The Martial Arts Alliance
Jun Yichen’s intuition was correct; Jun Qing had changed. Since waking up from his fall into the water, he no longer clung to his side. His temperament had grown cold and detached—sparse with words and devoid of much emotion on his face.
Dressed in plain white mourning robes, he followed the funeral procession with the rest of the mourners until the coffin of the former Alliance Leader was fully interred. Throughout the process, his expression remained calm and indifferent.
Jun Yichen couldn’t help but frown. Jun Qing’s reaction was far too muted. It was one thing to have a change in personality, but to not shed a single tear while burying his adoptive father? It was as if the deceased were a total stranger.
On the return journey, Jun Yichen approached the young man and finally spoke: “Brother Qing, you…”
The voice pulled Jun Qing back to reality. He saw his nominal “sworn brother” frowning, looking at him with hesitation. Jun Qing paused, realizing his behavior was a drastic departure from the original owner’s personality.
Though he possessed the memories, he found it impossible to wail and weep as if his own parents had died. Furthermore, even now, he felt as though he were looking at this world through a pane of frosted glass—there was a persistent sense of unreality, making it difficult to fully immerse himself in the role.
Facing the inquiry of the man his predecessor had loved, he allowed a slight, apologetic curve to his lips: “Brother Chen, I’m sorry. I…”
He stopped there. Leaving sentences half-finished allows others to fill in the blanks with their own imagination. Coupled with his lowered eyelashes and a feigned look of dejection, the effect was significant.
As expected, Jun Yichen said no more. He simply patted Jun Qing’s shoulder comfortingly, believing he had found the reason: the shock of the drowning combined with excessive grief. Under such circumstances, a drastic shift in personality was not impossible.
…
The Sovereign’s Promise
After the funeral came the matter of the vacant Alliance Leader position. Supported by brothers from all directions and being the adoptive son of the former leader, Jun Yichen—whose outstanding abilities were recognized by all—stepped naturally into the role to quell the internal unrest.
It was then that a figure in his sixties stepped forward, followed by his eldest son, Chu Xiangtian. One old, one in his prime, both wore expressions of gravity and determination.
Old Master Chu first congratulated Jun Yichen on his new position. Then, his eyes fixed on the young leader, he said in a heavy voice, “Does the Alliance Leader still remember the promise made to this old man?”
Jun Yichen felt a tremor in his heart, as if a great boulder were pressing down on him. He replied solemnly, “I remember.”
“Good!”
Amidst the confused gazes of the crowd, Old Master Chu let out a cry of appreciation. Then, with great weight, he bowed his waist and pushed down the head of Chu Xiangtian beside him.
“If the Alliance Leader can successfully rescue my young son, the Sword Casting Villa shall henceforth be incorporated into the Martial Arts Alliance…”
An uproar instantly erupted.
…
The Weight of a Son
In the martial world, the “Demonic Cult” (the Radiant Divine Sect) was the undisputed hegemon, but beneath it were various evil sects like the Bloodlust Gang and the Five Poisons Sect. The Righteous Path was similar; the Martial Arts Alliance was not the only power, but it was the most respected and selfless.
However, there were entities like the Sword Casting Villa that were second only to the Alliance. They were usually independent or neutral allies. For such a prestigious power to surrender its autonomy and merge into the Alliance was unheard of.
The crowd began to piece it together, remembering the frantic search conducted by the Villa recently. Most now knew that Old Master Chu had a younger son—one he had hidden so well that many had never even heard of him.
And now, it seemed this son wasn’t just missing; he was in such dire peril that even the Sword Casting Villa couldn’t save him. He was worth the price of an entire legendary estate.
Jun Yichen quickly moved to help the old man up, renewing his vow: “Uncle, there is no need for this. The Alliance and the Villa are like one family. Chu Ling’s matter is my matter. I will surely bring him back safely from the hands of the Demonic Cult!”
Another uproar. The Demonic Cult! That explained everything. Yet, a seed of doubt was planted: why would the Cult kidnap young Master Chu? Did it have something to do with why he was hidden away for so long?
They weren’t far from the truth.
But the reality for most was simpler and more terrifying: Is the Demonic Cult moving against the Sword Casting Villa to begin their conquest of the entire martial world?
The sense of “if the nest is overturned, no eggs remain” took hold. Unity was the only survival.
“Leader, was it truly the Demonic Cult?” someone shouted.
Jun Yichen nodded and looked toward a burly man with a stubbled face in the crowd. Receiving a nod from Old Master Chu, the man stepped forward. It was the “Vajra Iron Hand,” Yan Shuangfei.
He had been the eyewitness in the ruined temple. If not for the young master pleading for his life, he wouldn’t be standing here today. He owed Chu Ling his life.
Yan Shuangfei lowered his gaze and began to recount: “I saw it with my own eyes…”
…
Memories and Rumors
Standing near Jun Yichen, Jun Qing felt like an outsider watching a play. As the name “Young Master Chu” was mentioned, memories surfaced.
The original Jun Qing had once gone to the Sword Casting Villa to find Jun Yichen. There, in a secluded courtyard, he had seen a breathtakingly beautiful youth. Quirky, with eyes full of innocent purity—like a spirit stepped out of the wilderness. Even the original Jun Qing had been stunned by that beauty.
But that admiration had quickly turned to jealousy when he saw the budding affection in the boy’s eyes for his “Brother Chen.” Like a cat with its tail stepped on, the original owner had decided then and there: Brother Chen belongs only to me.
To the current Jun Qing, that reaction seemed childish. In his memory, the boy’s love had been subtle and restrained, as if he knew his feelings might be hopeless and chose to bury them deep to maintain harmony.
“The words of the three brothers—Bitter, Weak, and Crippled—exposed their identity. Before that, Young Master Chu seemed unaware. I don’t know how that ‘Ghost Mask’ treated him once the secret was out…” Yan Shuangfei said, his voice rising with anger.
The volume snapped Jun Qing out of his reverie. He frowned slightly.
Jun Yichen addressed the crowd: “This is the situation. We do not yet know the Cult’s true intent, but I promise to rescue Chu Ling. To prevent a surprise attack on the Righteous Path, return to your sects and raise your guard!”
The crowds dispersed like startled birds, galloping away on fast horses to spread the word. The news that the Demonic Cult intended to unify the martial world spread like a plague.
When the spies of the Demonic Cult embedded in the Righteous sects heard this, they were baffled: We’re doing what? Why didn’t we know?
The news eventually reached the heart of the Demonic Cult. While the rank-and-file members grew ecstatic at the thought of world domination, a figure dressed in profound black, sitting upon a tiger-skin throne in the deepest palace, let out a sudden, mocking scoff.
…
The “Captive” Life
Blue sky, white clouds, brilliant sunshine.
By a pool in the back mountain: one youth, one fishing rod.
A finely woven straw hat rested on the boy’s head. Golden sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dancing spots of light on the ground, the rocks, and the boy’s body.
“Young Master, the bait is ready,” Zijin said.
The youth flicked the rod. The silk line cut a graceful arc through the air, hitting the water with a faint thud. The hook sank to the bottom, leaving the bobber drifting peacefully on the surface.
Completing the mission wasn’t the only goal. In one’s spare time, one must find a little leisure to cultivate the soul, right?