Chapter 80: The Ancestral Shrine

Within the secluded rear mountains of Azure Ethereal Vapors, there lay two significant places. The first was the most sacred ground of the Azure Ethereal Conclave, the Mystic Moon Grotto. A thousand years ago, it was within this very grotto that the brilliant and extraordinary Patriarch Cyan Leaf attained enlightenment through his solitary meditation. From that moment on, the Azure Ethereal Conclave rose to unparalleled heights, leading all the martial factions with its might and glory.

Following Patriarch Cyan Leaf’s legacy, the Mystic Moon Grotto became the most hallowed place in the Azure Ethereal Conclave, accessible only to the Grand Master over the span of a thousand years.

The other notable place was the Ancestral Hall.

As the name suggests, it was a sanctuary where the lineage of patriarchs of the Azure Ethereal Conclave were venerated. From the founder, Azure Cloud, to Patriarch Cyan Leaf, and all the revered ancestors, their spirits were enshrined within the Ancestral Hall, with incense never ceasing to burn. On every important day, the Grand Master would lead the disciples to pay solemn homage, making the Ancestral Hall another significant locus within the conclave.

However, except for these days of ancestral worship, the place was typically desolate. When Lin Jingyu led the four demonic cultists to this area, he found a vast open space, upon which stood a majestic hall with eaves that seemed to soar, a glazed tile roof, and ancient red pillars. The tranquil atmosphere seemed to narrate the history of bygone eras.

A faint mist drifted from the dim, almost eerie interior of the hall. Peering inside, one could see flickering candles and an eternal lamp swaying mid-air. But apart from an old man in simple garb silently sweeping the floor before the hall, no one else was in sight.

At the sound of hurried footsteps, the old man slowly raised his head and looked toward the source.

Lin Jingyu felt a pang of regret. He had only intended to lure the demonic cultists away from the Mystic Moon Grotto, but he had inadvertently brought them to the Ancestral Hall. If the demonic cultists were to defile this holy place, he would be forever guilty!

With this thought, Lin Jingyu halted, his Dragon Slaying Sword held defensively before him as he turned to face the approaching fake Shangguan Ce and his companions.

Suddenly, a flock of birds took flight from the nearby woods, causing a commotion.

Lin Jingyu’s heart sank, worried about Zhang Xiaofan, who was in that direction. But he knew he must focus on the imminent threat. Resolute, he determined that even if he died, he would not allow these demonic scoundrels to desecrate the Ancestral Hall.

The Dragon Slaying Sword glowed with a green light, reflecting the firm resolve on Lin Jingyu’s face.

The old man sweeping the floor noticed the Dragon Slaying Sword and his body trembled slightly.

The four demonic cultists exchanged glances, grinning. Clearly, they held high positions in the demon cult and recognized this as a vital location for the Azure Ethereal Conclave, anticipating a great haul.

The fake Shangguan Ce sneered, “Young man, you have potential. The Azure Ethereal Conclave is at its end; why not join us? I guarantee you a bright future!”

“Spit!” Lin Jingyu felt a surge of disgust and coldly ignored him.

The fake Shangguan Ce merely chuckled, “Fine, if you choose death, I shall grant it.” He signaled, and the three black-robed men attacked.

Lin Jingyu gritted his teeth, his Dragon Slaying Sword glowing with emerald waves. The demonic cultivators wielded various weapons: a yellow flying sword, a heavy halberd, and a sinister white bone sword made from human bones, exuding a chilling aura.

Lin Jingyu, outnumbered, fought valiantly, his Dragon Slaying Sword weaving a green web of light, holding his ground. But gradually, he was pushed back.

Lin Jingyu, having entered the Azure Ethereal Conclave in his youth, possessed extraordinary talent. Daoist Cangsong, recognizing his potential, had meticulously taught him, even passing on the prestigious Dragon Slaying Sword. It was said that Daoist Cangsong saw the shadow of someone he admired in the young disciple.

Lin Jingyu, determined not to disappoint, rapidly advanced, driven by his innate abilities and the unyielding desire to avenge his family. Within a few years, he had become one of the most promising young disciples.

But despite his hard work, time was a limiting factor. Facing the three demonic cultivators, the halberd rained down blows, the flying sword darted, and the white bone sword, with its chilling aura, appeared and disappeared, striking him with each block, causing him to shudder.

After several arduous exchanges, Lin Jingyu, though defending with all his might, was being overwhelmed. With a final step back, the fake Shangguan Ce laughed.

The retreat was unstoppable. The three demonic cultivators intensified their assault, and Lin Jingyu, drenched in sweat, was forced further back.

Suddenly, the white bone sword vanished. As Lin Jingyu parried the halberd and deflected the flying sword, he felt a sharp pain in his foot. The white bone sword, having burrowed underground, cut a deep gash in his leg.

With a roar, Lin Jingyu slashed the Dragon Slaying Sword, which collided with the white bone sword, causing it to crack. The demonic cultivator, heartbroken, hastily examined his weapon, but the others’ attacks continued.

In a desperate move, Lin Jingyu used the last of his strength to raise the Dragon Slaying Sword above his head.

With a thunderous crash, a burst of light and sparks filled the air. The Dragon Slaying Sword, empowered, repelled the two weapons, but Lin Jingyu was blinded for a moment. In that split second, he saw the fake Shangguan Ce, now close, grinning menacingly.

Before Lin Jingyu could react, a searing pain pierced his chest, shattering his defenses. He screamed, flung backward, spewing blood, and his Dragon Slaying Sword clattered to the ground, impaling the earth in front of the old sweeper.

