Chapter 138: White-Clad Against the Void

Ning Changjiu’s sword tip was completely free of blood. His face was pale and refined, its features lying between soft and sharp, giving him the appearance of a distinguished young master from a noble family.

His sword stance was peculiar, incredibly difficult and inefficient, with a tremendous amount of power concentrated in his legs and waist. His arms, by contrast, seemed soft and weak, yet for some unknown reason, he had managed to instantly kill the grey-robed elder, a cultivator of considerable skill.

No one knew when or from where he had appeared.

The moment the grey-robed elder fell, Ning Changjiu released his unusual sword stance. As he sheathed his sword, he flicked off every drop of blood.

“Senior…” Nan Cheng was the first to recognize Ning Changjiu, trembling with excitement as he looked at the familiar white-robed back.

All eyes in the arena turned to him.

“Who are you?” someone asked, a hint of wariness but no fear in their voice.

The jade plaque at his waist was striking, clearly indicating his identity and cultivation level.

No matter how powerful he was, he was merely an inner disciple at the High Immortal Realm. He might have killed the Longevity Realm grey-robed elder through a sneak attack, but now that everyone was facing him, what trouble could he possibly stir up?

Ning Changjiu offered no reply. He simply closed his eyes and said, “Disperse now and return to your own cave dwellings. I can pretend I didn’t see you.”

These words, filled with audacious provocation, instantly changed the atmosphere in the arena.

They couldn't ascertain his true cultivation level from his aura or his single sword strike, but they suspected his current behavior was merely a bluff. Even so, life-preserving cultivators were still reluctant to make the first move.

Most of the cultivators present were from the previous generation. Daoists who reached a bottleneck typically either took up positions in the peaks, traveled the world, or continued their secluded cultivation. Therefore, their cultivation levels varied, but most possessed the strength of the initial Longevity Realm. These elders were once considered the core strength of Tianku Peak.

“When did our grievances become a matter for a junior like you to interfere with?” The person who had spoken earlier, believing he had discerned Ning Changjiu’s true strength, stepped forward first.

Ning Changjiu’s sword-wielding hand dropped, appearing somewhat weak. His eyes were closed, and his shoulders drooped, as if his earlier kill of the grey-robed elder was mere luck.

Everyone knew he was concealing his true strength, but how could cultivators who had just emerged from long seclusion, confident in their own realms, be intimidated by a junior? Moreover, there were so many of them.

The man stepped forward, fixing his gaze on Ning Changjiu’s sword. “I’d like to see what you can do,” he declared.

Ning Changjiu grunted softly. His body subtly shifted, his white robes trailing faint afterimages. The sword tip, like a cold star, also flickered, and the sword energy, like water droplets splashed into a scorching cauldron, instantly turned into white mist and dispersed.

And the wariness and seriousness in the man’s eyes slowly transformed into disdain.

Ning Changjiu struck. His sword energy, like an arrow, taut and instantaneous, transformed killing intent from a point into a line, aiming for the man’s throat.

As the sword approached, the man felt the grey-robed elder had died a meaningless death—how ridiculous for a master of the middle Longevity Realm to fall to such a sword!

Those who are careless meet an early demise. He, however, should learn from the lesson, so he suppressed his contempt, making himself as cautious as possible, wondering if there would be any change in the sword’s technique after this initial strike.

There was no change. The sword, hidden within the sword energy, came straight forward. What should have been an exquisite strike appeared flashy and ineffective due to a perceived lack of cultivation.

The man thrust one hand directly into the sword energy, gripping the iron sword, while with his other hand, he suddenly slapped his scabbard. With a clang, his own longsword shot out, swiping directly at Ning Changjiu’s vital points.

Everything happened in a flash. The man was so focused that a shout of “Be careful!” from behind him only registered belatedly.

His focus cost him his life.

The fatal sword strike came from his side. The sword tip pierced his defense with almost no resistance, burying most of its blade into the man’s flesh. Then, sword energy exploded from within his body, shattering his spiritual core and energy sea.

He had no chance of survival.

Before he died, the man turned his head in confusion. Through his blurring vision, he vaguely saw a small, slender girl.

The girl had endured several hours of the sword trial, yet she showed no fatigue. The killing intent she now displayed was utterly disproportionate to her age.

