Chapter 423
Whispers Abound (VII)
There were six, Geng Hua mused. Six bodies and six heads, perfectly severed from one another, laid out across the sect's compound. Neither he nor anyone else felt anything off, yet as soon as one scream rang out, five soon followed.
He wasn't particularly surprised that Elder Xiang was dead; he was surprised he had been killed inside the sect's zone of control. The man had made enemies across the world, and if he actually got to live out the rest of his life naturally, it would have been one of Dao's greatest miracles.
Even if he never cared much for the man and hated that he sullied the reputation of the sect, he was an Elder. And it wasn't just him--three Elders besides him had been killed, and two Deacons. While none were particularly important to the Sect, they still represented its reserves--and, more importantly, them dying so brazenly would have other Holy Lands mock them.
The word had already gotten out, as more than a few dozen Disciples had seen it. Though he could try to violently suppress it, all it would do is lower the already dwindling morale of the entire sect. In the past year, they'd lost seven Elders--these here notwithstanding--three of whom belonged to the upper echelon and were poised to eventually become Arch Elders.
Today's killings were entirely unrelated; the others were all lured out deliberately and culled by a single individual who seemed to have a vendetta against the Holy Lands. Geng Hua had heard the whispers that over forty Elders across all Holy Lands had perished in the past year--all under the exact same circumstances. They were lured out, almost never leaving a word of their departure behind, before their Soul Lamps would be extinguished at most a day later, their bodies found in various states of dismemberment.
They'd all put up a fight, but there had never been any evidence of the attacker's presence--not their Qi, not their blood, not their scent. Whoever was doing it was meticulous about it, which was the only tie today's deaths had to it: whoever did this... was even more meticulous.
Terrifyingly so.
If he could, Geng Hua would drop this entire thing and make the choice to ignore it--his instincts were telling him that whatever Elder Xiang and his cohort got themselves involved with wasn't just any other spat like before. But... he couldn't. Not so close to the Hidden Realm's opening, not so near every other Holy Land that was paying close attention to them.
He had to do something--even if he had to fabricate a wrongdoer from smoke and dust, something had to come out of this. Otherwise, if the Sect Master got involved... with his temper, even Geng Hua's head might fly.
"I'm here," a haggard, tired voice broke the heavy silence as a corpse-looking figure shambled into the room. He still used that dreaded cane, the end of which was a cracked and patched skull. Supposedly, it was of a man who killed his family and abused him when he was a boy. The old thing condemned him to an existence worse than death, as, supposedly, the soul of the man was still trapped within that skull.
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"Apologies for disturbing you, Grand Elder." Geng Hua bowed deeply toward the man. Personal feelings aside, the man was more than a mere legend in the Sect--he'd outlived nine generations of Sect Masters, and though he had never quite reached the realm of an Emperor, he did attempt it at one point, falling just short of the goal.
"From what? My eternal life of boredom? Yes, I am very angry that you've pulled me away from it," he said, sauntering over to the bodies and pulling away the hood, revealing a bald, wrinkled head with layers of skin wreathing one over another. "What happened?"
"We found them all across the compound," Geng Hua replied. "Best I can tell, a single killer."
"They have nothing to do with the string of recent murders," the old man said.
"I didn't think so, either. But, if the new killer was inspired by a recent string... we need to nip it in the bud. Otherwise..."
"The world will start to think we've been defanged," the old man said, slowly crouching by the bodies, his arm shaking as he held tightly onto the cane. "They've been killed with precision. A single stroke of the blade. There's no hum left."
A tendril of Qi left the man's fingertip as he continued to examine the bodies, mumbling just loud enough for Geng Hua to hear him.
"No superfluous injuries. No remnant Qi within the wounds. No remnants of any estranged energy. Who the hell did these guys piss off?"
"... I don't know."
"But they have been prone to doing it?"
"Supposedly."
"Hah," the old man scoffed, standing up. "I can scry Dao, but if you want my advice... it's best we leave it alone. I understand your predicament." He turned toward Geng Hua, his eyes indescribable. "Another incident where we don't manage to catch the culprit. If that thing you call a sect master hears of it, it'll likely be your head next to theirs. But, chances are that the culprit behind their murders is another Holy Land. Especially now before the realm's opening, stoking the flames of conflict would be... unwise."
"..." Geng Hua bit his lip, feeling conflicted. He predicted as much, yet being asked to just... let it go despite everything still stung. Though the old man offered to scry, if Geng Hua truly pushed for it, there'd be a price to pay, one that he could not afford.
"I'll tell you one thing, then," the old man said with a sigh, as though taking pity on him. "Whoever killed them has a profound understanding of the Dao of Sword. There are no more than ten figures alive that I'm aware of that match it. I'm not saying it's any of them, merely that as you look for the culprit... keep in mind that they are a tower standing above the firmament, a blade in hand."
"Thank you, Grand Elder," Geng Hua bowed as the man slowly left the room, the tapping of the cane the only sound to be heard.
Though it was a hint, it was an even greater wall, now. All those who pursued the Dao of Sword to such a degree were maniacs. But, at the same time, they weren't psychotic. When they killed, they had a reason to kill. One of the principles of the Dao of Sword was that one had to have a stable Sword Heart. While the measure of stability differed, it broadly meant that they very rarely actually drew their sword. To draw it meant to draw upon the Dao, after all.
And yet, he could not walk away.
Taking a deep breath, he ordered the shadows to dispose of the body as he turned and left. Someone who could invoke the Dao of Sword... there was a good chance they'd attend the conference, at the very least. If he exposed them and pinned them as an associate of the recent Elder-assassin... would he not be able to use the might of all Holy Lands to kill him?
He smiled. Perhaps his head would not be hanging loose from his body just yet, after all.
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