The Calamity Vanquished

Deep within the Calamity Suppression Tower of the Three-Unity Sword Sect, perpetual light illuminated the cavernous space.

The air was thick with a scorching scent, characteristic of spiritual energy rapidly infused in immense quantities.

Dozens of colossal dharma mirrors, hewn from spirit marrow, were embedded into the circular walls. The array patterns etched upon these walls were so intricate they dazzled the eye, flashing with a blinding radiance.

Observing with spiritual perception, one would discover that these patterns not only linked several dharma mirrors into a unified whole but also subtly connected to a space that seemed to exist beyond this mortal realm.

For most of the time, these dharma mirrors were meant to reflect a ceaselessly churning, suffocating, dense darkness and a violent torrent of energy—the terrifying aura of the Calamity Beast Yazi, isolated by layer upon layer of restrictions.

Although direct surveillance of the Calamity Beast’s movements was impossible, the Three-Unity Sword Sect, through this mother-child array formation—roughly conceived by the twenty-fifth generation Mountain Guardian Elder and refined by the previous Sect Master—could, without needing to approach that perilous and isolated forbidden zone, accurately ascertain the terrifying beast’s activities by monitoring the energy fluctuations near the sealed area.

At this moment, the dozens of disciples guarding the place had fallen into a deathly silence.

Almost simultaneously, the violent energy readings—which had represented the Calamity Beast’s existence and remained stable for untold years in all the mirrors—were abruptly severed as if by an invisible giant hand, plummeting instantly to zero!

“Clang!”

A disciple responsible for recording energy fluctuations dropped his pen, splattering ink onto his pristine daoist robe.

Oblivious to the stain, he simply stood agape, his eyes glued to the ‘clean’ main mirror before him, as though witnessing the most incredible sight in the world.

“Wh-what’s going on? The energy readings… they’ve vanished? Completely vanished!”

Another disciple’s voice trembled as he abruptly rose from his meditation cushion, moving so quickly he even knocked over the dharma implement rack behind him.

“It’s all the mirrors! All monitoring points disappeared simultaneously! This is impossible! Is the array malfunctioning? Check it quickly!”

A middle-aged cultivator, possessing something of a leadership aura, forced himself to appear calm, yet the tremor in his voice betrayed the stormy turmoil within him.

He practically lunged towards the main control array panel, his hands swiftly forming incantations to troubleshoot, his forehead instantly beaded with cold sweat.

However, all feedback unequivocally showed that the monitoring array was operating normally, completely undisturbed.

Then the only explanation was…

“It’s not a malfunction!” A young disciple murmured, his face drained of color, yet a frantic, disbelieving excitement surged within him. “Is it… is it gone? The Calamity Beast… dead?”

The word seemed to possess a magical power, instantly striking everyone in the tower.

Dead?

That Calamity Beast, which had tormented the sect for ten thousand years, caused countless ancestors to shed blood, and lingered like a nightmare in the depths of the rift valley… dead?

After the immense shock came a deathly stillness, followed by a volcanic eruption of ecstasy and bewilderment!

“Truly… truly dead?! Who? Who could have killed it?”

“It was Grand Elder Mo! It must have been Grand Elder Mo! Didn’t you feel that world-shaking sword intent just now?”

“Right! Grand Elder Mo left earlier! It must have been Grand Elder Mo who acted!”

“Heaven bless Three-Unity! Sect Master Ling’s vengeance… it’s been exacted! Exacted!”

An elder disciple, his face streaked with tears, dropped to his knees with a thud towards the rift valley and kowtowed deeply.

Excited cheers, choked sobs, incoherent shouts, disoriented discussions… all sounds wildly intertwined, echoing repeatedly off the cold walls, threatening to split the sturdy body of the Calamity Suppression Tower.

Ten thousand years of accumulated fear, humiliation, and despair transformed at this moment into a breaching flood, utterly engulfing the disciples who had stood guard here year-round, their nerves perpetually taut as bowstrings.

The middle-aged leader took several deep breaths, barely managing to suppress his excitement. His voice still trembled, yet it regained a semblance of order.

“Silence! Immediately record the situation here in detail! Initiate the highest-level confirmation procedure, and send urgent messages to the Sect Master and all Grand Elders! Quickly!”

At this command, the disciples seemed to regain their souls, suppressing their fervent emotions. Their hands and feet trembled, yet they moved with extraordinary speed, becoming busy.

Tears mingled with smiles on every face, and a radiant, newfound light shone in their eyes.

The wind in the valley had finally ceased.

The roars that once shook mountains, the fierce entanglement of sword light and demonic energy, and the ten-thousand-year-old hatred that had seemed inextinguishable, all had transformed into the silent dust of this moment, slowly settling upon the scorched earth.

Even the space beside him remained almost undisturbed, yet Mo Tingbei sensed an additional presence there.

A familiar, subtle chill, as if emanating from the depths of an ancient ice plain, quietly permeated the area around him. Without needing to turn, he knew it was her.