“Monster…”

This was the man’s final assessment of the siblings as he fell.

Ning Changjiu retrieved his sword. This time, his sword remained completely bloodless, yet its cold gleam was even more intimidating. He raised his gaze, looking at the other elders present, and remained silent.

Ning Xiaoling drew her sword. She was very nervous, her nails digging hard into her palms to keep her sword-holding hand from trembling.

She had witnessed people killing many times and had slain many bone demons in Linhe City. But this was the first time her own sword had been stained with human blood. Unfortunately, her sword seemed to have struck a major artery; blood sprayed out under high pressure, splattering onto her white clothes. Amidst the sticky, pungent smell of blood, her pupils turned dark red.

After her first kill, she felt neither excitement nor joy. The moment she pulled out her sword, she even felt a hint of fear, her uneasy face reflected on the brightly gleaming blade.

Ning Changjiu knew this was something she would have to experience sooner or later. He walked to her side, took her sword-holding hand, and whispered in a voice only she could hear, “They want Master to die. What else can we do?”

Ning Xiaoling closed her eyes, and the lingering scent of blood in her nostrils seemed to fade.

“Kill them,” she said.

Ning Changjiu neither affirmed nor denied. He knew that everyone harbored a seed of bloodlust, planted the moment they first grasped a sword. He only hoped Ning Xiaoling’s seed would eventually grow into a lush, blossoming tree, not a demonic flower that preyed on others.

Therefore, he needed to give Ning Xiaoling a reason for killing, to strengthen her Dao heart.

Ning Changjiu and Ning Xiaoling together were certainly no match for so many elders, but the moment the grey-robed elder died, the already fragile alliance fractured once more.

Some had long since put their past grievances behind them. They weren’t concerned with the white-robed youth’s remaining strength; the two corpses on the ground constantly reminded them to value their lives, and they had no desire to participate in this struggle.

“The younger generation is truly formidable. I wonder what realm you have reached now?” someone remarked, stepping away from the cliff by the Dragon-Entwining Pillar.

“Indeed, your swordsmanship is excellent, and you possess strategy. If Lu Jiajia had half your intelligence, she might not have found herself in such peril today,” another person said, stepping forward and looking directly at Ning Changjiu.

“Lu Jiajia is indeed a bit foolish…” Ning Changjiu nodded, agreeing with his assessment.

Some expressed their thoughts, others their attitudes. Those with ulterior motives acted quickly within a short time.

Ning Xiaoling gradually emerged from the emotions of her first kill. The month she spent in Linhe City had been a valuable experience in her cultivation journey. The red moon that hung high in the sky every night, while causing panic, also gave her immense courage.

Ning Xiaoling quickly calmed her mind. Sometimes, blood was also a treasure. Even though she had won the sword trial in early spring, she hadn’t gained much true insight. But now, with her sword stained with blood, she had a deeper understanding of Daoist concealment techniques and her own swordsmanship.

“Elder Yun, are you also thinking of leaving?” someone suddenly shouted from the edge of the cliff.

A man in a plain Yujian Tianzong sword uniform paused. His face was thin, and his body slender, making him look like a scholar.

He appeared young, yet was addressed as Elder Yun. Hearing the shout, he turned his head, looking displeased. “What’s all the fuss about?”

The one who shouted retorted coldly, “I merely hope you remember your duty.”

“Duty? What duty?”

“You were once an enforcer of the Law Hall.”

“Oh? What are you trying to say?”

“Lu Jiajia is guilty! No one among the peaks is clearer about this than us. Didn’t you receive that letter?”

“Hmm? What letter?” Elder Yun looked confused, as if he didn’t understand the other’s words.

His question, however, went unanswered. The other person plummeted into the underworld forever, still carrying his doubts.

The one who killed him with a blade was the man who had previously held a knife to the green-robed man’s back. After the former asked about “that letter,” this man, who had been constraining the green-robed man, did not hesitate to turn his blade and silence the speaker.

And the green-robed man reacted extremely quickly. The moment danger moved away from him, his first action was not relief, but to instantly draw his sword and thrust it at his recent threat.

In the flash of this lightning-fast scene, many sword lights ignited. It was as if everyone present held different intentions and positions, and this initial chaos escalated into even greater turmoil.

And Ning Changjiu, during their brief exchange, realized one thing: their desire for Lu Jiajia’s death had been premeditated.

