Chapter 14: A Year Later

Qing Chen had become more handsome after reaching the Nascent Soul Realm, but except for some changes in his height and appearance, his eyes and hair were still the same.

Every movement of his arms, legs, and fingers seemed to be in harmony with nature. Qing Chen was in the secret garden, cleaning the leaves that had dried and accumulated in the garden.

The spiritual energy in the secret garden had also decreased; his breakthrough might have been the cause.

In the future, I could open this place for servants in the valley.

[+1 Harmony Point]

[+1 Harmony Point]

He had been unable to get enough sleep last night. Whenever he closed his eyes, the dead body of that assassin visited him in his dreams, tormenting him. But who was Qing Chen? He was a great cultivator, one who stands at the peak of Outer Sect strength.

He stubbornly remained on the bed and kept his eyes closed. The scene of him killing that assassin repeated continuously. The headless body walked towards him and placed its separated head in the hands of Qing Chen. Qing Chen even laughed inside his heart.

He knew this was just his brain playing tricks, and with time it would go away. But he was unable to control his consciousness. In the landscape of his dreams, he was powerless to resist.

Great cause? What did he mean by that?

Qing Chen again delved into the memories of when he had met that assassin. The assassin had said something about a great cause.

The following months brought little clarity but many questions. Qing Chen maintained his duties as a member of the valley. He cultivated diligently, attended meetings with Feng Liang, and kept his interactions with him light and unassuming. Yet behind his serene demeanor, he was watchful—observing, listening.

At first, there was nothing out of the ordinary. The outer sect remained as it always was—a bustling place of learning, sparring, and ambition. Yet slowly, like a trickle turning into a stream, rumors began to surface.

Disciples had gone missing.

An elder’s closed-door cultivation had ended abruptly, with whispers of his Qi being disrupted by an external force. The outer sect guards reported strange figures on the periphery of their patrols, only for them to vanish into the shadows before anyone could act.

And then there were the dreams.

Even so, one question persisted: What great cause could justify such madness?

A year passed. Qing Chen’s cultivation progressed smoothly despite the turmoil in his heart.

The peace of the outer sect was beginning to fray at the edges. Qing Chen noticed it in the way disciples whispered to one another in hushed tones, in the unspoken tension that hung in the air during sect gatherings.

One evening, as he walked through the valley’s quiet pathways, Qing Chen overheard a conversation between two disciples.

“Do you think it’s true?” one of them whispered.

“What’s true?”

“The rumors about the assassins. They say the sect has made enemies—powerful ones. Outer sect disciples are disappearing because of them.”

Qing Chen didn’t stop to listen further. He continued walking, his expression unreadable, but his mind churned with unease. If the rumors were true, then the assassin he had killed might have been just the beginning.

That night, Qing Chen sat under the stars once more, the little fur creature curled up beside him. He stared at the vast expanse above, his thoughts heavy with questions.

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Who was behind this organization? What did they want with the sect? And how many more lives would be lost before the truth was revealed?

For the first time, Qing Chen allowed himself to feel the weight of his responsibility—not just as a cultivator but as someone who had seen the shadow of this hidden threat firsthand. He clenched his fists, his resolve hardening.

“The sect may not know what’s coming,” he murmured, “but I won’t be caught off guard.”

Little Fur stirred at his side, its small eyes blinking up at him in curiosity. Qing Chen reached down, stroking its soft fur with a faint smile.

“I’ll observe for a while longer.”

“Junior Brother Qing, if you go outside the valley at night, please keep checking that your surroundings are crowded,” Feng Liang advised Qing Chen. They were both sitting in a tavern, with the window facing the streets of the Outer Sect.

“I have heard the rumors, but are they really true?” Qing Chen asked, fear dripping from his voice.

“Yes, they are true. What I am about to tell you is confidential, so do not discuss this with anyone, especially not with Mu QingFeng.”

“Senior Brother, please do not call the Valley Master’s name like this. It seems disrespectful.”

