Chapter 412 - 409: Discovery
At first light, a group of figures slowly approached.
The man in the lead was around forty years old, dressed in the attire of a Netherworld Pavilion Steward. He had a rugged, capable face and a sharp gaze, and a Thick-Backed Machete hung from his waist.
Following him were five young disciples in black. They were all elite disciples of the Netherworld Pavilion, under orders to carry out a mission with him.
"Steward, there are signs of a fight in that patch of woods up ahead..."
A disciple suddenly spoke, his gaze fixed on a sparse patch of woods ahead.
The Steward’s surname was Wang, his given name Lie. He possessed considerable seniority and experience among the Stewards of the Netherworld Pavilion.
His gaze followed the disciple’s direction, and his brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
The woods held broken trees and overturned earth. A few dark stains were faintly visible, clear signs that a fight had taken place.
"Let’s go take a look."
Wang Lie said in a low voice. He turned and led the way toward the patch of woods.
The five disciples hurried to follow, their hands resting on the weapons at their waists as their eyes scanned the surroundings with vigilance.
Upon entering the woods, the scene before them made all six men stop in their tracks.
It was a scene of utter devastation.
Within a radius of dozens of yards, trees were snapped and toppled. The ground was gouged with deep, crisscrossing furrows, and craters of all sizes riddled the landscape.
Rubble and broken branches littered the ground, stained with dried, dark blood.
These were the signs of a ferocious battle.
As Wang Lie’s gaze swept over the broken trees and crisscrossing gouges, his pupils contracted slightly.
’This level of destruction... The strength of the combatants far surpassed my own.’
His gaze continued forward, and then—
His body froze solid.
More than ten yards away, two corpses lay silently in pools of their own blood.
One corpse was clad in a black robe with dark silver embroidery. Its left arm hung limply at its side. A gruesome gash marred its neck, and its severed head had rolled several feet away. The young face was a frozen mask of terror and despair.
The other corpse was tall and powerfully built, like a bear. He wore the distinctive dark-patterned black robe of a Netherworld Pavilion Elder and was soaked in blood. His right arm was twisted at a bizarre angle, and a deep Palm Seal was imprinted on his chest.
"Th-this...?"
In that instant, Wang Lie’s breath caught in his throat.
He recognized the two bodies.
The younger one was Yin Huang, a True Disciple of the Sect ranked eighty-second on the Celestial Pride List.
And the taller one was none other than Sect Elder Yin Wugou.
"E-Elder Yin?!"
From behind, the trembling voice of a young disciple rang out, filled with unconcealable horror.
The other four were now ashen-faced, their eyes wide with disbelief.
Yin Wugou.
An Elder of the Netherworld Pavilion with a Second Grade Cultivation. Among all the Elders in the Pavilion, his combat prowess was ranked in the upper-middle tier.
And now, he was just a cold corpse lying in a pool of blood.
"Steward... this..."
A disciple opened his mouth to speak, but his voice was so hoarse it was barely a whisper.
Wang Lie did not answer.
He took a deep breath, forcing down the storm of shock raging within him, and walked toward the two bodies.
His steps were slow, each one as heavy as lead.
Reaching them, he crouched down, his gaze landing on Yin Wugou’s blood-streaked face.
Those once-sharp eyes had lost all their light, staring blankly up at the gray sky.
He reached out his right hand, checking for a pulse at Yin Wugou’s neck.
As expected, the skin was ice-cold to the touch. The pulse was long gone.
He then examined Yin Wugou’s injuries—the right arm was broken, the Palm Seal on his chest was deeply sunken, his ribs were completely shattered, and his internal organs had been turned to pulp from the force of the blow.
’To inflict such wounds, the attacker had to be at least as strong as Yin Wugou.’
"Elder Yin was surrounded and killed by multiple assailants!"
Wang Lie stood up, his gaze falling upon the devastated battlefield.
The crisscrossing gouges, the massive trees shattered by Palm Force, the bloodstains scattered everywhere...
A brutal, one-sided slaughter had occurred here.
Multiple Upper Three Grades Martial Artists, all at the Elder level, had surrounded Elder Yin Wugou. He was overwhelmed and killed.
"Steward..."
The disciple’s voice came from behind him again, laced with a tremor he couldn’t suppress.
"We... we must report this to the Sect immediately!"
Wang Lie did not turn his head.
He remained silent for a moment before speaking, his voice low and raspy.
"Collect the bodies."
He paused, his gaze still fixed on the ruined battlefield. His sharp, capable eyes were now filled with an indescribable, complex emotion.
"Then... send a message to the Sect immediately."
...
The Netherworld Pavilion.
Rows of black halls stretched across the mountainside, exuding a grim and murderous air.
Deep inside, within a magnificent hall, Li Wushang stood with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing out a window.
His mind was uneasy today.
A sense of disquiet had been nagging at him since the previous night, and he couldn’t shake it.
An entire night had passed since Yin Wugou left to rescue Yin Huang, yet there had been no word from him.
’Perhaps I’m overthinking things.’
He muttered to himself, shaking his head.
’Yin Wugou’s Cultivation is at the Second Grade. Even if he encountered one of the Qingxuan Sect’s best Elders, he should have been more than capable of escaping.’
And yet, that thread of unease coiled in his heart, refusing to fade.
A soft knock came from the doors of the hall.
"Come in."
Li Wushang turned around.
A Steward dressed in black strode in, carefully holding a letter.
The letter was sealed with wax, stamped with the Netherworld Pavilion’s unique sigil: a shadowy flame.
"Vice Pavilion Master Li, an urgent report."
The Steward’s voice held a barely concealed tremor.
Li Wushang’s brow twitched almost imperceptibly.
