Chapter 5: The Onset

The two young men in grey robes wore expressions of utter despair; they understood all too well what entering the Hall of Discipline meant. For official disciples of the Azure Cloud Sect, entering this hall, even to receive punishment, rarely resulted in serious harm. But for them, things were different—they were mere menial workers, the lowest rung in the sect, devoid of any rights or protections.

In the eyes of these cultivators, life was as insignificant as grass. They had once dreamed of entering the immortal sect, of cultivating the ways of immortals, and despite countless hardships, their aspirations had come to nothing. Even so, they thought that remaining in the abode of immortals would be worthwhile. Only after becoming menials did they realize that the immortal sect was nothing like the paradise they had imagined.

They had been in the Azure Cloud Sect for several years now, long enough to witness countless menials executed for offending immortal disciples or making mistakes. Before them, two menials who had guarded the medicine fields disappeared after the spiritual herbs were stolen; they never returned.

The two knew well that those men were no longer of this world. The immortal sect was even more ruthless than the world outside. As menials, all they could do was obey—even if ordered to their deaths, they could only comply. The slightest protest would be seen as a challenge to immortal authority, a fate far more agonizing than death.

The Hall of Discipline was a resplendent and imposing hall, situated to the right of the main temple. On ordinary days, few were willing to enter. Even official disciples of the Azure Cloud Sect kept a respectful distance from this place.

Now, the two grey-robed youths stood before the Hall of Discipline, their bodies trembling violently. For them, arriving here meant the abyss of death was imminent.

If life were possible, who would choose to die? Even the lowliest creature clings to life—how much more so a person? Yet, though they wished to live, they did not wish to endure a fate more painful than death. Sometimes, death is the easier path.

Each step they took felt as heavy as a thousand weights, each movement consuming all their remaining strength, though the distance was but a few paces.

In front of the Hall of Discipline, two cold-faced middle-aged men stood silently, their eyes indifferent as they watched the grey-robed youths. Having served in this hall for many years, they had seen countless disciples come to receive punishment; from their attire, it was clear these two were the lowest of the menials.

From the moment a menial entered the Hall of Discipline, their life was no longer their own. Their struggle now was merely a desperate wish to live a moment longer—but nothing could alter their fate.

At last, the youths crossed the threshold of the hall. The two middle-aged men seized them by the shoulders and led them into the depths of the hall.

“Wait!” A loud voice rang out. Yin Tianfang arrived, breathless, clutching the doorframe as he gasped, “Let… let them… go…”

“Where did this brat come from? Looking for death!” The two men spun around, eyes narrowing, a murderous gleam flashing across their faces as they glared at Yin Tianfang.

Under their menacing gazes, Yin Tianfang paled, an intangible pressure engulfing him. For an instant, he seemed to smell the faint scent of blood, and his body began to tremble uncontrollably.

The two menials glanced back, bewilderment in their eyes as they looked at Yin Tianfang.

“The Hall of Discipline is a forbidden place—not just anyone can trespass here! Now that these two have set foot inside, there’s no way out for them!” one of the men said coldly.

“Judging by your clothes, you’re no disciple of Azure Cloud Sect. Trespassing in the immortal domain—death is the only sentence!”

Yin Tianfang felt a crushing pressure descend upon him, his body trembling more violently, sweat pouring in icy streams down his back.

Just as he was about to collapse, a sudden breeze swept in. A figure appeared before him. Instantly, the pressure vanished. Looking up, he saw a not-so-tall silhouette standing protectively in front of him, dispersing all the oppressive force.

“Master…”

“You reckless child, always causing trouble.” Daoist Wuchen turned and rapped Yin Tianfang lightly on the head, chiding him before turning his attention to the two middle-aged men.

The two men’s expressions shifted; they dropped to one knee and called out respectfully, “Greetings, Grand Elder!”

“He is my disciple,” Daoist Wuchen said calmly, his words crashing in the men’s ears like thunder. Both trembled almost imperceptibly.

Daoist Wuchen’s appearance, especially in defense of Yin Tianfang, filled them with dread. Only now did they realize the gravity of their earlier mistake.

“Grand Elder, forgive us!” Both men immediately dropped to both knees, groveling in fear.

The Azure Cloud Sect was not a place where just anyone could enter at will—especially not the main peak, which ordinary people could not even approach. Yin Tianfang’s presence on the main peak, dressed as a non-sect member, was highly suspicious, but they had not thought to question it and now had made a grave error.

The sect had tens of thousands of menials, thousands of outer disciples, and only a few hundred inner disciples. Yet, the number fortunate enough to be chosen as a personal disciple by an elder was less than a hundred. These were the true core of the sect—even the Hall of Discipline dared not punish them lightly.

