Rogue Cultivators

Li Qinghong paid him no further heed and descended back into the mountain, leaving Ning Heyuan standing there awkwardly for a while, completely at a loss. Having no face left to challenge any of the other peaks, he landed blankly beside the lake—only to see a figure walking toward him across the waves. This woman was likewise clad in green robes. She possessed delicate, pleasing features and looked to be in her early twenties. Her cultivation was in the mid Foundation Establishment realm. Her face was as cold as frost as she frowned and glared at Ning Heyuan, asking coldly: "Done making a scene?" Ning Heyuan's face instantly grew sheepish. Taking a step back, he stammered, "Aunt..." Ning Wan glanced at him. Her aura fluctuated unstably, a clear sign she had just clashed with someone. After steadying her breath for a moment, she replied: "I merely went to the Fei family to investigate the situation and told you to wait by the lake. And what do you do? You go and attack the Li family's gates!" "Aunt!" Ning Heyuan offered an ingratiating smile and explained, "Didn't I hear the great name of that sword immortal? I just wanted to see what was so remarkable about their sword arts! Besides, I called myself a rogue cultivator—what harm could there be?" "A rogue cultivator?!" Hearing the words "sword immortal," a flicker of guilt passed through Ning Wan's eyes, but Ning Heyuan's antics exasperated her so much she let out a dry laugh. Her pretty willow-leaf brows smoothed out as she scolded: "You fool! What rogue cultivator is covered from head to toe in magical artifacts? What rogue cultivator just happens to be surnamed Ning of the He generation and can cast the spell Siyuan Qian Light? You've played around with that pack of sycophants in the sect for too long—did you really think people on the outside are fools, too?" Ning Heyuan waved his hand dismissively. "Who cares? If our upper sect says I am, then I am. Who would dare utter a peep?" "You've truly learned every rotten trait from Chi Zhiyan!" Ning Wan choked on her words and cursed in irritation, while Ning Heyuan lowered his head in silence. "Ah!" Back when Ning Wan cultivated on Moon Lake Peak, she had interacted with Li Chijing several times and held a rather good impression of the boy. She never expected things would come to this pass. Letting out a gentle, melancholic sigh, she said: "The Li family... Li Chijing seemed to have an elder brother named Li Tongya who is also skilled in sword arts... Our Qingchi Sect has truly wronged them. But Chi Wei's word was law—how could a mere young woman like me ever persuade him otherwise...? "By all accounts, they should know by now that Li Chijing has fallen. Chi Zhiyun is meticulous; the Li family should only know of his death, not the truth behind it." "Sword Immortal Qingsui." Ning Heyuan paused. Perhaps out of sympathy for Li Chijing's transcendent path of the sword, he sighed with some regret and replied: "In a few decades, when all the clansmen of Li Chijing's generation have died off, we can just fabricate a cause of death, send some gifts as a gesture of goodwill, and take a child into the sect to settle the matter. Can we let a dead man get in the way of the living?" He chuckled softly, the luxurious robes on his body shimmering with dharmic light. Smiling, he said: "Isn't this how we've governed for hundreds of years? How could an unfamiliar ancestor from several generations back compare to the allure of gleaming magical artifacts and spiritual objects?" "Oh, you." Ning Wan shook her head, her face laden with worry. She said softly, "You, the Chi brothers—Zhiyan and Zhiyun—and all the elders of our Ning and Chi families are far too contemptuous... The Qingchi Sect has ruled for five hundred years without ever facing any decent upheaval, making all of you arrogant and complacent." Ning Heyuan laughed heartily and replied: "Our Qingchi Sect possesses five Purple Palace inheritances and thirty-six peaks! Over five whole centuries, we have accumulated methods of governance, intimidation, division, and bribery, gathering the world's talents while monopolizing hundreds of cultivation methods. We will not only reign supreme for these five hundred years, but for another thousand years to come!" Ning Wan merely sneered. "The Yuehua Yuan Mansion suppressed Jiangnan for