Novel Full Chapter 757: Negotiations
Chapter 757: Negotiations
The nearby Iron Mountain Sect members looked at him in surprise when Heilam ordered them to put a last stand, but they did not question him.
Orders were passed down quickly through sound talismans, miniature array disks, and shouted commands.
From all directions, figures began to emerge from the fog. Tired disciples. Wounded elders. Faces stained with poison mud and blood. One by one, they gathered around Heilam, forming a tight group.
No one spoke as they started to come to terms with their own eventual deaths. Not long after, ripples of powerful aura rolled through the marshland.
The Purple River Sect had arrived.
Their elders stepped out of the thinning poison fog from all sides, their robes clean, their expressions cold. Disciples followed behind them in neat formations, weapons ready, eyes sharp.
The Iron Mountain Sect stood together, backs to each other, surrounded. Heilam lifted his head and met the approaching gazes. If this was the end, then they would face it as one.
Soon, the poison fog at the edge of the marsh split apart.
Figures stepped out one after another, their presence heavy and sharp. The Purple River Sect had finally arrived in full force.
At the front were the leading elders. Their robes carried faint purple lines, and poison intent flowed around them like mist. Behind them stood dozens of Foundation Establishment Experts.
Further back were rows of late-stage Spirit Refining cultivators. They filled the marsh like a slow-moving tide, sealing every path of escape. A lot of them were in charge of a few simple battle formations that were known to work well in groups.
The Iron Mountain Sect stood in silence.
One of the Purple River Sect elders walked forward. He was tall and thin, his hair streaked with gray, his eyes cold and amused. His cultivation was at the late stage of the Foundation Establishment realm. Every step he took made the air feel heavier.
He stopped a short distance away and looked straight at Heilam.
Then he smiled.
“Sect Master Heilam,” he said calmly, his tone almost friendly. “We finally meet under such… unfortunate conditions.”
He clasped his hands lightly, as if this were a normal meeting.
“I will be direct,” the elder continued.
“Surrender your sect. Hand over all information related to the changes in the Purple Poison Marshland. Also, we’d like to have a possession of any precious resource or reward you must have gotten after completing that long expedition of yours. Don’t bother denying because we have already gathered a lot of intel on your sect as well as you.
I suggest you cooperate with us. If you do that, we will spare your lives.”
Murmurs spread among the Iron Mountain Sect disciples. Some faces showed relief. Others showed fear.
The elder’s smile widened.
“Of course,” he added casually, “to make sure you are telling the truth, I will perform a soul-searching technique on the key members of your sect.”
His eyes swept over Heilam, then Grisham, then the other two grand elders as well as the rest of the sect elders present at the scene.
“This is non-negotiable.”
The moment those words left his mouth, Heilam’s aura exploded.
“Haah! What a load of crap! Enough!”
He took a step forward, his eyes blazing with rage.
“A soul search?” Heilam shouted. “Do you take us for fools?”
His voice echoed through the marsh.
“Everyone knows how dangerous those techniques are. One mistake, and a person’s mind is ruined forever. Even if it succeeds, memories are damaged. A cultivator’s secrets are torn apart and their dignity is crushed.”
He clenched his fists, veins standing out on his arms.
“That is not an offer of mercy,” he growled. “That is humiliation.”
His gaze turned sharp, filled with hatred.
“Letting you search our souls would be no different than standing naked in front of you while you dig through our lives. No self-respecting Spirit cultivator would ever agree to that.”
Heilam raised his head and stared straight at the Purple River Sect elder.
“So hear this clearly,” he said, his voice cold and firm. “The Iron Mountain Sect rejects your proposal.”
The smile on the elder’s face slowly faded. The air between the two sects turned heavy, thick with killing intent. Around them, weapons were gripped tighter. Auras began to rise.
The head elder of the Purple River Sect listened to Heilam’s rejection without a hint of anger.
Instead, he smirked.
“In that case,” he said slowly, “we have no choice but to use force.”
