One Sword Freezes Fourteen Provinces, Part 2

The five lofty lotus platforms in the plaza shattered into rubble in an instant—

Yun Yao’s sword, a culmination of her mastery, directed nine-tenths of its might at Bi Xiao.

The remaining tenth, scattered as aftershock, was enough to shatter the spiritual barriers of cultivators below Tribulation stage.
Fuyu Palace’s elders were too busy saving themselves, while their disciples fled in disarray.
After one sword, they were strewn across the ground, a scene of utter chaos.

Xiao Jiushi, foreseeing the disaster, had fled fastest, whisking Jiushi Valley’s elders and disciples to safety—landing, coincidentally, near Yun Yao.

As for Xuangjian Sect, though known for their straightforward, stubborn nature, their lead elder, on good terms with Xiao Jiushi, followed suit without hesitation, teleporting their disciples down with him.

Thus, among the five platforms, only Fuyu Palace suffered catastrophe.

“What’s this called?”
“It’s called: the higher you stand, the harder you fall.”

Hearing the sarcastic banter, Yun Yao turned to see Ding Xiao weaving through Qianmen’s disciples toward her.

Leading the group was Sect Leader Chen Qingmu, followed by Tang Yin, Chu Tianchen, and other core elders.
Their expressions were dominated by shock—evidently, the name “Yun Yaojiu” had left a deep impression, and her transformation into Qianmen’s highest-ranking martial uncle stunned them.

Chen Qingmu, ignoring the wreckage and disheveled Fuyu Palace cultivators nearby, stopped before Yun Yao and bowed deeply.

“Disciple Chen Qingmu kowtows to Little Martial Uncle! We welcome your emergence from seclusion!!”

“Disciples kowtow to Little Martial Uncle Ancestor…”
The elders and disciples behind quickly followed, kneeling in a dark mass before Yun Yao.

Other sect cultivators, roused from the awe of her earth-shattering sword, offered sword salutes.

The plaza echoed with a tidal wave of reverence, like a surging sea.

Unlike Bi Xiao, whose status relied on longevity without notable deeds, Qianmen’s Seven Prodigies were legendary. Little Martial Uncle Ancestor, in particular, had earned the immortal domain’s awe three hundred years ago with “One Sword Suppressing the Demon Realm.”
This wave of acclaim far surpassed the earlier one, far more sincere.

Amid the resounding echoes, Fuyu Palace’s elders and disciples rose from the ruins, their faces ashen.

“Quick! Check on the Ancestor!”
Wen Buyan’s voice was low and urgent. Seeing the chaos and Bi Xiao’s bloodied, unconscious form, his sword-gripping hand trembled, nearly driven to a life-or-death clash with Qianmen in his humiliated fury.

But before he could act, a weak mental transmission seized him.

“Do not… act rashly…” Bi Xiao’s voice was faint. “Yun Yao… is beyond us… The sacred relic is confirmed… Preserve our strength… plan for the long term…”

Bi Xiao finished and fainted completely.

Wen Buyan’s face shifted, then he gritted his teeth. “Support the Ancestor back for recovery!”

“…”
Yun Yao glanced at Bi Xiao’s figure, supported by disciples, raising a surprised brow.

This old dog was far more resilient than she’d expected.

She’d thought her sword would take at least half his life, but it seemed lighter than anticipated.

Recalling Mu Hanyuan’s “death and rebirth” and past battles with demonic cultivators’ robust bodies, Yun Yao narrowed her eyes at the retreating figures.
Could it be… demonic cultivation?

With Mu Hanyuan and Mu Jiutian’s “major issues” resolved, she needed to root out Fuyu Palace’s dao-demon hybrids soon.

As Yun Yao pondered, Wen Buyan, his purple robe dust-covered, approached. His face twitched, but after a long pause, amidst his disciples’ confused murmurs, he bowed.

