Chapter 49: The Wraith Sect

Chapter 49: The Wraith Sect

In the boundless realm of mortals, beyond a scattering of minor territories, five great regions sprawl across the world: the Wind God Continent, the Barren Moon Continent, the Lost Continent, the Green Continent, and the Northern Ice Continent. Each of these territories is vast beyond measure, so much so that few ever traverse beyond the boundaries of the continent they were born in.

This is not merely due to their size, though they stretch farther than the imagination can grasp, but also because between any two adjacent regions lie hundreds of millions li of perilous no-man's-land and insurmountable spatial barriers. These natural defenses are precisely why none of the great continents can ever invade the other.

The dangers that lie between the continents vary in form: some are lifeless wastelands choked with deathly silence; others are sprawling primeval jungles filled with toxic miasma; still others are scorching deserts that ignite all things; or endless tundras sealed under a sheet of eternal frost.

These perilous zones teem with rank two and three savage beasts, and even house hidden ancient beasts of the fourth rank. To cross such lands would be no different than chasing a madman's fantasy.

Yet nothing in this world is absolute. There is one kind of person who might still harbor hope of crossing between continents, cultivators. But only those of high cultivation have even the slimmest chance.

Once a cultivator reaches the Nascent Soul stage, they gain powers to shift rivers and move mountains. However, even such might does not guarantee safe passage across these deadly divides.

The reason is simple: the lands between the regions are too vast, and the dangers too unpredictable. Fourth-rank beasts are equivalent to Nascent Soul cultivators, how many such beasts can one man possibly overcome?

In the Barren Moon Continent, since the era of the ancient primordial times, beings of great power from the Immortal Spirit Realm have torn open the void to descend here. Over countless eons, they established sects and clans that flourished across the land.

Some of these grew strong, while others faded into obscurity, swallowed by the tides of history. The strong devoured the weak, the great rose and fell in turn.

Now, across the Barren Moon Continent, thousands of sects exist, large and small. They are broadly categorized into: unranked sects, third-tier sects, second-tier sects, first-tier sects, and the top sects.

Unranked and third-tier sects often have only a few dozen to a few hundred members, some with no more than a handful of disciples, possibly only at the Qi Condensation stage, with at most a few Foundation Establishment cultivators.

Second-tier sects typically house thousands of disciples and boast several high-level Core Formation cultivators. These sects form the backbone of the cultivation world.

First-tier sects are guarded by at least one Nascent Soul elder, whose presence alone is enough to command awe across the land.

At the pinnacle of this hierarchy stand four top-tier sects. These four divide the entire continent into quadrants and govern its fate.

They preside over the establishment and succession of mortal dynasties, as well as the allocation of cultivation resources and the classification of sects within the realm.

These four sects are: the Grand Profound Sect, the Pure Land Sect, the Ten-Step Court, and the Wraith Sect.

The Grand Profound Sect reveres the Daoist Three Pure Ones; the Pure Land Sect embodies the spirit of Arhats from the Buddhist path; the Ten-Step Court is famed for their flying swords that kill from a thousand miles; and the Wraith Sect masters the arts of poison, insect control, assassination, and subterfuge.

Each of these four sects houses multiple Nascent Soul elders who have cultivated for over a thousand years. Their combat prowess is beyond imagination, their disciples number in the tens of thousands, and their foundations run unfathomably deep.

Yet, these great sects rarely show themselves in the mortal world. Only when a divine treasure surfaces or a cataclysm descends do they swarm forth. Most of the time, they remain secluded in cultivation or explore the unknown in pursuit of opportunity and the path to immortality.

In the western-central region of the Barren Moon Continent, vast mountain ranges roll endlessly, cloaked in dense vegetation. Towering ancient trees reach skyward, their canopies blotting out the sun in layers upon layers of green.

Here lies the Wraith Sect, one of the four great sects. The sect is built across five peaks arranged in the shape of the character "山". Two peaks stand side by side on either flank, while the final peak sits in the rear center. Each peak faces southward.

These towering peaks stretch into the clouds, each covering immense territory. On the west side are the paired "Little Bamboo Peak" and "Boundless Peak." On the east are "Four Symbols Peak" and "Spirit Insect Peak." The central rearmost peak is named "Old Lord Peak."

