Chapter 17: True Colors Revealed

A powerful, resounding voice echoed around him. Yin Tianfang stood tall, radiating confidence, his entire aura transformed in that instant.

“Hmph, arrogant!” Qingfeng’s gaze grew cold as he strode forward. “Do you even understand what it means to cultivate immortality? With your abilities, you dare utter such words? Aren’t you afraid of disgracing your master?”

“We entered the Azure Cloud Sect as children, enduring bitter cultivation for over a decade to reach this stage. You’ve only been here a few days—have you ever experienced the hardships of the Dao? You speak rashly without knowing anything, utterly arrogant!”

With a sweep of his sleeve, a fierce wind arose. Yin Tianfang felt a tremendous force rush at him, and without resistance, he was sent flying and crashed to the ground.

“A small punishment. Next time… hmph!” Qingfeng cast a cold glance at Yin Tianfang and left, taking Qingyue and Ye Tianxing with him.

Blood spurted from Yin Tianfang’s lips as his face suddenly paled once the three departed.

“Master!” Zhang Ping and Lin Fan hurried over, helping him up with worry etched across their faces.

“I’m fine. A day or two of rest will suffice.” Yin Tianfang wiped the blood from his mouth and gazed coldly in the direction Qingfeng and the others had gone. A chill flickered in his eyes.

“My blood will not be shed in vain, hmph!” Yin Tianfang muttered as he turned and walked back into his cave dwelling.

Days passed in a blink. The servant responsible for delivering spiritual herbs brought them as instructed, ensuring Yin Tianfang had a steady supply. With these resources, he resumed his cultivation with renewed fervor.

A month slipped away quietly amidst relentless training. Yin Tianfang’s strength grew considerably; within his dantian, the green lotus leaf expanded to the size of a cloak, lush and vibrant. Beneath it, a second leaf was on the verge of emerging.

He knew that once the second lotus leaf appeared, his cultivation would break through to the second layer of Qi Condensation.

“Master, master…” One day, as he cultivated, Zhang Ping and Lin Fan rushed into the cave. “The Grand Elder has returned to the sect!”

No sooner had the words been spoken than a figure appeared outside the cave.

“Master!” Yin Tianfang ran out in delight. Daoist Wuchen stood there, his face pale. Seeing Yin Tianfang approach, a faint smile crossed his lips.

“Master, what happened?” Yin Tianfang asked with concern, noting his master’s pallor.

“It’s nothing, just a minor injury. I’ll go to the secret chamber to heal.” Daoist Wuchen handed him a token and a list of herbs. “Take my token and fetch these herbs from the sect’s alchemy hall.”

Yin Tianfang took the token and hurried out, heading toward the main peak, with Zhang Ping and Lin Fan following close behind.

Once they left, Daoist Wuchen’s eyes flickered with an inscrutable light. He slipped into the secret chamber, spat a mouthful of blood, and his complexion grew even paler.

“Yin Wushuang, you truly are ruthless, willing to perish together with me. But you died, and I survived—ha ha…” Daoist Wuchen murmured to himself, a twisted smile spreading across his pale face. His laughter was punctuated by violent coughing and more blood.

“If I hadn’t mastered the soul-seizing technique, I would have perished in your hands this time.” Daoist Wuchen shuddered at the memory—Yin Wushuang’s final counterattack had nearly claimed his life.

He took a deep breath and sat cross-legged on the mat, stabilizing his wounds and striving to reach his best state. Only then could he successfully perform the soul-seizing ritual. His injuries had harmed his foundation; without soul-seizing, even if fully healed, he would never reach the pinnacle of the Dao. He could not accept such an end.

“Master!” Who knows how much time had passed when Yin Tianfang returned to the northern peak with the herbs and called outside the secret chamber.

“Come in.” Daoist Wuchen opened his eyes. The chamber door swung open, and Yin Tianfang entered, placing the herbs before his master.

“Leave me now,” Daoist Wuchen instructed. Yin Tianfang complied and withdrew. Once the door closed, Daoist Wuchen waved his sleeve, causing the herbs to float before him. A thread of flame shot from his hand, enveloping the herbs…

Outside the chamber, Yin Tianfang was anxious. He’d seen the bloodstains on the floor and worried deeply for his master.

