“Ling Yuan?!”
Deep within the mineral vein, True Person Ling Yuan, squat and stout, desperately urged his escape light in an attempt to flee, only to be struck down by the magical artifacts of Liu Qiao’e, Song Miaoling, Lai Yongle, Di Chong, and the others.
“Ling Yuan!”
Song Miaoling shouted coldly: “You still dare to come here. Are you walking right into the trap?”
“Ling Yuan.” Recalling those captured Demonic Sect disciples, Lai Yongle said with a heavy expression, “You truly colluded with the Demonic Sect?!”
The usually cheerful and talkative Ling Yuanzi remained silent.
“Master!” Mu Daoying, who arrived later, caught sight of his master. In broad daylight, right before everyone’s eyes, their gazes met squarely, and he could not help but be moved to call out.
Ling Yuan naturally saw him too—the little disciple he doted on most—but he said nothing. A grave and resolute expression suddenly appeared on his chubby face!
Liu Qiao’e: “Ling Yuan, hand over the Soul-Returning Lamp! If you persist in your delusions, don’t blame us for showing no mercy!”
Ling Yuan merely glanced at the crowd before urging his escape light and turning to flee! But before he could travel more than a few steps, he was surrounded by the multicolored glows of everyone’s magical artifacts and treasures!
Ling Yuan made a snap decision and released the Soul-Returning Lamp.
In the instant its lamp light surged, the others were no longer caught off guard as before. They had anticipated it and each employed their techniques to dodge.
Though the Soul-Returning Lamp was a dao artifact, it did not possess the effects of swords, spears, or other weapons. Legend held that only when paired with the corresponding secret arts could it revive the dead and restore flesh to bone.
Its lamp light could briefly disorient people, but with this move foiled, Ling Yuan had no other options and could only tangle in combat with the crowd.
Master and disciple shared a heart.
Seeing that resolute expression on Ling Yuan’s face, Mu Daoying’s heart jolted with an ominous premonition. “No—”
His expression changed drastically as he urgently tried to fly forward to stand with his master, but he was blocked by the other Immortal Alliance disciples who had been on guard.
A rare look of shock and anger appeared on Mu Daoying’s face. “You insist on stopping me?!”
Those Immortal Alliance disciples said: “It was the Old Mother’s orders to keep a close watch on you.”
Mu Daoying paused in surprise.
“Step aside.” He said coldly, his countenance unusually icy.
Those Immortal Alliance disciples: “Immortal Mu, don’t make things difficult for us.”
“Besides, Immortal Mu, what do you have left to compete with us now?” One Immortal Alliance disciple sized him up and down, mocking, “With this kind of inferior mortal iron? As a sword cultivator, you can’t even protect your own lifebound sword. If I were you, fallen to this state, I’d rather die cleanly.”
Mu Daoying slowly closed his eyes.
Indeed, what capital did he have now to compete with them? But a teacher for a day was a father for life. To watch his master die before his eyes without lifting a finger—would that not make him no better than a beast?
“Step aside.” Mu Daoying opened his deep, clear black eyes and repeated coldly once more.
Those Immortal Alliance disciples remained unmoved.
Mu Daoying wasted no more words. With his damaged longsword in hand, his youthful body, supple as spring willow, suddenly erupted inch by inch with a chilling spiritual pressure like midwinter’s bite!
He did not wish to take their lives, so even as a blaze burned in his chest—scorching his eyes cold and bright, flushing his cheeks with an unnatural sickly red—he still restrained himself to the utmost.
The moment they clashed, those Immortal Alliance disciples realized their grave mistake.
The one who had mocked him paled in shock.
No wonder this man had been the champion of the previous Spring Terrace Dao Inquiry! Even with his meridians ruined, foundation unstable, and sword lost, Mu Daoying’s sword momentum was still like a white rainbow piercing the sun—overwhelming and unstoppable!
What was more terrifying was that, in his haste and fury, Mu Daoying’s sword strikes seemed to burn his own crippled body for that swift ferocity.
Zhao Yange watched from the side, his heart burning with anxiety. This was unprecedented. When Mu Daoying fought others, he always emphasized yielding softness and humility.
“To hold and fill it is not as good as letting it go. To hone it sharp cannot preserve it long.”
He always left three parts of leeway in his actions. Even on the day of the Spring Terrace Dao Inquiry, he had not gone all out.
Seeing him trapped, Zhao Yange stamped his foot. Unable to stand by any longer, he drew his sword and stepped forward. “Ning Xia! I’ll assist you!”
Mu Daoying glanced up at him, grateful in his heart but too occupied for thanks. He merely nodded slightly before plunging back into battle.
He still had spare attention to spare a glance for Zhao Yange.
Those Immortal Alliance disciples were not faring so well.
They had to muster all their mental energy to deal with this seemingly frail young man before them.
Mu Daoying was the former champion of the Spring Terrace Dao Inquiry, born with Sword Bone, renowned far and wide. They were all of similar age, each an elite of their sects, and inevitably looked down on one another, envious and unconvinced of this Jade Sword True Heart.
Later, seeing him fall on hard times and become the Immaculate Old Mother’s male pet, appearing all meek and spineless, they naturally grew even more contemptuous.
