Before joining the Division, Hong Lei had once pictured himself roaming the world with a sword at his side, white robes trailing behind a horse.

Looking at things now — not making it into Qingfeng Mountain, ending up in the considerably more dangerous Division instead — might not have been a bad outcome.

Fifty or sixty Qingfeng Mountain disciples were escorted up the mountain by the Commanders.

They were heading back to their own sect. Their faces kept going paler.

Shen Yi and Hong Lei walked at the back.

“What is the sword pool?”

Hong Lei looked over with some surprise. “You’re not from Qingzhou?”

“Baiyun County.” Shen Yi didn’t conceal it.

“Right, small place.” Hong Lei nodded automatically, then caught himself. Was that the Baiyun County he was thinking of? That godforsaken corner of nowhere — what kind of force would cultivate someone like this out of there?

He opened his mouth, thought better of it, and steered back. “Any first-tier force has a reliable method for producing Condensate Realm practitioners across generations — ensuring there’s always a major expert to anchor the sect. Second-tier establishments don’t have that, so if the founding ancestor meets with an accident or the next generation doesn’t produce anyone exceptional, they fade away in a few decades.”

“The Division has something similar, but it’s in the capital.”

Hong Lei caught a flicker in the young man’s eyes and made a reasonable guess at his thinking. Someone who’d just independently fought a sect elder and a major demon was obviously at Jade Liquid Perfection.

He smiled. “With your current standing, spend a few solid decades doing the work, and the War Temple advancement to Condensate will have a place for you. The coming rounds, though — forget it. Lin Baixi and Senior Brother Bai are both ahead of you in line.”

“Tell me about the sword pool.”

Hong Lei knew the temperament of this breed — they didn’t accept other people being ranked above them easily. “Every Qingfeng Mountain disciple, upon formally joining the sect and paying respects to the founding ancestor, goes to the sword pool first. They offer the blood from their fingertip, their forehead, and their heart — drop it in — and receive the founding ancestor’s protection. Cultivation progress accelerates substantially.”

“Beyond that, each disciple retrieves a sword that belonged to an earlier generation and nurtures it with their essence without cease, day and night. This becomes what they call their guardian sword. You could say half their combat ability lives in the blade. That’s why when you snapped that administrator’s sword — even if he heals fully, he’ll never recover more than half of what he was.”

Hong Lei held up a palm. “That’s why I tried to look at Dai Bing’s sword that first day. I wanted to see if she was a Qingfeng disciple. Turned out I was right.”

He paused.

“Think about it — thousands of years of disciples’ blood essence connected to the sword pool. As they grow stronger, the pool benefits. Only a sacred ground like that has the power to help a practitioner achieve the Condensate Realm breakthrough.”

“Old Fury Sword didn’t have much lifespan left — by seniority, he should have had a chance to enter the pool and make one last attempt. But he gave up his turn to Zhang Hengzhou. That explains today’s actions — he was already broken inside.”

Hong Lei let out a long exhale.

Shen Yi was quiet for a moment.

But opportunities to learn about the martial world like this were rare, and he pressed on.

“If the sword pool has this kind of power, and it’s been there for thousands of years — there should be more than one Condensate Realm practitioner on the mountain.”

“Worried General Chen can’t handle it alone?”

Hong Lei smiled again. “You’re at the Jade Liquid Realm, I’m at the Jade Liquid Realm. If you were facing two or three of me simultaneously — would you be concerned?”

Shen Yi considered. Shook his head.

“Right. And if there were ten or twenty—”

Hong Lei continued, then noticed the young man was thinking it through earnestly and had shaken his head again.

The smile on his square face went stiff. He looked elsewhere, took a careful breath, and proceeded as if he’d seen nothing. “If there were ten or twenty, the Division doesn’t only have General Chen. Twelve Demon Suppression Generals across the twelve prefectures — the old man’s getting on in years, so in terms of pure strength he ranks just below the Yangyang Prefecture General.”

“Where does the Yangyang General rank?” Shen Yi looked curious.

Hong Lei rolled his eyes, was quiet for a while, and finally said: “Eleventh.”

“Who’s first?”

“The General’s second disciple.”

“And second?”

“The General’s first disciple.”

“Why is it reversed from the order they were taken in?”

“Brother Shen — we’re here.” Hong Lei stopped walking, nursing a mild headache. These are not things I can go around saying out loud.

Shen Yi looked ahead, still wanting to continue.

At the gates of Qingfeng Mountain, a vast ceremonial plaza paved in pale white stone spread outward in every direction.

Kneeling across its entire surface were sword-practitioners in spotless white robes, packed in dense rows on both sides.