“The sect has already sent many inner sect elders, and many assassins have already perished at the hands of our elders. But I think, Junior Brother, this is just the first wave, and the next wave might even make Inner Sect elders retreat.” Feng Liang ignored what Qing Chen had said about the Valley Master and continued.

“It’s a good thing that Brother Bai and Senior Brother Zhao have both left the sect.”

“Are you crazy? This is not the time to be thinking about other people’s lives. They both are capable enough. But you are not.” Feng Liang took a deep breath and sat upright. “But if you ask me for help, I might take you with me when I leave the sect.”

Qing Chen wanted to slap this guy. Who told Feng Liang that when he smiled like this, he looked good?

“But are you not weaker than Senior Brother Zhao?” Qing Chen hit the nail on Feng Liang’s head.

Although his real cultivation had reached the peak of the Golden Core Realm, for the elders and disciples of the sect, Feng Liang was only one more Foundation Building cultivator.

Qing Chen couldn’t help but smirk inwardly at Feng Liang’s offended expression. The senior brother was quick to puff up his chest and retort, “Weaker than Senior Brother Zhao? I might not flaunt my strength, but I am far more resourceful. Strength isn’t just cultivation level, Junior Brother; it’s about using your wits and knowing when to strike.”

Qing Chen hid his amusement behind a neutral expression and sipped his tea. The tavern was lively, filled with the chatter of disciples and the clinking of cups, yet the undercurrent of unease from the rumors couldn’t be ignored.

Feng Liang leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Let me give you a piece of advice, Junior Brother. The sect is not as invincible as it appears. We’re on the brink of something far larger than what you or I can imagine. If you’re smart, you’ll think about your future now. When the next wave comes, loyalty won’t save you—only preparation will.”

Qing Chen placed his cup down and met Feng Liang’s gaze. “And what about you, Senior Brother? What will you do when the next wave arrives?”

A fleeting shadow passed over Feng Liang’s face. He quickly masked it with a grin, but Qing Chen had already caught the crack in his composure. “Oh, don’t you worry about me. I’ll survive, as I always do. The question is, will you?”

Qing Chen leaned back, feigning nonchalance. “Perhaps. Or perhaps I’ll stay and see this through. After all, what’s the point of cultivation if we abandon our home at the first sign of trouble?”

Feng Liang opened his mouth to argue, but the sound of raised voices from the street outside interrupted him. The two exchanged a glance before rising from their seats and approaching the tavern’s window.

Outside, a small crowd had gathered. At its center was an unconscious outer sect disciple, his robes torn and his body covered in strange, pulsating marks. Murmurs of alarm rippled through the spectators.

“Another one?” Feng Liang muttered, his tone grim.

Qing Chen’s eyes narrowed as he observed the scene. The disciple’s condition was unlike anything he had seen before. The marks glowed faintly, their pattern resembling the script of ancient talismans. It wasn’t just an injury—it was a message.

“We should leave,” Feng Liang said, tugging at Qing Chen’s sleeve.

But Qing Chen didn’t move. His gaze lingered on the fallen disciple, his mind racing. The assassin’s words echoed once more: Great Cause.

This wasn’t just an attack. It was a warning—a prelude to something far more sinister.

“Senior Brother,” Qing Chen said softly, his voice steady despite the unease gripping his heart. “You go ahead. I’ll stay and see what I can learn.”

Feng Liang hesitated, his usual bravado faltering. For a moment, he seemed to consider protesting, but instead, he nodded. “Don’t be reckless, Junior Brother. If things get worse, find me.”

With that, he turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Qing Chen standing alone by the window.

Qing Chen’s gaze shifted to the unconscious disciple once more. The glowing marks seemed to pulse in rhythm with his own heartbeat, as if calling out to him.

“I’ll observe a little longer,” Qing Chen murmured to himself. His resolve hardened. Whatever the Great Cause was, he would uncover its truth—for the sake of the sect, and more truthfully, for the balance he sought to protect.