twelve hundred years. Where is it today?" *** Autumn had deepened, and the letters piled on the desk grew day by day. Li Yuanping was swamped, managing clan affairs with one hand while organizing the wedding between Li Qingxiao and the Yushan branch of the Xiao family with the other, going without sleep for several nights. His frail frame made his white robe look somewhat cumbersome. His naturally pale complexion had grown even paler from constant worry, and his grayish-black eyes silently stared at the correspondence on his desk. Down below, Dou Yi watched him for a while. After wrestling with his thoughts, he took a step forward and spoke: "Young Master... The Madam has already sent word three times urging you to rest. Please, take a break..." Li Yuanping shook his head indifferently. Turning his brush, he answered, "I am an Embryonic Breathing cultivator; going two or three days without sleep is of no great consequence. I have troubled Mother to worry over me." Seeing his advice fall on deaf ears, Dou Yi gritted his teeth in secret, bowed, and said: "The Madam's intention was... she could share some of the clan's affairs. She only hopes Young Master takes care of his health and reaches Qi Refinement sooner..." Li Yuanping frowned and replied, "I already know my own physical constitution. What Qi Refinement or no Qi Refinement—speak no more of it!" Li Yuanping knew that Lady Dou meant well and held no ulterior motives, yet he could not set such a bad precedent. Setting down his brush, he asked: "The Fei family has had their gates shut tight for two months now... Is there still no news?!" "None," Dou Yi acknowledged. Glancing at Li Yuanping's expression, he replied, "All five immortal mountains of the Fei family are sealed. On Cold Cloud Peak, they have raised the Cloud Gathering Southern Sky Formation day after day, white light swirling without ceasing. "The Fei clansmen in the secular domains are in total chaos, barely holding their rule together. Three waves of envoys have already come to ask if our clan has any news of their main family..." Li Yuanping nodded. The Fei family's mountain-protecting formation, the Cloud Gathering Southern Sky Formation, had an ancient history dating back centuries. It had rescued the Fei family from crisis numerous times and was one of the finest grand formations around the lake. Its consumption was also immense; maintaining it at full power for a month was no small expense. "Ancestor has also entered death seclusion..." Li Yuanping murmured, recalling how Ning Heyuan had abruptly appeared over the lake half a month ago. He thought to himself: *That Ning Heyuan is undeniably from the Qingchi Sect... Moreover, capable of such a high-grade spell, he must be a direct descendant of the Ning family. Could it be that Qingchi Sect cultivators are also meddling in the Fei family's mountain closure?* Staring at the four characters *Siyuan Qian Light* written beneath his brush, Li Yuanping fell silent. Just then, someone walked in from below, cupped his fists, and said: "Young Master! A group of rogue cultivators has started fighting on our territory!" "Rogue cultivators?!" Li Yuanping dropped his brush. Knowing that ordinary Embryonic Breathing matters would never be reported to him, he quickly asked, "What cultivation levels?! How many men?" "There are both Embryonic Breathing and miscellaneous qi cultivators... Their exact cultivation is still unknown. There are about six or seven of them fighting to the death in the mountain woods. They alarmed Enshrinee An, who has already ridden the wind to investigate!" Li Yuanping stepped down from the dais and paced a few steps in the courtyard. He said softly, "A few rogue cultivators with miscellaneous qi... An Zheyan is at the seventh layer of Qi Refinement, so there shouldn't be any problem." No sooner had the words left his mouth than clattering and banging echoed outside the courtyard. A bald man entered, draped in gray fur. He looked burly and imposing, carrying a frail, emaciated old man whose breath was as faint as gossamer, teetering on the verge of death. "Young Master," An Zheyan greeted with a nod. He tossed the old rogue cultivator to the ground, dumping him below the steps with a thud. The impact drew continuous groans from the rogue cultivator. An Zheyan cupped his fists and said: "This is the man!"