Song Prefecture City.

Yang Qianxiang worked through every last detail with careful thoroughness, instructing each of the Demon Suppression Generals on how to settle the people’s hearts.

As a province’s General, his strength amounted to less than nothing beside the Inspector — but when it came to these thorny, finicky particulars, he had no small amount of experience to draw on.

Once he was satisfied nothing had been overlooked.

Yang Qianxiang mounted a demon-horse and rode out of Song Prefecture alongside Commander Shen.

By rights, having made such grave errors, he ought to have been escorted back under guard.

Fortunately, Commander Shen was magnanimous, and hadn’t offered so much as a sharp word of reproach… naturally, he hadn’t said much of anything else, either.

With the black-scaled flood dragon horses’ formidable pace, the journey from Song Prefecture to the imperial capital took under ten days.

And while the two of them were making that journey.

The War Temple in the imperial capital received a rare and unusual visitor.

The refinement sessions were suspended for the time being, and all four blue-robed Temple Custodians gathered together in one place.

Men of their standing — and yet they could only stand to either side.

In the seat of honor sat a man in a wide-sleeved robe of black and white, a long goatee hanging from his chin.

“We wonder what brings the Perfected Master Changqing of Xuanguang Cave to Great Qian.” Wu Dao’an rose to his feet, his manner neither servile nor overbearing.

“Just passing through.” Perfected Master Changqing sipped unhurriedly at his tea, set the cup down lightly, and said in a flat voice, “Also to let you know that one of your Grandmasters has unfortunately fallen.”

At the first half of that sentence, the four Custodians’ faces hadn’t changed. But at the second half, all four of them instinctively clenched their jaws.

The hand Wu Dao’an had tucked within his sleeve tightened into a fist.

A long silence.

He said coldly, “Noted.”

Great Qian’s remaining Grandmasters had already dwindled to seven. Now one more was lost without explanation — and these people from Xuanguang Cave wore the news on their faces as though nothing had happened, and couldn’t even be bothered to offer a single word of reason.

“If there’s nothing else, we’ll take our leave.”

Though their mouths had always called them crude martial ruffians, every War Temple disciple knew full well that they and the Mixed Origin Grandmasters were all holding Great Qian together — they were brothers in the same cause.

The rage burning in them right now — how could they not feel it.

And yet they couldn’t let it show. Even the faintest flicker of something wrong on their faces, enough to provoke Xuanguang Cave, would only mean worse treatment for the Grandmasters out on the front.

Wu Dao’an turned and walked toward the door.

“One moment.” Perfected Master Changqing suddenly raised a hand. “This seat has been asked by a dear friend to come and inquire after a certain young acquaintance.”

The Custodians stopped, and looked back. “…”

“My dear friend is an elder of Qingqiu. Two of their disciples went out into the world to train, and one of them suddenly vanished somewhere in Great Qian.”

The Perfected Master arched an eyebrow. “Do any of you have information on this?”

Wu Dao’an considered for a moment. “We don’t, I’m afraid. If you need help searching, we’ll do what we can and send people across the Nine Provinces to make inquiries.”

“My thanks… though there’s no need to trouble the War Temple’s disciples.”

Perfected Master Changqing gave a mild smile and drew out a jade slip. “The missing disciple’s senior brother has already gathered information on your behalf. The place where the junior brother vanished was Qingzhou’s Yang’an Prefecture. He once wrote to Qingzhou’s General, Jiang Yuanhua, and received a reply. Tch.”

“Don’t know anything about it. No information available. For further inquiries, contact the War Temple.”

As the Perfected Master’s words came to a close, delivered with a touch of amusement—

A muscle twitched at the corner of Wu Dao’an’s eye. “…”

So that young Jiang fellow had been hiding a spine this formidable all along.

“Qingqiu has never had any grievance with our three-sect alliance, and is in fact one of the allies Xuanguang Cave has worked hardest to cultivate. I hope the War Temple can appreciate that — we do this to keep Great Qian’s Grandmasters safer out there.”

