A rain of blood sprayed across the grand hall, yet Zhou Wuji remained calm as he stood holding his sword.
Having followed his master in slaying demons and exorcising evil spirits for over a decade, he was no stranger to bloodshed.
Slaying Zhang Wuding with a single stroke stirred no panic or unease within him. On the contrary, his heart was flooded with exhilaration.
Still, with everyone watching, there was no need to appear so cruel and vicious.
Zhang Wuding was, after all, a Rank Eight martial artist who had mastered hidden force, endowed with extraordinary vitality. He had not died yet, though all his strength was spurting away with his blood.
Instinctively, Zhang Wuding tried to reach out and clutch the wound, but with his spine severed, where could he find the strength to raise his hands?
He glared unyieldingly at Zhou Wuji opposite him. Lacking spinal support, his head drooped down, allowing him to see only the hem of Zhou Wuji's cyan Daoist robe, along with glimpses of the cloud socks and ten-direction shoes beneath it...
No matter how resilient a Rank Eight martial artist's vitality was, he ultimately could not withstand such devastating trauma.
Zhang Wuding's tall, well-tempered frame swayed once before tumbling headlong beside Li Yiyuan's corpse, devoid of breath.
Seeing his Eldest Senior Brother perish, Fang Wuzhen felt terror mounting in his chest.
He knew full well how formidable Zhang Wuding was: skin, flesh, sinews, bones, and internal organs all forged as tough as iron. When marshaling his power, Zhang Wuding twisted the forces within and without his body into a single coil, packing a thousand jin of force into a single blow.
Though Siming County was not small, Zhang Wuding could easily be called the foremost expert among the younger generation.
To see such a figure slain by Zhou Wuji with a single stroke—had he not witnessed it with his own eyes, he would never have believed it.
He was utterly bewildered as well. Zhou Wuji's abilities had always been mediocre. Just moments ago in the grand hall, Zhou Wuji had relied on a trick to flee in a panic.
How could Zhou Wuji have become so formidable after such a short span?!
Fang Wuzhen could not fathom the reason no matter how hard he thought, nor did he have the time to ponder it.
He was acutely aware that having slain Zhang Wuding, Zhou Wuji would never spare him.
The urgent priority was to run as far away as possible. Yet Zhang Wuding's Tiger Roar Thunder Sound had left his entire body limp, and in his terror, his legs shook all the more violently.
The others were no different. Dizzied and disoriented by the Tiger Roar Thunder Sound, and now witnessing Zhang Wuding's throat severed by Zhou Wuji's sword, they were left even more dumbfounded.
The fellow disciples of Canglong Temple had always maintained fairly harmonious relations.
No one could have imagined that Eldest Senior Brother and Second Senior Brother would suddenly turn against each other, with life and death decided the instant they clashed.
Zhou Wuji usually had a gentle temperament, smiling and chatting with everyone, always doing his best to help whenever someone approached him with a request.
In the minds of the many disciples and servants, Zhou Wuji was merely an incapable, good-natured fellow.
When Zhang Wuding had previously claimed that Zhou Wuji had turned traitor and murdered their master, none of them had truly believed it.
Yet this very good-natured fellow had slain their formidable Eldest Senior Brother with a single stroke.
Even as the gruesome battle shocked the onlookers to their core, a profound dread took root in their hearts toward Zhou Wuji!
Zhou Wuji noticed the shifting expressions of the crowd, but now was not the time for explanations.
Taking advantage of Fang Wuzhen's stupor, Zhou Wuji glided silently forward, sweeping the Seven Stars Sword horizontally before him in the Flowing Cloud Sword style.
Watching the sword approach, Fang Wuzhen panicked and tried to beg for mercy, but before the words could leave his mouth, the blade smoothly swept through his neck.
A head tumbled down along the sweeping blade with a clatter. Fang Wuzhen's headless corpse wobbled and collapsed to the floor, blood swiftly dyeing the hall's cyan brick pavers red and staining Zhang Wuding lying ahead.
Zhou Wuji glanced at Fang Wuzhen's head rolling about the floor. Had this fellow not suddenly taken it into his head to stir up trouble, neither side would have shed all pretense and come to blows.
It was all because of Fang Wuzhen's greed and ferocity. Now the fellow had his wish, rolling and tumbling across the floor to his heart's content...
Pure exhilaration washed through Zhou Wuji's heart: *Severing a dog's head with a single stroke—how damn satisfying!*
Perhaps because of the Northern Emperor's Book of Heavenly Punishment, the moment the two died, their true intrinsic souls dispersed at once.
Zhou Wuji glanced toward his master's remains resting before the incense altar. The old man lay completely still, though his body was splattered with quite a bit of blood, turning a dark, reddish black that looked even more frightening.
Still, with his master's divine soul and spiritual nature entirely extinguished, whatever became of this stinking mortal shell mattered little.
Zhou Wuji shifted his gaze to the gathered junior disciples. Having seen him slay Zhang Wuding and Fang Wuzhen in succession, only to stand there calm and unaffected as though nothing had happened, they feared him even more.
