Chapter Ninety-Five: The Traitor Within the Six Sects

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Leading these three were eight others wielding various magical treasures—knives, swords, prayer flags, ropes, treasure pouches, and great bells. Their attire varied as well. Among them were two monks whose appearance differed sharply from the serene elegance of Mingxin and Mingwu whom Lin Feng had seen before. Beneath their deep crimson robes, a fierce aura radiated, their Buddhist sect and the deities they worshipped unknown. The remaining cultivators, both men and women, were handsome and graceful, dressed in bright, fine garments, looking down on everyone present with disdain.

After the black-veil woman’s cold shout, Mu Yitian raised his hand, signaling the Sword Sect of Wanghai to withdraw their flying swords and stand respectfully.

“Yitian has failed the mission; please punish me, fairy,” Mu Yitian bowed deeply, showing utmost deference.

“How dare the Sword Sect of Wanghai betray us and join the demonic cult!” Chunyu Yan shouted furiously.

The masked black-veil woman snorted coldly. Suddenly, a young man in white robes stepped forward. White radiance burst beneath his feet, and half the sky was instantly swallowed by the flash of his blade. Amid the terrifying, piercing whistling, the enormous blade surged toward the remaining disciples of the Jade Sword Sect. A brilliant white light shimmered, accompanied by a sound like countless beings charging forward.

Chunyu Yan and the others had anticipated this and all unleashed their swords to counter the blade. Yet, beneath the mountain-like curtain of the blade, an overwhelming momentum battered them like a tidal wave. With several crisp sounds, all the flying swords were sliced in two, then the giant blade descended directly upon a group of unarmed women!

“Stop!” Ye Wuchen shouted loudly. Amid the terrified expressions, the blade halted just half an inch above the women’s heads.

“Heh heh, Duan Chen, when did you start cherishing delicate beauties?” A woman in a pale yellow jacket, wielding a long, winding whip, laughed heartily.

“Hmph!” Duan Chen sneered coldly, crossing his arms in silence.

The members of the Six Sword Alliance had just breathed a sigh of relief when suddenly, the heads of Chunyu Yan and the others standing motionless split open, exploding into fragments with blood flying everywhere! The women did not cry out even in their deaths, their life force utterly destroyed by Duan Chen.

Everyone present was gripped by terror, breaking out in cold sweat. Nearly a hundred people stood in absolute silence.

“Barbaric and merciless!” Lin Feng murmured, glancing at the so-called righteous sects around him, all flustered and helpless, their earlier arrogance vanished without a trace; none dared step forward.

He looked at Leng Linglan, who seemed unaware of his presence, her gaze cold and distant, fixed on the horizon, lost in thought.

At that moment, Mu Yitian cleared his throat and loudly declared, “Fellow cultivators, the Jade Sword Sect has fallen. With a fairy here in person, if our five sects can wisely submit to the Holy Sect, we shall stand alongside the other great sword sects across the world. What say you all?”

“Mu Yitian, you scoundrel! Are you the one who killed my disciples?” Ye Wuchen shouted with hatred.

“Haha, Infinite Buddha! Are you referring to yesterday’s events?” A burly monk stepped forward, stepping on a crimson prayer flag. With a single palm raised and a gentle smile, he said, “I am Reli Luo, and I take responsibility for the killings of yesterday. Life and death are beyond our control; true enlightenment is hard to attain. I was merely carrying out my duties. Please do not hold it against me.”

“Reli Luo! The Arhat of Killing!” Ye Wuchen exclaimed in shock.

Among true masters, the name Arhat of Killing was little feared, but his notorious reputation was well known among cultivators. He was elusive, skilled in illusionary arts, often impersonating acquaintances to kill, rarely failing.

“Your insight is keen,” Reli Luo smiled slightly, his figure flickering to take on Ye Wuchen’s exact face.

“What’s with your show-off, monk?” The woman in yellow teased.

Reli Luo laughed again, transforming into her likeness, bashfully saying, “Sister Shuiyu, don’t you recognize your little sister?”

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The Arhat of Killing’s rough voice paired with that face sent chills down one’s spine.

“Heh heh, monk, you’re shameless,” Shuiyu laughed, radiant and charming.

The masked woman barked coldly, “Enough fooling around!”

Shuiyu and Reli Luo quickly fell silent and retreated to their places.

“If anyone surrenders to the Ten Thousand Demons Heaven, they will be spared death!” the golden-armored man beside the masked woman shouted loudly.

“We are the righteous path! We shall never bow to the demonic tyranny! Fellow cultivators, let us strike together—killing even one of them removes a scourge from the world!” Wan Xueyuan raised his arm and shouted.

“That’s right!” Hua Zhongxuan stepped beside him, suddenly the Pan Hao sword light flashed, slashing directly into Wan Xueyuan’s abdomen! Everyone was stunned by the sudden turn of events.

“Senior Uncle!” Li Jianren and others rushed forward, dozens of swords drawn, attacking Hua Zhongxuan.