Perfected Master Changqing rose and set a jade slip on the table. “The senior brother has investigated thoroughly. Of the cultivators at Condensate realm or above who passed through North Cliff at the time, only three were identified. Two of them are too weak to have posed any threat to a Qingqiu disciple. The third is a mystery — too little information, as though the person appeared out of thin air.”

“This seat hopes you will bring this individual before me. I owe my old friend an explanation. Qingqiu will look into the specifics themselves, and if this person genuinely had no part in it, this seat will personally see them returned safely to Great Qian.”

The Custodians listened patiently to the end, the anger in their chests burning hotter with every passing word.

Qingqiu had always maintained its neutrality, granted — but at the end of the day, they were a pack of fox demons. Great Qian already refrained from provoking them; that they now dared send someone here to demand answers was simply beyond the pale.

Had this been the dynasty’s prime, if Great Qian spoke, would Qingqiu have dared breathe a word in response?

Never mind disciples — even if Great Qian had killed one of their elders, what of it?

Wu Dao’an drew a slow breath. “Might we ask who the Perfected Master is seeking?”

Perfected Master Changqing glanced at the jade slip on the table, touched his spiritual sense to it, and took a look before answering. “Shen Yi of Qingzhou.”

At that, the other three Custodians looked faintly bewildered.

“…”

Wu Dao’an froze for an instant, then a cold smile spread slowly across his face, a killing intent rising within his clouded eyes. “Would the Perfected Master care to repeat that? Who exactly is it you’re asking for?”

Perfected Master Changqing sensed something slightly off, but didn’t think much of it. “Shen Yi of Qingzhou.”

A War Temple in its death throes — what waves could it even make? And speaking to him with that threatening a tone — clearly these people had been shut up inside this crumbling temple so long their minds had gone soft.

“Good.”

Before the word had even finished leaving his mouth, Wu Dao’an’s smile only deepened, and he slowly closed his eyes.

While everyone else was still puzzled—

Within the War Temple, the eyes of the Lion-Camel among the twelve golden dharma forms enshrined upon the altar suddenly came alive with light.

Its three-zhang body slowly descended from the altar.

The instant it stepped out onto the long street, a blinding golden radiance lit up the heavens, and it walked, step by massive step, toward the courtyard.

Before the Lion-Camel, the courtyard walls were no sturdier than bean curd — they crumbled in an instant.

It swatted the roof to powder without effort, its enormous eyes looking down at the several figures within.

“…”

Wrapped in that vast shadow, looking up at the golden form before them like something between a god and a buddha, Perfected Master Changqing swallowed involuntarily, and stepped back three paces, his voice rising sharply. “What is the meaning of this?!”

“The meaning,” the Lion-Camel opened its mouth, its voice reverberating through the sky like the toll of a great temple bell, “is this. You are, at best, an upper-tier Mixed Origin Grandmaster — calling you Perfected Master is already more courtesy than you deserve. If you dare speak that name before this seat one more time…”

The Lion-Camel showed its teeth, its expression indifferent. “You will meet your end here today.”

“You—!”

Perfected Master Changqing’s face contorted. “Have you forgotten where this seat comes from? This seat is of Xuanguang Cave!”

What answered him was a strike of overwhelming, crushing force.

The Lion-Camel merely raised one foot — and Perfected Master Changqing’s expression changed violently, his entire body blazing with red light as his arms crossed reflexively before him.

The gilded beast-paw stopped just an inch from his face.

Cold sweat had already soaked through Perfected Master Changqing’s robes, both eyes wide with alarm, breathing hard.

Looking up at those ice-cold eyes set within the Lion-Camel’s enormous head.

He steadied his breath, and said quietly, “I only came to ask on Qingqiu’s behalf. There was no need for all this.”

“Tch.”

The Lion-Camel drew back its foreleg and turned around at a leisurely pace, making its way back into the War Temple, and settled back onto the altar — in an instant as lifeless as a carved statue once more.

At the same moment, Wu Dao’an opened his eyes and said flatly, “Then we’ll see you out. Don’t let us keep you.”

(End of Chapter 229)