At this moment, on Old Lord Peak, spirit cranes circled in the sky, their cries echoing across ornate jade pavilions. Misty streams flowed through delicate towers and winding paths, winding into the depths of a fog-enshrouded paradise.

Inside a grand palace atop the peak, over a dozen people were gathered in two neat rows, deep in discussion.

At the head of the hall sat a middle-aged man, around fifty years of age, with long brows, broad eyes, and a solemn, fair face. His Daoist robe and upright posture lent him an aura of quiet authority. From time to time, sharp glints of insight flashed in his eyes.

His hair was bound into a topknot, fastened with a jade hairpin, and a horsetail whisk hung from his arm.

The cultivators seated below him formed two rows. They came in all shapes and sizes tall, short, fat, thin, attractive, or plain, men and women alike. Each wore a deep green robe, the cuffs of which were embroidered with varying golden emblems.

"Well then, that concludes this Five-Year Competition. Distribute the rewards to the top ten by this afternoon," the Daoist elder at the head declared, gently raising the whisk with a sweeping motion of his sleeve.

As the sleeve flared, the golden emblem of a cauldron embroidered at the cuff was revealed, atop which sat a ferocious beast with jaws gaping skyward, an image strikingly at odds with the elder's solemn Daoist bearing.

"Yes, Sect Master!" the two rows of cultivators answered in unison.

"This time, Little Bamboo Peak, under Junior Brother Wei, sent only four disciples. Yet two of them placed in the top ten. Compared to the dozens or even hundreds of participants from our other peaks, it's rather... humbling," remarked a refined scholar seated on the left, his long beard combed neatly.

His face was pale as jade, his eyes narrow and sharp, a scholar's hat atop his head. A golden serpent curled at his sleeve, fangs bared and seemingly alive, opening and closing with each movement. This was the same scholarly man who had recently ordered the capture of Strategist Ji.

Opposite him, sitting just one seat lower, was a slightly chubby man of about twenty-seven or twenty-eight. He wore a scholar's kerchief and had thick brows, clear bright eyes, and no facial hair. A serene aura surrounded him, and a gentle smile played on his round face. A golden bamboo segment was embroidered on his cuff.

At the scholar's remark, several others nodded in agreement.

A woman in her early forties chuckled gracefully.

"Senior Brother Feng speaks true. Our little junior brother is always like this, how am I supposed to discipline my disciples in front of such results?"

With every glance and smile, her eyes shimmered like rippling water, exuding boundless charm. The deep green robe did nothing to hide her graceful curves. Instead, it only accentuated them.

As she spoke, the woman's voluptuous figure swayed ever so slightly. With each graceful movement, the white gleam of smooth skin would flash from beneath her collar, sending waves of allure rippling through the hall.

At once, many among the seated averted their eyes or turned their heads, silently cursing in their hearts.

"Damn demoness… just say what you want, must she always weave her charms?"

Even the solemn-faced old Daoist at the head seat looked somewhat embarrassed. This junior sister of his never seemed to understand propriety, always speaking with that bewitching tone, regardless of the occasion.

"I say, Junior Brother Wei, you're always idling around with your hands off everything. Why not just open your arms and recruit freely? Each of our peaks has thousands of disciples."

This time, a burly dark-skinned man with a golden compass embroidered on his sleeve grunted his dissatisfaction.

"Junior Brother Wei, if we all did things your way, the Wraith Sect would be down to nothing but a couple of cats and dogs in another thousand years."

A plain-faced woman whose eyes bore a permanent frost glared at the slightly plump young man. The embroidery on her sleeve depicted two thin, strange insects entwined tightly together, oddly unsettling to look at.

As the others launched their verbal assault on the young man, the solemn elder at the top simply half-closed his eyes, thinking to himself:

Junior Brother Wei… Every time there's a tournament or a competition, this always happens. Can't you ever take initiative and share the responsibilities of the sect? Among all of us, you're the most carefree, never lifting a finger, while the rest of us are run half-dead. This sect belongs to you too.

He sighed inwardly at the thought.

Voices rose in lively complaint, some speaking out, others stroking their beards with amused smiles, or quietly watching the show. As for the man called Junior Brother Wei, he didn't take offense to the criticisms. Only when the commotion quieted did he finally chuckle and speak.

"Heh heh heh… My dear senior brothers and elders, it's been over two hundred years since I formed my core, and yet you're still clinging to this grudge."

