novelraw Chapter 81 : To Refrain from Action for Fear of Harming What One Protects! The Patriarch’s Powerlessness
Chapter 81 : To Refrain from Action for Fear of Harming What One Protects! The Patriarch’s Powerlessness
Chapter 81: To Refrain from Action for Fear of Harming What One Protects! The Ancestor’s Powerlessness
True Lord Xuantian hovered silently in midair, his face so dark it seemed he could wring water from it.
He had lived for over a thousand years and seen all manner of battles. The number of demonic cultivators he had suppressed exceeded the number of living people these little brats had ever seen.
Yet today’s matter was truly a thorny one.
The disciples below all stood with stiff necks and bristling tempers—each one like a porcupine, prickly to the touch.
Act against them?
If he did, the camp would likely explode on the spot, and the label of “tyrant” would forever stick to him.
Do nothing?
Then where would he, the Grand Ancestor, place his face?
Were the sect’s rules mere decoration?
“Nonsense!”
He forcibly suppressed the fire in his chest, intending first to “reason with them.”
In his mind, these juniors were simply blinded by greed—if he pointed out the truth, they would naturally awaken.
“You all only care about these scraps before your eyes, yet do not see that you are digging up the ancestors’ graves of the sect!”
His voice, imbued with spiritual power, pressed heavily on every person present, seeking to shatter the dust clouding their conscience and awaken their loyalty to the sect.
“Cultivation is about steadfastness and purity of heart! You, so blinded by greed—where lies your Dao Heart? Continue this way, and our Qingyun Sect’s thousand-year foundation shall crumble to dust!”
His words were resounding, believing they would make many bow their heads in shame.
Yet what he received was not repentance.
“Ancestor, a Dao Heart can’t fill our stomachs!”
Someone in the crowd muttered softly.
That one line was like a spark to gunpowder—the crowd instantly exploded.
“That’s right, Ancestor! With our poor aptitude, without resources, we’ll never even touch Foundation Establishment in this lifetime!”
“We used to be down-to-earth too! And what did it get us? Sweeping floors in the Chores Courtyard until death?”
“Purity of heart? That’s for Heaven-blessed geniuses like you! We don’t even know how to pay for next month’s pills—how are we supposed to stay pure and desireless?”
“Ancestor, times have changed! If you don’t offer benefits, who’s going to follow you?”
Each sentence was coarser and truer than the last.
Those words came from all directions, drilling straight into his soul—sharp and painful.
He froze entirely.
What he spoke of and what the disciples shouted about were two completely different things.
He spoke of heritage and orthodoxy—they spoke of survival.
He spoke of rules and discipline—they spoke of spirit stone bonuses.
He spoke of the sect’s future—they looked only at the present.
They were not on the same path at all.
Just as the standoff stiffened, a boy of fifteen or sixteen was pushed out by the crowd, trembling as he stepped forward.
He held two things in his hands.
One was a pitch-black, pungent “pill lump”—a defective Qi Nourishing Pill, a leftover product from Leng Yanran’s production line.
The other was a few low-grade spirit stones—his wages from last month.
The boy dropped to his knees with a thud, tears spilling on the spot.
“Ancestor!”
He raised what he held high above his head, his voice cracking.
“My name is Li Ergou! My spiritual root is trash. I’ve been in the sect three years, and my cultivation hasn’t advanced at all. Everyone says I’m a useless waste—that my life is over.”
“It was the Ascension Group, it was President Chu, who gave me this pill! It’s bitter and foul, but it truly has spiritual energy! After taking it, I finally reached the Qi Refining Second Level!”
“It was the Ascension Group, it was President Chu, who gave me these few spirit stones! I sent them to my family in the mortal world—my father and mother finally don’t have to starve or freeze anymore!”
He shouted while knocking his forehead against the ground—thud, thud, thud—until blood appeared.
“Ancestor, you said the Group is heretical and demonic, but it’s this ‘heretic’ that gave a useless man like me hope, that let me be a filial son!”
“Now, you want to destroy the Group—then you’re taking away my only pill! Are you trying to let my parents starve to death?”
“Ancestor, just strike me dead! Without the Group, what meaning does living have for me?”
The boy’s wails were like a cuckoo crying blood.
He spoke no grand truths—only human words. Yet they pierced deeper than any sermon.
Because what he said was what most of the people in that plaza truly felt.
The entire square fell deathly silent—you could hear a pin drop.
Many disciples’ eyes reddened.
True Lord Xuantian stared at the weeping, snot-covered Li Ergou on the ground, at the lump in his hands that wasn’t even worthy to be called pill residue, and then at the few pitiful low-grade spirit stones.
His chest clenched sharply.
He had always believed himself to be the protector of Qingyun orthodoxy and the upholder of Heaven’s righteousness.
Yet in the end, he couldn’t even provide his lowest disciples with the most basic necessities.
Instead, that so-called “demon,” Chu Feng, had done it.
What kind of joke was this?
It was absurd—utterly laughable!
“You…”
True Lord Xuantian’s lips trembled; he wanted to say something, but not a word came out. His throat tightened painfully.
He instinctively raised a hand, intending to help the boy up.
But as soon as he lifted his hand—
With a whoosh, dozens of disciples rushed forward, linking arms to form a human wall, shielding Li Ergou tightly behind them.
They were terrified, their faces pale, yet not one took a step back.
“Ancestor! Punish us if you must!”
“Don’t touch Ergou!”
True Lord Xuantian’s extended hand froze midair.
Looking at those youthful yet stubborn faces—faces that not even nine oxen could drag back—a surge of nameless fury shot straight up to his crown.
“Move aside!”
He roared.
A tidal wave of spiritual energy exploded from his body. The force was perfectly controlled—it harmed no one, yet sent the dozens of disciples flying.
Boom!
The blast crashed into the distant stone tiles, leaving a deep crater.
The disciples in the plaza stumbled back more than ten steps, faces as white as paper.
Yet even so, no one ran.
They only looked at him with complex gazes—fearful, yet carrying something else.
True Lord Xuantian’s chest heaved violently.
He had lost.
Completely and utterly.
Not in strength—but in hearts.
Staying any longer would only bring him humiliation.
His cold gaze swept across the square, carving every defiant face into his memory before his figure vanished into thin air.
He had to return.
He had to go back and think—carefully.
That boy named Chu Feng, and his so-called “Group,” were far trickier than any demonic cultivator he had ever faced.