A thunderclap split the sky.
A moment earlier, the scenery had resembled a half-day’s worth of vermilion rosy clouds, but in the blink of an eye, it was covered in spiderweb-like cracks. The barrier shattered, and heavy, low-hanging black clouds instantly blanketed the skies above Dragon Valley.
Countless bolts of lightning flickered oppressively within the cloud layer, representing the pressure and deterrent force radiating from the elders of the various immortal sects. At a mere thought from them, thunder would strike down at any moment.
In an instant, the birds and beasts across the entire valley groveled upon the ground, trembling and hiding away in silence, instinctively terrified of the unusual thunderclouds.
Looking closely, a massive array of figures riding swords and treading clouds, clad in dharma robes, broke through the barrier with aggressive momentum. They were the senior masters dispatched by the major sects to carry out the encirclement.
Then, from the horizon, a complex, overlapping voice sounded—neither male nor female, fluctuating between old and young, as if numerous voices were fused together.
“The evildoer Shen Zong, come out and acknowledge your crimes and accept your punishment!”
The voice resounded between heaven and earth, loud and grating like a bronze bell, making people’s heads ring, with wave after wave of shockwaves following closely behind.
With a soft chime of resonance, Wen Zhihan rose and drew his natal treasure sword. A single stream of sword qi transformed into eighty-nine distinct beams, piercing through the windows and neutralizing the formless pressure entirely.
He turned back to look at Shen Zong, his thoughts stirring as he spoke softly,
“Do not be afraid. There is merely some misunderstanding in all of this; they have captured the wrong person. Master will go and explain it to them clearly right now, and everything will be fine very soon.”
“A misunderstanding?”
Surrounded by the various immortal sects who had come to encircle them, Shen Zong was not particularly surprised. Hearing those words, however, he slightly raised an eyebrow. “How does Master know this is a misunderstanding?”
“Because I know who the true culprit is.”
Wen Zhihan spoke with absolute certainty.
Time was pressing and there was no room for hesitation. He hastily informed Shen Zong of the current situation before chanting the final incantation in a low voice,
“Free from delusion and clinging, guarding tranquility by oneself, both form and spirit safe and whole—Merge!”
“You…!”
Hearing the incantation abruptly, Shen Zong’s eyelids twitched and his pupils constricted sharply, but before he could manage any struggle, he felt his soul grow light as he lost consciousness.
Wen Zhihan raised a hand to catch his disciple’s sleeping body, carefully prying open his mouth and placing a talisman treasure carved from red jade within it, using it to conceal his presence between heaven and earth.
“Leaving-Man Tree.”
At his command, countless root systems pierced through the wooden floorboards, wrapping layer upon layer around Shen Zong’s sleeping form, binding him like a silkworm cocoon and dragging him deep into the earth.
Scarcely a few sentences had passed before Wen Zhihan successfully concealed the person.
Yet the massive army on the horizon would not foolishly wait around, nor would they easily let them go.
As righteous practitioners, the immortal sects always favored courtesy before force. Seeming to guess that Shen Zong would not emerge to confess voluntarily, and receiving no response to their summons, they signaled that they could begin the attack.
Instantly, countless bolts of lightning crashed toward the ground, with more than a dozen of the densest bolts striking directly at the small pavilion where Wen Zhihan resided.
He hurriedly raised his sword to block. For a moment, gale-force winds raged and the roar of thunder echoed relentlessly. When the lightning dissipated, the pavilion had completely collapsed, leaving only him suspended high in mid-air through the power of spiritual energy. His ears rang deafeningly, rendering him temporarily deaf to any other sounds.
“Peak Master Wen!”
That voice carried a faint trace of anger as it called out to him, “Where is Shen Zong? He bears numerous grave crimes and must be apprehended today!”
Wen Zhihan looked up, confirming that everyone had spotted his figure and that those riding flying swords had also arrived at the elevated heights.
“He is not here.”