Who could have imagined that a seemingly insignificant, utterly unremarkable youth with no cultivation would be the disciple of an elder, and not just any elder, but the Grand Elder himself? Although Daoist Wuchen was gentle to Yin Tianfang, he was renowned in the sect for his cold ruthlessness.

“You just said my disciple deserved death, did you?”

“We did not know this senior brother was your esteemed disciple, Grand Elder. We spoke out of turn—please, forgive both us and this senior brother!” At the emotionless tone of the Grand Elder, the men’s faces turned deathly pale. They kowtowed repeatedly, terror-stricken.

“Hmph! So you mean, had you injured or killed my disciple out of ignorance, you’d still expect me to forgive you?” Daoist Wuchen’s face darkened at once; the two men groaned, a formless pressure weighing upon them. Under its crushing force, their minds were seized by fear—resistance was impossible.

Meanwhile, the two menial youths stared, stupefied, at the unfolding scene.

“Hey…” Yin Tianfang poked his head out from behind Daoist Wuchen and waved at the two menials. They glanced at the kneeling men, then, gritting their teeth, hurried over to Yin Tianfang.

“So, it’s Brother Wuchen making a scene in my Hall of Discipline,” a soft chuckle sounded as an effeminate-looking middle-aged man sauntered out from the rear hall, a faint smile on his lips, his long, narrow eyes glinting coldly. Meeting his gaze was like being stared at by a venomous snake—deeply unsettling.

Standing behind Daoist Wuchen, Yin Tianfang felt a chill the moment those eyes landed on him.

“So this is the disciple Brother Wuchen took in on his recent trip down the mountain? He’s rather cute, isn’t he?” The man threw himself carelessly into the grand armchair at the front of the hall, smiling at Yin Tianfang.

“Yin Wushuang, what do you want?” Daoist Wuchen frowned, his voice icy.

“Oh, nothing—just curious.” Yin Wushuang smiled slyly. “No need to be so tense, brother. I’m not going to steal him from you.”

“Hmph!” Daoist Wuchen snorted coldly, clearly at odds with Yin Wushuang.

As the two bickered, Yin Tianfang’s face suddenly turned ashen. His body trembled, and a fierce pain erupted inside, spreading unchecked.

“Master…” Yin Tianfang gasped, his voice quivering with agony.

Startled, Daoist Wuchen quickly caught him, examining his condition closely. His expression shifted.

Not far away, Yin Wushuang’s eyes narrowed, a strange light flashing as he said with a soft laugh, “Well, Brother, your disciple is plagued by illness. As it happens, I know a thing or two about medicine. As his uncle, I have nothing else as a meeting gift—why not let me cure him?” As he spoke, he moved in a flash to Yin Tianfang’s side, ready to act.

“Back off!” Daoist Wuchen barked, a frosty gleam in his eyes. He struck with his palm. Yin Wushuang’s face changed, and he swiftly retreated, dodging the blow.

“You two, come with me.” Cradling Yin Tianfang, Daoist Wuchen called to the grey-robed youths before striding off with a cold snort.

“There’s something going on,” Yin Wushuang murmured to himself, watching Daoist Wuchen’s hurried figure fade. “You two, go look into that boy’s background.”

“Yes, Hall Master!” The two kneeling men, finally recovering, quickly responded to his orders.

Daoist Wuchen, carrying Yin Tianfang, moved like the wind toward North Peak. The two grey-robed youths did their utmost to keep up, but they were no match for his speed. When he vanished from sight, they exchanged a glance and continued running toward North Peak.

By the time they arrived, gasping for breath, Daoist Wuchen had already emerged from his abode. His face was a touch pale as he glanced at the two and said, “From today onward, you will live on North Peak and be responsible for caring for my disciple.”

“Yes, we obey!” The two fell to their knees, overwhelmed with excitement. Having expected certain death, they found themselves blessed with unexpected fortune.

Though they were not familiar with Yin Tianfang, his actions had shown he was kind-hearted; otherwise, he would never have risked the Hall of Discipline to save them.

“Master!” From afar, two streaks of light sped over and landed on North Peak. Three figures approached Daoist Wuchen.

“Your disciples greet you, Master!” the three said in unison—it was Ye Tianxing and his companions, freshly returned from Liuzhou City.

Daoist Wuchen nodded, then said to the two kneeling youths, “You two, go inside first.”

“Yes.” The pair scrambled up and hurried into the abode.

“Master, who is inside the abode?” the disciples asked.

“I recently took in a new disciple. He will be your junior brother,” Daoist Wuchen replied. “Qingfeng, Qingyue, from now on, you are to instruct Tianxing in his cultivation.”

“Yes, Master,” Qingfeng and Qingyue responded. “But what about the junior brother in the abode?”

“You need not concern yourselves with him. I will instruct him personally,” Daoist Wuchen said coolly.

The three exchanged glances. Though they said nothing, their hearts were filled with a burning jealousy…