Clan Brother

The setting sun was as red as blood. The blood on the ground was gradually drying. The residual brilliance of the formation flickered faintly in the sunset. Amidst the howling gale stood a man clad in a black robe, his hair grizzled, blood running down his body. Though he wore a neat beard and had an upright, solemn bearing, his face was filled with ferocity, ruthlessly fierce. His ash-black eyes reflected the blood-red sunset. The golden alms bowl expanded before him once again, and he was forced to raise the dharmic sword in his hand, striking it with heavy force. Clang! The black-robed man only felt his arms sink under the weight. His head swam, dark red blood trickled from the tip of his nose, and his throat tasted acrid, sweet, bitter, and salty. He could not help coughing twice, spraying blood all over his garments. "Sir!" The voice still echoed in his ears. The black-robed man barely managed to turn his head, seeing his younger clan brother kneeling on the ground not far away, vomiting blood. The scenery before him swam closer and farther away, and the golden light in the sky grew ever brighter, making it impossible for Li Cheng to open his eyes. By now, Li Cheng realized all chance of survival was gone. He looked quietly at the blood on his robes, stepped back, and propped his sword against the ground to support his body. Drenched in blood, the man's robes could no longer flutter, clinging stickily to his flesh. Supporting himself in a daze, thoughts surfaced in his mind: How far have the Buddhist cultivators advanced... Is Minggong still safe... Among the family's direct lineage, Tinglan had specifically instructed Wen Wu about Li Minggong, assigning her to the rear. Li Cheng was merely at Qi Refinement and possessed poor talent, so naturally he was beneath Tinglan's notice. Even though she had never mentioned him, Wen Wu had taken it into consideration, assigning him to the south, far from Luoxia, traveling alongside Fei Qingyi. Unfortunately, Mount Xiaoshi had been crushed, leaving this place exposed to the front instead. The Ziyan Gate disciples stationed here had died in battle, Fei Qingyi had fled, and casualties were countless, leaving only the few of them behind. In his daze, Li Cheng noticed that the Buddhist cultivator before him had not seized this rare opportunity; instead, the monk appeared somewhat vexed. That annoyance sent a shiver of terror through Li Cheng. As the head of the Yuandu line and Li Zhoufang's uncle by blood, Li Cheng's status was not low. He simply lacked a docile temperament. Strictly speaking, he could address Li Ximing as Seventh Uncle. After the death of Li Ximing's own son, Li Chengzhi, among the Cheng-generation males of the eldest branch, Li Cheng was the closest kin, and he had received no small share of favors since childhood. Now, a chill surged in his heart, suddenly clearing his mind: The Buddhist cultivators have countless methods, and this will surely implicate my family... I must die quickly! He drew his sword, but the golden bowl streaked through the air like lightning, slamming violently against the weapon. Sparks showered in an instant. Spitting a mouthful of blood, Li Cheng nearly collapsed on his rear. Just as he tried to channel his dharmic power, he found the golden light pouring heavily from the sky, rattling his internal power so that it could not coalesce, scattering relentlessly. While Li Cheng faltered, Li Chengpan beside him fared even worse. Raising his spear horizontally, he took a direct strike in the middle from the opposing Buddhist cultivator's staff. With a dull thud, he fell to his knees and spat blood. That strike had not killed Li Chengpan, but it jolted Li Cheng awake. A sense of dread gripped him: Chengpan may have slightly better talent, but his character is weak and indecisive—not even equal to Li Zhouluo... Back when Li Zhouluo managed family affairs, Li Chengpan had been falsely accused. Though Li Cheng would have stood up for any clansman, Li Chengpan had been moved to the depths of his heart. From then on, he had followed him, revering him like an elder brother. Having spent so many years together, how could Li Cheng not know his measure? Grateful as he was, could anything outweigh life and death? Would he waver? Thus, forcing his body—which ached as though shattered into pieces—into motion, Li Cheng rushed forward. Yet the