Life For a Life

Though it was termed an ‘invitation,’ it left no room for refusal.

Ever since Lin Langyao burst onto the scene decades ago, the entire cultivation world had been thrown into disarray, knowing not a single day of peace.

Few knew his origins or the sect he hailed from, yet all were keenly aware of his formidable strength and unparalleled swordsmanship.

Wielding his Azure Cloud Sword, he had swept through the major sects, decisively cementing his status as the cultivation world’s foremost expert.

No one dared refuse an invitation from Lin Langyao.

The grand patriarchs of the immortal sects, despite their myriad grievances, could only suppress their fury and depart.

They were gone for an extended period, leaving their disciples to fret with bated breath.

Yet, when their masters finally returned, they were utterly transformed, their eyes wide and vacant as if under a spell.

They muttered incessantly, ‘We’re saved, we’re saved…’

Perplexed and alarmed, the disciples cautiously inquired, ‘…What has been saved?’

The sect leader’s gaze sharpened, fixing intently upon the disciple, who felt a chill creep up their spine and their legs turn to jelly, longing only to prostrate themselves.

Suddenly, the sect leader erupted into three peals of wild laughter, throwing their head back to let out a triumphant howl: ‘The cultivation world is saved!’

****

A rumor swiftly spread throughout the cultivation world.

It was rumored, perhaps, that Lin Langyao was finished—a possibility that, to many, seemed almost certainly true.

At the heart of this swirling rumor was the Sect Leader of the Tai Xuan Gate.

Outside the sect leader’s chambers, Tai Xuan disciples, clutching their whisks, listened with bated breath to the urgent interrogations echoing from within—voices belonging to the patriarchs of the three great families and the leaders of the five major sects.

‘Is what Sect Leader Li said truly accurate?!’

Old Sect Leader Li Wuwei of the Tai Xuan Gate offered a bitter smile, stroking his pale beard.

‘Those events transpired many years ago,’ he began.

‘I had but a single encounter with Sword Master Wen.

He was still young then, accompanied by a small child.

When he first arrived in the capital for business, he mistakenly went to the wrong place.

As a fellow Daoist, I offered him guidance for a short distance.

We had a brief conversation along the way.

Only later did it dawn on me that the small child he had with him at the time must have been Lin Langyao.

Indeed, it was only upon witnessing the shared origin of Lin Langyao’s and Wen Chaoxuan’s swordsmanship that I truly recognized him.’

A hush fell over the assembly, for none had anticipated such a profound connection between old Sect Leader Li and Lin Langyao.

One of the family patriarchs broke the silence, his voice deep with inquiry: ‘Sect Leader Li—what kind of person is this Sword Master Wen?’

Old Sect Leader Li hesitated for a moment, then offered, ‘I believe… he is a reasonable person.’

Despite the significant uncertainty woven into his tone, the mere utterance of ‘reasonable’ was enough to ignite a glimmer of hope among those in the cultivation world who had long suffered under Lin Langyao’s torment.

Two days later, with several major sects joining forces, the sect leaders and patriarchs once again converged upon the Chaotian Pavilion.

Before the imposing edifice, Lin Langyao’s lingering aura of power remained palpable, and no one dared to rashly step forward to investigate its depths.

Thus, good old Sect Leader Li was once again pushed to the forefront.

He entered the pavilion with a sigh of resignation, clearing his throat before calling out: ‘—Is Immortal Venerable Lin present? The Tai Xuan Gate has come to pay respects.’

A period of profound silence followed.

Old Sect Leader Li then called out: ‘—Is Sword Master Wen present?’

Still, his voice met no reply, only an empty gust of wind sweeping through, as if the entire pavilion had been abandoned.

Seeing this, the other sect leaders exchanged uneasy glances, yet their initial tension eased, allowing them to step cautiously into the pavilion.

However, the moment one of them crossed the threshold, an object plummeted from the air, striking another sect leader squarely on the head.

The startled sect leader cried out, stumbling backward repeatedly, only to be caught by the frantic hands of their companions.

‘What business do you have with me?’ the plummeting figure inquired with an air of nonchalance, swaying gently as it spoke.

Li Wuwei, too, was startled, but with his advanced age and profound cultivation, he swiftly composed himself.

Upon closer inspection, he realized the figure was none other than Lin Langyao.

