novelraw Chapter 473: I’ll just touch it, nothing else
Chapter 473: I’ll just touch it, nothing else
Elder Tie Shan was a body cultivator; every inch of his skin held explosive strength, and his neck was so thick it seemed to merge with his head, so that from afar he looked as if he had no neck at all.
Stung by humiliation, Elder Tie Shan clenched his fists, and sharp crackles like sonic booms snapped from his knuckles as he roared: “What did you say!”
Senior Qun Fang lifted a sleeve, her voice cool and even as a gentle yet irresistible force blossomed between them to dissolve the taut hostility: “Elder Tie Shan, Ancestor Sui Bian is my honored guest. Do not be rude.”
Elder Tie Shan snorted heavily, then suddenly swept his gaze toward Yu Zhao by Ancestor Sui Bian’s side and asked with contempt: “You are Yu Zhao, the one who defeated Du Wu Xiang?” Yu Zhao had just begun to salute when Elder Tie Shan gave a derisive hum and strode off with two tower-like disciples toward the Lingyin Sect contingent, as if another glance at her would be a waste of time.
“I apologize for him; Elder Tie Shan has always been that way,” said Senior Qun Fang with an apologetic smile. Ancestor Sui Bian waved it off, his tone airy: “No matter. Men that big rarely grow brains. I will not bother arguing with him.” Yu Zhao, struggling not to laugh, nodded along at the side.
“This time’s sect discourse, Elder Tie Shan’s two disciples will be participating as well,” added Senior Qun Fang. Yu Zhao understood at once. No wonder he had looked at her askance from every angle; he had taken her as a direct rival. They were all fighting for Lingyin Sect, yet there was only one slot to enter the Eye of Bifang. Elder Tie Shan merely wished to put her in her place in advance.
“Many thanks for the reminder, Senior,” said Yu Zhao. Senior Qun Fang glanced toward the Heng Nan Sect Master and said softly: “Everyone is here. We should set out.” The Heng Nan Sect Master nodded, flicked her sleeve, and a dainty, exquisite palace flew from her palm. Barely the size of a hand at first, it swelled with the wind in an instant into a vast and imposing palace that hung in midair. Her voice rolled across the plaza: “All elders and disciples attending the discourse, enter the palace at once.”
Senior Qun Fang made an inviting gesture to Ancestor Sui Bian and the Old Black Daoist; the three figures flickered forward and stepped inside first. Yu Zhao followed closely after. Only then did the rest file into the palace and take their seats.
The interior stretched broad and high. The walls were inlaid with innumerable pieces of spirit jade that shed a soft glow, and a faint, clean fragrance drifted through the air, soothing and clear.
Once everyone had entered, the Heng Nan Sect Master stood at the fore, formed seals, and gave a clear command: “Rise!” The entire palace gave a faint tremor, then lifted smoothly and sped toward the distance. Outside, clouds curled and winds howled, but within it was steady as level ground, without even a hint of jolt.The Old Black Daoist, somewhat overexcited, sat cross-legged by a wall and could not help running his hands over the embedded spirit jade, his eyes bright with itchy eagerness. Ancestor Sui Bian hurriedly pressed his hand down and hissed: “We are in front of Senior Qun Fang. Leave me a little face, will you!” The Old Black Daoist sheepishly withdrew his hand but muttered under his breath: “I’ll just touch it, nothing else.”
Ancestor Sui Bian gave a short, cold laugh: “And who was it back then who took it upon himself to ‘borrow’ a sect’s warding Sword Stele, dragging me into being hunted by a pack of sword cultivators for a full half year.” Flushed at having his old misdeeds aired, the Old Black Daoist snapped back: “I returned it later, didn’t I!” Ancestor Sui Bian said lightly: “Yes, after you had comprehended every last trace of sword intent left on it and finally deigned to return it. By then half a year had passed.” “I returned it all the same.” The two began trading barbs, one line after another. Yu Zhao listened with relish, and at some point even Senior Qun Fang and the Heng Nan Sect Master had drifted over to enjoy the squabble.
The Lingyin Sect’s palace magical treasure was a top-tier conveyance, swift enough to cross a thousand miles in the blink of an eye, and the venue for the sect discourse was not far from the sect. Three hours later, a towering mountain came into view. Its entire body was a deep, burning red, stretching for a hundred li like a crimson bird poised to take wing. Set into the summit was a perfectly round bright pearl. Looked at closely, though, it was a vast, circular cave whose red glow made it resemble a bright pearl from afar.
“The summit is the Eye of Bifang. The venue for the sect discourse is at the foot of the mountain,” said Senior Qun Fang. Following her gaze, Yu Zhao saw dense crowds already milling at the base. Quite a few sects had clearly arrived ahead of them.
“Prepare to descend,” came the calm instruction from the Heng Nan Sect Master. The palace sank steadily and settled on a broad, open stretch at the mountain’s foot.
Cultivators from the major sects of the Bifang Realm were already gathered below. Some murmured to one another, some rested with eyes closed. The air itself seemed to carry a taut mix of nerves and excitement, as if even the wind held a trace of grim edge.
Stepping out of the palace, Yu Zhao felt the atmosphere pressing in from all directions, and a fierce fighting spirit rose within her. Her sweeping glance snagged to the right and stopped dead. Among a cluster of flowing-robed disciples stood two figures both unusual and all too familiar: Du Wu Xiang and his father, Ancestor Fei Hong, whom she had recently defeated.
In a heartbeat she understood. After losing to her, Du Wu Xiang had not left the Bifang Realm; rather, he had chosen to cooperate with other sects and continue in the discourse. Ancestor Sui Bian, noting the direction of Yu Zhao’s stare, also looked over, instantly spotting his lifelong rival and that rival’s headache of a son. He clicked his tongue in faint annoyance. The stern-faced man speaking with Ancestor Fei Hong seemed to sense their attention; Ancestor Fei Hong turned his head and, far from showing any awkwardness, actually smiled slightly.
“What a thick skin,” sighed Ancestor Sui Bian, then dropped his gaze and followed Senior Qun Fang toward the Lingyin Sect encampment without another glance at Ancestor Fei Hong.
By Ancestor Fei Hong’s side, Du Wu Xiang had gone slack-faced. He asked with difficulty, the last four words catching in his throat: “Father, could the man beside Yu Zhao be… Ancestor Sui Bian?” He simply could not reconcile that ravishingly handsome youth with the rotund, white-bearded old man in his mind. Ancestor Fei Hong’s next words smashed his last hope: “It is him.” Du Wu Xiang sucked in a sharp breath. How in the world did Ancestor Sui Bian manage to have one outer shell so plain and another that stunned the eye? He had scoffed at his father’s story before, but seeing this other true visage roused a real itch of curiosity. He was just about to probe his father about Ancestor Sui Bian’s past when a sudden commotion ahead cut his thoughts off. He looked over and froze. The center of the uproar was Ancestor Sui Bian.