The Keen Eye of Zhang Jingya

“I surmise, Junior Brother, that you possess some crucial intelligence which must be delivered to the Enforcement Hall of the Dao Gate Sect.”

“Please follow me, Junior Brother; I am intimately familiar with this path.”

The Enforcement Hall held an exceptionally significant position within the Xuantian Dao Sect, serving as its very cornerstone.

With the sole exception of the Shadow Sect, every other sect maintained its own Enforcement Hall.

Its duties encompassed overseeing all sect laws, great and small, discerning right from wrong, and upholding the order and prestige of the sect, acting as an unyielding bulwark for its protection.

The Dao Gate Sect’s Enforcement Hall, in particular, stood out as a preeminent example among them.

Possessing immense authority, it functioned almost as half the brain of the Xuantian Dao Sect.

Many critical decisions within the sect were inseparable from its involvement and strategic planning.

Lin Xingjian had previously visited the Dao Gate Sect’s Enforcement Hall.

In fact, Lin Xingjian had delivered intelligence to the Dao Gate Sect’s Enforcement Hall before, at Yao Guang’s behest.

This time, naturally, was no exception.

He cast a helpless glance at Zhang Jingya, then resignedly followed behind her.

Zhang Jingya moved with graceful, light steps, her figure lithe and elegant, exuding myriad charms; though she appeared to stroll leisurely, her pace was in no way slower than an ordinary person’s.

“Speaking of which, Junior Brother, I haven’t yet asked for your name.”

Zhang Jingya turned slightly, her gaze, full of life, fixed on Lin Xingjian.

Within her curiosity, a peculiar undercurrent of emotion lay hidden.

“Uh, Lin Xingjian.”

Lin Xingjian paused for a moment, startled, before replying.

“Lin Xingjian, is it? A fine name, indeed, one that carries the essence of the Sword Dao.”

“Is this your true name?”

Zhang Jingya’s sudden question exploded in Lin Xingjian’s ears like a clap of thunder.

His heart pounded wildly, threatening to leap from his throat.

Yet, Lin Xingjian forced himself to appear composed, his face adopting the innocent, harmless look of a rabbit.

“Senior Sister Zhang, what do you mean by that?”

Lin Xingjian strove to keep his voice calm and natural, but the slight tremor in his final words betrayed the tension and panic churning within him.

It was like a ripple on a tranquil lake, impossible to conceal.

This, of course, was Lin Xingjian’s true name.

He had originally intended to use an alias to conceal his identity, but realizing he would soon have to present himself to the Enforcement Hall, he knew his true name would eventually be required.

“Was my question too abrupt? It’s merely a simple deduction.”

“Junior Brother Lin, when I asked for your name, you hesitated for a fraction of a second.”

“Though brief, an ordinary person typically wouldn’t hesitate when asked their name, yet you did. Your hesitation indirectly suggests you were deliberating and weighing your options.”

“Presumably, you are a cultivator who frequently uses aliases or avoids using their true name. However, within our Xuantian Dao Sect, no cultivator from any sect needs to constantly employ an alias.”

Zhang Jingya explained, unhurriedly.

Lin Xingjian felt a sudden chill creep up his spine, and cold sweat instantly drenched his clothes.

Zhang Jingya narrowed her eyes slightly, pressing her advantage.

“After much thought, and considering how you refrained from retaliating despite being humiliated just now, combined with your ghostly movements, I have already surmised your origins.”

“The Shadow Sect, am I right?”

Her voice rose slightly, imbued with certainty.

As she uttered the name of the sect Lin Xingjian belonged to, Zhang Jingya’s tone grew subtly colder, and a fleeting hint of coolness flickered in her eyes, reflecting the silhouette of a faithless man.

Her gaze became vacant, lost in memory, and her expression twisted slightly.

“Mm… mm, it is indeed the Shadow Sect.”

Lin Xingjian nodded sheepishly, understanding that further concealment would be futile now.

Zhang Jingya’s mind was remarkably astute.

Having already guessed, she must have been absolutely certain.

The Shadow Sect’s existence was relatively unfamiliar to many newly initiated disciples, yet among those with higher status within the sect, or within the Dao Gate Sect itself, some were still aware of its presence.

