Chapter 38: The Ancient Temple of the Extreme, Immortal Elder Zuo Ming

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“Elder, does our sect have many enemies?” Several were puzzled. Wasn’t the Yellow Sand Sect secluded deep within the desert, rarely interacting with the outside world? How could the elder imply that their sect had so many foes?

“Many, far too many,” the elder replied. “Our Yellow Sand Sect is the premier sect of the desert. Though we have been quiet for many years, every year numerous so-called righteous cultivators come to the desert to exorcise demons and uphold the way.”

“Sect’s like Shaolin, Wudang, Huashan, Hengshan, Tianshan, and many others harbor deep-seated enmity against our Yellow Sand Sect.”

The great disaster thirty years ago was led by the chief elder of Shaolin and Wudang. There was no justification—they attacked the Yellow Sand Sect under fabricated charges, killing and wounding many elite disciples. That enmity was etched in blood.

“As long as you kill their disciples and bring back their heads, you can exchange them for contribution points.” The elder painted a tempting picture.

“What about the players?”

“Outsiders? If you can provide their identity tags to prove the kills, that counts as well.” The elder continued weaving hope.

“Thank you, Elder. We will surely help our sect avenge this grievance.”

…

Hangzhou.

The government’s council chamber.

Four tables arranged two long and two short. The short ones placed on the upper left and right, occupied by the Commanders of the Embroidered Uniform Guard and the Captains of the Six Doors. Behind them stood their respective squads of constables.

Below, the long tables were divided left and right, where the leaders of the righteous and demonic sects sat, acting as spokesmen.

“Ha ha ha ha ha ha!” A boisterous laugh came from outside the chamber.

A figure descended from the sky, stepping on empty air, landing at a seat.

“Nán Hàotiān, you’re still alive, huh?” The demonic overlord seated on the right mocked.

“Old ghost Shu, since you’re still alive, how could I leave before you?” Nán Hàotiān retorted without any courtesy.

The two were leaders of rival factions—the righteous Hao Tian Sect and the demonic Gui Yin Mountain Sect—with centuries-old enmity. Whenever the imperial court convened the martial world, these two inevitably exchanged insults.

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Yet, the atmosphere in the chamber was tense. The two powerful figures at the head seats did not quarrel but merely exchanged a few barbs before calming down.

“Greetings, Captain, Commander, and fellow martial brethren. I apologize for my tardiness,” a wisp of white smoke drifted down from the eaves and coalesced into the form of an elderly man with white hair and beard.

He was the elder of the Ji Lao Temple, a mysterious sect said to possess the closest martial legacy to Taoist traditions, mastering secrets of longevity.

The elder before them was Zuo Ming, aged 150, highly respected in the martial world and a favored guest of the Great Yong Emperor.

“Please be seated, Immortal Elder,” the Captain stood respectfully. He had once received guidance from Zuo Ming, to whom he owed gratitude.

The Embroidered Uniform Commander merely glanced, expressionless. As the emperor’s personal guard, their loyalty was to imperial authority above all else. Rank and seniority mattered little before the throne.

“It seems some are still absent,” Zuo Ming observed, noticing empty seats among both righteous and demonic factions.

“The Yellow Sand Sect still harbors grievances over the inadvertent harm caused to them thirty years ago, so they have refused to attend this meeting,” responded a Wudang elder uncomfortably.

The Shaolin representative beside him showed no shame, wearing a face of pious compassion that drew disdainful looks from the demonic attendees.

Did those hypocrites not realize why the Yellow Sand Sect stayed away? They had been senselessly attacked, suffering losses without compensation, and now sought to eradicate the sect entirely. If the Yellow Sand Sect’s stronghold were not so hidden, they might no longer exist.

Moreover, the Yellow Sand Sect had long been at odds with the righteous factions, who frequently used the banner of demon-slaying to attack them.

Though in the past the Yellow Sand Sect had accepted these beatings, the calamity thirty years prior was utterly unjustified.

Before the Yellow Sand Sect could act, they were preemptively struck with the intent to annihilate their lineage. Forgiveness was impossible.

“What about the Qingcheng Sect?”

Though not the most prestigious, Qingcheng was involved in the events thirty years ago and should have attended.

“Qingcheng’s situation…” The sect leaders exchanged uneasy glances and lowered their heads in silent accord. The Commander and Captain said nothing.

The atmosphere thickened with awkwardness.

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“Is there some unspeakable difficulty?” Zuo Ming asked gently.

“No need to press further,” he sensed the discomfort and refrained from probing.

Once the attendees were mostly present, the Captain initiated discussions on how all forces should jointly address the Gui Yin Sect issue.

The deliberations lasted deep into the night.

“Captain, Commander, when will the prisoner arrive?” “I’m eager to meet the young hero who slew the remnants of Gui Yin Sect,” the elder said.

“They have already set out with the prisoner, but the journey is long and will take more than half a month.”

“That’s fine. I can wait.”

“Lu Yuan, Lu Yuan… Who would have thought such a talent could emerge from a remote place like Worry-Free County?”

“His father is Lu Xingzhi.”

“Lu Xingzhi? That explains it. I once had high hopes for him. Sadly, his luck ran out, and he met misfortune. His wife and children died, didn’t they? Lu Yuan is his son from a subsequent marriage?”

…

In a mountain shrine.

Lu Yuan gazed curiously at the dilapidated statue before him.

The carving was clear, unmarred by weather, yet to him, the deity was unrecognizable.

“Captain, what are you looking at?” Er Gouzi asked, having gathered firewood.

“This statue is made of stone, no gold. I’ve checked.”

Since entering the shrine, Lu Yuan had been fixated on the statue. After a long look, it remained ordinary, nothing strange.

“No, I’m just curious which deity this temple honors.”

“I don’t know. I can’t recognize it.”

“There’s a plaque, isn’t there? The Water and Land Deity Temple,” Er Gouzi pointed to the worn sign.

“Water and Land Deity? Have you heard of it?”

“No, never heard.”

“Old Sun, how about you?”