For reasons unknown, Lin Langyao hung upside down from the wooden railing of the second floor, his feet bound.

He glared at the assembly, arms crossed, the very picture of someone ready to demand an explanation.

Though Lin Langyao was arrogant, he was far from foolish.

He was acutely aware of how the cultivation world meticulously avoided him and his Chaotian Pavilion, treating them like venomous serpents.

Unless he personally extended an invitation, these individuals would never set foot inside the pavilion.

Their current, uninvited, and orderly appearance unmistakably signaled something amiss.

Lin Langyao’s eyes narrowed.

Even though his upside-down, undignified posture left him utterly devoid of image, the sheer aura of the cultivation world’s foremost expert was enough to intimidate anyone into silence.

Furthermore, the sect leaders, harboring guilty consciences, found themselves momentarily speechless in the face of his inquiry.

It was old Sect Leader Li who, with a sudden, seemingly innocuous question, rescued several individuals from their predicament: ‘Immortal Venerable Lin, pray tell, why are you suspended here in such a manner?’

‘Uh…’

Lin Langyao fell silent at once.

At that very moment, a majestic male voice, resonant as if spoken by the heavens, drifted down from the upper reaches of the pavilion.

Upon hearing it, Lin Langyao involuntarily shuddered.

‘—What, you have the audacity to hang there, yet lack the courage to explain the reason?’

The assembly’s spirits lifted, and they collectively craned their necks upward.

There, a figure clad in flowing white appeared from the central void of the pavilion, slowly descending.

He held a sword, his hands clasped behind his back, his plain, unadorned white robes that should have been utterly unremarkable instead seemed to shimmer.

Paired with a countenance of overwhelming handsomeness, his entire being was instantly enveloped in a radiant glow, akin to the brilliant sun and moon—distant and utterly inviolable.

The onlookers’ breaths caught for a fleeting moment, as they struggled to reconcile this cultivator of astounding grace with the unkempt, unnamed guest in green robes they had previously encountered.

‘You are… Sword Master Wen?’

‘It is I,’ Wen Chaoxuan replied indifferently, his gaze briefly sweeping over the assembled figures.

He then strode directly to Lin Langyao, suddenly raising his hand to deliver a sharp, resounding lash with his sword.

The strike was swift and precise, eliciting an ‘Ouch!’ from Lin Langyao, who immediately began to spin wildly while suspended by the ropes, resembling a dried salted fish, utterly disoriented and pathetic.

In truth, even in his bound state, Lin Langyao possessed the formidable strength to easily evade that lash.

Yet, he dared not, could not, evade it.

Just as he could have easily slipped free of the ropes and fled, he had instead remained obediently suspended upside down by Wen Chaoxuan for an entire night.

His lifetime of bitter, tear-filled experiences had taught him that any attempt to escape would only lead to a far more grievous reckoning at Wen Chaoxuan’s hands.

Better to endure this relatively painless blow, for the bodies of cultivators were, after all, forged to be exceptionally sturdy.

‘This unruly disciple has brought shame upon himself; please pardon his disgraceful display.’

Seeing Lin Langyao’s compliance, Wen Chaoxuan let out a cold laugh, lowered his hand, and turned back to nod at the assembled crowd.

His casual demeanor suggested he had just disciplined not the cultivation world’s foremost expert, but a mere mischievous child.

All those present could not help but ponder the sheer might of Wen Chaoxuan, who could so effortlessly bring such an arrogant and unruly figure as Lin Langyao to heel.

Having personally experienced the formidable pressure of Wen Chaoxuan’s sword intent, their hearts were now awash with an indescribable blend of envy and jealousy.

They marveled, wondering how this master and disciple had cultivated such power, each proving to be an unparalleled expert in their own right.

With this thought, the patriarch of the cultivation family, who had arrived with a clear objective, could not help but lower his voice a few shades, bowing respectfully to Wen Chaoxuan.

‘Sword Master Wen,’ he began, ‘I am Lu Wenhan of the Jiuyuan Lu Clan, the current patriarch of the Lu Family Manor.’

Wen Chaoxuan furrowed his brow.

‘The Lu Clan,’ he mused, ‘I believe I have heard of them.’

Though spoken casually, the words struck a chord with the listener.

The Lu Clan, a cultivation family that dominated the northern lands, a behemoth whose mere stir could inspire dread in countless cultivators, was dismissed by Wen Chaoxuan with a simple ‘heard of,’ inevitably sparking Manor Lord Lu’s displeasure.