His eyes turned cold as he looked at the Iron Mountain Sect members.
“We will kill every single disciple and elder of your sect,” he continued in a flat tone, “except for you, Sect Master Heilam, and your three grand elders.”
His gaze lingered on Heilam, then moved to Grisham and the other grand elders.
“You will be kept alive,” he said. “Interrogated later. Slowly. We’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other.”
A cruel smile appeared on his face.
“This is the punishment you deserve for refusing the mercy of one of the Big Five Sects,” he added. “You should be grateful that the Purple River Sect is even willing to spare a few of you.”
His voice rose slightly, filled with pride.
“Know your place,” he said. “When a Big Five Sect gives judgment, the lesser sects must accept it. Hasn’t that always been the rule on the mainland?”
The words struck like poison.
Heilam’s body shook with rage. His aura surged wildly as he took a step forward, eyes bloodshot.
“Haah! Do you think my Iron Mountain Sect is a toothless tiger that doesn’t know how to bite? Even if we don’t survive, we’ll make sure to deal severe damage to you. I’ll… I’ll kill you—!”
Before he could move any further, a hand pressed down on his shoulder.
Heilam froze.
Grisham stood beside him, his expression calm. He leaned in slightly and spoke in a low voice.
“Calm down,” he said. “This is not the time.”
He gave Heilam a firm nod, steady and reassuring.
Then Grisham stepped forward on his own.
He clasped his hands and gave a polite bow toward the Purple River Sect’s head elder.
“Esteemed elder,” Grisham said calmly, “there is no need for things to go this far.”
His tone was gentle, almost relaxed.
“Two sects can always talk things through,” he continued. “As long as neither side resorts to threats.”
The head elder let out a short laugh.
“Talk?” he said mockingly. “Do you think you are in a position to talk?”
He straightened his back and spoke with pride.
“You should remember who you are facing. The Purple River Sect is one of the Big Five. Our prestige alone is enough to crush sects like yours.”
Grisham listened quietly.
Then he smiled.
It was a small smile, calm and polite, but it carried weight.
“Prestige?” Grisham asked softly. “In your current condition… can the Purple River Sect truly still be called one of the Big Five?”
The air froze.
For the first time, the head elder’s smile vanished.
His eyes darkened as killing intent spilled out.
“How dare you,” he said coldly.
“You do not need to worry about our status,” he continued. “The Purple River Sect is still protected by a true powerhouse.”
He raised his chin slightly.
“The Purple River Lord still stands behind us.”
Grisham nodded as if he had expected that answer.
“I see,” he said simply.
Then he smiled again.
“That is good to know,” he said. “Because the Iron Mountain Sect also has a Lord behind it.”
The head elder’s eyes narrowed sharply.
“Oh?” he said. “And who would that be?”
Grisham looked straight at him, his voice steady and confident.
“Lord Aksai,” he said. “From the Emerald Cove Guild.”
The head elder stared at Grisham for a heartbeat. Then he burst out laughing. His laughter echoed across the thinning marshland, sharp and mocking.
“Hehehe! Lord Aksai?” he said between laughs. “That name again?”
He shook his head and waved his hand as if brushing away dust.
“Lord Turtle went missing ten years ago,” he said. “Ten whole years without a single trace. Dead or alive, no one knows. And you still dare to use his name to scare us?”
His laughter slowly turned cold.
“Even if he somehow crawls back,” the head elder continued, his eyes filled with disdain, “he would still be nothing more than a fly in front of the Purple River Lord.”
He straightened his robes and spoke with open contempt.
“The so-called youngest and most talented Core Formation Lord of the Dadangar Subcontinent,” he sneered. “Who knows what kind of forbidden tricks he used to force his way into the Core Formation realm? He really named himself as Lord Turtle. What can you expect from someone like him?”
His gaze turned sharp.
“Someone like that is nothing but a firefly that shines once before disappearing into the darkness,” he said. “Even I would be enough to deal with him if he dared to show his face.”