Volume Two, Chapter Twenty-Seven: A Major Event

Meng Fang paid no heed to Yu Mu's astonishment, and continued, “However, the other two forces, whether in scale or strength, are slightly inferior to Hawk Ridge. Among the three Saints, my uncle is also the most formidable. All the city's most lucrative land-based trade is under Hawk Ridge's control.”

“If your uncle’s power is so great, why did you have to sneak into the city?” Yu Mu asked.

Meng Fang sighed, “Ah, you don’t understand. The other faction might be a threat to us both, so we had no choice.”

“But why?” Yu Mu was thoroughly puzzled. He was new to this place, and Meng was the nephew of Hawk Ridge’s leader—why would anyone target them?

“The other faction is called the Free Alliance, a truly local power. It was established to resist the incursions of Hawk Ridge and the Sacred Sun Sect. Though it appears the weakest, it’s rooted here more deeply than any other, and Le Dao is one of its members.”

“Ah!” Yu Mu finally grasped the situation.

Meng Fang went on, “The leader of the Free Alliance is Ye Wentian, known as the Fire Venom Patriarch. Though he became a Saint later than the other two, he specializes in the art of fire and poison. Especially in poison, it’s said none in the world can match his mastery. Rumor has it his poison can even kill a Saint.”

“What? That can’t be!” Yu Mu, though ignorant of much in the cultivation world, knew what it meant to be a Saint. Were it not for the path to immortality being blocked, those at this level would have already ascended. Such masters should not be killed so easily; to reach the rank of Saint means one has comprehended their path to the utmost. Even if their methods are not extraordinary, at the peak, all ways converge, and differences are slight. So, while Saints may differ, the gap is never so great as to guarantee one’s destruction—at most, there are advantages or disadvantages in the clash of methods.

Meng Fang shrugged. “That’s only what I’ve heard. Still, Fire Venom Patriarch’s disciples are all skilled in the arts of fire and poison, and they’re a troublesome group. We’re better off keeping a low profile.”

Yu Mu nodded. “Meng, what should we do now?”

“First, let’s find a place to settle down.”

“Alright.”

They left the docks and found a small inn near the city center. The Free City was astonishingly vast; by the time they walked from the docks to the inn, night had already fallen.

The inn was extremely modest, just a few rooms in an ordinary home rented out to travelers. Most guests were poor folk—perfect for the two of them given their current circumstances.

After a simple meal, they retired to their rooms. The exhausting escape had worn them down, and now, finally with a place to rest, they seized the chance to sleep. Tomorrow, important matters awaited.

At dawn, both changed into wanderers’ attire before leaving. Where they were headed, a laborer’s garb would only draw suspicion.

As soon as they neared the city center, they sensed something was amiss. The area, which should have been bustling with people, was nearly deserted. A tense, oppressive air hung over everything, as if a storm was about to break.

They made their way to the street that was Meng Fang’s target, and from afar saw a dense crowd clustered before a building. That building was the transmission array leading to Hawk Ridge—the very place Meng sought. But for some reason, it was now surrounded.

Pushing closer, they realized there were three or four hundred people, all cultivators, none of them ordinary. From sky to ground, the building was sealed off completely.

Why would so many masters surround the transmission array?

Baffled, they crept to the edge of the crowd. Even those on the outskirts were as powerful as Meng Fang—neither dared get closer and could only crane their necks from the edge.

Suspended in mid-air before the building’s entrance, three figures were locked in fierce debate with three others, also floating above the ground. Both were stunned—anyone capable of standing in the air was at least a master of the Integration stage, the level of a sect leader. How could there be six such figures at once?

At that moment, the central figure in black robes pointed at a gray-robed woman across from him and declared, “You’ve sealed the transmission array at this moment—surely it’s as plain as day you three intend to keep the Saint’s Tomb’s treasures for yourselves. Don’t think you can bully others just because your three factions are the strongest. Justice is in the hearts of the people. Today, we demand a fair explanation from you!”

When Meng Fang saw the three standing against the black-robed man, he could scarcely believe his eyes.

“How are they united? Am I dreaming?”

Yu Mu, seeing Meng Fang’s wide-eyed astonishment, asked, “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? It’s unbelievable! Those three are the leaders of Free City’s three great factions, and they’ve joined forces. Isn’t that shocking?” Meng Fang was so stunned he nearly stammered.

Yu Mu looked closer and saw, indeed, standing beside the gray-robed woman was a man in scarlet robes, the attire of the Sacred Sun Sect. The third must be from the Free Alliance.

For these three mutually hostile forces to unite, something earth-shattering must be happening.

The gray-robed woman gave a cold snort. “This is Hawk Ridge’s transmission array. Whether it is sealed or not is for us to decide. As for this so-called Saint’s Tomb treasure, it’s but a baseless rumor. I advise you to disperse and not make trouble here.”

“Hmph! The more you deny it, the more suspicious it is.” Next to the black-robed man, a swordsman with a great sword strapped to his back sneered, “There’s just been talk of the Saint’s Tomb, and you seal the array—if that’s not suspicious, what is? Rumor or not, open the array and we’ll see for ourselves. I’ve never heard of a business refusing customers.”

Suddenly, a chilling, cackling laugh rose from across from the swordsman, raising the hairs on everyone’s necks. “Great Feather Sword, I respect you as a sect leader, but you repeatedly test our limits. Have you considered what it means to offend the Free Alliance?”

The speaker was an old crone, her face creased with wrinkles, her age indeterminate. A few wisps of white hair were coiled behind her head; her lips were thin, her eyes sharp—a cruel and spiteful woman.

“Scorpion Hag, others may fear your so-called Alliance, but I do not. Spare me your bluster. If you have the skill, come at me. If not, get out of my sight.”

“You…” The Scorpion Hag shook with rage, but did not strike.