Xihong, the Mountain-Moving Sect.

In the silent main hall there was nothing but old Huang's low voice and the soft rustle of Shen Yi turning pages.

“Sect Master Shen, I'm sure word of Nanhong hasn't reached here yet. But what you've done…”

As Huang Wenfa spoke, he glanced at the thick stack of decrees on the table. Horrified as he was, he hardly knew whether to laugh or cry.

Anyone carrying a decree from the Western Palace's Second Prince was either a dragon grandson or a trusted attendant. Now Sect Master Shen had cleanly killed every last one of them. How could the West Dragon Palace not find out?

He truly couldn't understand it.

The Nanhong seven sects had only just ambushed and killed the South Dragon King. Surely they ought to keep their heads down for a while.

Otherwise what was the point of the rest of them sealing off the news?

With so many dragon grandsons and attendants dead, the West Dragon Palace would throw everything into the hunt, and the Mountain-Moving Sect and the Baohua Sect alone had no hope of keeping its eyes and ears out.

“Good. As long as it hasn't gotten here.”

Shen Yi nodded slightly and slowly closed the file in his hands, with no apparent intention of explaining further.

What he wanted to prevent was word of the South Dragon King's death spreading elsewhere. As for what happened in Xihong… what did that have to do with the Nanhong Seven? Some other faction would "take the blame" for these dragon grandsons' deaths.

Shen Yi hadn't left Nanhong to keep playing defense on this trip, and he had no thought of hiding anything either.

The file recorded how the West Dragon Palace's many demon generals held these waters and lands.

After silently going over the information several times, Shen Yi leaned back in his chair again—and then actually closed his eyes.

“Er.”

Huang Wenfa stared at the young man's quiet, handsome face. He was the master of a sect and a late–Earth Realm cultivator, yet faced with this he suddenly felt at a…