Jiang Jinyue had reappeared by Mo Tingbei’s side at some unknown moment.

Standing shoulder to shoulder with Mo Tingbei, she gazed far into the valley’s end, at the abyss that had once imprisoned the sect’s ten-thousand-year nightmare, now left desolate and vast.

After a long silence, an extremely soft inquiry, like a sigh, blended into the overly quiet air.

“Is it worth it?”

Mo Tingbei remained silent.

Standing with his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze stretched far into the distance, as if piercing through time, seeing countless departed shadows and the heavy years that had nearly broken his spirit.

Memories, like a silent tide, wordlessly washed over the shores of his heart.

When the Three-Unity Sword Sect was handed to Mo Tingbei, it was on the verge of extinction.

All the pillars supporting the sect had been shattered in that sudden Calamity Beast rampage, blood stained the mountain steps, swords were broken, formations breached, and soul lamps extinguished like falling rain.

The ancient sect, already swaying precariously in the wind and rain, had completely slid towards the abyss of being erased from existence.

When a wall crumbles, everyone pushes it; when a drum breaks, everyone beats it. At that time, even the so-called ‘brother sects’ who had once claimed kinship severed ties, fearing contamination by its decaying misfortune.

What stung even more deeply was the attitude of the Immortal Alliance.

Those individuals, who always hid outside the chessboard, didn’t even bother to ask a single question before indifferently striking the name ‘Three-Unity Sword Sect’—a name that had once resounded throughout the world—from the illustrious Golden Scroll that ranked all sects and allocated karmic resources, thereby completely erasing it.

This erasure lasted for nearly a century. Even today, it had not been reinstated.

It was as if they had long been forgotten in the dust of history, unworthy of standing alongside the world’s heroes.

This erasure had robbed them of their last breath of life-sustaining True Essence.

From that moment on, the sect’s resources were always somewhat strained; spirit stones, pills, various spiritual materials… none were abundant.

Disciples’ monthly allowances were cut again and again, and the spirit-gathering formations in the cultivation chambers frequently failed due to lack of maintenance.

As acting Sect Master, he often had to set aside sect affairs, conceal his cultivation’s brilliance, and, assuming the identity of a rogue cultivator, journey everywhere like the lowest-tier prospector, delving into perilous secret realms and ruins.

Sometimes, desperate for cash to purchase various spiritual materials, he would even accept dangerous bounty missions, solely to earn the meager cultivation resources that allowed the sect to barely function.

Even so, it was only after Mo Tingbei miraculously achieved the Purple Mansion realm and endured several decades of arduous, pioneering hardship that the sect’s almost dried-up resource flow began to show signs of thawing, like frozen earth touched by a spring breeze, gradually becoming smoother once more.

For so many years, he had risen early and slept late, studied diligently, walked on thin ice, and acted with trepidation.

He had almost exhausted all his heart’s blood, burned through all his time, step by step, dragging this nearly sunken wreck from the edge of a ten-thousand-zhang abyss back to shallow waters, repairing and reinforcing it, until it finally hoisted its sails again, gradually showing signs of a revival.

And now, that seemingly unconquerable nemesis, which had suffocated generations of ancestors, had finally met its bitter end beneath his sword, vanishing into thin air.

Moreover, a Junior Sister within the sect had achieved the Golden Core Dao, ascending to the pinnacle of this world, sufficient to deter all minor forces and protect the sect for another ten thousand years.

The Three-Unity Sect had risen.

The past years of bloodshed, the struggle for survival, the countless sacrifices and efforts, all seemed to find their answer in this moment.

All the myriad thoughts, the century-long burden, ultimately clarified in the lake of his heart, converging into a calm yet mountain-heavy reply.

“It was worth it.”

Mo Tingbei turned to look at Jiang Jinyue, his smile warm.

As Jiang Jinyue’s gaze met that smile, it was as if she had been scalded; her icy blue eyes instinctively darted away, dropping slightly.

Her heart inexplicably skipped a beat.

This smile… it was identical to the one he had worn all those years ago in a muddy mortal alley, when he encountered her, dirty and huddled in a corner like an abandoned little beast.

So warm, so undeniable, as if it could melt all the ice in the world.

Yet also so… heartbreaking.

“It’s time to go back. The little ones are probably going to be startled.”

Mo Tingbei chuckled.

His tone was light, completely devoid of the reactions expected from a dying person. So ordinary… it was heartbreaking.

He took the first step.

Mountains and rivers receded swiftly beneath his feet. In but a moment, the familiar sect mountains, enveloped in swirling spiritual energy, came into view.

The sect’s mountain-protecting array seemed to have sensed his return early, its vast light curtain flowing and rippling, silently parting to create a wide gateway for him. The disciples guarding the mountain gate, seeing the azure streak of light sweeping from the horizon, were first stunned, then their faces erupted with uncontrollable excitement and ecstasy, a wave of sound instantly exploding:

“It’s Grand Elder Mo!”

