Chapter Fifty-One: The Process of Murder (Part One)

Cooperating with them was one thing, but joining hands with the Demonic Sect to slaughter disciples of the other seven great sects? Even someone as composed as Zhang Xiao could not help but ask in astonishment, “Master, if we ally with the Demonic Sect to kill disciples from the other seven great sects, won’t that provoke universal outrage? Besides, isn’t it said that the righteous and the demonic cannot coexist?”

Kong Xuan’s expression darkened. “Hmph, it’s true that the righteous and the demonic cannot coexist, but do you know that all the other righteous sects look down on our Mount Mao? They believe our techniques are too strange and sinister—hypocrites, every one of them. Don’t worry. Even if we provoke outrage, it matters little. Now is not the time for open conflict. They may be furious, but they won’t dare to go to war with Mount Mao. At most, you will have to endure some grievances.”

As Kong Xuan spoke, Zhang Xiao suddenly had an ominous feeling. Kong Xuan continued, “This tournament will be held in a trial ground where all disciples from the nine great sects are sent in together. The first sect whose disciple reaches the top of the White Tower in the center, snatches the Five-Colored Cloud Banner, will win a great treasure as a reward, and enormous benefits for their sect. The trial ends there, and the division of the remaining spoils depends on how many disciples from each sect survive. Once inside, you must do everything possible to hunt down disciples from other sects. At the critical moment, the Demonic Sect will turn against their own, giving you the chance to slaughter them en masse. But Zhang Xiao, you need not concern yourself with the details; your junior brother will handle it. Your task is simple: besides our own disciples, kill any other sect member you see.”

With that, a frosty killing intent flashed in Kong Xuan’s eyes, and the wine cup in his hand instantly crumbled to dust. “I understand, Master,” Zhang Xiao replied with a faint smile, draining his cup as if none of this concerned him in the least. But inside, turmoil raged in his heart. With his strength, few disciples from other sects could oppose him; this task was not difficult. Yet Zhang Xiao could not shake the sense that things were far more complicated than Kong Xuan let on.

The three of them sat at the table, drinking and feigning merriment, though each harbored his own thoughts. As dusk fell and the sky grew darker, Zhang Xiao excused himself on the pretense of being unable to drink any more, his steps unsteady as he departed. This was no mere act; even at his level, too much of Kong Xuan’s wine could leave him dizzy and muddled.

After Zhang Xiao left, Zhou Yuan gazed after his retreating figure and said, “Master, this man is shrewd and deep, his cultivation high. In all my conversations with him, I have never managed to sway him—on the contrary, he has enlightened me on several points.”

Kong Xuan put down his cup and replied, “Yes, he is indeed promising material. But keeping him in the sect is not to your advantage. Fortunately, he knows his place. His reputation among the inner disciples is already in ruins; strong as he is, it doesn’t matter. This time, we are merely using him to win the greatest profit for our sect. I only hope he will not hold it against me in the future.” Kong Xuan shook his head with a bitter smile.

“Master, as the saying goes, ‘No risk, no reward.’ What is the loss of an outer-elder compared to the gains we seek? With inside help, Mount Mao is sure to claim the greatest prize in this tournament. Then what are Mount Longhu, Shaolin, or Kunlun? All will be forced aside.” At these words, a sharp gleam flashed in Kong Xuan’s eyes. “Indeed, if that comes to pass, Mount Mao will certainly rise to prominence.”

Back in his cabin, Zhang Xiao felt restless. Kong Xuan’s words—“They won’t dare go to war with Mount Mao, but you will have to endure some grievances”—had seemed innocuous at first, but upon reflection, they hinted at a hidden meaning. Zhang Xiao pondered for a long time, but could not unravel the mystery. He posed no threat to Zhou Yuan’s position, so why would Kong Xuan plot against him? After this tournament, increased strength on his part would only benefit the sect. Yet he could not shake the feeling that some conspiracy was aimed at him. Sitting there, he felt as though needles pricked his seat.

Time passed quickly, and soon Zhang Xiao and the other disciples were summoned early to the battleship’s deck. In the distance, an island floated, suspended in the sky, its outline gradually emerging. The disciples were all astounded—when had there ever been such an island on Earth, hovering above the clouds? Kong Xuan smiled and said, “Ahead lies the site of the Nine Sects Grand Tournament—Mount Feixia. Once the battleship drew near, the full splendor of Mount Feixia was revealed: cliffs stretching beyond sight, countless birds darting through the air, clouds drifting all around—a scene like the very realm of immortals.