He spread his arms in mock resignation.

"I was the last to join the sect, and this lazy nature of mine just won't change, no matter what I do. When Master handed me the Bamboo Peak, I didn't even want it. But the old man insisted and forced it on me. In the beginning, I also recruited disciples just like the other four peaks… But didn't they all end up defecting to your peaks anyway? Only a few stayed behind. I honestly have no idea how to manage them."

He gave an innocent shrug.

"Didn't we assign you elders to assist? And yet even the elders refused to stay. Can you blame them? You go into seclusion with your Dao companion for twenty years without a word, ignoring everything! Even elders need time to cultivate. If you won't lift a finger, how are they supposed to manage alone?"

Someone finally voiced the general grievance.

Wei simply smiled. "Heh, I've handed the peak's affairs to my eldest disciple. These tournaments, rankings, and all the candidate selections from across hundreds or even over a thousand li… just the thought alone gives me a headache."

But then, his tone suddenly changed as his expression turned serious.

"By the way, Senior Brother Feng, I heard yesterday that the Law Enforcement Hall of Insect Peak brought someone back. Is it true he possesses a 'Fractured Poison Body'? That would be no trivial matter."

The scholar-like man with the golden snake embroidered on his sleeve immediately looked uncomfortable. This touched upon matters his peak would rather keep buried, something they'd been choking on for years.

Though the traitor had long perished, the disgrace lingered. Since the sect's founding, never had their secret techniques been stolen, until that incident.

The solemn-faced Daoist sighed inwardly at the mention.

Wei again, changing the subject so casually. That laziness of his is beyond redemption.

Still, the old Daoist turned to the scholar with a questioning gaze.

"Junior Brother Feng, with the tournament yesterday and hearing that the one brought back was on the verge of death, we hadn't had time to inquire properly. Is there truth to what Junior Brother Wei said about the 'Fractured Poison Body'?"

The others, realizing that the matter of Wei's mismanagement was now forgotten as always, simply chuckled and shook their heads.

After all, this had always been idle talk. Two hundred years had passed, if Bamboo Peak was going to be reformed, it would've happened long ago. They were only giving their gentle, lazy junior a bit of grief.

All eyes turned to the scholar called Feng. He tapped his long fingers against the armrest, seeming to gather his thoughts.

"Lianshan betrayed the sect and fled twenty years ago. We've sent men to hunt him down ever since. It wasn't until last year that we finally caught his trail.

"After fleeing the sect, he must have sought out other fortunes. He entered what appeared to be the former cave-dwelling of a Core Formation cultivator. But fate was unkind, he was wounded by the protective array and died just outside the cave.

"His storage pouch was shattered by the formation, and its contents scattered. Yet not a single fragment of our sect's jade slips or manuals was found. Which lead us to believe the techniques weren't destroyed, someone else must have taken them."

He paused, then continued with a slight frown.

"After thorough investigation in the area, we heard from loose cultivators that someone from the 'Immortal-Seeking Lineage' may have retrieved the techniques.

"I'm sure you all know of them, those madmen obsessed with entering the Immortal Path. They dare to cultivate any sect's techniques once in their hands.

"So the Law Enforcement Hall tracked the medicinal materials needed to initiate our techniques and the trail led millions of li away, within the imperial dynasty. There, we found a military advisor among the frontier forces who appeared to have cultivated our sect's arts.

"Due to the certain agreements between us and the mortals, we had to proceed with caution. Upon deeper investigation, we confirmed that he had indeed purchased the necessary materials used in our introduction techniques.

"From his symptoms, we determined he had developed internal fire poison, likely due to incomplete preparation and reckless cultivation."

Feng's tone darkened.

"The reason he joined the military likely ties to his attempts to solve this. We found he somehow obtained the 'Spirit Absorption Technique'. Perhaps in desperation, he thought he could use it to rid himself of the poison.

"But with his weak cultivation, he couldn't succeed alone. So he tried to find those with spiritual roots within the army. And by incredible luck, he found not one, but two mortals with spirit roots and both with wood attributes."

At this, Feng let out a sigh.

"For us to find a single spirit-root mortal takes significant effort… and he just stumbled upon two. Truly, heaven smiled on him."

The others, hearing this, nodded in agreement.

(Chapter End)