golden bowl tore through the air once more, crashing before him onto his sword. With a crisp, ringing crack, the weathered magical weapon finally snapped. Clink... The severed blade struck the ground with a clear clatter. In Li Cheng's grip remained only the hilt with a broken stub of a blade. Stumbling backward, he retreated to Li Chengpan's side. Through hazy eyes, he caught a glimpse of the younger man's blood-streaked face and heard him weeping amidst mouthfuls of blood: "Sir!" Li Cheng hesitated for a fleeting instant, but golden light flashed before his eyes like lightning. The world spun violently. A searing agony tore through the back of his head as if draining every ounce of his strength, and he crashed heavily to the ground. Light streamed across the sky amidst surging fiendish qi. Two figures—one black, one golden—descended. The demon was clad in silver-black armor, treading upon rolling baleful miasma, while the Lianmin radiated glittering splendor, seated upon a pink-and-green lotus throne. In an instant, heaven and earth shifted color. Golden light surged, shutting out the blood-red sunset. Masters hovered in midair on either flank, watching with rapt attention. Swallowing down his blood, Li Cheng dragged himself up again, only to hear the Lianmin in the sky laugh: "Earlier, we took someone of the Ning family, but with only one, there wasn't enough affinity to share, and Xuwang took him away. Now we have these two as an unexpected delight!" Li Cheng's heart sank like lead. Not far away, several cultivators had already dropped to their knees one after another, looking almost as if a heavy burden had been lifted from them. Nearby, Li Chengpan had also cast aside his spear, kneeling blankly upon the ground. The Nüxiao in the sky smiled and said: "Brought here by great karmic affinity, you have beheld the Dao of Luminous Great Desire and turned from wicked ways back to the true path. Why do you not bow and offer thanks?!" Dong... As her words fell, a melodious toll of a bell rang out from afar. Cries of pleading and gratitude arose on all sides. Li Chengpan wept profusely. Though he made no sound, he slowly lowered his head, remaining silent. The Lianmin in the sky nodded with a smile, showing gratification. Having converted countless souls, how could they not recognize the signs? Rare were those who surrendered by flipping like a page; most ordinary people were simply indecisive. A bowed head, a silence, a moment of wavering—seemingly ambiguous gestures, yet everything that followed was only natural. On the ground, Li Chengpan's hands trembled, yet he could no longer bring himself to rise. Suddenly, his collar tightened, and a sharp, biting chill surged forth, as though something struck heavily against the back of his head amidst brilliant golden light. In his ear came a furious cry dripping with agonizing hatred, like a cuckoo weeping blood: "Stand up!" His dharmic power utterly bound, the grizzled Li Cheng was no different from a mortal. The broken sword he thrust at the back of Li Chengpan's head was halted by the golden light, merely jolting Li Chengpan downward. Unable to bear it any longer, the older man let his weapon clatter to the ground and collapsed, shouting fiercely: "Li Chengpan! Stand up!" His expression was hard as stone, every bit as resolute as when he had stood before Li Chengpan on Mount Qingdu years ago, yet now imbued with an ice-cold, bone-deep, heart-rending venom. Bright red blood trickled down his trembling lips: "Li Chengpan!" Li Chengpan was just as he had been in the past, kneeling on the ground, his posture barely changed—similarly silent, similarly weeping without stop, only his hands trembling. Tears blurred the young man's eyes. The elders who once sat in grand armchairs whispering among themselves had vanished like smoke, replaced by the grim array of Buddhist demons standing aloft—equally supreme, leaving him unable to utter a single word, unable even to look back at the old man screaming behind him. In the sky, the Nüxiao laughed heartily, gazing down with great satisfaction at the spectacle below, flakes of golden light reflected in her pupils. Masters throughout the heavens solemnly chanted scriptures as iridescent clouds gathered above, as if performing a rite, accompanied by continuous droning hums: "To lose before gaining, thus releasing desire; to gain before losing, thus