Before he could finish speaking, he heard the layered chanting of scriptures once more.
Seeing him appear to offer resistance, the major sects hurriedly deployed their formations. In an instant, giant golden dharma manifestations of the immortal realm materialized across the sky. Towering like majestic mountains, they stood firm on all sides, crystal-clear yet radiating intimidating majesty, bright enough to bring tears to the eyes of anyone who dared look up directly.
Each golden dharma manifestation had been summoned through the collective immortal power of a major sect, blessed by centuries of accumulated merit and protected by the Heavenly Dao with boundless might.
The manifestations of the Dao ancestors of various sects manifested here, cutting off any possibility of escape for him and Shen Zong.
Yet Wen Zhihan remained calm and collected, asking in a resounding voice, “I wonder what grave crime my disciple has committed to cause the seniors to mobilize such a massive force?”
“Why must Peak Master Wen feign ignorance?”
The one who stepped forward to speak this time was the master of the Moon Shadow Sect,
“Shen Zong’s conduct is unrighteous and his greed knows no bounds; he colluded with unorthodox cultivators to murder and seize treasures, associated with demonic cultivators to wreak havoc, and spread the arts of demonic cultivation among the populace. Are these not enough?!”
“We know Shen Zong is your only disciple, but the greater situation is at stake; please, Peak Master Wen, do not bend the law out of personal partiality,”
Another immortal cultivator spoke up from the crowd,
“Where on earth have you hidden him? Hand him over quickly, and this matter will have nothing to do with you!”
“There must be a misunderstanding in all of this.”
Just as in the development of the original novel, this slew of ownerless crimes was ultimately pinned onto Shen Zong.
Wen Zhihan frowned slightly, still striving to argue on his disciple’s behalf,
“I know who the true mastermind behind these crimes is; Shen Zong has been framed!”
Only then did they realize that Wen Zhihan, as the master, had used some secret art to conceal the person in order to protect his disciple.
The dark clouds were heavy and the thunder rumbled ceaselessly. The divine ability that should have automatically locked onto its target via the birth date and time within the incantation failed due to the loss of Shen Zong’s aura and location, causing the lightning to strike haphazardly across the valley.
The thunder was too loud, masking the unusual sounds emanating from deep within the earth.
On one side, high in the sky slightly lower than the cloud-capped peaks, Wen Zhihan stood alone debating against the assembled immortal sects.
On the other side, guarded by the branches of the Leaving-Man Tree amidst a boundless expanse of soil and rubble, Shen Zong lay fast asleep under the influence of the incantation, his body untouched by even a speck of dirt.
The next second, however, his breathing grew hurried and heavy, and his crimson eyes snapped open.
The Leaving-Man Tree started, instinctively tightening its branches.
You, why did you wake up? Does this stuff wear off this fast?
Shen Zong ignored it.
His expression was gloomy, his eyes seemingly forged from the iciest venom, and his entire demeanor had shifted entirely, deeply wreathed in pure hatred and murderous intent.
Hey, do not move around recklessly. Just stay obediently right here, and you will definitely be safe. Your master…
Before the Leaving-Man Tree could finish, dozens of tree roots snapped simultaneously.
It emitted a silent shriek, yet proved entirely powerless to stop Shen Zong.
They had originally been hundreds of meters beneath the surface, a depth the tree had struggled mightily to tunnel down to, expending a vast amount of effort.
Now, however, Shen Zong had woken up.
To be precise, the one who had woken up was not Shen Zong.
It was his inner demon.
The talisman water had indeed taken effect; Shen Zong’s own consciousness was suppressed and plunged into a long-overdue slumber, bound by bizarre and distorted dreams even harder to shake off than layers of tree roots.
Regrettably, Wen Zhihan knew only to suppress Shen Zong’s consciousness and conceal his aura, remaining entirely unaware of the inner demon residing within him.
With Shen Zong asleep, the inner demon completely lost all restraint.
