You Are Not Worth Hearing

There were many factions gathered here, both major sect disciples and independent cultivators.

Yet among them, surprisingly few righteous sects had truly participated.

Take the Qingyun Sword Sect for example. They had received a transmission from their own Sect Master several days earlier, strictly ordering that no disciples were to join the exploration of this ancient ruin.

The message said that the place was strange, that many demonic sects were gathering there, and that the disciples should stay in the sect and cultivate properly, waiting for safer opportunities in the future.

Within Qingyun Sword Sect, the Sect Master’s word was absolute.

So once the transmission arrived, they immediately forbade their disciples from descending the mountain.

Xiao Menglan, meanwhile, lived in comfort in the Moon-Inviting Palace.

Ever since Cao Xueyan entered seclusion several days ago, she had endured a few days of loneliness, but soon adjusted her mood again.

Previously, her cultivation had shown faint signs of breaking through a bottleneck.

And with Cao Xueyan having just broken into Foundation Establishment, she finally felt she could settle her mind and attempt a breakthrough of her own.

However, the fact that Cao Xueyan sealed herself inside her chamber and stayed secluded for so long — that was unusual.

After all, Xiao Menglan knew her disciple’s special constitution very well. Normally, stabilizing her breakthrough should have been extremely fast and effortless.

Could it be that this time, the enlightenment and gain were simply too great, requiring longer time for digestion?

Xiao Menglan was not anxious.

Cao Xueyan was still inside the sect, her aura steady — nothing seemed wrong.

But she had no way of knowing that at this moment, her senior martial sister — the Sect Master herself — had already encountered her disciple outside… under a completely different identity.

Meanwhile, outside the Qingyun mountain range, in an unremarkable valley, people gathered in large numbers.

There were no spirit veins here, and the spiritual energy was thin.

Most herbs did not grow here, and beasts did not bother claiming it as territory.

But now, things were different.

Various factions were gathered here — righteous, demonic, and unaffiliated — their intentions unclear, their gazes sharp and watchful.

They had already been waiting here for several days.

But to cultivators, a few days was nothing — even a casual secluded meditation could last a month or two.

Waiting was not the problem.

The uneasy question in everyone’s heart was this:

What ancient expert’s legacy was hidden here, and why had it attracted so many demonic sects?

Those with sunken eyes, shriveled skin, and corpse-like complexions were clearly disciples of the Ten Thousand Souls Sect.

Originally, they merely extracted the souls of others for cultivation and for refining their secret arts.

Even that was wicked enough.

But in the past few centuries, the Ten Thousand Souls Sect began experimenting on their own souls as well — twisting them, reshaping them.

The result was that their disciples now looked neither human nor ghost.

Another group reeked of blood — some even took out gourds filled with fresh human blood to drink openly, as though it were wine.

These were unmistakably from the Blood Furnace Sect.

Among the demonic path, their infamy was second only to the rising giant — Changsheng Heaven.

There were others wearing black robes adorned with countless bone ornaments.

Each bone piece screamed faintly when the wind blew past — as though the trapped souls inside were crying.

Those were disciples of the White Bone Sect — who enjoyed wearing their victims’ remains as accessories.

As for the ones in uniform ceremonial robes — neither revealing nor fierce-looking — those were disciples of Changsheng Heaven.

Although Changsheng Heaven stood at the top of the demonic path, here they deliberately kept distance from others.

Not because of courtesy — but because when the ruin opened, whoever seized opportunity depended purely on strength.

Few wished to provoke them.

Finally — the true centerpiece entered late: the Hehuan Sect.

Lu Qianyun walked at the front, no longer dressed in her usual provocative attire.

Instead, she wore an elegant celestial gown, her makeup refined, her poise graceful — like a noble lady from a righteous sect.

By contrast, the other Hehuan Sect women behind her still displayed their seductive charm openly.

So much so that Lu Qianyun appeared almost restrained — even out of place.

The Left and Right Protectors stood beside her, their Golden Core pressure released without concealment.

At once, many hidden gazes pulled back in caution.

Cao Xueyan followed beside Lu Qianyun, dressed similarly.

The two of them spoke softly and even laughed at times — like two refined ladies traveling together.

But while Lu Qianyun laughed naturally, Cao Xueyan’s smiles were forced.

Her gaze scanned the crowd repeatedly, searching for a familiar shadow.

Lu Qianyun led the group beneath a cliff wall covered in vines.

At first glance, nothing seemed special.

Until Lu Qianyun took out a bronze mirror.

The vines moved on their own — slowly parting.

Revealing a hidden stone door behind them.

This place had been found before.

Some even tried burning the vines away.

Those who attempted… became the nameless corpses lying by the road.

They had died with their life essence drained — their faces frozen in expressions of ecstatic pleasure.

Such a horrific sight frightened everyone into waiting instead.

Now, the stone door was visible — but remained sealed.

One final step was needed.

Lu Qianyun had planned this.

Two female disciples stepped forward.

Many thought Lu Qianyun would draw a sword and sacrifice them with blood.

But instead — the two girls looked tenderly at one another…

And embraced and kissed passionately before thousands of watching eyes.

Their robes, shoes, and jewelry scattered to the ground.

It was shameless.

Many righteous cultivators turned away, unable to watch.

But the demonic cultivators didn’t care — some even looked bored, as if long numb to desire.

Two hours later, the disciples finally stopped.

And the stone door slowly opened.

A surge of ancient, indescribable aura swept outward.

The ancient ruin — had opened.

In that moment—

Clang!

A sword aura descended from the heavens.

A white-clothed sword immortal walked on air.

Qin Ximo’s face was veiled — yet everyone recognized her instantly.

Even rogue cultivators gasped:

“Qingyun Sword Sect’s master… The Drunken Sword Immortal?! Why is she here?!”

Qin Ximo stood calmly.

She did not even draw her sword.

Yet she was like an unmovable mountain — her presence alone suffocating.

She had been here all along — waiting for the ruin to open.

So many demonic cultivators gathered here — a threat to the world.

This was the perfect chance to cut them down.

Eliminate evil.

Seek opportunity.

Two tasks, one stroke.

Qin Ximo reached for her sword.

But before she could draw it—

A clear voice rose:

“Immortal Qin, may I ask that you sheath your sword?”

It was Lu Qianyun.

Her face calm — though her concealed hand was drenched in cold sweat.

She forced herself to continue:

“I have a proposal. I wonder if Immortal Qin would be willing to hear just one sentence?”

Qin Ximo replied coolly:

“A demonic enchantress has no right to speak to me.

I have no interest in your words.

You are not worthy.”

With that, her sword slid out — just one inch.

But that one inch made the entire world tremble.

Robes split.

Magic tools shook.

It was as though even the heavens feared that inch of cold metal.