“Unaware it was Qianmen’s Little Martial Uncle Ancestor, this junior has offended greatly. Please forgive me, Senior.”

“…”

Yun Yao said nothing, lightly licking her teeth as she studied him.
His etiquette was impeccable, especially given that her sword had thoroughly humiliated Fuyu Palace. To maintain such composure earned him a shred of her respect.
Unfortunately, Qianmen wasn’t as shameless as them. Without solid evidence of Fuyu Palace’s dao-demon practices, she couldn’t act.

With that thought, Yun Yao smirked faintly. “Rise.”

“!”
Fuyu Palace disciples’ faces darkened further.

Someone muttered resentfully, “Bullying with seniority.”

“?”
Yun Yao spun back. “If I truly bullied with seniority, your disrespect alone would let me raze Fuyu Palace to the ground—believe it or not!?”

“…!”
The killing intent hit like a wave. The disciple’s face paled, knees buckling as he collapsed, scrambling back.

Wen Buyan’s expression shifted. He turned, voice cold. “Disrespect to a senior—take him away and punish per palace rules!”

“Palace Master?! I’m innocent—”

Before the disciple could finish, Wen Buyan waved, and two elders dragged him off.

Yun Yao retracted her gaze coolly.
Her goal wasn’t to target one disciple.

As expected, after disciplining his own and quelling murmurs, Wen Buyan turned back, bowing again.
“As Fuyu Palace’s master and overseer of the Immortal Alliance, I cannot tolerate violations or disregard for rules. Please understand, Senior.”

Yun Yao’s eyelid twitched—she knew his game and turned to leave.

But Wen Buyan’s voice quickened. “I trust Senior upholds ancestral virtues and wouldn’t shield faults. I implore Little Martial Uncle Ancestor to order the stripping of Qianmen Daoist Mu Hanyuan’s crown and subject him to thunder punishment, upholding the immortal sects’ rites!”

“—”

Yun Yao gritted her teeth, freezing before the sects.

Hundreds of years ago, as Qianmen’s little junior sister, backed by her master and six senior siblings, she feared nothing—wreaking havoc, stirring trouble, offending anyone, ignoring all rules…
Back then, she’d have ignored him and walked away.
What rites and rules? Why should her sole disciple face a near-fatal thunder punishment for mere emotions?

But those days were gone.

Now, she was Qianmen’s head, a teacher to the world.
Her every word and deed represented more than herself.

Under her black sleeve, Yun Yao’s fingertips nearly pierced her palm.

She took a deep breath, voice hoarse. “Mu Hanyuan blocked a heavenly tribulation for me. Punishment now is inappropriate. This matter will wait…”

“Senior Yun!” Wen Buyan pressed closer, interrupting.

But before he could continue, the snow-robed figure seated on the ground finished meditating, stowed his zither, and rose. Mu Hanyuan knelt before Yun Yao, his crown pristine, black hair flowing, voice calm.
“This disciple is willing to face thunder punishment.”

“You—”

Yun Yao turned, furious.

Xiao Jiushi stepped between her and the crowd, laughing heartily. “Why so angry, Martial Uncle? I trust Fuyu Palace, as the head of immortal sects, isn’t targeting Lord Hanyuan out of spite, right?”

Wen Buyan’s face shifted, forcing a smile. “Of course not. The immortal domain’s rites must be upheld. As Qianmen Daoist, Lord Hanyuan cannot indulge in emotions—it’s an ancient rule.”

“So, if Lord Hanyuan hasn’t indulged, he needn’t lose his crown or face punishment and can remain the Daoist?”

“Everyone saw him in the Purification Pool,” Wen Buyan’s eyes chilled. “Is Valley Master Xiao, recalling past mentorship, trying to excuse Qianmen and Lord Hanyuan?”

“How could I? But Jiushi Valley’s centuries-old legacy includes a method to sever emotional threads, extinguish the seven emotions, and cut the six desires. This way, Lord Hanyuan needn’t lose his crown and can retain his Daoist title.”