Uttering not a single word, it released its surrounding aura. A mere tea time’s worth of loss of control sufficed for it to greedily devour the surrounding spiritual energy.
The Leaving-Man Tree attempted to stop it, but had its vital root, brimming with spiritual energy, seized in an instant. With crimson eyes and trapped in a space smaller than a coffin that utterly restricted movement, it struck out with a single palm against the root, directly operating the secret arts acquired from its past life, devouring and plundering the Leaving-Man Tree’s power as frantically as a whirlpool at the bottom of a lake.
It merely devoured spiritual energy, yet its dantian proved as bottomless as an abyss, impossible to fill. The Leaving-Man Tree panicked, its roots withering one after another, though not its true body, the sight terrified even its true form.
Within moments, Shen Zong’s cultivation broke through right on the spot, reaching the half-step Golden Core stage.
Thunder tribulations roared high above in the soil far away, blending into the thunder of the encirclement, drawing no attention.
Yet he still did not stop, gripping the Leaving-Man Tree’s cutting with one hand while clawing through the earth with the other.
He was like an underground vortex, like a vengeful ghost harboring endless resentment. Knowing neither fatigue nor pain, he clawed and scrambled upward using brute force and uncoordinated spiritual energy. His hands were raw, his nails split, though they healed at lightning speed as spiritual energy flooded his frame.
The Leaving-Man Tree dared not speak further. A spiritual entity rather than a human, it understood nothing of humanity, yet it knew how to fear ghosts. In a weak bid for survival, it shrank back into a tiny sapling and was shoved unceremoniously into Shen Zong’s spirit pouch.
The soil loosened, heavenly thunder rumbled, and finally, a mud-stained right hand broke through the surface of the earth, parting the soil to the sides, followed by the left.
The inner demon controlled Shen Zong’s body. Negative resentment made him look even less like a living human; disheveled, he crawled out from the earth, colder and more gloomy than a corpse, madder and more obsessive than a demonic cultivator.
Yet he was also a proud scion undergoing a breakthrough in realm, ascending to the Golden Core stage.
He finally stood beneath the open sky once more.
In an instant, the tribulation lightning and the tiered thunder punishments of the encirclement locked onto him simultaneously.
He paid those impending bolts of lightning no heed.
The inner demon merely raised its head, its falcon-like eyes piercing through the vast expanse of the sky to lock firmly upon his master, who was still debating with the assembled immortal sects.
Wen. Zhi. Han.
Kill Wen Zhihan.
Eradicate this person from the three realms.
His long sword slipped from its scabbard.
Following the concentration of thunder, Wen Zhihan lowered his head to look. At the sight of that disheveled yet stubbornly climbing figure, his heart nearly stopped.
No.
The body moved faster than thought.
Lightning was fierce and swift, capable of shattering a person to dust in the blink of an eye.
Yet Master’s sword was faster than lightning.
Time seemed to slow at that moment. As all sounds fell silent, waterfall-like cascades of lightning descended, all intercepted and hacked away by a single streak of sword light in mid-air.
More bolts of lightning intertwined like branching leaf veins. Unifying man and sword, Wen Zhihan pooled his spiritual energy. Amidst the raging gale, a colossal phantom sword transformed into a silver dragon emerging from the water, roaring to meet the purple lightning head-on. Silver and purple radiance collided and exploded overhead.
The entire world was illuminated by this momentary brilliance.
A new barrier descended, shielding Shen Zong within.
Half of Wen Zhihan’s body went numb, nearly causing him to plummet. The spiritual energy in his dantian had been hollowed out to withstand the thunder tribulation, and his complexion turned ashen in an instant.
Yet this was merely the first wave of a dozen or so lightning strikes.
Resisting lightning tribulation and the thunder punishments unleashed by countless sect masters with his own strength alone, even a Nascent Soul expert like Wen Zhihan found it somewhat strenuous.
Before he could even catch his breath, while the thunderclouds persisted, the golden dharma manifestations ringing the perimeter moved first.
