novelraw Chapter 74: The Enemy Revealed
Chapter 74: The Enemy Revealed
Qi Xiu couldn’t stop talking. He pulled Yu Jing aside, then little Li Tan, words tumbling out in endless streams—stay safe, guard the peak, don’t open the gate for strangers.
Zhan Yuan and Bai Munhan stood close, heads bent together in quiet murmurs. Zhang Shishi lingered with his twin brides, arms around their waists, stealing soft promises amid the sorrow.
Blackriver Peak felt like a funeral before the corpse had even cooled.
The Zhao Clan beast-tamer waited with uncharacteristic patience, arms folded, eyes distant.
Goodbyes stretch forever, yet always end too soon.
They climbed aboard the massive silver-backed ray. Already a scattering of cultivators dotted the broad back—some in tight knots, others alone, faces grim or resigned. Qi Xiu recognized a few from old visits to Zhao Liangde’s halls.
A Zhao disciple thrust a tall banner into his hands. Deep crimson cloth, two golden characters blazing across it: Chu Qin.
Like painting a target on their backs.
Qi Xiu opened his mouth to refuse.
The man’s face hardened. “That’s the whole point—wave it high, make noise, swell our numbers. What’s the flag for if not to fly?”
No room for argument. The pole was shoved into Qi Xiu’s grip.
If all we do is wave flags… Qi Xiu thought bitterly. He passed it to Qin Weiyu instead. “Hold this high the whole way.”
The older Qin grew, the simpler his mind became—perfect for a job needing no thought.
The ray surged forward, wind howling. Days blurred. They crossed familiar Zhao territories, then veered east—straight toward the heart of Imperial Beast Sect’s domain in the southern border.
On the fourth dawn, a roar of sound rolled toward them like distant thunder.
Qi Xiu joined the others at the ray’s broad head. What he saw stole his breath.
The sky churned with colossal flying beasts—over a hundred, formed into a living fortress of scale and wing. Smaller creatures darted between them like schools of fish. Cultivators streaked past on swords and treasures, light-trails crisscrossing the chaos.
Roars shook the clouds. War drums boomed. Every so often a cultivator’s long howl sliced through the din.
A moving mountain of flesh and fury, grinding south.
“South? White Mountain?” someone whispered in shock.
Their lone ray slipped into the formation like a minnow joining a whale migration—swallowed without a ripple.
They located Zhao Liangde’s command beast. A rainbow bridge arced across the void. Qi Xiu and his people crossed onto the vast palace-deck.
Inside the hall, Zhao Liangde held court from the high seat, flanked by rows of grim-faced allies. More banners identical to theirs stood behind lesser chairs—small sects, family clans, all lined up like offerings.
Outside, the deck teemed with yet more cultivators.
Zhao Liangde’s laughter rang loud, his voice carrying the old swagger. The beaten man of recent years had vanished.
“Brother Qi! Old Liu! Wu too! Come in, come in—take your seats!”
He beamed as they entered. Zhao disciples planted the Chu-Qin banner right behind Qi Xiu’s assigned spot—close to the front. Honored, or bait? Qi Xiu wondered, but bowed and sat.
A shout from outside announced another arrival: a lone Foundation Establishment rogue cultivator. Zhao Liangde rose personally to greet him, leaving the newcomers forgotten.
Zhang Shishi and the rest were barred at the door. Inside sat two or three dozen sect leaders and clan heads—small fish like Qi Xiu, gathered under one desperate net.
Zhao Liangde might have fallen far, but a starving camel still outweighs a horse. And he’d bought real muscle: one Foundation Establishment elder sat eyes closed at his right hand, radiating quiet menace.
The newcomer strode in—face like carved meat, killing intent thick as blood-mist.
“Zhao, you sly dog. You drag me here blind—no word on the target. Let’s be clear: if it’s someone I can’t afford to cross, I walk. No pile of spirit stones changes that.”
Zhao Liangde bowed and scraped. “Wei Ancestor’s strict orders—lips sealed till the end. Ask anyone here; I’ve told no one.”
The rogue snorted. “Don’t care. You pay, I kill. No tricks.”
He dropped into a seat beside the other hired Foundation Establishment, eyes shutting like the matter was closed.
Zhao Liangde’s smile twitched, but he swallowed the insult and sat.
More rays and beasts joined the formation. The command deck grew crowded, the army crawling south like a living storm.
With three Foundation Establishment on board, lesser cultivators kept silent. Qi Xiu traded nods and faint smiles with familiar faces.
They crossed the Death Marshes. Entered White Mountain territory.
Every sect they passed braced for annihilation—lights flaring on protective arrays, Foundation Establishment and even Golden Core elders rising to shadow the army until it passed their borders.
Days of slow, deliberate intimidation. White Mountain quaked.
Finally the host halted before a towering solitary peak.
The great beasts fanned out, encircling it in a ring of fang and claw. Not a fly would escape.
“Hey… that’s Mount Shandu!”
Gasps rippled through the hall.
Zhao Liangde threw back his head and laughed. “Exactly! Today we purge Mountain Gate Sect. They’ve bullied the weak, murdered innocents, plundered without shame for too long. Our ancestor acts to cleanse White Mountain of this blight!”
His gaze slid to Qi Xiu, meaningful. Old grudges, indeed.
Qi Xiu’s pulse quickened—not with dread, but dark satisfaction.
Si Wentai’s sneering face. Si Wenyu burning Gu Ji half to death. The tournament had left fresh scars.
If this was payback, he’d swing the flag himself.
The scarred rogue cultivator barked a laugh. “Cleanse White Mountain? Pretty words. You just want their land.”
Zhao Liangde didn’t deny it. “And if we do? Ancestor Wei needs this peak. So we take it. You object?”
“With one Golden Core and five Foundation Establishment against… this?” The man swept a hand at the sky-armada. “We’ll steamroll them. Easy spirit stones? I’m in.”
On the mountain below, arrays ignited. A shimmering dome snapped into place. Tiny figures scrambled like ants in a kicked nest.
The rogue shook his head. “Could’ve hit them before the shield rose—saved the hassle.”
Zhao Liangde lifted his chin. “We’re a righteous sect. No sneak attacks.”
From the dome, figures rose to meet them.
Leading was a Golden Core cultivator, robes snapping in the wind. His voice boomed like heaven’s own thunder:
“Si Wenguang of Mountain Gate Sect! Which Imperial Beast Daoist steps forward?”
No fear. Pure defiance.
Wei Ancestor urged his flood dragon forward. White beard streaming, ancient yet unbreakable.
“Si Wenguang! You sheltered murderers, crushed the weak, slaughtered for profit. Today heaven’s justice falls. We end your tyranny and bring peace to White Mountain!”
The words rang noble, almost holy.
Si Wenguang spat. “Lies! You frame us to steal our home!”
“No lies.” Wei Ancestor’s tone turned iron. “Proof enough to silence you.”
He waved. From behind the dragon, survivors stepped forward—Foundation Establishment, Qi Refining, eyes burning with hate.
One pointed a trembling finger. “Si Wenguang—you remember me? You wiped out my sect, butchered my clan. I’ve waited decades for this day.”
He recounted every atrocity, dates and names sharp as blades.
Then another stepped up. And another.
Witnesses. Evidence. Ironclad.
Years of preparation laid bare.
Si Wenguang’s face drained to ash. His lips trembled—not from guilt, but the dawning certainty that Mountain Gate Sect would not see another sunrise.
This was no raid.
It was extermination.