing like the demonic objects we have encountered from the Demonic Sect in the past, which brim with killing intent and lay bare every vicious feature."
Daoist Cangsong sensed something was off and couldn't help but cry out: "Senior Brother Sect Leader, the demon cult fiends are vicious and malevolent — better to kill the wrong man than to let one escape!"
True Person Daoxuan's expression darkened. He shot the man a sharp look and barked, "Junior Brother Cangsong, do you know what you are saying?"
Cangsung knew he had spoken out of turn, and lowered his head in silence.
True Person Daoxuan's expression was grave, yet his voice dropped to a low, measured tone as he spoke slowly: "Junior Brother Cangsong, you have presided over the punishments of our sect for over two hundred years — upright and impartial, never swayed. Elder Brother admires you greatly for that. Yet these past ten-odd years, I have watched a creeping darkness take root in you, a sharpening hunger for killing that grows ever stronger. It weighs on my heart most heavily. Are you even aware of it?"
Daoist Cangsong murmured, "Brother."
True Person Daoxuan said sternly: "To kill indiscriminately rather than let anyone go — that is the way of those who walk the demonic path. Our Qingyun Sect holds itself to the righteous path and has always acted with honor and openness. When matters arise, it is better to let someone go free than to slay the innocent by mistake. Otherwise, what difference would there be between us and those of the demonic path? Junior Brother Cangsong, though your cultivation runs deep, you still need to quietly refine your grasp of the Dao's moral principles and contemplate its teachings."
Daoist Cangsong raised one palm in salute. "I thank Senior Brother for the guidance. Cangsong has learned much."
True Person Daoxuan's expression eased. "Good that you know." He turned and swept his gaze across the assembled crowd; everyone spoke in unison: "The decision rests with you, Senior Brother Sect Master."
True Person Daoxuan gave a nod and turned to Zhang Fan. "Did you hear all of that?"
Zhang Fan's heart was filled with gratitude, and he quickly said, "Thank—thank you, all my martial uncles," then turned to Tian Buyi, his voice carrying a faint catch in his throat, "Thank you, Master."
Tian Buyi waved his hand but said nothing.
True Person Daoxuan picked up the black short rod resting on the tea table at his side, tossed it to Zhang Fan, and smiled. "This object can be wielded by none but you—take it back."
Zhang Fan reached out and caught it. The instant it touched his hand, that familiar, icy aura surged up at once, coursing through his entire body—as though the object possessed a spirit of its own, brimming with an indescribable joy. He bowed deeply to True Person Daoxuan, offering his heartfelt thanks to his Sect Master martial uncle.
True Person Daoxuan smiled and clapped his hands three times. A young Daoist acolyte stepped out from behind the hall at once. True Person Daoxuan murmured a few instructions; the acolyte gave a nod and withdrew. Before long, he returned leading three people inside. Zhang Fan looked over — all were familiar faces. Qi Hao and Zeng Shushu walked in front, and the moment her father Zeng Shuchang's eyes were turned away, Zeng Shushu stole a mischievous face at Zhang Fan. Walking last was a cool, strikingly beautiful young woman — none other than Xueqi of Bamboo Peak.
These three, together with Zhang Fan, were precisely the top four disciples of Qingyu Sect's Seven-Vein Martial Competition.