Chapter 195: Something Feels Off

Jiuyou walked out of the secret room and paused outside the stone door for a moment, as if waiting for those words to settle in his mind.

"Calling me here this time couldn't possibly be just to give me a Token."

He glanced down at the white jade Token in his palm. It felt warm and smooth to the touch, swirling with a faint spiritual light, yet he couldn't shake the feeling it shouldn't be this light.

"As for those Ganzhou people, Linghu Shou said they are of the same ilk as the Guiming Sect, so they are most likely from the demonic path. For them to catch the eye of a Peak Nascent Soul Stage cultivator who has been in seclusion for years, they must have caused quite a stir. I can ask around about it later."

He weighed the Token in his hand again, his gaze drifting further away. A thought circled in his mind before he pushed it back down. 'I am currently cultivating the orthodox techniques of the Daoyang Sect, which are entirely incompatible with demonic path methods. No matter how they guess, they would never suspect me. Am I truly overthinking this?'

Taking one last look at the stone wall behind him, he didn't linger. With a flicker of his figure, he was gone.

Inside the secret room, the stone wall closed, completely cutting off the aura of the outside world.

Linghu Shou's gaze fell on Zhou Chengshan beside him. His tone was flat, revealing neither joy nor anger. "He's gone. Junior Brother Zhou, what do you think of him?"

Zhou Chengshan paused slightly, clearly not expecting such a direct question. He pondered for a moment before answering truthfully, "Junior Brother Qing has a mild temperament and treats others appropriately. He has helped the sect resolve quite a few troubles over the years without ever shirking his duties. He is also a true sword Grandmaster, and as far as I know, he has some attainment in body refinement as well."

"Nascent Soul Late Stage, a sword Grandmaster, and dual-cultivating body refinement." Linghu Shou brought out a cup of tea from nowhere and took an unhurried sip. "With this kind of talent, he would rank at the very top of any sect."

"Indeed..." Zhou Chengshan agreed. Suddenly, his gaze faltered, as if caught by a sudden thought. He hesitated for a moment before asking, "Senior Brother... are you planning to choose him?"

Linghu Shou did not deny it. He didn't even avert his gaze; he just stared quietly at Zhou Chengshan, as if he had been waiting for him to say those exact words.

Zhou Chengshan's expression immediately tightened. He took a step forward, his words spilling out faster. "Senior Brother, your lifespan is running out. We can no longer afford to gamble. The way I see it, Junior Brother Ge's nephew is a much more suitable candidate. He is barely five hundred years old and already at the Middle Nascent Soul Stage, just one step away from becoming a sword Grandmaster. That is the safe choice. We really shouldn't take this risk..."

"Enough." Linghu Shou stood up abruptly, flicking his sleeve with a snap that echoed briefly through the empty secret room. His gaze fixed on Zhou Chengshan, as if trying to nail those words back into his stomach.

"Since you know my days are numbered, you should understand that I cannot wait any longer. This is my only chance. If I cannot take that step, the sect will continue to decline—not for ten or a hundred years, but for thousands and tens of thousands of years. When that time comes, what will be left of the Daoyang Sect?"

Zhou Chengshan took a half-step back, his chest heaving. He rarely saw Senior Brother Linghu lose his temper.

Linghu Shou didn't press him. Instead, his tone softened, though it was the kind of softness of a bowstring drawn to its absolute limit, perfectly still. "Do you remember the vow we made before Master passed away? We swore to lead the Daoyang Sect to revival. But revival isn't something that comes just by waiting."

Zhou Chengshan clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. "I remember. I will remember it for the rest of my life. But if we commit such an act against the harmony of Heaven, Senior Brother, the Daoyang Sect's ten thousand years of pristine reputation will be destroyed!"

"Pedantic," Linghu Shou replied. His voice wasn't loud, but it was as heavy as a block of iron. "The reason those martial ancestors and uncles failed was precisely because they were as pedantic as you. Can the mere title of the Righteous Path put food on the table? We have prepared for so long; if we miss this chance, there won't be another."

He turned around, putting his back to Zhou Chengshan. His gaze pierced through the closed stone door, as if he were looking at the row of silent statues lining the corridor outside.

His voice lowered, as if speaking only to himself. "If I win this gamble, the Daoyang Sect will prosper for another ten thousand years, and we will remain that revered great sect of the Righteous Path. If I lose, the fault will be mine alone. I will have failed our ancestors, failed all of you, and failed the entire sect. I will not be worthy of a statue, but I must do this. You will understand me, Junior Brother."

"Even if I have to use any means necessary, even if I am unworthy of being called human, even if I am unworthy of the position of Supreme Great Elder. For the revival of the sect, let me bear the cost of it all alone."

Having said that, he walked toward the depths of the secret passage, his figure gradually blending into the shadows.

Zhou Chengshan stood alone in the empty secret room, his gaze fixed on the direction where Linghu Shou had disappeared. He didn't look away for a long time, his mind wavering.

Daoyang Sect, thousands of miles away.

Inside the cave dwelling on Ember Sword Peak, Jiuyou sat cross-legged. The stone door behind him had already closed, and the light from the night pearls illuminated the entire cavern.

He patted his storage pouch—or more accurately, the Nether Capital Gate hidden inside it. Just as he had left the valley, the dharma treasure had caught a trace of an unusual aura. It came from deep underground, faint but distinct, as if something in the darkness had been disturbed.

"Something's not right. I didn't notice it when I went in, but on the way out, I caught that trace of soul power fluctuation. There is something hidden beneath that canyon. What exactly is Linghu Shou plotting by entering seclusion there?" he muttered to himself, his gaze falling on the Nether Capital Gate as if waiting for it to give him more answers.

After a moment, he withdrew his hand. "However, it seems I haven't been exposed yet. Still, to avoid being caught in the crossfire, I should make plans early."

Half a month later.

Through his own methods, he had gained a rough understanding of the recent movements in the outside world.

Rumor had it that half a year ago, a massive battle had erupted near an extinct volcano in the western part of Southern Frost, affecting an area of thousands of miles. Afterward, when people went to investigate, the demon king that once resided there was nowhere to be found. Some said it was slain by a cultivator with great divine abilities, while others claimed it had escaped. Opinions varied.

Jiuyou made a mental note of this matter. Aside from this, there were various other incidents, both big and small.

For example, people from some small and medium factions had been going missing frequently lately, and the beast stampedes were far more concentrated than in previous years. Some suspected it was the doing of the Guiming Sect; a few even claimed to have seen Guiming Sect elders walking alongside members of the demon race.

And then there was...

He closed the jade slip in his hand and looked up at the vast expanse of white snow outside the cave dwelling.

"It's time for a trip to the treasury. The complete version of the Ten Palaces Art, the Jinli Stone, and the layout within the treasury itself..."

The things he had done for the Daoyang Sect over the years were enough to dispel any suspicion. Heading to the treasury now wouldn't attract any attention.

He stood up and walked toward the entrance of the cave. The wind poured in from outside, fluttering the hem of his robes, but he didn't stop, as if his mind had been made up long ago.