What they did not know was that Wen Chaoxuan had lived in seclusion for eons, and after his reincarnation, he had been engrossed in arduous closed-door cultivation, truly knowing nothing of the cultivation world’s people or affairs.

Indeed, to even elicit the words ‘heard of’ from him was, in itself, an exceptionally high form of acknowledgment.

Lu Wenhan suppressed his rising anger and continued: ‘I have heard that Sword Master Wen shares old ties with Sect Leader Li, and Sect Leader Li himself has attested to Sword Master Wen’s upright and honorable character.

I have a matter that requires impartial judgment, and I wonder if I might humbly request Sword Master Wen to preside over its justice.’

Old Sect Leader Li’s heart suddenly plummeted, realizing he was being brazenly used as a convenient banner.

He hastily interjected, ‘Manor Lord Lu, you mustn’t… pray, reconsider your words!’

Wen Chaoxuan cast a peculiar glance at the old man, whose hair and beard were entirely white, then seemed to recognize him.

‘Is that you?’ he inquired.

Old Sect Leader Li nodded helplessly.

Wen Chaoxuan’s expression softened slightly as he addressed Lu Wenhan: ‘Speak plainly, if you have something to say; there’s no need for circumlocution.’

Wen Chaoxuan could, in fact, already surmise that any matter requiring his impartial judgment would almost certainly involve Lin Langyao.

As expected, no sooner had he finished speaking than Lu Wenhan cast a cold smile at the suspended Lin Langyao.

That smile seemed laced with a potent mix of emotions, causing Wen Chaoxuan’s brow to furrow instantly.

Lin Langyao, however, seemed to recall something specific, as a cold sweat immediately slicked his back.

He frantically shrieked, ‘Master, don’t listen to his baseless accusations!’

Lu Wenhan retorted, ‘Oh, baseless accusations, you say? Pavilion Master Lin—was the innocent life of my unjustly deceased father also a baseless accusation?’

Li Wuwei, standing nearby, simply closed his eyes, as if he had long anticipated Lu Wenhan would raise this very issue.

The other patriarchs and sect leaders, their expressions grim, seemed on the verge of speaking but ultimately held their tongues.

Only Wen Chaoxuan and Lu Wenhan remained locked in a silent gaze, neither blinking.

Lu Wenhan, steeling himself against the inherent fear of a true powerhouse, drew a bronze mirror from his sleeve and cast it onto the ground.

With his neck stiffened, he challenged, ‘With this artifact as proof, Pavilion Master Lin, do you dare to deny it?’

It was a Tracing Mirror, a creation of the artifact refiners from the Heavenly Work Pavilion.

Such mirrors adorned the important chambers throughout the Lu Family Manor.

This remarkable artifact could sense spiritual energy fluctuations and automatically record external events.

Its exorbitant cost rendered it virtually unobtainable for ordinary cultivators, even for a thousand pieces of gold.

Only affluent noble families like the Lu Clan could afford to deploy them with such lavishness.

This seemingly innocuous yet magical artifact now appeared to be Lin Langyao’s damning evidence.

All eyes converged on the ground where the Tracing Mirror, sensing the spiritual energy that awakened it, began to hum, emitting a faint blue luminescence.

Then, with a sudden burst, a beam of light shot forth, projecting a vivid memory scene into the vast expanse of the pavilion.

The scene depicted Lin Langyao, wielding his Azure Cloud Sword, a stark contrast to his current disheveled state.

In that memory, he was in his prime, his robes billowing like streaks of silver lightning.

He forcefully kicked open a door, and silhouetted against the light of the now-gaping doorway, he brandished his sword and roared, ‘Old geezer, I’ll take your dog’s life right now!’

Within the room stood a plump old man, cradling something in his hands.

Upon turning to see Lin Langyao, he recoiled as if beholding Yama or a Rakshasa, his face contorting in terror.

He instantly dropped his possession and scrambled to flee.

However, how could an old man possibly outrun the cultivation world’s foremost expert?

Lin Langyao, with a single arrow-like stride, pursued him out of the projected scene.

A moment later, a tumultuous cacophony erupted, followed by the old man’s agonizing scream of ‘Ah!’

Then, the light curtain fell silent.

A profound silence descended upon the pavilion.