Chapter Sixty-Nine: Disciples

The Guihai family had three pairs of children in total—two sons and a daughter. Guihai Rong’an, always dressed in the garb of a refined scholar, had long been known for his courtesy within the household. It was most fitting that he preside over this grand banquet today.

“You speak too modestly, young master,” someone promptly replied to Guihai Rong’an’s words. “All the brothers from the nine factions and eighteen guilds of Guihai City hold the old City Lord in the highest esteem. To be able to participate in a celebration of this scale is truly our good fortune. Isn’t that so, everyone?”

Guihai Rong’an bowed deeply. “I hope that, three days from now at the Lingjue Tournament, all of you will lend your support.”

Someone else shouted, “But of course! Under the leadership of the old City Lord, Guihai City has already risen to become the foremost city of Linglong. We must also have our own standing and prestige. As the saying goes: ‘Do lords and kings have noble blood by birth?’ Today, brothers, let us prove our mettle!”

Cheers and cries of agreement rose all around, the crowd’s spirits soaring.

“Brother Mo, this is truly fascinating. Look at these people—dragons and serpents mixed together, all sorts from every walk of life. Hee hee, how amusing!” Nalan Xin’er had never seen such a spectacle before; her eyes could barely take it all in.

“You’re quite right, Xin’er,” Ganyu chimed in, curiosity in her voice. “Never in my life have I witnessed a gathering like this.”

“This is nothing, Yu’er,” Wu Luohua scoffed, his face full of disdain. “If you’d like, you can come with me to the Wu family’s estate. When my grandfather celebrates his eightieth birthday, I’ll show you what a true spectacle is—this is nothing in comparison.”

“Oh, really?” Ganyu was skeptical, but she took no offense at the way Wu Luohua addressed her. She had no ill feelings toward him; in fact, this man standing before her was the benefactor of her entire family. Still, Ganyu had no wish to repay kindness so simply with her hand in marriage. She had left the Gan Fortress precisely to seek true love. Xiaohua... could he be the one? Ganyu did not yet know.

With a sharp crack, a burly man with a bare chest slapped the table and roared, “Hmph, who do you think you are, daring to compare yourself to the old master Guihai?” The man’s well-sculpted muscles rippled impressively. As he spoke, several tables around Mo Bai turned to stare.

Someone immediately echoed him, “Brother Ruan is right. How could your decrepit old man be mentioned in the same breath as our master Guihai? It’s a colossal joke! Where are you from anyway? We’ve never seen you before among the nine factions and eighteen guilds.”

“Hmph, do we even need to guess?” sneered a man with a sharp face. “Look at that pretty-boy face—clearly here for a free meal and drink. Out of money, he’s just showing off in front of these two beauties.”

Wu Luohua’s expression darkened. He rose slowly and said, “Do you know? For those words alone, you deserve to die.”

The man drained a large bowl of wine in one gulp, drawing cheers from those nearby. He leapt to his feet and laughed, “Hah! I, Sea Rat, don’t believe it. If you’ve got the guts, put a blade to my neck—let’s see you try! Not just you—even if the five great spiritual sects themselves were here, what of it? Guihai City stands proud on its own. Let all the cultivators of the world know: there is more than just the five great sects—there is also Guihai City! Our old master Guihai will found his own sect and temple. Who can compare to that? Your grandfather? Is he up to it? Is he?”

Wu Luohua said nothing more. Instead, he reached into his jade treasure pouch and slowly withdrew an object—a round piece of bronze, inscribed with dazzling runes. As he revealed it, his voice was cold: “You can die now.”

But before Wu Luohua could act, a streak of crimson spiritual energy shot from behind him, speeding toward the Sea Rat. A wretched scream echoed as the Sea Rat coughed up blood; his jaw shattered by the force of the energy, leaving only a gruesome, bloody hole.

Wu Luohua slowly lowered his hand, turning to look behind him. There he saw a man in his forties, who smiled at him and said, “Young Master Wu, how could such a petty thief be worthy of your personal attention?”

All eyes turned to this newcomer: with his neatly trimmed beard and air of a refined gentleman, he drew a buzz of speculation. Who was he, to act so boldly here? After all, Sea Rat was a follower of this so-called Brother Ruan—whose full name was Ruan Tian, head of the Weihai Sect in Guihai City. Though the Weihai Sect was but a tiny drop in the vast sea of minor sects on the Linglong Continent, it had its own unique cultivation techniques. On land, their skills were modest, but on the sea, they wielded considerable power, their influence in Guihai City far outstripping that of the Haikun Gang outside the city.

Tian Huashan, the cold-faced gentleman from the Haikun Gang, had just toasted Guihai Rong’an and was heading toward Mo Bai’s table when the commotion erupted. Upon seeing the other party was Ruan Tian, known as the Sea Dragon, his heart chilled. Stealing a glance, he muttered inwardly, “So he’s here, too.” Tian Huashan had also seen the distinguished, refined man—none other than “Jun Buliang,” one of the Eleven Gentlemen of the Falling Leaf Sect, known as Master Xianli. The Falling Leaf Sect was located in the far west of the Linglong Continent, a hundred thousand miles from Guihai City. The Lingjue Tournament posed little threat to their interests, so the appearance of such a high-ranking figure from the Falling Leaf Sect was astonishing.

The Haikun Gang’s second-in-command, Zhang Biao, rushed over, first signaling Tian Huashan with his eyes, then hastily kneeling before Jun Buliang, sweeping his robes aside: “Respected Master Jun, please accept the obeisance of your humble outer disciple, Zhang Biao.”

The Falling Leaf Sect’s outer disciples numbered in the thousands; someone of Jun Buliang’s stature could hardly know a minor figure like Zhang Biao. Yet, worthy of being one of the Eleven Gentlemen, Jun Buliang graciously raised him to his feet. “So there is a disciple of my Falling Leaf Sect here—how fortunate, how fortunate.”

Zhang Biao, overwhelmed by the honor, bowed again. In truth, it was commonplace for great cities like Guihai to have several disciples of the major sects scattered among their residents.

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