Chapter 231: Chapter 225: You’re Living a Pretty Good Life, Huh?
Qingxu Temple.
But that didn’t stop the outer sect disciples from indulging in their fantasies.
This was especially true for those disciples deeply influenced by Dong Changsheng’s "mindset of the strong," their hearts surging with emotion.
"Did you hear? All outer sect disciples! The Sect Leader is finally going to recognize our hard work!"
"That’s right! Mr. Dong was right! The Sect Leader has seen all our tireless contributions to the sect!"
"The Celestial Dao rewards the diligent! The heavens aren’t blind after all! Our time has finally come!"
They were convinced this was the result of their long-term, silent contributions—tirelessly cleaning the sect grounds and serving its members.
The Sect Leader had finally seen their worth and was preparing to reward them!
’Maybe some of us will be promoted to the Inner Sect?’
’Or perhaps we’ll be taught a more profound Cultivation Technique?’
"Speaking of which, where has Mr. Dong been lately? Do you think he’s on a mission?"
Just as this group of outer sect disciples was lost in their beautiful fantasy of "the Celestial Dao rewarding the diligent," several figures appeared at the end of the mountain path.
Leading them was none other than the Sect Leader of Qingxu Temple, Xuanyuan.
But at this moment, he was slightly bowed, half a step behind, cautiously escorting an old man in a crimson-gold Daoist robe who held a staff made of beast bone.
It was Mr. Huohua, an elder of the Celestial Furnace Sect.
Mr. Huohua’s gaze swept over the several hundred outer sect disciples before him.
He looked at their faces, full of hope, and then thought of Qingxu Temple’s meager Tithing for the year. A cold sneer crept onto his lips.
"Xuanyuan, your Qingxu Temple certainly has a large household, taking in so many outer sect disciples."
"No wonder your ’tribute’ for this year was so lacking."
"With so many people waiting on you, life must be quite comfortable. So comfortable that you’ve forgotten your duty to your superior sect, have you?"
Hearing this, cold sweat instantly beaded on Xuanyuan’s forehead. He quickly bowed and agreed:
"E-Elder, you jest! Nothing of the sort! Nothing of the sort!"
This scene unfolded before the eyes of the outer sect disciples.
The excitement and fantasies on their faces began to freeze.
They didn’t understand.
Why was the lofty Sect Leader Xuanyuan, so high and mighty in their minds, acting so servile?
His caution, his terror-stricken deference—it was a complete mismatch with the dignified yet benevolent Sect Leader they remembered.
’What... what in the world is going on?’
Mr. Huohua looked at Xuanyuan’s groveling posture and snorted coldly.
"Xuanyuan, it seems your lives have been far too comfortable."
The words, though seemingly random, struck Xuanyuan to the core.
Mr. Huohua didn’t look at him again. Instead, his gaze fell upon the bewildered outer sect disciples as he said something inexplicable to Xuanyuan:
"What a pity. All these people tragically fell to the vile fiends of the demonic path while on a mission to protect Anhe City. They all met a violent end."
"Xuanyuan, how to handle their families is now your problem.
We of the righteous path have always been compassionate toward mortals; we would never treat them poorly in this matter.
The proper compensation, the memorial archways—not one can be missing. You must ensure they are honored splendidly, so they may feel the vast benevolence of our righteous sects."
Xuanyuan understood instantly.
’He’s making an example of me.’
’He’s punishing me for not paying the full tribute this year, all while I’m supporting this huge crowd and seemingly living a comfortable life.’
’This is a punishment, and a way for him to recoup some of his losses from me.’
’And these hundreds of outer sect disciples before me are the price to appease the superior sect’s anger, to buy a little more time from them.’
A pang of regret struck Xuanyuan’s heart.
It wasn’t that he cared about a few, or even a few dozen, outer sect disciples dying. In his eyes, they were nothing more than free labor, chasing a foolish dream of Cultivation.
’But if they all die, who will serve the Inner Sect Disciples and elders in the future?’
’We can’t have those prodigies of the Inner Sect do everything themselves, can we?’
’Then we’d have to go through all the trouble of recruiting a new batch.’
’And on top of that, we’d have to give some compensation to the families of these dead outer sect disciples.’
’Qingxu Temple has accumulated a good deal of gold and silver from the mortal world over the years, but with so many dying at once, the required compensation and procedures would be a significant expense and hassle.’
However, on second thought, that pang of regret quickly vanished.
’After all, Anhe City is one of the three cities being traded between the righteous and demonic paths as part of their agreement.’
’Perhaps the Elder’s words were a hint.’
’Anhe City is about to fall into chaos.’
’The mortal city’s fate is hanging by a thread.’
’In that case, perhaps that so-called "compensation" and "benevolence" won’t ever need to be delivered.’
’Once everyone in the city becomes material for a demonic blood sacrifice, who will even remember these disciples?’
’Having all these outer sect disciples die here will also make it easier for me to relocate the sect’s core members later on.’
’After all, this bunch of outer sect trash can’t even perform Sword Control. I’d have to dismiss them one by one and send them home, which would be a huge pain.’
’If our journey is delayed and we get caught up in the turmoil, the lineage of Qingxu Temple could be wiped out.’
’Letting them die now with the reputation of "sacrificing their lives for the righteous path while fighting demonic fiends" is, in a way, a fulfillment of their ridiculous dream of Cultivation.’
’Even if these wastes had managed to walk the path of Cultivation, they would have only ended up as cannon fodder in the war between the righteous and demonic paths, ready to be sacrificed at any moment.’
’No, they probably don’t even qualify to be cannon fodder.’
’Mr. Huohua just wants to recoup some losses from me and issue a warning, making sure I don’t try any clever tricks in the future.’
’Perhaps these hundreds of worthless lives can buy us some time and give Qingxu Temple a chance to breathe.’
...
「Down the mountain, in Anhe City.」
In a blacksmith shop in the eastern part of the city, a burly man swung his hammer, his clothes soaked with sweat.
Whenever he paused to wipe away the sweat, he would instinctively look toward Qingxu Mountain outside the city.
Five years ago, his son had gone up that mountain in search of an immortal destiny. He had said that his masters taught him there was a great divide between cultivators and mortals, and that he would return once his training was complete.
Although he hadn’t seen his son’s face since, they had exchanged letters.
From his son’s words, he could tell that life in the outer sect wasn’t easy. The letters were filled with hardship, but every one of them ended with the same line: "I am well, Father. I will continue to cultivate diligently and not disappoint your expectations."
Mr. Zhang didn’t know if his son had finally achieved something, or if reality had long since worn away his ambitions and made him realize just how arduous the path of Cultivation truly was.
He only knew that the strength in his hammer swings was fading year by year, and his back was beginning to stoop.
Mr. Zhang always thought that when his son returned, he would hand over the shop to him, let him marry a good wife, and live a peaceful, stable life.
But these five years felt like a long dream, and he was afraid he wouldn’t live to see the day his son finally woke up from it.
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