Someone had orchestrated these events from behind the scenes, and that planner apparently hadn’t informed everyone of the intention to kill Lu Jiajia.

Many of these people were loyal to the old peak master, while many others harbored deep grudges against him. Their generation was inherently deeply divided.

This division wasn’t so apparent when they were in seclusion, but now, it felt like a giant ax, hanging high, had finally fallen, effortlessly splitting the superficial cordiality and revealing the conspiracy hidden beneath.

“What exactly happened?” Yazhu arrived somewhat late. With one thumb, she pushed her sword an inch out of its scabbard, while in her other hand, she held the silver sword that should have been given to Ning Xiaoling.

“They want to kill Master!” Ning Xiaoling explained the situation in the most concise way possible.

Yazhu’s heart sank. She knew there were underlying conflicts within the peak, but she hadn’t realized that those old grudges still held such immense power.

The clang of clashing blades suddenly erupted.

The man who had drawn his sword, wearing a tall crown, struck at the green-robed man. The green-robed man was unable to dodge and had his wrist severed by the blow. Simultaneously, the man with the knife, after killing one person, was stabbed in the back by the green-robed man. He stumbled, nearly falling into the abyss.

In this scene of “the mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind,” no one was truly victorious.

More and more people entered the fray.

They didn’t even seem to distinguish which side they belonged to.

But those who supported Lu Jiajia, led by the green-robed man with a severed wrist, desperately guarded the peak-stone rope, preventing it from being cut. Yazhu also snatched her sword and joined them in defending the peak stone.

Yazhu was one of those who usually taught swordsmanship to the disciples, but this was the first time Ning Xiaoling had seen Elder Sister Yazhu truly fight. Her sword wasn’t particularly fast, but her footwork was incredibly agile. When moving through the flashing swords and knives, her robes remained completely unharmed, like a small moth dancing through the rain without getting a single drop wet.

Ning Changjiu didn’t draw his sword immediately. He still felt there was something strange behind this whole situation.

Even if the old peak master and they truly had a grudge, he had been dead for so many years. What reason did they have to perpetuate that hatred until now, even to the point of sacrificing their lives?

And what was that “letter” that had caused the earlier fatal attack?

Ning Changjiu couldn’t figure these things out in a short time, just as it was only now, upon seeing the fractured rock near the cliff edge, that he vaguely remembered something… Had he fallen into this peak valley before?

This thought seemed unrealistic, yet it swiftly dominated his mind.

“Xiaoling, earlier… was I gone?” Even in such a critical situation, Ning Changjiu couldn’t help but ask the question on his mind.

Ning Xiaoling nodded. “Yes, Master went to look for you. She thought you had fallen to the bottom of the peak.”

“Hmm…” Ning Changjiu nodded, a flash of insight in his mind, finally recalling what had happened earlier.

He had narrowly killed Yan Feng at the cliff edge, and then the opponent’s dying counterattack had thrown him into the peak valley. After waking up at the bottom of the valley, he found a narrow path that led out of Tianku Peak.

This was all he could remember.

Ning Changjiu had no time for further thought. In the chaos ahead, a sword suddenly thrust towards him.

The elder wielding the sword was not of high cultivation, comparable even to Ning Xiaoling’s current level, but his timing was excellent. He keenly sensed Ning Changjiu’s distraction and sought to use this opportunity to kill the mysterious young man outright.

This elder’s sword disrupted the formation of thoughts in Ning Changjiu’s mind.

And it was precisely his interruption that later made Ning Changjiu recall many inconsistencies in his memories.

But he would not thank this elder.

Golden light gleamed in the young man’s eyes, and a golden mass condensed in front of his chest. This gold did not take the form of a golden crow, but transformed into a golden arrow.

Without a bow or string, the golden arrow seemed to grow wings and shot forward with a whoosh.

Although the elder’s sword strike showed no hesitation, his eyes lost their target.

This was because his pupils were illuminated by the sudden golden light, and immense heat ignited within them. In just a blink, his eyes were incinerated into two pearls, the size of fish eyes.

The sword in his hand continued its thrust by inertia, but Ning Changjiu had already sidestepped, thrusting his own sword into the elder’s chest with a backhand strike.

“Do you know what terrible things can happen when a person emerges from seclusion?”