“Grand Elder Mo is back!!”

“Welcome, Grand Elder Mo, back to the sect!!”

The news, like a drop of water falling into boiling oil, instantly exploded and spread throughout the entire sect with astonishing speed.

More and more disciples poured out from various halls, cave dwellings, and training grounds, like streams converging into a river, swiftly filling all the space along both sides of the main path.

They craned their necks, their gazes ardently following the figure descending from the sky, their eyes filled with almost fanatical reverence and excitement.

Rumors of the Calamity Suppression Tower’s anomaly and the Grand Elder single-handedly slaying the Calamity Beast had already spread among them like wildfire.

Mo Tingbei’s figure lightly descended onto the high platform before the main hall, his gentle gaze sweeping over the dense crowd below.

“The Calamity Beast Yazi,” his voice was not loud, yet it clearly reached every person present, carrying a peculiar power that soothed all agitation, “has been slain by my sword.”

He paused briefly, allowing the weight of his words to fully settle.

“Ten thousand years of blood feud, repaid today. The sect’s great sorrow ends here. All disciples, you may now rest easy.”

The unequivocal ecstasy that had previously emanated from the Calamity Suppression Tower now finally found its ultimate validation, completely igniting the flames in everyone’s hearts.

After a brief, almost suffocating silence, came earth-shattering cheers and wails of sorrow loud enough to overturn the clouds! The heavy shadow that had pressed down for ten thousand years, almost becoming a part of their very breathing, completely vanished at this moment!

Mo Tingbei did not interrupt this outpouring of jubilation, but quietly transmitted a message to Han Yu and the other core true disciples who had swiftly arrived by his side.

‘Arrange patrols properly, soothe the disciples’ emotions, and maintain order within the sect. All details will be deliberated after the Golden Core Grand Ceremony.’

“Yes! We respectfully obey Grand Elder’s decree!”

Han Yu and the others, suppressing their inner excitement and shock, bowed and accepted the command. Showing no outward signs of their tumultuous emotions, they quickly turned and began to efficiently and calmly execute orders, guiding the crowd.

Mo Tingbei quietly watched this scene, watching these future pillars of the sect, a barely perceptible hint of relief flickering deep in his eyes.

‘With three generations of outstanding talents emerging, why should my Three-Unity not prosper!’

However, no one noticed that in the shadowy corner of a side hall at the edge of the plaza, the air subtly twisted.

A blurred, black-robed figure quietly emerged, as if born from the shadows.

The wide hood obscured her face; only a cold, eerie curve of her lips was visible.

She silently ‘gazed’ in Mo Tingbei’s direction, her eyes seemingly able to penetrate space and fall upon his residual body, entwined with the aura of death.

An extremely soft whisper, carrying a playful satisfaction and deep calculation, like the hiss of the most dangerous viper, diffused through the shadows.

‘This Mo Tingbei fellow, to actually dare to willingly abandon the path to ascension he had already glimpsed, he possesses more courage than I imagined. With an extra Purple Mansion peak cultivator who fears no death, there are a few more variables.’

In her hand, she toyed with a finger bone, crystal-clear like jade.

The finger bone appeared unremarkable on the surface, save for its exceptionally lustrous texture. However, tightly coiled and crawling around this finger bone was a jet-black, constantly writhing and shifting, eerie rune that exuded an ominous and deathly aura.

The aura emitted by that rune originated from the same source as the forbidden array patterns Ye Jinghuang had used to secretly seize Mo Tingbei’s cultivation deep within the imperial palace, yet it appeared even more ancient, more profound, and more sinister!

‘That long serpent Yazi is finally dead. I still have you to thank, otherwise, I truly wouldn’t have known how to retrieve this wisp of the Lord’s Original Source.’

‘Although it deviates somewhat from my original plan, now that the old anchor has been removed, the new ‘door’ should also open.’

The gaze beneath her black robes seemed to turn towards an unknown, deeper direction.

‘The real feast has only just begun.’

She chuckled softly, her figure slowly dissolving on the spot like ink bleeding into water, drawing no one’s attention.

‘Enjoy these last few days, Mo Tingbei. Your ‘value’ is far greater than you imagine…’

The shadows returned to calm, as if nothing had happened.

Jiang Jinyue, who had deliberately lagged half a step behind Mo Tingbei when returning to the sect, did not alarm anyone.

She had always disliked overly lively scenes.

Just as her foot touched the jade bricks of the plaza, an indescribable, deeply unsettling tremor passed through her heart, and her exquisitely cold brows furrowed subtly for no apparent reason.

She abruptly turned her head, her icy gaze shooting like lightning towards the shadowy corner at the edge of the plaza—precisely where the mysterious woman had been.

However, she only saw a wisp of spatial fluctuation that had already settled.

Her heart inevitably sank.

On the plaza, the joy of surviving a catastrophe still permeated the air, yet a deeper, colder undercurrent had already begun to surge silently.

The true crisis had never been far.