He heard the buzzing sound of scripture chanting.
It was the Supreme Wondrous Mantra to Expel Evil. Normally, when recited independently, its incantation possessed the power to banish evil, but now it directly drove the golden dharma manifestations surrounding them, and they opened their eyes in unison. Dozens of golden chains descended from the void, shooting straight toward Shen Zong.
Wen Zhihan turned back in a panic, wanting to block them, but another bolt of lightning fell, leaving him stretched too thin.
The barrier he had just cast was shattered effortlessly by the pure-yang binding chains.
In an instant, the golden chains bound Shen Zong’s limbs before the crowd, forcing him to kneel publicly.
The chains bit into Shen Zong’s joint sockets, each linked to a sect’s golden manifestation and endowed with overwhelming force. Before the inner demon could do anything with its long sword, its right hand loosened, dropping even the hilt.
The chains originated from the void, their lengths stretching beyond sight. Bound by them, every time Shen Zong’s body struggled, the chains tightened another fraction until he could move no more.
Filled with resentment and defiance, the inner demon raised its head to curse, but a slender golden chain wrapped across its nose and mouth with a sharp clang, forcing it to bite down on the chain itself.
Blood immediately streamed from the corners of its mouth and wrists.
Yet the inner demon felt no pain; the greater the pain, the more boundless its power grew. Though unable to speak, it struggled unceasingly, raising its head to stare at the lofty immortals above, its gaze brimming with malice and mockery as it laughed like a madman.
This reckless and death-defying provocation seemed to further confirm that they had captured the right person. Instantly, the chanting grew heavier.
A chain wrapped around his neck as well, forcing Shen Zong to lower his head.
Seeing that they were preparing to strike again, with a new thunder punishment forming amidst the dense dark clouds, Wen Zhihan panicked and shouted aloud,
“Stop!”
How could this happen?!
He had clearly watched Shen Zong fall asleep, why had he still come back?!
Shen Zong clearly knew what was waiting for him here!
He had worried that Shen Zong would refuse to trust him, feared that Shen Zong would be unwilling to accept his protection just like that, which was why he had forcibly hidden him away.
The Leaving-Man Tree was completely useless!
Yet his desperate actions to block the lightning had already fallen into the eyes of the crowd. Enraged by his interference, the members of the encirclement shouted angrily,
“Wen Zhihan! Do you want to die?!”
“Shen Zong is wronged, you have caught the wrong person! I have evidence!”
Seeing that variables had emerged, Wen Zhihan dared not delay any longer, directly playing his trump card. “I can prove he did not collude with unorthodox cultivators! Nor did he spread the arts of demonic cultivation! He is no evildoer!”
Wen Zhihan had originally not wanted to produce the evidence so early.
When the immortals came to encircle them today, he knew Bai Chixin would undoubtedly appear. Given the lack of patience displayed in the original work, Bai Chixin would surely be unable to resist coming in person to ensure everything proceeded smoothly on such an important occasion.
As long as Shen Zong was absent, the crowd would not subject him to direct torture. If he simply waited a little longer, once Bai Chixin showed a flaw, he could expose the truth publicly.
But now there was no time left.
Compelled by circumstances, Wen Zhihan had no choice but to adopt the inferior strategy of throwing out the mass of evidence he had gathered over the past few days ahead of time.
He loudly recited the names and crimes of every unorthodox accomplice, presenting proof and deductions related to himself rather than Shen Zong.
The encirclement still happened; the influence of the Heavenly Dao’s will was too potent, but he would never allow Shen Zong to fall into despair as portrayed in the original novel.
“The evidence is all right here,”
Wen Zhihan called out in a ringing voice, “Therefore, the true mastermind directing all of this was never Shen Zong. The one with the capability to accomplish all of this is not him, either—it is me.”
He temporarily omitted the matter of the body possession; mentioning it would only make his claims harder to believe.
