Chapter 97

Ji Chun did not look back as he walked out of the temple gate side by side with Su Ran. He mounted his horse, pulled the reins, and called out in a deep voice, "Go!" At his command, the horse rose its hooves and surged forward, kicking up a cloud of dust.

The Demonic Cult lay southeast of Shaolin, a mere five days' journey by horseback. Soon, they arrived at the foot of An Cang Mountain, where the cult was situated. To reach its stronghold, they had to ascend on foot, they swiftly dismounted and began their climb.

As they walked, Su Ran glanced around, taking in the familiar surroundings of the Demonic Cult. Everything appeared unchanged—as if no turmoil had ever touched it. Noticing Ji Chun's tense and wary expression, Su Ran reached out and took his hand, offering reassurance. "It seems Shang Luo hasn't attacked yet. We should use this time to prepare and ensure we capture him."

Ji Chun's heart softened at Su Ran's touch. Not wanting to burden him with his own unease, he lowered his voice and replied, "Alright. I'll stay with you in the Demonic Cult."

Su Ran curved his lips into a deliberate smile, masking his own tension. "There are many interesting places here. Once we reach the summit, I'll show you around." As he spoke, he interlaced their fingers and quickened his pace, pulling Ji Chun along.

Suddenly, a man appeared on the path ahead. At the sight of Su Ran, he froze—then paled when he noticed the monk's hand clasped in his leader's. He immediately dropped to his knees, bowing his head in trembling reverence. "Greetings, Master! Congratulations on your return!"

Ji Chun stiffened, unsettled by the sudden display of deference. Knowing Su Ran's status, he feared that their intimacy might undermine the leader's authority. He tried to pull his hand free, but Su Ran held firm, his grip unyielding.

Frowning, Su Ran tilted his chin up and regarded the kneeling man with cold disdain. "Has there been any unusual activity in the sect?"

"N-none, Master!" the man stammered, sweat soaking his robes. "Elder Hua has kept everything as it was!"

Su Ran's expression eased slightly. Shang Luo hadn't struck yet—they still had time. With a dismissive wave, he ordered, "Rise. Inform the others of my return."

"Yes, Master!" The man kowtowed hastily before scrambling away, as though fleeing death itself.

Ji Chun watched him go, then glanced at their still-joined hands. "Su Ran… won't this cause trouble for you? If your followers see us like this—"

"It doesn't matter," Su Ran interrupted, his tone firm. "I decide what's acceptable here." His stern expression softened as he met Ji Chun's gaze. "Let's go."

"Alright." If Su Ran was unbothered, Ji Chun wouldn't insist on distancing himself. He tightened his grip, squinting against the sunlight as they ascended. This was Su Ran's home—a realization that stirred something deep within him.

Before they reached the summit, a crowd descended to greet them. Thousands knelt in unison, their voices thunderous:

"We respectfully welcome Master's return—!"

Ji Chun stared at the spectacle. Su Ran stood tall, chin slightly raised, exuding the arrogance of a conqueror surveying his domain. "Rise," he commanded, his voice ringing with authority.

Awe swelled in Ji Chun's chest—admiration, pride, and a fierce affection. This magnificent, untouchable man was his Su Ran.

As they walked, the crowd parted, forming a path. Su Ran strode forward with unwavering confidence, his grip on Ji Chun's hand a silent proclamation to all: this monk was now under his protection—no, more than that. He was to be revered.

The grand procession led them to the cult's meeting hall, a cavernous space dimly lit by flickering torches. The oppressive air thickened as Su Ran guided Ji Chun onto the high platform—the seat of power.

The assembly filed in, rank upon rank, until the hall and its outskirts teemed with followers. When Su Ran turned to face them, an elder raised his arm, and the crowd dropped to their knees once more, their voices a deafening roar:

"Hail the Master's return! May your reign endure, your fortune prosper!"

The sheer force of the chant reverberated through the mountain. Ji Chun's palms grew damp. Standing beside Su Ran, he felt painfully ordinary—an insignificant monk unworthy of such a radiant presence.

