Chapter 246
Chapter 246
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 246
Chapter Title: Mount Wudang Conference
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The first day of the conference wrapped up due to the shocking declaration from Kunlun Sect Leader Yu Yu Daoist. Everyone was too worked up for any proper discussion to continue.
The silver lining was that Yu Yu Daoist had merely stepped out of Nanhua Pavilion—he hadn’t abandoned the Wudang Sect entirely.
It meant there was still room for compromise.
Yu Yu Daoist had no desire to abandon Kunlun Mountain and flee, nor did the other Kunlun Sect Daoists. For them, giving up the mountain was a last resort at best.
The day faded into night, and when the conference resumed the next day, one piece of positive news emerged.
Ilseonja—the Zhongnan Sect Leader who had briefly vanished after his sect’s prized sword, the Sword Immortal Ye Dongbin, was stolen—had arrived at Nanhua Pavilion.
Ilseonja offered a wan apology.
“Some urgent business arose at my sect, so I was delayed. I appreciate your understanding.”
One more attendee wouldn’t shift the balance of the conference.
But it was enough to lighten the mood. At the same time, it sparked intense curiosity among the others, rivaling even their interest in the conference’s outcome.
Huashan Sect Leader Seonwuja asked casually.
“I heard the news. Something unfortunate happened at Zhongnan Sect, didn’t it? I trust it’s been resolved?”
Seonwuja’s tone and expression seemed earnest at first glance. But those present quickly picked up on the subtle amusement and intrigue laced in his voice.
Anyone who had risen to sect leader or clan head inevitably knew that relations between Zhongnan Sect and Huashan Sect were strained, whether they wanted to or not.
Ilseonja hemmed and hawed in response.
“...We’ll recover it soon enough.”
“Ahem! I’m sure you will.”
The smile creeping onto Seonwuja’s face deepened slightly.
It wasn’t a smile tinged with sympathy—it was mockery aimed at the fool whose sect’s greatest treasure had been stolen.
Ilseonja, Zhongnan Sect Leader, wasn’t about to let that slide. He replied with a sinister smile of his own.
“Listen here, Seonwuja. You won’t be smiling like that for long.”
“Hah? Who’s smiling? My heart aches for Zhongnan Sect’s loss of its treasure.”
As Seonwuja feigned innocence, Ilseonja whispered.
“No need to play coy. On my way here to Wudang Sect, I ran into one of your Huashan Sect Daoists.”
“A Huashan Sect Daoist? What for?”
“He seemed to have some message to deliver to someone...”
Ilseonja said no more and clamped his mouth shut.
Then he flashed an even more devious smile than Seonwuja’s.
Sure enough, it wasn’t long before a Huashan Sect Daoist stumbled into Nanhua Pavilion’s conference hall, gasping for breath.
Everyone instinctively sensed something serious had happened.
The arriving Daoist was fairly advanced in years, and his skills appeared to have surpassed the Peak Realm threshold.
It was rare for a Peak Realm martial artist to rush out personally just to deliver a message, let alone arrive panting like this.
That was why the sect leaders and clan heads gathered in Nanhua Pavilion merely showed mild interest and didn’t reprimand the intruder from Huashan Sect.
Seonwuja asked his Daoist.
“What’s going on?”
The Huashan Sect Daoist, still heaving, sent a sound transmission to his leader without speaking aloud—a single, terse phrase.
It was undoubtedly to preserve confidentiality. Yet a few people managed to read the message from the shape of his lips.
‘Scripture Pavilion.’
The situation was clear. Huashan Sect’s repository of martial knowledge had been ransacked.
For him to race here with the news, it wasn’t just a book or two gone missing.
If anything, it was even graver than Zhongnan Sect losing the Yeamji Sword.
Huashan Sect Leader Seonwuja rose unsteadily from his seat, dizzy with shock.
“Th-that... something’s come up. Huashan Sect will have to step out of the conference for now. I’ll return as soon as possible.”
Zhongnan Sect Leader Ilseonja, despite losing his sect’s treasured sword, didn’t look too displeased.
He was pleased that Huashan Sect had run into even bigger trouble.
At the same time, the others in the hall felt a creeping unease.
The thefts at Zhongnan Sect and Huashan Sect. Their timing was too coincidental not to raise alarms.
With their own leaders away from their sects even briefly, it felt like thieves might be lurking, ready to snatch their own treasures.
As the sect leaders and clan heads wrestled with anxiety over whether to return to their sects, Dang Mujin and his group exchanged glances.
‘That bastard Nangong Myeong’s getting carried away now that he sees an opportunity.’
‘Just don’t get caught, for heaven’s sake.’
‘If you do get caught somehow, remember—you have zero connection to me.’
The second day’s conference ended in a muddled atmosphere, accomplishing nothing.
*
The third day dragged on just as fruitlessly.
Yu Yu Daoist continued to loudly insist on a preemptive strike against the Demonic Cult, but his arguments fell on deaf ears.
The sect leaders and clan heads gathered at Wudang Sect had spent the past two days meticulously weighing the pros and cons and had already settled on a course of action. Changing a decision once made was no easy feat.
One fortunate point for Yu Yu Daoist: Zhongnan Sect’s Ilseonja had also voiced support for striking the Demonic Cult first.
Not out of concern for Kunlun Sect, of course.
He was simply worried that if Kunlun Sect paved the way and Kongtong Sect fell next, Zhongnan Sect would be right behind them.
If the conference had merely stalled, that would have been one thing—but the leaders couldn’t even focus.
Their minds had wandered to the bean fields ever since hearing about the break-ins at Huashan Sect and Zhongnan Sect.