As a delaying tactic, however, he had to shoulder the blame for the person from the past eight years.
That would suffice.
At least in this way, it would prove Shen Zong’s innocence.
His disciple would not cry out against injustice and descend into demonic cultivation, nor would he lose all hope, and everything that followed could be salvaged.
“The person you should be arresting today is me.”
The thunder finally quieted somewhat.
Before he could finish speaking, however, the leader of this encirclement impatiently interrupted him.
“Wen Zhihan, you are truly obsessed.”
“What?”
“Do you think we were entirely ignorant?”
That voice induced a faint headache while carrying a hint of helplessness,
“Someone informed us long ago that if we directly apprehended Shen Zong, you would rack your brains to take the blame in his stead just to preserve your disciple.”
“Is that what he told you?”
Hearing this, Wen Zhihan demanded urgently, “Who told you that?! Where is he?!”
The voice from high above did not reply. “That has nothing to do with you, Wen Zhihan.”
Wen Zhihan grew even more certain of his suspicions.
Bai Chixin was indeed here!
Not only had he come in person, but fearing that Wen Zhihan would protect Shen Zong, he had tampered with things beforehand, forcibly twisting Wen Zhihan’s words exposing the truth into an act of taking the blame.
What a brilliant plan of counter-stratagem.
“The evidence is before you, yet you still refuse to believe…”
Wen Zhihan gripped his long sword tightly, failing to comprehend what sort of bewitching soup Bai Chixin had fed these people. At this juncture, the only way to prove everything was to drag that wretch’s lingering soul out with his own hands.
He could sense the lingering soul nearby; they were close, lacking only a tiny bit of further clues.
Yet why were they simply unwilling to believe him?
A stabbing pain pierced his chest. Unwilling to recall it, Wen Zhihan nonetheless remembered the description of this encirclement from the original book.
The righteous sects were not truly righteous; hidden filth lurked within the immortal cultivation sects. They were hypocritical, rotting from within, and no one cared about the truth; the only thing they required was a scapegoat to bear responsibility for everything.
They were a mob, a group of incompetents wielding superior numbers, enabling them to define truth and repeatedly prove to Shen Zong that this world was beyond redemption.
Wen Zhihan had never wished to believe such a one-sided depiction.
He had cultivated since youth, growing and practicing within the Profound Heaven Sect for many years; the entire cultivation world was certainly not perfect, and mortals remained mortals after all, but this was his world. Could he possibly not know whether the cultivation world was worth saving or not?
Could it truly be as the book described—that people inevitably changed, that even those holding a Dao heart could not remain aloof, turning a blind eye to evidence in the face of profit?
The sword in Wen Zhihan’s hand grew increasingly sharp and threatening. Slowly raising the tip of his sword, a trace of sweet blood welled up deep within his throat.
“Wen Zhihan, calm down.”
Suddenly, a member of the Profound Heaven Sect stepped forward, interrupting the others’ accusations before requesting an audience with the sect master and the expedition leader,
“Please grant me some time, immortals. Peak Master Wen is not an unreasonable man; allow me to go and reason with him.”
Seeing someone voluntarily step up to act as this peacemaker, the others found it convenient and nodded in agreement, giving face to the Profound Heaven Sect.
Wen Zhihan looked up to see that it was Elder Su.
Elder Su wore his customary expression, his voice cold. He stepped forth wielding a sword, radiating an aura of murderous intent,
“Shen Zong is full of cunning schemes; who knows what tactics he used to coerce and compel you into taking the blame for him? You need not go this far—do not forget, you are not merely Shen Zong’s master, but a peak master.”
A gale rose as a figure arrived behind him. Dressed in cyan robes, Elder Su approached on a flying sword. Coming within close range, he spoke in a voice audible only to the two of them,
“I know it was not Shen Zong’s doing, but no one will believe the truth when you speak it now. Actively stepping forward to confess for your disciple hardly looks like something an unorthodox cultivator would do.”
He froze.