Chapter 73: The Sect of Shouldering Blame (Revised)

Entering the inner chamber, the three people lying beneath the shrouded canopy had not the slightest inkling of his arrival. Ling Chi lifted the veil, and before the trio could utter a single word, his fists struck out in tandem—one blow for each—dispatching them on the spot, and following procedure, he incinerated their bodies at once.

A dozen wisps of thunderous spiritual energy surged back into him, offering a measure of consolation.

He continued prowling through the residence, found a guard to interrogate, and extracted descriptions of He He’s brothers. Once he had what he needed, he dispatched the guard as well. Guided by his spiritual radar, he set out for his next target.

Following the directions, he headed straight for the western wing where the brothers resided. He entered and killed without hesitation, cremating the bodies immediately after, executing each step with mechanical precision.

The thrill of the slaughter overtook him; he darted about the courtyard, and even the awakened guards, roused by the commotion, were each reduced to ashes, their remains carried away by the morning breeze, destination unknown.

Not a single guard escaped the carnage; all met the same fate.

The entire He family—direct and collateral branches alike—were wiped out, not leaving a soul, not even a gatekeeper.

He had no intention of sparing a single survivor who might one day seek vengeance, no matter how infinitesimal the chance. A true assassin’s heart must be ruthless.

When the massacre was done, he’d harvested dozens of strands of thunder energy—meager, but not without value.

Before leaving, he scoured the place as usual, and what he discovered took him aback: two great urns filled with gold coins, tens of thousands in gold and silver notes, the amassed wealth of generations.

“My thanks to the ancestors of the He family,” he muttered.

With his spoils in tow, Ling Chi slipped away from the He estate, treading upon the last shreds of night before dawn. He cared not for the storm of rumors that would soon sweep the county town; he left behind a scene of turmoil and departed with unhurried ease.

Upon his return to Willow Town, he went straight to Crouching Ox Valley to devote himself to rigorous cultivation. The Headless General loomed over him like the sword of Damocles, a constant threat hanging above his heart.

Dark clouds gathered above Ox Mountain, streaked with thick bolts of lightning. The townsfolk knew well that their commander now practiced the thunder arts outside the city.

He had sent word to the Four Seas Trading Guild, but no reply had come. Ling Chi had written to the Third Steward, requesting thunder-element beast pills, and mentioned the two cold-element beast pills—the Fierce Tiger Fiend Pills—he had on hand for barter. Still, there was no news.

His plan was to slay the Headless General, then sweep the region, turning every fiend and villain within a hundred miles into resources for his cultivation.

At first light, word from Jiqing Town reached the prefecture’s Department of Tranquility in Crane County—a local commander had vanished without a trace, and Zhao Qing was stunned by the news.

Soon after, further information arrived from the county government: the entire He family had disappeared overnight, as if forcibly spirited away in their sleep—not even the dogs remained.

No bloodstains were found, nor any signs of struggle. Such a bizarre case could only be referred to the Department of Tranquility.

Zhao Qing investigated the He residence but found nothing—not even a ghostly shadow to hint at what had transpired. There was nothing to be done but submit a report to the provincial authorities and wait for their verdict.

Days later, the province’s reply left him deeply shaken.

The letter stated that similar cases had occurred in Jade County, Sheng Province. The higher authorities suspected the Ghost Sect’s involvement, instructing all subordinate offices to remain vigilant, strengthen their defenses, and increase nightly patrols. Any developments were to be reported immediately.

The Ghost Sect had always been active in the southeastern regions; rumors told of them wiping out entire cities. Who would have thought their shadow would now fall upon the northwest as well?

Zhao Qing immediately ordered all his subordinates to warn the commanders of every town to step up precautions, placing special emphasis on advising Ling Chi not to wander off and to be ready to provide support at any moment; if necessary, Ling Chi was to personally oversee matters in Jiqing.