Until now. Under Mu Daoying’s sword momentum—which seemed soft but was vast and resolute—these Immortal Alliance disciples realized their terrible error!
Daoism always emphasized overcoming hardness with softness.
In their eyes, Mu Daoying’s sword strikes appeared astonishingly slow at first glance.
Yes.
Slow.
Slow, yet utterly steady and still.
As if sun and moon ceased turning, rivers halted in place.
Rivers surging yet unmoving only revealed greater peril!
These Immortal Alliance disciples felt as if plunged into those rivers. The waves seemed calm, but their clothes were soaked through. They were ensnared by the endless surrounding waters, their movements slowing involuntarily, led in circles by Mu Daoying’s sword forms.
And beneath the surface lurked crises everywhere, killing intent at every step!
Of course, Mu Daoying had no intention of slaughtering them innocents.
Thus, this became his fatal weakness.
By refusing to take lives, even as he drove back these Immortal Alliance disciples, they soon swarmed back like ants in endless waves.
In the blink of an eye it took Mu Daoying to glance up, he saw Ling Yuan already in dire straits!
His face instantly drained of color. Even with Zhao Yange’s help, he was still too late!!
Lai Yongle’s sword had pierced Ling Yuan’s back.
Song Miaoling’s judge’s brush was pointed at his ribs.
Di Chong’s sword had wounded his left shoulder.
And Liu Qiao’e—
Liu Qiao’e’s gaze had briefly met Ling Yuan’s.
In that instant their eyes locked, her icy expression rippled for a fleeting moment—just that one moment—before she mercilessly thrust the Blood Rakshasa into Ling Yuan’s heart!
Four people closed in from four directions, surrounding him on all sides!
Separated by the Immortal Alliance disciples’ assaults, Mu Daoying witnessed this scene. His mind reeled in shock, grief overwhelming him, his heart shattering!
“Master!!”
But Ling Yuan would never answer him again.
His body flew out like a ragged sack.
Mu Daoying’s blood froze throughout his body. A hazy white light flashed before his eyes, and his sword-holding hand went limp.
The other Immortal Alliance disciples, seeing Ling Yuan dead, relaxed their restraint on him.
Mu Daoying staggered to Ling Yuan’s side as if treading on cotton, his fair face blank and vacant.
The immense grief infected everyone present, and the field fell silent.
Mu Daoying could not understand how things had come to this.
“Master, Master…!” He knelt dazedly by his side, calling out blankly, desolate as a fledgling or orphaned bird separated from its flock.
He remembered when he had first ascended Little Cold Mountain, there had been a time when he was extremely aloof and withdrawn. His master had patiently taught and guided him, bit by bit opening his closed heart. He taught him cultivation, principles of conduct, to distinguish good from evil, to uphold justice and chivalry, to treat others gently.
He had been born into a scholarly family with extremely strict house rules.
Weakly ill from childhood, unwilling to appear inferior to his siblings, he forcibly suppressed his childlike nature, practicing calligraphy and reading day after day, inevitably growing stubborn, competitive, and sharp-edged.
It was Ling Yuan who gradually taught him the principle that the highest good is like water. Heart broad and body plump, he always loved to laugh, always wanted to give him the proper childhood. Every time he went out, he brought back heaps of the latest mortal-world toys.
This habit persisted even after he grew up; Ling Yuan still treated him like a boy. Whenever he saw some novel trinket on his travels, he brought it back for him.
Mu Daoying helplessly gazed at the yo-yos, kites, candied hawthorns, unable to bear refusing his good intentions.
Ling Yuan thought he liked them and sent even more enthusiastically.
But now, this smiling master was like a blood-drenched gourd. Mu Daoying subconsciously grasped his hand.
Unexpectedly, his fingers twitched slightly—he still had one last breath!
“Master!” Mu Daoying shuddered all over, joy and surprise surging as he gripped his hand back, calling out endlessly like a babbling child.
“Ning… Ning Xia…” Ling Yuan gasped raggedly, blood surging from his mouth and nose. Every word seemed to exhaust his remaining life force.
Mu Daoying’s heart twisted in pain, tears streaming down. He wanted to tell him not to speak, yet knew death was inevitable. Unable to bear him dying with eyes unclosed, he could only grip his hand repeatedly. “Master, I’m here. Your disciple is here. It’s all your disciple’s fault…”
His master had clearly sent him a message, yet he still failed to save his life in time!
“Don’t…” The light in Ling Yuan’s eyes was not regret or reluctance.
It was anxiety and reluctance to burden.
“Don’t… don’t for…” But before he could finish, his breath caught. He rasped a few times and breathed his last on the spot.
In that instant, Mu Daoying felt the entire world spin and invert. Before he could recover, a figure flashed past! It seized his collar and hurled him several zhang away.
Mu Daoying crashed among the jagged shattered ores, his pale daoist robes instantly stained red.
Liu Qiao’e coldly lifted him by the collar: “I killed your master. So what? Do you want to avenge him?”
Mu Daoying said nothing. Mist gathered in his dark eyes. He took a deep breath, slowly closed his eyes, and two trails of teardrops slid down his trembling lashes.