He took the letter and broke the seal.
His eyes swept across the words on the page.
Yin Huang and Yin Wugou were dead. Their bodies had been discovered in a forest in eastern Qingyang County.
The color drained from his face in an instant. The pupils of his deep-set eyes contracted.
The knuckles of the hand holding the letter turned white from the force of his grip.
Yin Wugou.
’Dead?’
’His colleague of many years, a Second Grade Martial Artist whose combat prowess ranked in the upper-middle tier of all the Pavilion’s Elders... was dead?’
"Elder Yin... how could this be...?"
His voice was quiet, so quiet it was as if he were talking to himself.
But the suppressed shock and fury in it made the Steward, who stood with his head bowed, shiver involuntarily.
"It was a trap!"
Li Wushang took a deep breath, suppressing the turbulent emotions in his heart.
He looked down at the letter again.
His gaze lingered on the names "Yin Huang" and "Yin Wugou."
Yin Huang had called for help, Yin Wugou had gone to rescue him, and then they had both died in the same place.
He snapped his head up, a sudden flash of understanding in his deep-set eyes.
A trap.
It was a trap.
Yin Huang’s distress call was the bait.
The Qingxuan Sect’s true target was Yin Wugou.
"Good... How very good!"
Li Wushang ground out each word through gritted teeth, his voice as low and cold as a winter wind.
The air in the hall seemed to freeze solid.
The Steward stood with his head bowed, not daring to breathe.
After a moment, Li Wushang looked up.
His deep-set eyes now held nothing but icy resolve.
"The Qingxuan Sect set a trap to ambush and kill Elder Yin Wugou. Pass down my orders."
His voice was level again, but beneath the calm surface was a volcano on the verge of erupting.
"Gather our people. We will retaliate against the Qingxuan Sect’s businesses and holdings outside their territory."
"Make them understand the price they will pay for killing an Elder of our Netherworld Pavilion."
"Yes, sir!"
The Steward, still stunned by the news of Yin Wugou’s death, took a moment before bowing and quickly exiting the great hall.
The sound of his footsteps soon vanished down the corridor.
Li Wushang stood before the window with his hands clasped behind him, gazing outside.
A cold glint flickered in his deep-set eyes.
...
Morning light filtered through the window lattice into the Quiet Chamber, casting faint patterns of light and shadow on the floor.
Fang Han sat cross-legged on a meditation cushion, his aura as placid as still water.
After switching his Cultivation to the Cyan Profound Technique, the circulation of Inner Qi within his body had become far more profound. The pure, condensed feeling made every Cultivation session incredibly refreshing.
A soft knock came from outside the door.
"Senior Brother, a disciple from the Law Enforcement Hall is here with a message. They request your presence at the Law Enforcement Hall immediately."
It was Qiu Lan’s voice from outside.
Fang Han slowly opened his eyes, a sharp light flashing in their depths for an instant before vanishing.
"Understood."
He rose, straightened his robes, pushed open the door, and walked out of the Quiet Chamber.
The main hall of the Law Enforcement Hall was as solemn and imposing as ever, with the faint scent of sandalwood lingering in the air.
After his arrival was announced, a disciple on duty led Fang Han to a side hall.
Inside, Elder Zhou Jin was seated at the head of the room, holding a scroll and studying it with intense focus.
Hearing footsteps, he looked up. When he saw it was Fang Han, a faint smile touched his otherwise impassive face.
"Nephew Fang, you’re here. Please, sit."
"Thank you, Elder."
Fang Han sat in a pearwood chair in a guest’s position, his gaze fixed on Zhou Jin.
Zhou Jin set down the scroll, looked at Fang Han, and began to speak slowly.
"I summoned you today to inform you of a certain matter."
Fang Han listened quietly.
"Yin Wugou is dead."
Zhou Jin’s voice was placid, as if he were stating the most ordinary of facts.
’Yin Wugou is dead?’
Fang Han’s pupils contracted slightly.
Yin Wugou.
The Second-Grade Elder from the Netherworld Pavilion who had ambushed him on the road back to the Sect, severely wounding him with a single palm strike.
’Dead?’
"The Sect set a trap. We used Yin Huang as bait to lure Yin Wugou out, then ambushed and killed him," Zhou Jin continued.
’So he was killed in an ambush by the Sect...’
Fang Han was silent, stunned by the news.
Yin Wugou was dead.
The man who had nearly killed him was dead.
The Sect had avenged him!
An indescribable emotion swelled in his chest.
It was joy.
But mixed with that joy was a burgeoning sense of worry.
The status of a Second-Grade Elder within the Netherworld Pavilion was far beyond that of any ordinary Steward Disciple.
With Yin Wugou dead, the Netherworld Pavilion would never let the matter rest.
"Thank you, Sect, for obtaining justice for me."
Fang Han rose and gave a solemn, clasped-fist bow.
Zhou Jin inclined his head slightly, gesturing for him to sit back down.
"Yin Wugou was the one who tried to kill you first, so the Sect naturally had to take action on your behalf. However..."
He paused, and a grave look flickered in his calm eyes.
"With one of their Second-Grade Elders dead, the Netherworld Pavilion will undoubtedly retaliate with absolute fury. For the foreseeable future, you are to remain within the Sect. Do not go out unless it is absolutely necessary."
"I understand."
Fang Han nodded.
He knew Zhou Jin wasn’t exaggerating.
Yin Wugou’s death was like pouring oil on a fire.
Tensions between the Netherworld Pavilion and the Qingxuan Sect were already at a breaking point. Now that a Second-Grade Elder had fallen at the hands of the Qingxuan Sect, how could they possibly let the matter drop?
The retaliation that followed was sure to be swift and brutal.