Chapter 90

In the next few days, many new faces appeared in the Sha Yin Sect—all of them outsiders invited to participate in the Heavenly Sacrifice. Seven days passed swiftly, and soon, the fourth day of May arrived.

Early that morning, Ji Chun and the others were summoned to the open grounds where the Heavenly Sacrifice Ceremony would take place. By the time they arrived, a crowd had already gathered below a high platform. A breeze stirred a blood-red banner bearing the words: Grand Ceremony of Heavenly Sacrifice. More than a dozen seats were arranged on the platform, and at its center stood a massive altar laden with lavish offerings, exquisite candleholders, and ornate incense burners. The air was thick with the heavy scent of incense, curling from burners placed around the platform.

Ji Chun and Su Ran stood among the spectators, observing the ceremony—both solemn and sacred, yet undeniably eerie. The sect leaders on the platform wore expressions of fervent joy, their faces almost unreal in the haze of smoke.

Soon, the ritual began. A group of robed figures gathered around the altar, chanting in low, indistinct voices as they moved in strange, rhythmic motions. The leading elder, aided by an assistant, carefully unsealed an ancient box and withdrew a dagger. He dipped the blade in purified water and incense ash before approaching the sect leader and kneeling. With a slight nod from the leader, the elder rose and turned to a man seated at the edge of the platform.

Stretching out his wrinkled hand, the elder gestured for the man to offer his palm. The man hesitated, stiff under the weight of the bizarre atmosphere, but after a glance at the others—whose faces held only curiosity—he reluctantly extended his right hand. The elder's calloused grip sent a prickle of unease through him.

Holding his breath, the man watched as the elder drew the dagger across his palm. A thin cut appeared, and blood welled up. An assistant quickly knelt, catching the crimson drops in a porcelain bowl.

One by one, the ritual repeated until fourteen small bowls, each stained red, were placed upon the altar. Though the leaders were seasoned martial artists, the sudden blood loss left them visibly drained. They endured until the ceremony concluded before retiring to their courtyards to rest.

"Let's go back," Ji Chun murmured, his voice low. The grand ceremony was over, but what he had witnessed only deepened his suspicion. There was something sinister beneath the spectacle—perhaps the sect leader's long-hidden scheme was finally unfolding.

Su Ran nodded silently, and the two retreated to their quarters. Once inside, they allowed themselves to relax, though the Sha Yin Sect's increasingly erratic behavior weighed on them. The sect's inhabitants had grown disturbingly fervent, their fanaticism incomprehensible.

Ji Chun poured tea and sat heavily at the table. "It's been over three months since we left the village," he said with a sigh. "I wonder how the child is faring."

At the mention of the child, Su Ran's expression softened faintly. He took a sip of tea, his eyes weary but his voice steady. "Doctor Liang and his family will care for them. It'll be fine."

Ji Chun studied Su Ran's face, then reached out and clasped his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "The Sect Leader said that once they mix the blood with herbs to make the pills, we'll ascend the mountain. Then… it should all be over." Su Ran paused, his gaze intent. "I understand your resolve, but… don't forget our home" Ji Chun sighed.

Events were spiraling beyond their control, bound by an invisible force. What had begun as a mission to obtain Di Mang had twisted into something far more perilous. Su Ran was no longer the same man—his determination had hardened, his calculations grown sharper.

Su Ran didn't meet Ji Chun's eyes. He stared down, lost in thought, the silence between them heavy enough to ache. Ji Chun's hand remained warm over his.

Finally, Su Ran spoke, his voice rough but quiet. "Okay."

Di Mang was a threat—to monks, to children, even to the demonic cult itself. Su Ran had to enter, to fight, to seize it. He had his reasons, his duty, and those he needed to protect.

Ji Chun's expression darkened with sorrow. He pitied Su Ran, yet they were too deeply entangled now to retreat. All he could do was stand by him—to lend him strength when the time came.

Knock, knock, knock.

A sudden rapping at the door broke the silence. Ji Chun rose and opened it to find Mu Miefeng and Xue Yao, dressed for travel. He stepped aside, gesturing them in. "Heading out?"

"Yes, we leave today," Mu Miefeng said as he entered, his stern demeanor tense. He took a seat at the table. "We've been investigating the Sha Yin Sect these past few days and uncovered something… unusual."

Ji Chun and Su Ran exchanged glances, assuming he referred to the blood-filled chambers beneath the sect. "You've seen the secret room?" Su Ran asked.