untying the heart..." As the chanting rose, the distant tolling of bells drifted from the horizon, joined by the dense clicking of wooden fish, drawing from far to near. Li Chengpan's heart suddenly grew serene. The sound blunted the sorrow in his chest and filled the bottomless void of his fear, sinking into his marrow until it could never be excised. Clasping his palms together, he quietly bowed his head. The gale swept his black hair aside, and amidst the glittering golden light, he found a sanctuary for his guilt. Behind him, the old man thrashed on the ground like a dying fish. The distant wooden fish could not smooth away the ferocity in his heart; instead, it made him all the more furious, all the more frantic, until flame-like, crimson venom bled from his eyes, trickling down the corners of his lids. Your father died young, Li Chengpan, and I supported you! You were my man! Yet today, you surrender to Buddhism! When you were framed and no one dared speak, I risked being dragged down by Li Xixuan and single-handedly protected you before all the elders! Yet today, you surrender to Buddhism! You betrayed my devoted care, betrayed years of my promotion—you beast! I only have my own soft heart to blame! You leave me with no honor in life, and unable to close my eyes in death! Amidst the rhythmic rapping of the wooden fish, Li Cheng writhed. His blood-dripping, slender beard stretched longer and longer. It seemed as though countless mice were squirming beneath his skin—at one moment sprouting hooves and claws, at the next scales, then a serpent's tongue, morphing into a creeping venomous beast that convulsed and leapt upon the ground. The chanting in the heavens swelled even louder, and someone shouted: "Li Chengpan! The time has come to subdue the venomous creature, sweep away the past, and sever all mortal ties!" Li Chengpan turned around. Inside the old man's empty robes was only a spiteful, eyeless venomous thing, leaping about aimlessly. Li Chengpan seized the creature by its gills, running one hand down its hide to tear away the superfluous limbs, letting pools of emerald blood spill forth. With eyes brimming with hot tears, he cried: "Clan Brother!" That cry was heart-wrenching, like the piercing trill of a suona, lingering and melodious in the air. The eyes of Li Chengpan—ordinarily timid and fretful—turned clear and bright, and his spine straightened. As if struck by lightning, the venomous beast instantly lost its malevolence and had its demonic nature pacified. It coiled dully around him, its scales shimmering with golden luster. Li Chengpan clasped his hands and bowed once more: "Today, having witnessed the true, luminous Dharma and cleansed the vexations of the six senses, I wish to cultivate toward the fruition of truth beneath Your Reverence's seat." The Lianmin in the sky smiled in delight and replied: "I was mistaken! I was mistaken! Never did I expect such wondrous karmic affinity—you are truly meant for our Great Desire! Now we must convey Fellow Daoist to the Buddhist lands, see the Venerable One, and ask if a seat remains for you!" The sky erupted in laughter as the crowd cried: "Marvelous! Marvelous!" And again: "Enlightened! Enlightened!" Amidst the joyous golden light, only Helian Wumeng stood with a dark countenance. His grip on the long-handled zhaodao blade tightened, making the spiritual implement hum. A sinister, grim look surfaced in his eyes, as though he felt uneasy from head to toe: They are descendants of an emperor after all... Though he had harbored thoughts of capturing members of the Li family in exchange for spiritual items, in any case, one should either kill them or ransom them back. Their ancestors were figures of the highest order in this realm—how could they be degraded like this? His gaze turned icy, and he said without pity: "Nüxiao! Did you invite me just to watch this?" Nüxiao was slightly taken aback and offered an apologetic smile: "Was this not to let Fellow Daoist vent some spleen...?" Helian Wumeng had suffered a setback on the northern bank, but he prided himself on being a figure of standing. How could he stomach such a display? With a cold, angry sneer, he said: "Absurd!" "My Lord, please wait!" Nüxiao quickly called out to stop him, fawning with a smile: "Lord Wujiang is currently discussing the Dharma before our Mohe. Why not go together?" Hearing this, Helian