Chapter Seventy-Two: Sunset in the East

Such a posture might appear somewhat affected; others might not see it, but Dao Tianfeng perceived it more clearly than anyone. After all, the friendship between these two spanned several decades, and he considered himself quite familiar with the other. Of course, given the current circumstances, there was nothing inappropriate about this display—after all, stirring up the enthusiasm of those martial world folk required a touch of exaggeration, which was only natural. Yet the words of Shen Wansan nonetheless took him completely by surprise, his brow furrowing in response. It was not only he who felt this way; at this moment, any person of the Jianghu would be shaken to their core.

As for Dongfang Mingyue, there was hardly a need for introduction. Hanshan Valley had once been a minor, obscure sect in the martial world, much like the predecessor of the Qilian Sect in those days. Sixteen years ago, a single battle had established Dongfang Mingyue’s reputation beyond doubt, and from that point, Hanshan Valley had flourished. Though even now its scale could not rival the grandeur of Mingyue Villa, it was still far stronger than the Qilian foothills, which had withdrawn from the world, or the Donghua Gate, now leaderless and adrift. It would be no exaggeration to count it among the four great sects. For this, Dongfang Mingyue had become the most legendary figure in the history of Hanshan Valley. Everyone in the martial world knew his skills were unsurpassed, but precisely how formidable he was—perhaps only the surviving Shen Wansan and Dao Tianfeng truly knew. That was why, in this moment, the Daoist of Heavenly Secrets wore such a look of shock.

“Master, what—?” Expressions, unless one deliberately suppresses them, are easy to read—just as Dao Tianfeng’s feelings were now written plainly across his face. Hantan Yi could see it with perfect clarity. He was already troubled, whether it was for his impulsive theft of that luminous pearl from the Shen family, or because he had unwittingly been drawn into the Blue Lotus Sect. Both weighed on this young man’s heart. Now, this gathering of heroes had been convened to deal with the Blue Lotus Sect, and in every way, it seemed entangled with him. Naturally, he paid close attention to the proceedings, hoping only for a swift conclusion. He had doubted whether the so-called evidence truly implicated the Blue Lotus Sect, but now, with such news as this—Dongfang Mingyue dead—he simply could not fathom who else could have accomplished such a feat. Even if it had been his own master, or Shen Wansan himself, the best they could have managed was to leave him gravely wounded.

“Although Hanshan Valley was delayed by certain matters, by rights they should have arrived yesterday. Yet even today, he has not appeared. Brother Dongfang was a man of his word—he would never break a promise. I was greatly puzzled, until an hour ago, when my spies stationed throughout Yingyang City sent word: his body had been discovered in the outskirts. At this moment, Brother Dongfang’s remains are being brought back to Mingyue Villa. We were brothers in arms; whatever happens, I must see him off one last time!” Shen Wansan’s words continued, now stripped of any pretense. His entire bearing, as he spoke, grew faintly choked with emotion, as if his heart were truly wounded. Even Dao Tianfeng’s gaze lingered on that empty seat, his face grave and sorrowful. As the saying goes, the death of one’s kindred stirs sorrow in all; how much more so for those who had once struggled shoulder-to-shoulder on the edge of life and death. Their temperaments had always been similar; to call them close friends would be no exaggeration. Now, someone like this was gone—so suddenly and without warning. Who could accept it?

“Dongfang’s martial arts were superior even to mine. There is hardly a soul in this world capable of killing him. Moreover, he was always modest, never one to meddle in the strife of the martial world. Though sect leader, he treated all with rare gentleness, unlikely to make enemies. For all these reasons, I truly cannot see who would have the ability—or the motive—to do him in. Could it really be the Blue Lotus Sect?” Hantan Yi’s question was brief, but the Daoist of Heavenly Secrets was lost in thought. His mind scattered in a hundred directions. Though ostensibly answering Hantan Yi, it was as if he were talking to himself, and in the end, his suspicions clearly fell upon the Blue Lotus Sect. Hantan Yi wanted to speak up—an instinct to defend Shui Linglong rose in him—but when his thoughts reached his lips, he found he had no words. Even to him, if the old master’s words were true, there was no other likely culprit.