Jiqing Town, situated by the Si River and connected to the neighboring districts of Sheng Province, was a vital crossroads and a principal source of tax revenue for Crane County—not to be lost at any cost.

It was several days before Ling Chi received the message from the county office. He opened the dossier and could not help but smile; never in his wildest dreams did he expect the blame would so readily fall upon the Ghost Sect.

The Ghost Sect were, in his mind, the perfect scapegoats. He resolved to imitate their methods in future undertakings—there could be no better cover than this.

After all, he had learned such tactics from the Federal Intelligence Service: whenever they carried out assassinations, they always flew the banner of some base or mercenary group. He had mastered this art.

Ling Chi ordered his men to request all available information about the Ghost Sect from the provincial authorities; the Willow Town branch of the “Scapegoat Sect” would henceforth be under his stewardship.

If the opportunity arose, he even considered visiting Jade County to exchange notes with his fellow “sect members”—his inner thunder pearl was already restless, eager for action.

Though Zhao Qing had instructed him not to wander recently, was Ling Chi one to be so obedient? Of course he was.

But the Master Ling of the “sect” was not. His fellow “cultists” were already calling for him from afar.

His subordinate rode ahead driving the carriage, while Ling Chi followed alongside on his great black horse.

A long queue had formed at the city gate, but Ling Chi was in no hurry and ambled along at his own pace.

Ahead of him, a little girl of three or four, perhaps weary from the ride, had gotten down to stretch her legs. She circled her family’s carriage again and again, her laughter ringing clear as silver bells.

“Where did this little brat come from? She’s making such a racket,” came a sharp rebuke from a group of martial wanderers cutting in line.

A young woman, pretty but with a fierce air and just newly initiated into the Open Vein stage, brandished a long whip studded with barbs, ghostly blue energy pulsing along its length, and aimed it at the child.

The surrounding crowd looked on with pity but kept their silence—one’s own life was dearer than another’s. A blow that could fell a strong man would surely kill a child outright.

Yet the men behind the woman, armed with swords and shields and ranging from Open Vein to Sea of Qi cultivation, only watched with amused smiles, making no move to intervene.

“Miss, look out!” Only the coachman, realizing the danger, shouted in panic.

In a flash, Ling Chi appeared, scooped up the little girl, and tossed her back into the carriage.

Before she knew what had happened, she was sitting safely inside once more, gazing about in confusion, finding the world all the more entertaining.

Ling Chi turned his gaze upon the woman—few indeed were more brazen than he. What a callous vixen, to treat human life as worthless! Does she think she’s me, Ling Chi, with such casual disregard for life?

With a sweep of his arm, his short sword, Justicebringer, sang with thunder and wind as it shot out like a bolt of lightning, aimed straight at the woman’s throat.

Her face blanched in terror as she hastily recalled her whip, hoping to defend herself.

But the blade was far too swift; there was no escape.

At the very last moment, one of the men behind her leapt forward, raising his iron shield to protect her.

A deafening clang of metal on metal drowned out the noise at the city gate, sending the crowd into chaos.

The iron shield shattered, and the Sea of Qi cultivator was struck by the force of the blow, coughing blood as he was sent flying from his horse.

“He’s a Sea of Qi cultivator—sister, get away!” The man, bloodied and airborne, still managed to warn the woman.

The remaining companions stared at Ling Chi in alarm—their senior brother, a second-stage Sea of Qi expert, couldn’t even withstand a single strike from this man.

Ling Chi drew his blade, his figure flickering as the silver-white arc of his sword swept toward the woman’s neck.

On Crane County soil, would he allow outsiders to act with impunity?

“Miss, look out!”

“Get back!”

The murderous intent rolling off him drained the color from the woman’s face; she tumbled from her horse, sitting stunned on the ground.

Her companions drew their weapons, forming a shield before her.

“Do you believe, just because your cultivation is strong, you can commit murder at will?” A deep, sonorous voice thundered from behind as the clash of blades drew near.