Just as Ning Changjiu was about to make another move, a voice suddenly rang out from within the clashing crowd.

No one heard clearly who had spoken, nor did anyone bother to ask about this seemingly trivial question. So the person had to answer on their own: “Upon emerging from seclusion, no one can immediately tell what cultivation level they have reached during that time. This is the greatest hidden trump card for everyone here. Many are confident they won’t be killed, including myself.”

“This kind of confidence is often the source of disaster and death,” the person sighed deeply.

The sounds of struggle seemed to diminish slightly.

Only then did the crowd notice the speaker.

It was a young man in dark green robes. His face was pale and youthful, his hair neatly tied in a topknot, and he carried a longsword. Previously, he must have used some kind of concealment technique, as no one present had noticed him. Now, as he stepped out, the handsome and refined young man became instantly conspicuous, exuding immense pressure.

“Who are you?” The green-robed man’s voice was strained with pain. He couldn’t recall anyone like this in the peak.

His answer came not from the young man’s words, but from his sword.

As the young man spoke, he opened his mouth and spat out a flying sword. The flying sword streaked through the air amidst the blood, arriving instantly before the green-robed man. Though he had lost an arm, he was still a master of the initial Longevity Realm, so this simple sword strike, with his guard up, failed to kill him.

The young man had no intention of killing him anyway; he merely wished to reveal his identity.

“Seven-Intent?” The green-robed man noticed the characters engraved on the flying sword and suddenly remembered something, exclaiming, “You’re from the Purple Heaven Dao Sect!”

It was rumored that swordsmen of the Purple Heaven Dao Sect often used numbers as their surnames.

The young man did not deny it, smiling faintly. “Purple Heaven Dao Sect, Seven-Intent.”

He was already sixty years old, but the Daoist art of rejuvenation made him appear incredibly young, his creamy, delicate skin as smooth as that of a newborn baby.

In the preceding melee, people from the two factions fought each other, while someone stealthily lurked among them, inflicting minor injuries on everyone without being noticed.

He was Seven-Intent.

Only after leaving his sword marks on dozens of people present did he confirm that Tianku Peak indeed had no one left to challenge him. He was the strongest among all present, so he no longer needed to hide.

Seven-Intent looked at the young man, who was of ordinary cultivation but exceptionally courageous, and smiled faintly. “Would you be willing to come with me to the Purple Heaven Dao Sect?”

Ning Changjiu ignored his question. He could sense that the opponent’s cultivation was extremely high, having even reached the half-step Purple Court realm. In this peak, besides Yan Zhou, who remained self-imprisoned in the Scripture Pavilion, no one was his match.

Seven-Intent’s smile didn’t diminish. His superior cultivation granted him exceptional patience. “It’s alright, I’ll give you time to think.”

Ning Changjiu pretended to ponder for a moment.

Seven-Intent had no intention of waiting for his answer. As Ning Changjiu lowered his head in contemplation, he feigned adjusting his hair ornament. With a flick of his sleeve, another flying sword shot out, striking towards Ning Changjiu.

Seven-Intent believed every one of his sword strikes was fatal. Killing an outer disciple was child’s play.

A crisp *clink* rang out.

Ning Changjiu blocked the sword. He didn’t use his own sword for parrying but instead pulled out a gnarled, withered-branch-like piece of black iron from somewhere.

This black iron had no sharp edge, couldn’t channel spiritual energy, and thus couldn’t unleash sword energy, making it rather useless for killing.

However, its hard material made it suitable for blocking attacks from blades and swords.

Seven-Intent’s sudden sword strike hit the iron rod like a magnet, producing a brief, powerful clang. Ning Changjiu was forced back by the force transmitted through the rod, but the flying sword was also deflected, embedding itself into a nearby rock.

Seven-Intent looked at the iron rod in his hand, his eyes gleaming. He knew this was undoubtedly an unassuming treasure, but in the hands of a young man who didn’t know how to wield it, it was truly a magnificent sword gathering dust.

He intended to act immediately and seize the object from Ning Changjiu.

But Seven-Intent had miscalculated one thing.

That was the long-standing conflict between the Yujian Tianzong and the Purple Heaven Dao Sect.

The animosity between these two sects dated back a long time. Earlier, Yan Zhou had even suspected Ning Changjiu might be a spy sent by the Purple Heaven Dao Sect.