“Your Highness, Master Shen, I will entrust things here to you. Though I have not seen Brother Dongfang in many years, as Master Shen said, brotherhood runs deep. I had hoped to gather and reminisce, but alas. Please permit me to leave for a time, to see my brother off. If this deed truly was done by the Blue Lotus Sect, then our Qilian lineage will settle old scores and new with Shui Linglong, and seek justice for Brother Dongfang!” The Daoist of Heavenly Secrets rose abruptly, timing his words to the pause in Shen Wansan’s speech. His purpose was simple: sending off the dead was one reason, but more importantly, he wished to verify certain matters himself. Ordinarily, to depart in the middle of such an assembly would be improper, but neither Shen Wansan nor Xiao Jinghao made any move to stop him. Their eyes met briefly, and in that silent exchange, they reached a tacit agreement, each nodding in unison.

For some reason, Dao Tianfeng’s figure suddenly seemed aged. Normally, his profound cultivation would have kept him hale and vigorous, but now he looked as though all his martial prowess was of no avail. Hantan Yi naturally reached out to steady him. Compared to the old master, he was but a second-generation disciple, and standing atop this dais, amounted to little more than an ornament. His comings and goings were freer than most; he did not need to seek permission. Now, with doubts in his heart, he too wished to find answers. Supporting Dao Tianfeng, he followed closely behind as the old man moved slowly away. Of the Qilian Sect, only Xia Wuyai remained on the platform—it would not do for all of them to leave. Someone had to stay, both for courtesy’s sake and because these gatherings often determined matters of power and reputation. The Qilian Sect’s standing could not be left to be undermined in their absence.

All eyes followed Dao Tianfeng as he descended the dais. Shen Wansan had hoped for just this, and had no intention of stopping him; he understood the old man’s purpose, though the reverse might not hold true. For a fleeting instant, a trace of satisfaction flickered in Shen Wansan’s gaze—quickly there and gone, for joy, however keen, must not show in public. Grief, even if not wholly genuine, was nevertheless crucial in winning hearts at such a time.

The entire plaza fell into silence. Every gaze was fixed upon the Daoist of Heavenly Secrets, watching him depart. When Shen Wansan first delivered his news, the gathered heroes had still been somewhat noisy—after all, this was no small matter. When people feel powerless to control external events, they often seek someone to confide in. But even that impulse has its limits. Perhaps it was the old Daoist’s demeanor that moved their hearts, for from the moment he stepped down, the noise faded away, until at last, not even the caw of a crow or the chirp of a magpie could be heard. All eyes focused in one direction, watching until the old man vanished from sight. Rather than saying they were sending off the Daoist, it would be more fitting to call it a collective farewell to an era.

If there was anyone who remained unmoved, it was likely Shao Changchun, still seated on the dais. His expression had not changed—there was, if anything, a faint contempt in his eyes, as though neither the news nor the scene before him mattered. It made sense; given his age, when Shao Donghua fell in battle on Sanlang Mountain sixteen years earlier, he had been but a child of four or five. At that age, how much could one truly understand of the past? Like Hantan Yi, if not for his own involvement in the Blue Lotus affair and the actions of Shui Linglong, the news of Dongfang Mingyue’s death—or whether it was the work of the Blue Lotus Sect—would have meant little to him. Still, something about his bearing was off. At the very least, he should have harbored a deep hatred toward the Blue Lotus Sect, especially its former demoness Shui Lianhua. Yet now, it seemed none of this truly touched him. Compared to the others, his face looked almost unnaturally cold.

“Old man, come on, let’s go join the commotion!” It was Qiu Wan’er’s sudden outburst that seemed most out of place, though perhaps it was, in fact, the truest reaction. Blue Lotus, Dongfang Mingyue—none of it had anything to do with her. She simply saw her master and senior brother leaving the dais and heading off somewhere. She didn’t know what was happening, but her curiosity flared up in an instant. As for Zhuo La Weiyang, none of this concerned him at all. His gaze remained on Xiao Jinghao and Dawa Zhuoma atop the dais—they were all he cared about. Without even turning his head, he dismissed her, saying, “Go yourself. I’ll stay right here. I can’t let those junior siblings slip away under my nose again; it’s a real headache searching for them later!”