Yun Yao paused, giving Xiao Jiushi an odd look.
But he only smiled at Wen Buyan.

Wen Buyan’s face changed. “That won’t do!”

“Strange. Lord Hanyuan hasn’t committed heinous acts. If his emotions can be severed, upholding the rites, why does Palace Master Wen cling to punishment?” Xiao Jiushi fanned himself, turning to the sects with feigned confusion. “I’m puzzled—is Palace Master Wen upholding rites or just eager to punish Lord Hanyuan?”

“…!”

Xiao Jiushi, well-liked in the immortal domain, and Mu Hanyuan, cherished by smaller sects, drew supportive voices. Wen Buyan’s face grew uglier.

But amidst the agreement, a cold voice fell.

“I refuse.”

“…”
“?”

Yun Yao, Xiao Jiushi, Wen Buyan—all leaders stared in disbelief.
At the center of their gazes, Mu Hanyuan knelt before Yun Yao.
Looking deeply at her, he bowed, forehead to the ground. “Hanyuan will never sever emotions and is willing to face thunder punishment. I beg Master to decree it.”

“…”
Yun Yao froze.

Xiao Jiushi’s eyes flickered, his expression complex.

Qianmen’s Chen Qingmu and others paled. Disciples like Ding Xiao dared not speak before elders, but Chen Qingmu rushed behind Mu Hanyuan. “Lord Hanyuan, thunder punishment torments body and soul day and night to strip the crown! You—”

“Hanyuan’s resolve is set,” Mu Hanyuan rose from his bow, kneeling upright, eyes fixed on Yun Yao. “I beg Master to decree it.”

“Fine… fine.” Yun Yao suppressed the tremor in her voice, turning away, refusing to look at her infuriating disciple. “Let him go!”

Wen Buyan, overjoyed, moved to have Mu Hanyuan taken.
But Xiao Jiushi spun, blocking him. “With Martial Uncle and Fuyu Palace at odds, to avoid accusations of retaliation, let Jiushi Valley administer the thunder punishment.”

Wen Buyan’s face flashed with urgency, about to speak.

“Hm?” Xiao Jiushi smiled, turning slightly. “Does Palace Master Wen have something to say?”

“…”
Under Xiao Jiushi’s lightning-sharp gaze, Wen Buyan swallowed his words, forcing a smile. “Not at all. This is excellent.”

Jiushi Valley disciples stepped forward, respectfully yet hesitantly escorting Mu Hanyuan from the plaza.

As Mu Hanyuan passed Yun Yao, her fingers trembled under her sleeve. Unable to hold back, she transmitted, “Why are you so stubborn?!”

The snow-robed figure paused.
Moments later, Yun Yao heard a soft chuckle. “Master taught me to embrace the world’s joys and sorrows. Now that I feel them, would Master turn me back into cold stone?”

“…”

Yun Yao stood stunned.
His figure vanished from the plaza, and the sects dispersed after salutes.

From a distant peak, the thunder punishment field rumbled faintly.

Yun Yao’s lashes trembled, closing slowly.

“When did you ever go so soft for anyone?” Xiao Jiushi’s annoying voice approached from behind.

Yun Yao ignored him.

He laughed. “You’re not planning to stand here all day and night, are you?”

“…”

“No, knowing you, you’re more likely to sneak out at midnight to take his thunder for him.”

Yun Yao: “.”
She turned, expressionless. “Do you know how annoying you are?”

Xiao Jiushi paused, then laughed. “Only you in the immortal domain would say that. And compared to your old self, I prefer this unmasked, lively Martial Uncle.”

“…”

“But I’m curious. Mu Hanyuan’s temperament and actions are worlds apart from yours. Why do you favor him so?”

“Because he’s my disciple,” Yun Yao gritted her teeth. “My only disciple.”

“Just that?”

“?”
Yun Yao turned, baffled, staring at Xiao Jiushi.