Wherever Zhou Wuji's gaze swept, their scalps prickled with dread, and they lowered their heads and averted their eyes one after another. Not a single person dared meet his gaze.
Zhou Wuji was quite satisfied with this. Usually, everyone was polite to him on the surface, but in their hearts, few took him seriously.
Now these fellows finally knew what he was capable of!
In truth, these people had nothing to do with the affair, and he would not do anything to them.
He spoke: "Zhang Wuding and Fang Wuzhen plotted against and murdered our master. With the Arctic Celestial Emperor above and Master's spirit protecting me, I have slain these two traitors with my own hands."
Zhou Wuji looked at the crowd and said, "You are all witnesses as well."
Whether they believed it or not, faced with Zhou Wuji's chilly gaze, everyone could only nod and murmur their agreement.
Seeing their timid demeanors, Zhou Wuji felt all the more pleased.
Yet he was well aware that slaying Zhang Wuding and Fang Wuzhen was not the end of the matter, but rather the beginning of massive trouble.
The Zhang clan was the foremost prominent family in Siming County, deeply rooted and influential, backed by a Rank Seven martial artist presiding over their household.
Zhang Wuding was an outstanding talent among the direct lineage of the Zhang clan, possessing great hope of advancing to Rank Seven. With such an important scion slain by Zhou Wuji, how could the Zhang clan possibly let the matter rest?
Had his master still lived, there might have been room to maneuver. But with his master gone, the Zhang clan would never spare him.
Fang Wuzhen was in a similar situation, though his status within the Fang clan was not as high, nor was the Fang clan as powerful.
Zhou Wuji had rushed back to exact vengeance and vent his fury with the intention of leaving immediately after slaying them, harboring no plan to fight the Zhang and Fang clans to the death.
With a peerless divine artifact in his grasp, his future was limitless, leaving no need to dwell on momentary gains or losses.
Carrying this mindset, Zhou Wuji did not care what the onlookers thought or how they viewed him.
Right now, the most important task was still handling his master's funeral arrangements.
Prominent clans had no bottom line when conducting their affairs; burying his master nearby would be exceedingly unsafe.
Zhou Wuji addressed the disciples: "Master met with misfortune. I ask that all of you, my junior brothers, join me in seeing him off..."
This time, everyone answered in unison.
Li Yiyuan had always treated others with generosity, and both disciples and servants deeply respected this temple master.
Regardless of how Li Yiyuan had died, his final rites had to be handled properly.
Under Zhou Wuji's direction, the crowd carried Li Yiyuan's remains to a bluestone slab by the Huamei River.
They stacked firewood, poured lamp oil over it, and lit a blazing fire.
Watching his master enveloped in flames, Zhou Wuji could not help but recall the past.
When he was seven years old, a corpse demon had descended upon his village, biting everyone to death. Had his master not arrived in the nick of time to dispatch the corpse demon, he would have died as well!
Ever since then, he had followed his master, and in the blink of an eye, fourteen years had passed.
The old man who treated him best in this world was gone, just like that...
Even now, it felt illusory and unreal, as if he were trapped in a nightmare...
Yet Zhou Wuji did not weep. He did not like crying; it was too weak.
Especially at a time like this, with so many eyes watching. The moment anyone perceived him as weak, endless troubles would immediately arise.
Zhou Wuji murmured silently in his heart, *Rest assured, Master. I will certainly reach above the nine heavens to see it for myself—for your sake, and for my own!*
At this thought, an idea suddenly stirred within him. Focusing his mind, he peered deep into the recesses of his consciousness at the Northern Emperor's Book of Heavenly Punishment.
Having slain Zhang Wuding and Fang Wuzhen, how would this divine artifact react?
The ancient black book opened, and upon two blank pages, the names of Zhang Wuding and Fang Wuzhen had indeed appeared.
Zhou Wuji was somewhat astonished. The Northern Emperor's Book of Heavenly Punishment stated clearly: commanding ghosts and spirits, slaying fiends and eliminating demons, purging evil and uprooting wickedness, enforcing justice on behalf of Heaven.
Though Zhang Wuding and Fang Wuzhen were wicked, they had nothing to do with ghosts, spirits, fiends, or demons.
Could slaying these two count as purging evil and uprooting wickedness? Or perhaps as enforcing justice on behalf of Heaven?
Zhou Wuji did not fully grasp the scope of enforcing justice on behalf of Heaven. Ghosts, spirits, fiends, and demons possessed distinct characteristics, making them easy to identify.
Trying to divide mortals into good and evil was far too difficult; perhaps even gods, immortals, and Buddhas could not achieve it.
At this point, an epiphany struck Zhou Wuji: the Northern Emperor's Book of Heavenly Punishment was the foremost killing divine artifact of the Daoist sect, its very essence rooted in slaughter.
Indeed, carrying out slaughter in accordance with the precepts was enforcing justice on behalf of Heaven.
He had awakened past-life wisdom, possessing the authority to enforce justice on behalf of Heaven while remaining unconstrained by its precepts...
The Northern Emperor's Book of Heavenly Punishment could not bind him, but he held his own precepts within his heart. Slaying these two left him with a clear conscience!
Chapter 6