They were visibly reluctant to stay, just hoping the conference would wrap up quickly.
The Demonic Cult was a threat that might loom in the future, but this nameless thief—now dubbed “Shintu” out of nowhere—was a danger lurking nearby.
As the mood grew awkward, those advocating a preemptive strike on the Demonic Cult—especially Yeongheoja—grew visibly anxious.
It had taken years just to arrange this gathering. Miss this chance, and striking the Demonic Cult before they mobilized would become nearly impossible.
The third day seemed poised to fizzle out amid the heavy air filling Nanhua Pavilion, with no one certain if a fourth day would even happen. Then came footsteps from outside.
Curious eyes turned toward Nanhua Pavilion’s sliding doors.
Yet no one was expected to return to Nanhua Pavilion right now.
Amid the crowd’s rapt attention, two men entered.
Even those who had been bored out of their minds and merely holding their seats shot to their feet.
All eyes locked onto one of the newcomers.
He looked just over fifty.
His face was paler than most, with sharp, slender eyes and thin lips.
The moment they sensed his presence, every hand in Nanhua Pavilion instinctively went to their waists.
They were reaching for their weapons on reflex.
But aside from the Wudang Sect Daoists, everyone’s swords were stored in the guest sword racks. Their empty hands twitched uncertainly at their sides.
No one in the hall knew who this pale-faced man was, yet they couldn’t tear their eyes away.
For one simple reason: his martial prowess felt to have surpassed the Peak Realm experts, firmly in the Transcendent Realm.
Dang Mujin was just as shocked.
‘There’s a Transcendent Realm master who isn’t one of the Six Venerables?’
That left three possibilities.
A hidden elder like Hwaryeon Divine Nun, an unorthodox martial artist, or someone from the Demonic Cult.
‘No, the odds of a hidden elder are low. Someone would have recognized him if so. Which means unorthodox or Demonic Cult.’
As Dang Mujin pondered, the pale-faced man lightly waved a hand.
“Hah. I knew I was late, but I didn’t expect such a warm welcome.”
Geolseon, having heard this, asked. Among the Transcendent Realm masters he knew, this man wasn’t one.
“Who might you be?”
“I am the new Kongtong Sect Leader, So Gyu-un. Back when I wandered north of the Yellow River, they called me the White Night Owl. Call me whatever suits you.”
White Night Owl. It was an oddly fitting moniker.
Yet no one present seemed to have heard of the White Night Owl before.
Wudang Sect Leader Yeongbo Zhenren asked from his seat.
“Pleased to meet you. But it seems no one here knows you. Do you have any way to prove you’re Kongtong Sect’s Leader?”
“Kongtong Sect lacks a proper sect leader’s seal or the like, so without a weapon, all I can show are the Seven Star Palms and Subduing Demon Staff techniques. If anyone wants a spar, we can do it after the conference. Worst case, we can cross swords outside Wudang Sect.”
His confident demeanor bespoke someone well-versed in Kongtong Sect’s arts. Then again, no unorthodox or Demonic Cult martial artist would stroll so casually into Wudang Sect.
Kongtong Sect martial artists often came from unorthodox backgrounds before converting, which made them less known to outsiders.
Even the previous leader, Muryangja, hadn’t been famous until he took the position.
The crowd still harbored some doubts about the White Night Owl but largely set them aside.
Only now did their gazes shift to the man beside him.
A figure with a faint presence, his skills so lackluster it was hard to guess why he was here.
Yet some recognized his face.
Dang Mujin’s group knew him, and so did Yeongbo Zhenren.
Taiyi Sword Sect Leader.
With the previous Taiyi Sword Sect Leader slain on No-gun Mountain, this relatively young man had been forced to inherit the position.
The man Dang Mujin had once sought to kill, only for him to abandon Taiyi Sword Sect and flee.
The White Night Owl introduced him.
“This is Taiyi Sword Sect Leader Yang Gwak. I’m not sure if that title still fits now that Taiyi Sword Sect is gone, but fate brought us together as companions. He seems to be in dire straits, and he knows something I believe you all need to hear.”
Taiyi Sword Sect Leader glared at Dang Mujin. His eyes burned with raw hatred.
The third day had been looping through the same arguments endlessly, with no one stepping forward to speak.
This allowed Taiyi Sword Sect Leader to naturally seize the floor.
“Unlike you all, my attainments are lacking. I’m hardly worthy of being called a martial artist, let alone a sect leader. Yet there’s something you must know, so I’ve come here risking everything.”
Dang Mujin half-rose to speak but held back.
The mood wasn’t right to silence him by force, and curiosity won out—what did he plan to say?
“You’ve all been debating the future based on tales of the Righteous Dragon. But there’s something you need to consider first.”
“What’s that?”
“Coincidentally, I bear a personal grudge against the Righteous Dragon. Over the past few years, I’ve pursued his past deeds to learn what kind of man he is.”
Unexpectedly, Taiyi Sword Sect Leader didn’t sugarcoat his actions. If anything, he was brutally candid and straightforward. Digging into someone’s past out of grudge.
That very honesty drew the crowd’s attention even more.
Dang Mujin raised an eyebrow at Taiyi Sword Sect Leader, who met his gaze without flinching this time. He stared back with wide eyes.
This wasn’t the look of someone scheming to live luxuriously after dragging Dang Mujin to ruin.
It was the gaze of one charging toward mutual destruction, the eyes of an assassin willing to sacrifice his life for even the slightest wound on Dang Mujin.
Taiyi Sword Sect Leader began his tale.
“First, let’s start with the story of the Righteous Dragon’s master.”