At this moment, the sectarian conflict remarkably unified the once fragmented Tianku Peak. All sword tips uniformly pointed at Seven-Intent.

When Seven-Intent realized this, he unconsciously sighed.

When the Sect Master had ordered him here, he had been repeatedly warned to remain calm.

And only now did he understand that he had indeed failed to keep his composure. Although the tide had turned in his favor, these people, whom he hadn’t even considered a threat, suddenly united, still exerted considerable pressure.

The tense atmosphere quickly shattered.

A sudden sound of snapping echoed.

Ning Changjiu’s face, which had remained impassive even when facing Seven-Intent’s flying sword, finally changed at this moment.

It was the sound of an iron chain breaking.

As everyone’s attention was fixed on Seven-Intent, the man with the knife suddenly broke through several people’s defenses and, with one strike, severed the sword-rope tied to the cliff peak!

This sudden turn of events stunned many. Yazhu, in that instant, even revealed her feminine weakness, letting out a gasp of surprise.

The tension vanished instantly, and Seven-Intent, relieved, laughed heartily. “What deep-seated hatred does your Tianku Peak harbor, to so desperately seek to kill your Peak Master?”

This was also the question in Ning Changjiu and Ning Xiaoling’s hearts. In their minds, Lu Jiajia had always treated people exceptionally well. No matter how deep the previous generation’s grievances were, they shouldn’t involve her.

Ning Changjiu suddenly missed Zhao Xiang’er. If she were here, where would this Purple Heaven Dao Sect cultivator have any chance to be so arrogant?

The slender iron chain, the moment it broke, plummeted rapidly down the cliff.

Not a single sound echoed from the peak valley; everything was swallowed by the devouring darkness.

Lu Jiajia’s fate was uncertain.

For some reason, everyone else present felt that Lu Jiajia was in great danger. Only Ning Changjiu, after a brief moment of distress, calmed down. He thought that if he could walk out of the peak valley after falling in, Lu Jiajia, whose cultivation was far higher than his, should also be fine.

He kept his focus intently on Seven-Intent, searching for even the slightest weakness he might reveal.

Seven-Intent’s protective spiritual energy was flawless, revealing no flaws from beginning to end. However, he soon made a fatal mistake that even he hadn’t anticipated.

Seven-Intent looked at the now-scattered crowd and said, “Where is the Purple Heaven Dao Sect’s sacred artifact that the old fellow stole back then? If you tell me, I can spare that person’s life.”

“The Purple Heaven Dao Sect’s sacred artifact?”

Some were puzzled, having never heard of it, yet vaguely felt they had stumbled upon a corner of a massive conspiracy.

But those who knew more of the inside story had their expressions darken instantly, an unconcealable killing intent piercing through their composure like a knife through cloth, its sharp edge seemingly confirming the truth of Seven-Intent’s words.

The first to answer Seven-Intent was the man who had severed the iron chain with his knife. His skin, long exposed to the sun, was very dark, and if he hadn’t just cut the chain, he would have been inconspicuous hidden in the shadows.

Listening to Seven-Intent’s words, he smiled, his teeth, contrasting with his dark skin, glared like light-reflecting knives. “It seems your Sect Master is indeed dying. What ‘Purple Heaven Dao Sect’? A Sect Master who survives by devouring souls, is he even worthy of being associated with the word ‘Dao’?”

Seven-Intent’s expression didn’t change much in the face of his sarcasm; he merely looked at him as one would look at a dead man.

And he was indeed a dead man. Unless he could somehow escape now, neither Yujian Tianzong nor the Purple Heaven Dao Sect would ever let him go.

Yet, he continued to smile, as if he didn’t believe he would die at all.

His smile finally froze the moment Seven-Intent’s sword tip pierced his brow.

His large pupils were wide open, and his unfocused gaze reflected all the faces around him. His dying expression was one of such shock, as if he wondered why no one had saved him. In his last moment, he finally understood the principle of “when the rabbit dies, the hounds are cooked.” He decided to reveal the deepest secret in his heart, but could only manage to utter one syllable:

“Han…”

After a syllable resembling “Han,” the knife-wielding man collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

The word “Han” resonated in everyone’s minds, each with their own interpretation.