Apparently prepared, the demonic woman flicked her slender hand, releasing a beam of light that swiftly flew out, encasing Hua Zhongxuan and pulling him back faster than the flying swords.

“You! Have you also joined the demonic cult?” Wan Xueyuan spat blood, furious, pointing at Hua Zhongxuan. “Kill this traitor for me!”

The disciples sorrowfully supported Wan Xueyuan. His wound was a mangled mess of flesh and blood; it was a miracle he still clung to life.

Hua Zhongxuan bowed respectfully to the woman, “Thank you, fairy, for your rescue.”

“Spare the formalities. You have done a great deed this time; I will report to the Left Envoy and ensure you are rewarded,” she said dismissively.

Hua Zhongxuan was overjoyed and thanked her again, standing to one side.

“Whoever refuses to surrender will share this man’s fate!” the golden-armored man stepped forward arrogantly.

Most of the demonic cultivators showed confident expressions. Hua Zhongxuan and Mu Yitian exchanged a victorious smile. The disciples of the Hidden Sword Sect were in chaos, unsure what to do. The Chishan Sword Sect tended to Wan Xueyuan, leaving only the Sword Forging Sect and some remnants of the Lishan Sword Sect. Although the righteous side had more people, few were truly skilled.

Lin Feng remembered he still had some life-saving elixirs and hurriedly took out a Celestial Azure Dew Pill, placing it at Wan Xueyuan’s lips.

Seeing this, Ye Wuchen stepped forward, “Everyone, if we can just hold on a moment, our seniors will arrive, and we can escape!”

“That’s right!” Xiahou Wei of the Sword Forging Sect took up the call, “Exorcising demons and protecting the Dao was the founding principle of our Southern Sword Alliance. Today, we swear to fight them to the death!”

“To battle!” the disciples replied in unison.

“Kill!”

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In an instant, flying swords returned, and everyone shouted their battle cries. The sword light was even more brilliant than before, all aimed at the several dozen demonic cultivators.

“Brother Lin, Senior Uncle Wan is entrusted to you; escort him away quickly!” Li Jianren’s eyes betrayed his anxiety. With a flash, he flew his sword toward the enemy.

“How could I retreat in the midst of battle!” Lin Feng’s body trembled as he grabbed a young disciple nearby, commanding sternly, “Escort Senior Wan back to Lanting Town. If you can bring reinforcements, that would be best!”

Without further explanation, he summoned the Mo Yan sword and charged into the demonic ranks. At this moment, nearly all the demonic cultivators intercepting the flying swords joined the fight. Only the leading woman and Leng Linglan stood silently aside, detached from the fray.

Screams rang out, magical treasures flew wildly, and flashes of seven-colored light shimmered continuously. Sword light, blade light, blood rain, and shattered fragments melded into a tragic spectacle. The righteous cultivators fought fearlessly against these demonic masters, each wearing a fierce expression. The battle between the two sides raged violently.

The young disciple carrying Wan Xueyuan had not gone far before Leng Linglan’s sword light ensnared and killed them both. A cloud of blood mist exploded, leaving no trace of their bodies.

“Ah—Senior Uncle!” Li Jianren roared wildly, breaking from the formation and flying his sword straight at Leng Linglan.

“Brother Li, no!” Lin Feng knew well that Li Jianren was no match for her. In alarm, he flew in to block him.

“Why do you stop me?” Li Jianren’s anger surged, pointing at the fair-skinned girl in white. “She killed Senior Uncle Wan. I will fight to the death!”

“Brother Li, as long as there is life, there is hope for revenge!” Lin Feng urged urgently.

“Today’s matters will not end well. There is no use in words. Let’s attack together; maybe we can capture her!” Li Jianren swerved past him, sword and companion sword slashing toward Leng Linglan.

Lin Feng sighed silently and steeled himself, driving his sword forward to join the fray. The three swords pierced the air in succession. Leng Linglan’s cold eyes glanced sharply at Lin Feng. With a cold wave of her hand, a white sword light suddenly erupted, blindingly bright, forming a white wall before her.

The three flying swords struck the sword barrier, trembling violently with the clash of metal and steel. Suddenly, Leng Linglan cried out sharply, “Break!”

The Mo Yan and paired swords recoiled, turning to attack the two men.

They hurriedly focused to control their swords, circling once more before charging out again.

“What’s wrong? You seem reluctant to kill them,” the masked woman nearby taunted Leng Linglan.

Leng Linglan’s expression grew even colder. Her snow-white sword rose high, radiance bursting forth. “Boom!” A giant sword aura descended from midair, engulfing the two men’s figures.

“Amitabha!” Suddenly, a compassionate Buddhist chant echoed midair. All around, eight-tone Zen chanting continued unceasingly, auspicious energies swirling. A colossal golden Buddha image stood upon the clouds. Below, an elderly monk pressed his palms together, his face filled with sorrow. His eyes, as if unable to bear the human suffering before him, gently closed.