Xue Yao frowned. "What secret room?"

Su Ran's brow furrowed in surprise. "There's a hidden chamber below the Sha Yin Sect—with two pools of human blood. Isn't that what you meant?"

"The blood pool…" Mu Miefeng's voice was low and measured. "That's not what we're referring to. Our investigation into the Sha Yin Sect revealed something else entirely. The sect was once highly respected in Xilongzhou—its members known for their kindness and indifference to fame. But a few years ago, the old sect leader passed away, and his successor, a boy of only sixteen, took his place. The young master had been frail since childhood, his illness defying every physician's treatment. Then, in his second year of leadership, he suddenly recovered—miraculously so. Shortly after, he forbade his disciples from leaving the sect without permission. Though the Sha Yin Sect continued its charitable works, its presence dwindled, its people rarely seen."

Ji Chun's mind raced with uneasy suspicions, but he held his tongue, waiting for Mu Miefeng to continue.

"In recent years, however, the sect's activity increased again—yet Xilongzhou's population began to decline mysteriously. No one understood why until the Sha Yin Sect's leader claimed to have captured the culprit. We sought out the physicians who once treated the young master and found them all blind, deaf, or comatose—save one, who, after treatment, revealed the truth: the young master had suffered from Yin Fire Poison Disease."

Mu Miefeng paused, his gaze sharpening. "Yet when I observed the current sect leader, I found no trace of the ailment. Those afflicted by Yin Fire Poison remain permanently weakened—their bodies frail, their martial arts crippled. But this man is robust, his skills formidable. It's… unnatural."

As Ji Chun and Su Ran exchanged troubled glances, Mu Miefeng fell silent, letting the implications settle.

"Then this 'Shang Luo'…" Ji Chun murmured, frowning. "He isn't the true sect leader? But how did he uncover the ancestral records about Di Mang? Unless… the Blood Dragon's existence led him to plunder the Sha Yin Sect's secrets?"

"No," Mu Miefeng countered. "I suspect the Sha Yin Sect never possessed any knowledge of the treasure. The sect was founded by wandering warriors who later settled in Xilongzhou. The mountain and its so-called 'treasure' predate them. What puzzles me is this: if they hid something there, why did rumors of 'Di Mang' spread to the Central Plains? And if it's merely ordinary treasure, why is it guarded by a blood dragon?"

"The dragon's presence proves the mountain conceals something powerful," Su Ran said. "A minor sect wouldn't know such secrets. This impostor must have learned of Di Mang independently—and rather than hoarding the knowledge, he's exploiting the major sects' strength to claim it."

Ji Chun's eyes narrowed. "The hunt for Di Mang began after the massacre of the Central Plains sects. Could this false leader be the killer?"

Mu Miefeng considered this and nodded slowly. Xue Yao, though confused, mirrored his Shixiong's gesture.

"Unlikely," Su Ran said after a moment. "If he were the murderer, why would Ouyang Yixun trust him so openly? Ouyang Yixun's loyalty to his family's destroyer makes no sense."

Ji Chun exhaled. "True. Then the true culprit must be someone else."

"Or perhaps Ouyang Yixun never saw the killer's face," Xue Yao ventured. "Didn't he say the assailant wore black and concealed his identity?"

"A fair point," Su Ran conceded. "But when did Ouyang Yixun first meet the sect leader? That's another mystery."

Their speculations circled endlessly, yielding no answers. The truth remained shrouded—glimpsed only in fragments, like shapes in a fog too thick to pierce.

"Ah, we came to bid you farewell," Mu Miefeng said abruptly, his stern expression softening.

"You're leaving?" Ji Chun blinked. "Why?"

"Months ago, we were ambushed repeatedly by masked men while searching for Di Mang—attacks we linked to the massacre. And the false sect leader mentioned 'unfinished business' around that time. I suspect a connection. We mean to trace these threads—to learn when Ouyang Yixun allied with him, and how the massacre unfolded. Now that we have leads, we must pursue them."

Su Ran's brow furrowed. "We encountered a masked man ourselves—posing as a cult leader. Could he be the same one who assailed you in Lushan?"

"Perhaps. Regardless, exercise caution here." Mu Miefeng clasped his hands in a formal bow. "We'll take our leave now."

The four stepped outside, and at the courtyard gate, Ji Chun and Su Ran watched them go—two figures vanishing into the shadows of a conspiracy deepening by the hour.