"Rise," Su Ran intoned, his voice icy yet commanding, amplifying the hall's tension. His gaze swept over the masses before he spoke again, each word deliberate.

"From this day forth, Ji Chun Dashi is the Demonic Cult's second-in-command. If anyone dares speak against him, they will answer to me. Understood?"

The unspoken threat hung heavy in the air.

"We heard it clearly," came another loud, unified response as the crowd knelt once more, their voices echoing in unison: "Your subordinates greet Second Master!"

Ji Chun looked down helplessly at the sea of bowed heads. Just as he hesitated, unsure how to react, he felt a reassuring pinch on his hand. Su Ran's voice, deep and commanding, cut through the silence like a blade.

"Rise." His tone brooked no disobedience. "Where is Elder Hua?"

A man in his forties stepped forward from the front ranks. "I am here, Master."

Su Ran's piercing gaze fixed on him, sharp enough to strip a man's soul bare. "What has transpired in the martial world since my absence?"

"Master, after your departure, the sects all raced westward in pursuit of Di Mang. The Central Plains remained quiet—until two months ago..." Elder Hua hesitated, his eyes flickering briefly toward Ji Chun.

"I am aware of that matter," Su Ran interrupted coldly. "What else? I've heard whispers spreading through the martial world again." His voice was deceptively calm, but the unspoken threat coiled beneath his words.

Elder Hua swallowed hard, sweat beading on his brow. *"M-Master, two months ago, many sects returned from the west, spreading vile rumors. They claim… that the Shaolin monk conspired with you in the Di Mang plot to overthrow the martial world. And they—they also allege that you and… that person share an… improper relationship. More recently, they've accused our Demonic Cult of orchestrating the Shaolin massacre and the past sect killings..."

The hall fell deathly silent. Elder Hua kept his head bowed, not daring to meet Su Ran's eyes. He could only imagine the storm brewing in his master's expression—and the lethal consequences of provoking it.

Su Ran had already learned of these rumors from the Monk Wu Zhi, but their widespread reach surprised him even more. His eyes narrowed, veiling the icy fury within. "And what of the White Dao Sects?"

"M-Master, they are still licking their wounds and regrouping. No major actions yet," Elder Hua stammered.

"Good." Su Ran's voice was a whip-crack of authority. "From this moment onward, no outsiders enter our gates. Triple the guards at every post. Any visitor must be scrutinized before I am informed. Elder Hua, you will oversee this. Elders He and Bai will assist. No exceptions. At the first sign of trouble, report to me immediately."

His gaze swept the assembly like a winter gale. "Do I make myself clear?"

"It is as Master wishes!" Elder Hua kowtowed frantically, scrambling aside only when Su Ran flicked his wrist in dismissal.

As he spoke, Su Ran noticed Ji Chun's unease. Without hesitation, he guided him to the sect leader's throne—a seat reserved for none other—and pressed him onto it, ignoring the stunned whispers below. Leaning close, he murmured, "Rest here. This won't take long."

Then he turned, his demeanor shifting back to imperious command. "Gao Shen of Qinglong Hall—step forward."

A man in his thirties knelt at once. "Your servant awaits your orders, Master."

"Take your men to Shaolin. Arrange the funeral rites for the fallen masters. And seek out the physicians Xue Yao and Mu Miefeng. If found, bring them to me."

"It is as Master wishes!" Gao Shen bowed and retreated.

"Zhang Lun of White Tiger Hall." Another figure emerged. "Dispatch your scouts to gather intelligence from our informants. Report to me every three days."

One by one, Su Ran issued commands, his directives precise and unrelenting. Finally, he cast a last warning over the crowd: "Fail in your duties, and the Discipline Hall will show no mercy."

"We obey!" The chorus of voices trembled with fear.

Dismissing them with a wave, Su Ran turned to Ji Chun and whispered, "Come."

Ji Chun rose stiffly, hyperaware of the countless eyes upon them. In silence, he followed Su Ran down the dais, through the parted crowd, and out of the hall—leaving the weight of the Demonic Cult's gaze behind.