Seven-Intent also had his own calculations. He knew that countless treasures were hidden at the bottom of this peak valley, and this blocking black mist of lingering spirits seemed to grandly declare that the sacred artifact capable of housing all souls was hidden right at the bottom of Tianku Peak!

He raised his arm, his dark sleeves like two black holes containing the universe.

The black mist began to churn with his movement.

“Stop him!” someone shouted.

Silver sword tips extended section by section, but the person at the center of the storm remained unperturbed.

“Just as I expected…” A faint smile touched Seven-Intent’s lips.

The Daoist magic he had cultivated for decades was not for exorcising ghosts but for summoning souls. The valley full of spirits was like a vat of writhing maggots, churning and tumbling with the waving of his arm. He savored the aesthetic for a moment, then gave a sudden pull.

These tainted souls were his great sword. He had never wielded such an immense sword, confident that when it fully formed, it could cut down everything in Hidden Peak.

But Seven-Intent had forgotten one thing.

Every sword in this world has two edges.

As the tide of evil souls rose like a towering tsunami, Ning Changjiu finally found his opportunity.

He glanced at Ning Xiaoling, who, after a long silence, understood and nodded immediately.

She would guard his back against any sneak attacks.

Ning Changjiu, sword in hand, charged into the wave of spirits.

Seven-Intent let out a slight “hmm.” He vaguely felt a warning, but couldn’t understand where it could be coming from.

Then, Seven-Intent looked at the scene before him and couldn’t help but recall a mythical legend.

In the legend, a warrior, fleeing with his tribe, reached the edge of a great sea. They had no way forward. Fortunately, a deity descended with holy radiance, granting power to the warrior’s leader. He used divine power to part the sea, and after his tribe had escaped across the seabed, the waters reunited, blocking their pursuers.

Within the thousand-layered waves stirred by the souls of the departed, a path opened up in the middle.

It was a golden path, like stairs leading to a divine realm.

Then Seven-Intent realized he had been mistaken. This wasn’t the legend of a deity parting the sea; it was the story of the nine suns inherently scorching and evaporating all rivers and waters.

The darkness seemed to have met its natural enemy, instantly devoured and gnawed away. The “culprit” Golden Crow hung in the center, with a red sun reflected behind it, causing its dark golden feathers to become black silhouettes.

“Beast!” Seven-Intent finally lost his composure. He realized this entity must be a primordial spirit with special abilities, yet he didn’t realize that his emotional turmoil would cost him his life.

In the alternation of darkness and light, a sword thrust in.

That sword, too, seemed to have been granted divine power, moving so fast that no cold gleam could be seen.

But Seven-Intent was by no means an ordinary person. He had previously witnessed the grey-robed elder die by this sword, and he recognized that this was not a Yujian Tianzong swordsmanship. Thus, he had been extremely curious about Ning Changjiu’s origins, even contemplating recruiting him.

However, being an observer and being directly confronted were two different things. It was only when he truly faced this sword that he felt its terror.

The feeling reminded him of his first time learning soul manipulation, when the fierce roars of the souls devoured his mind. He had trembled in fear, shedding countless tears, and now that he had regained his youth, the shadows of his childhood seemed to return as well.

“Heaven’s wrath! You are presumptuously wielding heaven’s wrath! A sword like yours will sooner or later incur divine retribution and lead to your demise!”

Seven-Intent did not speak, but his thoughts compelled the few remaining lingering souls around him to utter these words.

Ning Changjiu had heard similar curses in Linhe City, but he paid them no mind.

The longsword severed Seven-Intent’s head. His body fell backward, plummeting into the endless abyss, to be gnawed clean by the ravenous souls. His head was tossed high, then landed steadily, its dying expression a mix of tears and laughter.

Everyone visibly relaxed after Seven-Intent’s death.

They looked at the sword in Ning Changjiu’s hand, feeling an unreal coldness.

The green-robed man looked at the sword, frowning.

There was blood on the sword.

This indicated that the young man had exhausted all his strength, unable even to flick the blood off the sword as he had done before.

And Ning Xiaoling stood silently behind him, using her sword to reflect away all prying gazes. Her stance reminded many of Lu Jiajia when she was still a young maiden.

“Kill these two young ones.”

Such a thought simultaneously arose in many minds.

They stared at the blood dripping from Ning Changjiu’s sword tip, making their final assessment of his cultivation.

