The fragrant mountain breeze carried the soft clattering of bamboo stalks as Ji Wuye's white robes rippled around him. Perched high among the swaying verdant canopy, he peered down through squinted crimson eyes, the warm sunrays filtering through the branches and caressing his angular features.
'They're just bickering,' he muttered inwardly, lips pressed into a taut line as he observed the heated confrontation below. Several stern-faced Elders from Kunlun, stood in a tense semi-circle alongside representatives from other righteous factions. Furrowed brows and clenched jaws betrayed the weight of the "negotiations."
From this distance, their raised voices carried only a low, indistinct rumble through the still summer air. Getting closer was not an option, as most of the buildings were only single- or two-story structures, and the martial artists would immediately sense his presence, even if he attempted to hide on a rooftop.
Below, a crowd of solemn Inner Disciples flanked the feuding Elders, faces composed into masks of stoic obedience as they stood vigil alongside allies from foreign sects. Beneath Ji Wuye's outstretched bough, the remaining disciples from Kunlun's ranks formed defensive perimeters, white martial robes fluttering as they barred entry to the Lower Level.
The commoners, who had earlier hurried up to enter the Kunlun Sect grounds, had already been evacuated—not to the nearby village, but further up, toward the Inner Courtyard.
'Let's just take the risk,' he decided, molten eyes narrowing as he tensed his lithe muscles. In a blur of white, he launched himself from bamboo tip to bamboo tip, descending in a seamless aerial ribbon to alight soundlessly on the tiled eave of the medicinal herb shop.
Though he muffled the impact, the unorthodox masters' eyes flared in unison, their piercing gazes snapping instinctively toward the crimson-eyed intruder.
Their scrutiny washed over him like a cresting wave before ebbing away, refocusing on the confrontation at hand.
As Ji Wuye expected, 'one more enemy, in this chaos, hardly tipped the scales,' he muttered inwardly.
Meanwhile...
"You have a chance to leave now, or none of your men will be shown any mercy from us," growled Elder Tan, the burly master at the fore, fingers tightening around his sword hilt as the air thrummed with pent-up Qi.
His muscular, towering frame cast an imposing shadow, exuding an aura of raw power and intimidation.
A fierce expression etched onto his weather-beaten face, accentuated by a jagged blade scar that slashed diagonally from the corner of his thin, taut lips up towards his right eye socket.
Despite his rugged, battle-hardened appearance, his tone remained polite, almost disarmingly so given the gravity carried by each guttural word.
"We've shown restraint thus far out of respect for the peace that we have wrought after that 'Great War', but do not mistake our patience as a sign of weakness." He let those words linger in the tense air, their weight pressing down on all those present.
The unorthodox martial artists were already gripping a motley assortment of weapons, their calloused knuckles whitening with repressed ferocity.
Martial robes of differing hues - deep crimsons, royal purples, onyx blacks - fluttered and danced in the swirling winds, as if beckoning for the chaos of battle.
Yet, their vigilant eyes, narrowed to mere slits, closely scanned their hostile surroundings, keenly aware of even the most subtle movements from the Kunlun Inner Disciples.
Those orthodox martial artists stood utterly still, hands clasping the hilts of their unsheathed jians with a practiced, disciplined grip, ready to unleash those curved blades at a mere breath of provocation.
In addition, many more disciples from various righteous factions ringed the gathering.
On the other hand, standing defiantly before the Elder Tan were the hardened vice-leaders of some of the most notorious groups across the Jianghu - the Sky Demon Cult, Phantom Mist Sect, Abyssal Soul Alliance, and the Black Scorpion Society.
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Though formidable martial artists in their own right, these vice-leaders at the 8th realm could not help but exude a tenuous unease in confronting the combined might gathered against them.
The Kunlun Elders and representatives from the allied righteous factions numbered over eight martial artists of equal realm.
Even the scattered unorthodox stragglers lingering tensely throughout the village seemed to sag under the weight of their disadvantage, shifting their stances warily, as if fearing an ambush from the veritable army at their foes' beck and call.
"Is this how your people resolve matters? With lies and deception?" The withered, hunched vice-leader of the Black Scorpion Society spat out the words, his reedy voice dripping with disdain from beneath the thick purple veil shrouding his features.
He cut a diminutive, unassuming figure, standing barely a quarter of Elder Tan's imposing height, yet the undisguised scorn saturating each syllable commanded attention.
"Your sect's hypocrisy truly knows no bounds. First, you steal what's rightfully ours, then you have the gall to stand here issuing empty threats?" A contemptuous snort punctuated his tirade as he glared upwards defiantly at the larger man.
His gnarled, claw-tipped hands were splayed wide, the razor-sharp talons extending well past his fingertips - longer and more wicked than even a bear's.
A thick, viscous purple liquid dripped in lazy rivulets from those curved instruments of death, each droplet hissing softly as it struck the dusty road, leaving smoldering craters in its wake.
The mere sight of that corrosive toxin caused the stern-faced Kunlun Elders to instinctively flinch and recoil ever so slightly whenever the vice-leader of Black Scorpion Society spoke or shifted his arms, the threat of that grotesque weapon all too palpable.