His smile faded, his gaze sharp as a blade, piercing through facades to her core.
Yun Yao disliked being scrutinized by outsiders, frowning and stepping back. “What are you looking at?”

“…Nothing.” Xiao Jiushi paused, sighing.

Yun Yao grew more confused but recalled something. “That talk of severing emotions…”

“Hm?” Xiao Jiushi’s smile returned. “What about it?”

Yun Yao glared. “It’s impossible, isn’t it?”

He laughed. “As expected, Martial Uncle knows me.”

“I don’t know you—I know no cultivator in Qianmen Realm could do that,” she scoffed. “Yet you dared make that claim. If Mu Hanyuan hadn’t refused, what would you have done?”

Xiao Jiushi looked at her, his gaze lingering, then turned with a smile. “It’s something my master taught me.”

“?”
Yun Yao glanced at her Naihe Sword. “…Fourth Senior Brother?”

“Yes. Back then, I was trapped by love. He said he could sever my emotional threads and asked if I was willing.”

Yun Yao struggled to imagine her stern, rigid Fourth Senior Brother joking about such an impossible feat.
“What did you say?”

“I said I was willing.”

“And then?”

“Then…”
Xiao Jiushi stopped a few meters away, turning back, smiling yet with distant eyes. “Master said, the moment I agreed, my emotional threads for that person began to sever.”

Yun Yao froze.
Uncontrollably, her gaze drifted to the thunder-rumbling direction she’d tried to ignore.

Xiao Jiushi watched the black-clad girl’s dazed profile, his smile fading.

After a long pause, he turned, hands behind his back, and left.

“Your disciple, unlike me, is so deeply rooted in love, so unshakable he refuses to sever it—
You’ll have headaches ahead.”

Mu Hanyuan endured the day-and-night thunder punishment.

When he left the punishment field, his white robes looked soaked in blood.
Not an inch of him was unscathed.

Yun Yao winced at the sight.

Qianmen’s disciples had returned to the sect under Chen Qingmu’s orders. Yun Yao had informed him about Mu Jiutian, spending immense effort to stop her bearded nephew’s repeated sobs. She finally persuaded Mu Jiutian to seek treatment from the Phoenix Clan, escorted personally by Chen Qingmu to the East Sea.

Yun Yao stayed behind with Ding Xiao, He Fengming, and a few disciples. Days later, they boarded an immortal vessel, carrying her and Mu Hanyuan back to Qianmen for his recovery.

Even with Yun Yao’s Tribulation-stage cultivation healing him tirelessly, it took four days for Mu Hanyuan to regain clarity.

He awoke at midnight.
He Fengming and Ding Xiao were on watch, the vessel gliding through a starry night, clouds like ink strokes amid twinkling stars, resembling a shimmering riverbed.

On the patch of robe he leaned against, Mu Hanyuan caught a familiar faint fragrance.

“…Master.” He smiled softly, closing his weary eyes.

“Master? Your master’s already been infuriated to death by you.” Yun Yao, sensing his stirring, remained stiff, letting him lean.

Four days ago, he’d returned like a bloodied gourd. She feared a single poke might kill him, so she held back her anger and curses.

His voice was hoarse, yet carried a faint smile. “Master is unmatched in the world. You wouldn’t die.”

“You’re still laughing?”
Yun Yao sneered, glancing at the youth pitifully leaning on her shoulder. “You think enduring this near-fatal punishment ends it? Do you know Chu Tianchen’s faction is waiting to settle scores back at the sect?”

“I know.”

“You know and still laugh?” Yun Yao nearly ground her teeth.

“Seeing Master, I can’t help it.”

“—!”
Yun Yao raised her hand, itching to smack her rebellious disciple.
But hearing his weak, labored breaths, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“Fine, we’ll settle this when you’re healed,” she hissed.

“Good.” Mu Hanyuan closed his eyes, lips curving.