Around the plaza’s perimeter, three hundred Inner Division golden-eagle Commanders and Deputy Commanders stood in straight lines, black chains hanging ready in the air, encircling the entire space.

Behind them, more than a thousand Outer Division personnel stood in silent, cold-faced ranks.

At the very front, surrounded by dozens of Deputy Commanders, a figure sat in a large chair clad in dark, lustrous armor. One hand held a heavy iron halberd. A crimson silk cloak billowed freely around the frame, like a blood-stained cloud at sunset.

“…”

Shen Yi’s brow creased slightly. He hadn’t expected this sight.

He’d been fighting for his life down the slope, under the impression that things were hanging by a thread — and up here, there was an entire field of people already kneeling.

If there was time to just sit here, couldn’t someone have come down and helped?

“It’s not as simple as you think.”

Hong Lei read his expression, stepped forward, and led the group ahead. His expression was growing heavier.

Qingfeng Mountain’s disciples clearly had no intention of resisting. But General Chen was maintaining the encirclement without releasing them. There was only one explanation for that.

The Sect Master was on the verge of losing his mind.

In the center of the plaza—

A man sat cross-legged, bare-chested. His body was covered in dense, interwoven scars, like a porcelain piece that had been nearly shattered and reassembled. The scarring was so extensive it formed a web across the skin.

The pattern was familiar. Shen Yi went still.

He’d seen it on the flood dragon in Shuiyun Township. Identical.

And in this moment—

A presence reached him from the man’s body. With each step closer, it grew denser, more certain.

The man’s eyes opened. They swept slowly in this direction.

Those blood-filled pupils found Shen Yi in a single glance, and every muscle in his body tightened involuntarily. His hand moved to the hilt without being asked.

Even in the earliest days — a mortal body facing a demon-transformed dog in Baiyun County — the pressure hadn’t hit like this.

“That’s Zhang Hengzhou.”

Hong Lei seemed to feel nothing unusual. His introduction was brief. “Qingzhou’s widely celebrated swordsman. General Chen’s assessment is that he’s a flood dragon from the Yangchun River in human form.”

Shen Yi didn’t answer.

The man was staring at him now. The pain-twisted contortion of his face had picked up something else — something accumulating, patient, and venomous.

Under that gaze—

Shen Yi’s expression didn’t shift. Only his breathing deepened.

A sharp, clean killing intent rose in his chest.

In front of everyone—

Zhang Hengzhou stood. He walked toward the plaza’s edge, one step at a time.

Every Qingfeng Mountain disciple looked up. Every Division Commander gripped their weapons and shouted: “Stay back!”

The confusion behind the shouts was real.

His last attempt to act had been more than two weeks ago, when General Chen had knocked him back with the halberd. He’d been still since then.

What had changed.

“I have committed no crime. You cannot execute me.”

Zhang Hengzhou’s breathing was labored, his frame slightly bent, voice aimed at the old man in dark armor.

“I spent one hundred and fifty years killing demons for Qingzhou. One hundred and fifty years protecting Linjiang Prefecture’s people. They called me a hero.” His teeth ground together. “I have committed no crime.”

Chen Qiankun — white-haired, white-bearded, face unremarkable, looking for all the world like an ordinary old man — sat without shifting.

“Read it to him again.”

A Deputy Commander stepped forward. “Zhang Zitao, Qingfeng Mountain disciple. Three years ago, traveled to Shuangyang County on a demon-hunting assignment. One cat demon killed. More than twenty villagers dead, remains unrecovered. Per demon-hunter investigation, this same demon was observed at Woliu Shoals five hundred li away, two days prior.”

“Zhang Yusong, Qingfeng Mountain disciple. Two years and seven months ago. Same pattern. Qiang’an County village, one demon killed. Thirty households dead, remains unrecovered.”

“Zhang Lingling, Qingfeng Mountain disciple—”

The same demon-hunting mission. The same unrecovered remains. Name after name — every one of them this celebrated swordsman’s offspring — and the Deputy Commander’s throat was dry before he finished.

Qingfeng Mountain’s disciples lowered their heads again, one by one.

“So my accomplishments are fabricated?” Only Zhang Hengzhou held his gaze, fixed on the old man.

“Yours are genuine. I had people verify each one personally. Qingfeng Mountain’s heroic reputation is well earned.” Chen Qiankun dipped his chin.

“Then—” Zhang Hengzhou’s voice turned razor-sharp, “—with my accomplishments, with the people of Linjiang Prefecture behind me — should they not sustain my children? They are half-demons, they cannot help what they are, and I have been working to guide them—”

“Why will you not give me time?”

“Why will you not give me one chance?”

The cry of something deeply, years-long wronged rang out across the entire mountain gate.

(End of Chapter)