But just then, unexpectedly, the dying words of the knife-wielding man were supplemented and came true.

Within Hidden Peak, continuous tremors were heard.

They looked towards the source of the sound, and a single thought quickly unified in their minds:

“The Cold Prison is broken!”

Tianku Peak today faced a major upheaval, unseen in decades. And it all began with an escaped convict and a mysterious white-robed man engaging in a fierce fight, one dying and the other falling into the deep valley.

This was like bait, cast out to lure fish of all sizes from the murky depths to the surface.

And just when everyone thought everything would temporarily settle, the sound of the Cold Prison walls shattering was like a grand bell chime, shaking the hidden anxieties in everyone’s hearts, causing them to flee rapidly.

No one knew who had opened the Cold Prison.

But the mere thought of the many old monsters imprisoned within the Cold Prison sent shivers down their spines.

Those who still had strength stared at the Cold Prison’s direction, as if facing a formidable enemy.

Only one elder glared fixedly at Ning Changjiu, his voice cold: “I recognize that sword! You are the one who fell into the abyss earlier! So you deliberately lured Lu Jiajia down… You are the true demon bent on ruining this peak!”

His words drew many people’s attention away from the Cold Prison and back to Ning Changjiu.

The immediate danger of the Cold Prison’s breach hadn’t truly arrived; the powerful monsters inside, after such long confinement, might have become mere livestock ready for slaughter.

And at this moment, they still had time to judge the “culprit.”

“Elder Huang, are you sure it’s him? There’s no mistake?”

“Absolutely no mistake! I’d recognize that bizarre sword even if it were burned to ashes! He’s just like that Seven-Intent, a spy sent by an evil cult!”

Listening to their words, Ning Xiaoling felt a wave of sorrow. She looked at Seven-Intent’s still-warm head on the ground, her sword-holding hand trembling uncontrollably. She wished she could draw her sword and pulverize every single person who spoke, sending these indiscriminate individuals to the deepest hell.

Ning Changjiu, currently the target of all accusations, remained silent.

Ning Xiaoling, who was truly connected with her senior brother, knew his real condition—he had no strength left for another sword strike.

“It’s my turn to protect him.”

Her swordsman’s heart became even more resolute.

But anger and hatred could not transform into actual cultivation. She knew that if they attacked en masse, she definitely wouldn’t be able to stop them. So, her murderous intent quickly became a resolve for death.

The elders with ill intentions hadn’t attacked yet, but Ning Changjiu himself could no longer hold on.

Today, he had used that peculiar sword technique three times in a row, each time causing immense strain on his body. He didn’t even know how he had managed to last until now, for he had supposedly exhausted all his strength when killing Yan Feng.

He looked at the abyss, and a gentle sensation suddenly arose within him, like a desperately thirsty person traversing a desert for days finally seeing a pool of water in an oasis.

Ning Changjiu’s body toppled forward.

At that moment, he realized with a shock that he had been subjected to demonic inducement!

Who had cast it on him? He couldn’t remember.

And it was too late for anything.

His unsupported body fell like a feather into a deep pool.

Ning Xiaoling, who had been focused on the enemies behind him, gasped in alarm. She was too slow; a piece of his white robe slipped from her hand as she turned, and she watched helplessly as Ning Changjiu plunged into the endless abyss.

Ning Xiaoling’s heart felt as if a huge stone had been tied to it, falling endlessly with him.

Her steps unsteady, she stumbled. Her momentary lapse was noticed, and a sword thrust directly at her back. Fortunately, Yazhu reacted quickly, immediately blocking the attack for her.

“Xiaoling, don’t do anything foolish!” Yazhu immediately warned.

Ning Xiaoling ignored her. She stared at the abyss, and just as she was about to leap down herself, she saw that white figure float up like a ghost once more.

Ning Xiaoling immediately wiped away her tears. As she composed herself, all the gloom in her heart vanished.

“Senior Brother… Master!”

From the abyss, one white figure, holding another white figure, rose against the void, piercing through their vision and arriving amidst the chaotic Hidden Peak.

Lu Jiajia’s beautiful face was hidden by her disheveled dark hair as she lowered her head. Then her cold voice echoed, like a banshee summoning souls and asking for directions from hell, “Who hurt him?”