Within the Azure Cloud Sect, there stood a quiet grand hall, rarely frequented and off-limits to disciples. Inside, rows of dark green jade slips rested on shelves, each glowing faintly. Every slip represented a disciple of the sect—over a thousand were arrayed there.

The doors creaked open and an old man entered, carefully cleaning the hall and wiping down the shelves.

One shelf held only a few jade slips, representing the elders. As the old man passed, his gaze fell upon one inscribed with the name Yin Wushuang. The slip was split down the middle!

Clatter!

The broom dropped from his hands. These jade slips were not ordinary—they were soul slips, carved from soul jade, containing a wisp of the owner’s soul. If the owner perished, the slip would shatter. Yin Wushuang’s slip was broken—he was dead.

Yin Wushuang had been the Azure Cloud Sect’s Discipline Hall Elder, renowned for his cultivation. Yet he had died without warning—a catastrophe sure to alarm the whole sect.

The old man rushed from the hall toward the Ancestor Shrine.

“Ring the warning bell and summon all elders to the Ancestor Shrine!” he shouted to the disciple guarding the shrine.

“Dong, dong, dong!”

The disciple, seeing the old man’s panic, wasted no time. He climbed the bell tower, and soon the bell’s toll resounded throughout the Azure Cloud Sect.

Everyone who heard it looked toward the Ancestor Shrine, their faces turning pale at the three tolls. Three chimes signaled grave news—a calamity.

Streams of light streaked across the sky, heading for the Ancestor Shrine. Most were elders, radiating powerful auras.

They quickly entered the hall, shocked by the summons.

“Elders, disaster has struck! Elder Yin Wushuang’s soul slip has shattered!” The old man, waiting in the hall, spoke before anyone else could.

“What?!” The hall erupted in shock, the elders’ faces twisted with rage. They knew well what a broken soul slip meant.

“Who? Who dared harm an Azure Cloud Sect member? I’ll tear the culprit apart!” one elder roared, his eyes blazing with murderous intent.

“Third Elder, calm yourself. Elder Yin was powerful and rarely left the sect. How could he be killed so suddenly? There must be more to this.”

“Indeed, acting rashly is pointless. We don’t even know who the murderer is; how can we seek vengeance? We must investigate thoroughly first,” another said.

“Where is the Grand Elder? Why hasn’t he come?” one elder asked, frowning in confusion. The warning bell meant the Grand Elder should appear, but with such a major incident, his absence was odd.

“He left the sect some days ago—perhaps he hasn’t returned yet,” someone replied. “Let’s not worry about that now. We must find the killer and avenge Elder Yin!”

After some discussion, the elders left the hall. Soon, a group headed to the Discipline Hall and took several disciples away.

A tense atmosphere settled over the Azure Cloud Sect, enveloping everyone in oppression. As time passed, the weight only grew heavier.

In the northern peak’s secret chamber, Daoist Wuchen gazed at a floating pill, a pale smile on his lips and a strange light in his eyes.

“Tianfang, come in,” he called.

After days of anxious waiting outside, Yin Tianfang heard his master’s voice and hurriedly opened the door.

“Tianfang, come here.” Daoist Wuchen beckoned him closer.

“Master, are you all right?” Yin Tianfang asked with concern.

“No worries. With you here, how could I be in trouble? Heh heh…” Daoist Wuchen’s smile turned sinister as he stared at Yin Tianfang, sending chills down his spine.

“Master, you…” Before he could finish, a stream of light struck him. The world spun, his consciousness faded. As he slipped into unconsciousness, Daoist Wuchen’s wicked laughter echoed through the chamber.

“Why, Master?”

His mind seemed to stop functioning as his body crumpled to the floor. Daoist Wuchen looked at him, eyes gleaming brilliantly.

“I had planned to wait until your cultivation improved, but there’s no time left.” With that, he shoved the pill he had refined over the past days into Yin Tianfang’s mouth, then sliced his fingertip. Across the room, a blood-red rune appeared in the air. With a gesture, the rune shot toward Yin Tianfang’s forehead and vanished into the space between his brows…

Daoist Wuchen sat cross-legged, forming seals with his hands and chanting in a deep, low voice. When the chanting ceased, a transparent, ethereal figure emerged from his body and slowly walked toward Yin Tianfang…