The green light dimmed.

Lin Jingyu, known for his tenacity, winced at the small, finger-sized wound in his chest. The sharp force surged through his body, wreaking havoc on his meridians. Attempting to rise, he found his legs weak, unable to stand.

Breathing heavily, Lin Jingyu heard the triumphant laughter of the fake Shangguan Ce and his allies.

“Little one, with just half my power, I’ve brought you to your knees. Surrender now!”

Lin Jingyu’s face contorted in pain, but the imminent danger fueled his determination. Remembering the Ancestral Hall, he summoned unknown strength and struggled to his feet.

The demonic cultivators watched, amused, as Lin Jingyu, still reeling from the pain, stumbled toward the old man and the Dragon Slaying Sword, gasping, “Old man, this place is dangerous. You must… leave…”

The old man, with a weathered face and deep wrinkles, had remained silent throughout the battle. Now, he looked at Lin Jingyu’s chest and spoke softly, “‘Parting Needle’! You are Zhou Yin, the assassin from the Longevity Hall, aren’t you?”

The smiles of the demonic cultivators froze. The fake Shangguan Ce, Zhou Yin, grew cold, “I did not expect a master here. Yes, I am Zhou Yin. And who are you?”

The old man sighed, “Who am I? Even I forget sometimes…” His voice, filled with sorrow, turned to Lin Jingyu, “Child.”

Lin Jingyu, startled, replied, “Yes, sir.”

The old man scrutinized him, a hint of a smile appearing, “Whose disciple are you?”

Lin Jingyu, inexplicably reverent, whispered, “I am a disciple of Daoist Cangsong of Dragon Peak…”

Remembering Daoist Cangsong’s betrayal, Lin Jingyu’s voice faltered.

The old man nodded, “Ah, Cangsong. He always had a good eye for disciples.”

Reaching out with trembling hands, the old man grasped the Dragon Slaying Sword. Lin Jingyu, holding his breath, watched intently.

The old man’s gnarled, weathered hands, having touched many winters, gripped the sword. Inside the Ancestral Hall, a resonant chime sounded.

“Clang!”

Suddenly, the dim Dragon Slaying Sword burst into a radiant green glow, as blinding as the sun. The old man, straightening, drew the sword, and with each inch, the blade hummed, a dragon’s roar echoing through the air.

He held the sword, its light intensifying, and caressed it tenderly. The Dragon Slaying Sword, sensing a kindred spirit, roared, affecting even those far away.

Lin Jingyu, stunned, watched the old man transform, his presence overwhelming, like an ancient sword deity.

“Child, watch,” the old man said, “The Dragon Slaying Sword is not meant to be used as you do.”

With those words, the green light exploded, enveloping the clearing. The sword, guided by the old man, shot like lightning, charging the demonic cultivators.

The three demonic cultivators, ready for the attack, unleashed their weapons. Zhou Yin, standing back, frowned but did not act.

The old man ignored the yellow flying sword and the white bone sword, instead sending the Dragon Slaying Sword in a devastating wave. The first demonic cultivator, wielding the halberd, desperately tried to parry, but the sword sliced through, cutting the halberd in two and continuing its deadly path.

The man was bisected, blood splattering. The green light, like a maelstrom, surged toward the remaining two, who, in terror, fled. The Dragon Slaying Sword, undeterred, struck them down in a single, decisive blow.

Zhou Yin, realizing the old man’s terrifying power, turned to flee. But the green light, now streaked with red, pursued him.

Zhou Yin, more skilled than his companions, momentarily halted the advancing light with a dark mist. Then, in a moment of recognition, he exclaimed, “It’s you! You are Wan—”

His words were cut short as the green light, overwhelming, slammed into his chest, hurling him to his doom.

In moments, the once-arrogant demonic cultists lay dead.

The green light, like a whale drawing water, returned to the Dragon Slaying Sword, landing in the old man’s hand.

Lin Jingyu, speechless, watched as the old man turned, saying, “The Dragon Slaying Sword, forged from the green crystal of the Southland, has slain countless evildoers. To wield it, one must be relentless, attacking without hesitation. Only then can its full power be realized. Remember this!”

Lin Jingyu, stunned, called out, “Sir, the demonic cult is attacking the Azure Ethereal Conclave. Please, help us!”

The old man paused, then continued, “The Azure Ethereal Conclave has many powerful masters, and Grand Master Daoxuan is unparalleled. There is nothing to fear.”

Lin Jingyu, stepping forward, cried, “But, but Grand Master Daoxuan is gravely injured!”

The old man, shocked, turned, “Who could injure Daoxuan?”

Lin Jingyu, silent, hesitated, the truth of Daoist Cangsong’s betrayal too painful to speak.

“Where is Daoxuan?” the old man asked.

Lin Jingyu answered, “He is severely injured and has gone to the Mystic Moon Grotto.”

“Mystic Moon Grotto,” the old man mused, then turned again, “The Azure Ethereal Conclave, a thousand-year lineage, fears nothing.”

Lin Jingyu, desperate, pleaded, “Sir, will you not aid us in our time of need?”

The old man, with a sad smile, replied, “Young man, the Azure Ethereal Conclave’s strength is profound. Have faith.”

Lin Jingyu, perplexed, was about to ask more when the Dragon Slaying Sword, now in his hand, suddenly glowed, responding to a distant, resplendent light.

“Finally, it has emerged,” the old man, watching the same light, said, “Child, you are fortunate. Soon, you will witness the legendary ‘Zhu Xian’ Sword.”