"Careful with those baseless accusations," Elder Fang warned sharply, gray brows furrowing as he eyed the venomous claws with open trepidation. "Your poison may be feared throughout the Jianghu, but we of Kunlun are not so easily cowed by such...party tricks." He spat out that last phrase with undisguised disdain, daring the vice-leader of Black Scorpion Society to make good on his implicit threat.
"Do you truly think we'll believe the nonsensical words spouted by hypocritical 'righteous' people such as yourselves?" The vice-leader of the Sky Demon Cult sneered derisively, his chiseled features twisting into an ugly sneer as he swept a contemptuous glare over the assembled Kunlun disciples.
A mocking smirk played across the face of the middle-aged man - likely in his early forties - standing beside the veiled vice-leader of Black Scorpion Society. Tall and powerfully built, with corded muscles rippling beneath his disheveled robes, he carried a massive saber slung casually over one bulging shoulder as if it weighed no more than a twig.
His cold, unflinching glare bored into Elder Tan, openly challenging him with each sneer.
"Your so-called 'righteous path' is nothing but a hollow facade erected upon falsehoods and deception," he continued, cradling the saber hilt and subtly shifting his stance.
"Just look at what happened at Tianji village..."
Each acidic word dripped with disdain as flecks of spittle flew from his twisted sneer. "Is this how you 'righteous' cowards handle things now? Resorting to lies and strenght to reclaim some pitiful scrap of dignity?"
"Mind your tongue, filthy sinner." Elder Mu spoke up at last, his deep baritone ringing with a cold, controlled fury as he took a deliberate step forward, only to be halted by Elder Tan's outstretched arm barring his path.
The two Elders locked gazes for a tense moment before, "These baseless accusations against Kunlun are nothing more than the ramblings of petulant children desperate to justify their own misdeeds," Elder Mu continued.
"Unless we are permitted to thoroughly search your entire sect's holdings, we will not be departing or retreating a single step." Another voice chimed in, this one belonging to the vice-leader of the Phantom Mist Sect - a tall, gaunt figure clad head-to-toe in form-fitting black garments that seemed to leech the very light from his surroundings.
His narrowed gaze swept over the assembled Kunlun disciples as his words carried a distinct undercurrent of suggestion. "After all, what could a 'righteous' sect possibly have to hide or fear from such an inspection? Unless..." He left that last thought dangling, a pointed barb awaiting an inevitable response.
"...the Wine has already found its way into your grasping hands once more."
Yet, despite that bold accusation, not a single one of the Kunlun or allied righteous faction Elders so much as twitched a muscle, their expressions a mask of derision and detached amusement, as if observing the antics of ill-behaved children play-acting at being adults.
It should have been obvious to any outside observer that the righteous faction Elders had anticipated the unorthodox factions arriving with far greater numbers to bolster their aggressive posturing.
Yet here they stood, the unorthodox martial artists having marshaled only half their expected forces in this tense confrontation. Given such a staggering imbalance of power heavily favoring the Kunlun disciples and their allies, what could possibly possess these rogues and outcasts to act with such bravado and misplaced arrogance?
Their taunting words and defiant sneers rang hollow, a facade betrayed by the undercurrent of unease suffusing their tightly-knit ranks.
From his concealed vantage point atop a nearby tiled rooftop, Ji Wuye's crimson eyes calmly tracked the escalating standoff, his sharp gaze missing no subtle shift or telling detail.
Unlike the inscrutable Elders below, he was not puzzled by the unorthodox martial artists' bizarre behavior and seemingly illogical bravado in the face of overwhelming opposition.
No, his mind remained clear and calculating, rapidly piecing together the fractured clues into an emerging realization.
'So, they're being coerced into this confrontation against their wills,' he mused inwardly, careful to betray no outward reaction.
He took notice of the faint cracks in the vice-leaders' projected auras of arrogant nonchalance - the momentary waver in their voices as they spat vitriol, the subtle avoidance of direct eye contact with their steely-eyed opponents, and most tellingly, the rigid tension suffusing the ranks of underlings flanking them.
Every unorthodox martial artists stood wreathed in a mantle of wariness and nervous anticipation, the complete antithesis of their reputations for unrestrained, wild aggression.
As Ji Wuye's penetrating gaze flitted from face to face, comparing this jarring dissonance to the merciless ambush he had witnessed in the previous timeline, a new realization stirred to life.
His eyes narrowed fractionally as the subtle pieces clicked into place. 'No...it's not merely coercion at play here. This unseemly desperation, their illogical insistence on provoking a vastly superior foe...'
'It's because of me.'
Because of his very existence and the ripples cast by his mere presence in this altered reality.
In the previous timeline, the attack by the unorthodox factions had gone unnoticed, and Tianji Village had not been razed or inspected by Kunlun as it had in this current timeline.
Back then, it was an ambush. Kunlun had been unprepared. But now, in this timeline, it was an open battle.
A slight crease furrowed Ji Wuye's brow as the final piece slotted into place with chilling inevitability. 'Which means their sole trump card, their one desperate gambit, must be...'
The Black Thunder Emperor.
“Fine then!”
But what followed was shockingly illogical. It was a rash, foolish, and utterly reckless decision. Ji Wuye’s crimson eyes narrowed as he watched one of the vice-leaders suddenly shout and rally the unorthodox martial artists to—
BOOM!
—attack.