The Shadow Sect had always operated with secrecy, yet it had never deliberately hidden its own existence.

Its purpose was to instill a sense of apprehension towards the Xuantian Dao Sect among other sects.

In times past, the Shadow Sect boasted a multitude of experts and formidable strength, holding a pivotal position within the Xuantian Dao Sect, truly a pillar of its foundation.

However, over the preceding decade, a significant portion of its heritage was abruptly severed, leading to the rapid decline and gradual disappearance of the sect, much like a shooting star streaking across the night sky, vanishing in an instant.

Otherwise, far more cultivators would likely be aware of the Shadow Sect today.

“The Shadow Sect, you say… Then, Junior Brother, do you happen to know a man surnamed Zhong from the Shadow Sect?” Zhang Jingya spoke again, but immediately corrected herself, “Oh, or perhaps it was just an alias.”

Her voice trembled slightly, and a complex expression settled upon her face.

There was both anticipation and a hint of fear.

That man surnamed Zhong was an exceptionally unique presence to her, like a guiding light in her life, yet one that brought with it boundless sorrow.

Lin Xingjian, meanwhile, was drenched in cold sweat.

He cautiously observed Zhang Jingya’s expression, but her face remained impassive as an iceberg, offering him no clues.

“Uh, may I ask, Senior Sister Zhang, if you also know a senior from our Shadow Sect? Could it be that you and a senior from our Shadow Sect had some past grievance?”

Lin Xingjian inquired, feigning composure.

“A grievance? I wouldn’t call it that.”

“It’s simply a matter of love turning into hatred, all for one person.”

Zhang Jingya stated flatly, her gaze cold as she stared at Lin Xingjian.

“However, my first impression of you… bears a certain resemblance to him.”

The woman’s eyes seemed to pierce through him, as if she saw him as the heartless man who had deceived her, and the resentment in her gaze stabbed directly at Lin Xingjian.

Lin Xingjian was utterly captivated by Zhang Jingya’s sharp, star-like eyes.

A bone-chilling coldness shot straight up his spine, impossible to suppress.

Indeed, the faithless man Zhang Jingya spoke of was none other than himself!

He recalled a time when Lin Xingjian had accepted a commission from the Shadow Sect, and its target had been Zhang Jingya.

At that time, Lin Xingjian was fresh out of the gate, brimming with youthful vigor and recklessness.

The task of charming the Immortal Maiden had not yet filled him with much apprehension or unease.

He simply felt it was an ordinary mission, one he could easily accomplish with his own abilities.

Zhang Jingya was, in truth, an exceedingly discerning woman.

She held exceptionally high standards for a man’s talent; in her eyes, every action of an ordinary man could be picked apart for numerous flaws.

“Hmph, do you truly presume to discuss poetry and the Dao with me?”

“Do not waste this maiden’s precious time.”

Upon their first meeting, Zhang Jingya cast a disdainful glance at Lin Xingjian, her eyes full of scorn, and her tone utterly distant.

Lin Xingjian felt quite embarrassed by such straightforward rejection.

However, bound by his mission, he could only offer a forced smile, secretly pondering how he might find a way to impress her.

The man Zhang Jingya favored was never judged by appearance, demeanor, cultivation, or strength.

The one who captured her heart had to be a Confucian cultivator, just like her.

He needed to be capable of composing verses effortlessly and possess vast knowledge.

In her perception, a true scholar should be able to wander freely within the realm of poetry, with every line reaching deep into the heart and every word painting a beautiful imagery.

For Lin Xingjian to win Zhang Jingya’s favor was truly as difficult as ascending to the heavens.

Ever since he entered the Xuantian Dao Sect, he had been nothing more than a martial practitioner, spending his days with sabers, spears, swords, and halberds; how could he possibly understand composing poetry?

The rhythms and cadences of those classical poems sounded like an undecipherable heavenly script to him, cryptic and profound.

Yet, fate often held a dramatic flair.

Lin Xingjian was astonished to discover that this world was vastly different from his original one.

Although the cultivation world and the mortal realm were not devoid of poets and exiled immortals, not a single poem or verse coincided with those in his memory.

In other words.

If he were to recite the poetry from his original world, it would undoubtedly raise no suspicion from any cultivator or literati in this realm.