Wumeng frowned, unsure of her intentions. He asked coldly: "Oh?" Nüxiao smiled and said: "Do not let their sturdy formation fool you into thinking it will take great effort to breach. The Taiyang lineage is about to retreat! Mount Dayuan Guangyin will soon be ours!" ... Dense clouds loomed over the northern bank. Streams of light were returning from the north, slicing brilliantly across the sky before soon touching down nearby. "Clan Brother!" A man in a long black robe stood waiting in the wind. Emanating golden qi and possessing handsome features, he tapped the hilt of his sword gently with one hand. Beside him, a gorgeously dressed woman of graceful beauty looked on with a smile. The man he addressed as clan brother appeared honest and steady, much older, hurrying back alongside a tall youth who made his demeanor seem all the weightier. His face was somewhat pale. Turning his head back now, he sighed: "Zhouluo is back..." "I was already within Qingchi territory and rushed over upon hearing that demonic cultivators had appeared on the northern bank... Who knew the family had already resolved it so quickly, adding a grand joyful event. Congratulations on your triumphant return, Clan Brother..." Li Zhouluo had been waiting near the lake. When the northern bank's demonic cultivators arrived, the family sent an emergency signal. Just then, his wife came out of secluded cultivation, so he brought his wife Pang Yunqing along, both to reinforce the family and to see their relatives. The smile on his face was sincere, without a trace of envy. Li Zhouwei breaking through to the Violet Palace with such astonishing speed made their clan an immortal family with two Violet Palace cultivators. Whether for himself or his descendants, it was the greatest possible blessing, let alone the fact that the new Violet Palace master was his own brother. Yet while he was overjoyed and felt that nothing could be better, the man before him showed not the slightest hint of delight. Hearing this congratulations, Li Zhoufang managed only a strained smile, full of hopeful longing, and asked: "Have you seen Uncle return... I've asked multiple times, but received no answer... Perhaps we should ask the Perfected Person..." The "Uncle" referred to was naturally Li Cheng. As for the "Perfected Person," it was not Li Ximing, who had yet to show himself, but Li Zhouwei, who was cultivating on the lake. Ever since the events on Mount Qingdu, though Li Zhouluo always kept a smiling face, he held no good impression of Li Cheng in his heart. Even so, such a grave matter caught him slightly off guard: "Uncle didn't return with you? I do not know where the Perfected Person is, so it wouldn't be proper to disturb him..." Though he did not know the detailed arrangements or that Fei Qingyi was with them, having lost all word by now, his first instinct was still not to disturb Li Zhouwei. Listening from the side, Chen Yang broke into a cold sweat and quickly stepped forward, offering quiet comfort: "Though there is no news, the Perfected Person should have made arrangements early on..." Having worried for so long, Li Zhoufang could no longer control his emotions. Covering his face, he wept bitterly: "You only speak comforting words! I've asked, but I cannot even see the Perfected Person! At this moment, who knows where Uncle has fallen—how could there be any hope of survival! Aside from Aunt, Uncle has few siblings who care about him, and the elders are all on the lake. If we juniors don't press the matter, who in this mountain will still remember him?!" At these words, Li Zhouluo silently lowered his head and tucked his hands into his sleeves. Dressed in green, Pang Yunqing immediately raised her brows to look at him. An awkward silence fell over the air. Fortunately, a flash of purple lightning descended from the heavens amidst rolling peals of thunder, and a burly man stepped down upon the thunder—none other than Li Zhouda. He had received Li Cheng's legacy. Though somewhat caught up in the upheaval this time, he had suffered no real injuries and had even distinguished himself in the great battle. High-spirited at this moment, he cupped his hands and called out: "Brothers! The Ziyan cultivators have escorted us this far, but the northern cultivators are glaring like tigers watching their prey. Please return to the lake at once, lest some catastrophe occur..."