“And…”
The vessel neared Qianmen, its silhouette faintly visible in the dawn.

Yun Yao’s gaze grew complex, staring ahead.
After a pause, she continued, “Back at the sect, if they ask about the person in the Purification Pool’s emotional visions…”

Ding Xiao and He Fengming, steering the vessel: “…!”
We heard nothing, nothing at all.

Yun Yao softened her voice. “Don’t admit it.”

As long as he didn’t confess, no one could convict him of “improper” feelings.

Mu Hanyuan fell silent in the night for a long time. “…Good.”

Qianmen, being their home sect, was far more lenient than Fuyu Palace’s schemers.
Days later, when Mu Hanyuan recovered to sixty or seventy percent—able to walk and barely wield a sword—the Elder Council summoned him to Fengtian Peak for questioning.

Chu Tianchen’s faction, brimming with resentment, ensured every elder with a council seat was present in Mingde Hall, along with most elite disciples standing behind their elders.

Yun Yao sat at the head but was largely there for formality.

Until the final matter—
At the council’s order, Mu Hanyuan stepped into the hall before dozens of Qianmen disciples.

…He’d grown thinner.

Yun Yao’s eyelid twitched.
To avoid suspicion, she hadn’t visited him since returning. Seeing him now, his robes hung looser, his frame gaunt, pale, and ethereal compared to his former refined grace.

“Unworthy disciple, kneel,” Chu Tianchen, leading the council below, declared sternly.

Yun Yao’s eyelid twitched again.
As Mu Hanyuan began to kneel, she couldn’t hold back, rising. “Hold on.”

All eyes turned to her.

She tapped the armrest. “If I recall, Elder Chu is a fourth-generation disciple?”

Chu Tianchen bowed respectfully. “Yes, Little Martial Uncle Ancestor.”

“Then Mu Hanyuan is a generation above you,” Yun Yao said lazily. “Making him kneel—does that fit reason or propriety?”

Chu Tianchen straightened. “As a disciple, it would be improper. But as chief of the Elder Council, it’s my duty to oversee all disciples. Regardless of seniority, violators must face equal punishment.”

“Oh? And what’s Mu Hanyuan’s crime? Is losing the Daoist title a crime?” Yun Yao set down her arm, sitting upright, her lazy air replaced by a formless sword intent chilling Mingde Hall.

Chu Tianchen’s forehead beaded with sweat, but he held firm. “First, bearing the demon seed’s stigma, tarnishing Qianmen’s reputation.
Second, as Daoist, committing the fault of emotions, ruining our name before the world—”

Bang!

Yun Yao, unable to bear it, slammed the table. “Pinning such laughable charges on a fellow disciple—what kind of dog—elder are you!?”

Catching her almost-slipped insult, Chu Tianchen’s mouth twitched, but he bowed, suppressing anger. “The first two charges can be overlooked, but the last—”
He turned, glaring at Mu Hanyuan.

“As a disciple, daring to harbor improper feelings for your master—what forgiveness for this crime!”

“…!”

The hall erupted.

Though rumors of the “Daoist’s emotions” had shaken the immortal domain, hearing it stated openly stunned Qianmen’s elders and disciples.
Those close to Chen Qingmu, led by Tang Yin, stood frowning. “The domain’s rumors are rampant, Elder Chu. You take them as truth? Such reckless words—think carefully.”

“If someone acts, can’t I speak?” Chu Tianchen’s cold gaze fixed on Mu Hanyuan.

The disciples’ section buzzed.
At that moment, after some mental exchange with Tang Yin, Chen Jianxue stood, stepping into the hall, biting her lip. “The figure in Brother Hanyuan’s vision was actually…”

“I love Master,” Mu Hanyuan said, his calm voice like thunder silencing the hall.

In Yun Yao’s shocked, furious gaze, he knelt gracefully, his gaunt frame like jade.

“I love Master,” he repeated clearly. “Even through a hundred deaths, I have no regrets.”