Suddenly, a massive shadow shot out from the mountain—a giant eagle, its wingspan larger than the battleship itself. The eagle soared into the sky, creating a mighty gust as it charged toward the ship. The disciples’ faces changed as they reached for their treasures, but before they could react, the eagle was already overhead, talons outstretched to seize the ship. “Hmph! How dare a mere beast get so bold?” Kong Xuan’s angry shout sent the giant eagle hurtling back several miles, fleeing into Mount Feixia without a backward glance. Though they knew Kong Xuan’s power was vast, to repel such a creature with a single shout was truly astounding.

Kong Xuan smiled, “Remember, the mountain is full of monsters. That eagle, Peng Tian the Roc, has the power of a Nascent Soul cultivator. If you meet one, you’ll need luck to survive. Also, know this: in this tournament, being killed won’t affect your attributes, but your cultivation will plummet, and you’ll lose a random magical artifact from your person. So once the tournament begins, your first priority is to stay alive.”

The disciples were shocked—losing cultivation and a treasure was a heavy price. It seemed the brutality of this tournament far exceeded their expectations. Guiding the bronze battleship into Mount Feixia, Kong Xuan unleashed beams of light at any monster foolish enough to approach, killing them instantly. The ship’s power amazed everyone; none had expected the bronze battleship to be so formidable.

Just as they marveled, eight more battleships appeared from different directions. Unlike theirs, these were made variously of wood, jade, and some shaped like pagodas, some shrouded in ominous clouds. These were the ships of the other eight great sects—righteous and demonic alike. Kong Xuan smiled, “So, none are late.” Then, a massive jade platform rose from the heart of Mount Feixia. Kong Xuan landed the bronze ship upon it, and the others followed suit. At his command, the disciples filed down in order, led by Wang Yanbo, the head disciple. Zhang Xiao and Zhou Yuan mingled with the crowd, keeping a low profile.

“Fellow Daoists, greetings from Yu Xuzi of Kunlun.” A clear voice rang out as an elderly Daoist in robes emerged from Kunlun’s ship—none other than Kunlun’s leader, Yu Xuzi. The other sect leaders soon emerged as well. “Hmph! Yu Xuzi, must you shout? Are you showing off your voice?” sneered a hunched, sinister-faced middle-aged man—the leader of the Five Poisons Sect.

Yu Xuzi chuckled, “Heh, did my voice frighten the old poison master of the Five Poisons Sect?” The man, the sect master himself, was about to retort when a hand stopped him—it was the Demonic Sect’s leader, the Venerable Wanmo. Wanmo smiled, “Enough chatter. With all nine sects present, let’s get to the point.”

“You are right, Venerable Wanmo. It’s late, so let Mount Longhu announce the rules.” The leader of Mount Longhu, Master Mingqing, smiled. It seemed the nine sects had already agreed on this, for none objected. Mingqing stepped forward, producing a golden scroll and unfurling it to proclaim:

“The rules of the Nine Sects Grand Tournament: all disciples enter Mount Feixia. The first to reach the Feixia Golden Tower, ascend to its summit, and seize the Five-Colored Cloud Banner shall be crowned champion. The tournament ends there. The champion’s sect will receive a supreme treasure—the Five-Colored Cloud Banner—along with the right to mint currency and thirty percent of the spiritual stone mines. The remaining benefits will be divided according to the proportion of disciples surviving at the end. The more disciples your sect retains, the greater your share. If a sect’s disciples are all eliminated, that sect receives nothing. While death in the trial brings no attribute penalty, cultivation will suffer a severe decline, and a random magical artifact will be lost. Upon entering Mount Feixia, all disciples’ locations will be scattered at random. Thus is decreed!”

Though Kong Xuan had emphasized the great stakes of this competition, Zhang Xiao was still stunned. He didn’t know much about spiritual stone mines, but the right to mint currency—this was an enormous prize. Since the cataclysm, people mainly traded in materials, pelts, and herbs, making transactions inconvenient. Currency was essential to society; whoever controlled it, controlled the economy. No wonder this contest was so fierce—Zhang Xiao now worried even more. With interests this vast, he might be a key piece in Kong Xuan’s plans, but could just as easily be discarded.

He realized he would have to plan carefully for himself. As for the Five-Colored Cloud Banner, though tempting, it was not as important as his own safety. Suddenly, with a thunderous boom, twelve portals of teleportation rose from the jade platform. Master Mingqing announced, “The Nine Sects Grand Tournament begins! All disciples, enter the portals!”