Chapter 71

Chapter 71: Here to Debate the Dao

When elders led elite disciples to a grand gathering, they did not travel light.

The Ling Zhen Sect had once been foremost in the Southern Domain—so dominant even the Zhi Yue Sect avoided its edge. Though it had declined and retreated to the Secluded Valley, its foundations still ran deep, beyond anything an ordinary sect could compare to.

The Tun Qi Pool was the Zhi Yue Sect’s Dao-ground, a blessed cave-heaven far from Ling Zhen territory. This time, they traveled aboard the Immortal Crane Roaming Vessel, rising into the Cloud Sea itself. Zhao Chun had once ridden a nine-sailed beast-head ship during the Windflame Sect ruins expedition, but in scale and craftsmanship it was nothing beside this.

The Hundred Sects Assembly was only a name; there were never exactly 100 sects. New forces rose, old powers fell. In the ebb and flow, the sects that attended usually numbered a bit over 100, and so the name endured.

What made a sect “great” in the first place?

First you looked at its upper combat strength: did it have Profound Division Stage cultivators? Such people could dominate a region and stood at the peak of the Heng Yun world.

If it had none, then you counted its Essence Condensation Stage great cultivators. Only those with more than 10 could meet the Hundred Sects Assembly’s threshold.

After the Ling Zhen Sect’s war with the Ren Yang Sect, it had been grievously wounded. The decline only deepened with time. In the Profound Division Stage, it had only Daoist Tu Sheng, bearing the sect alone. If he were to pass away, then with only five Essence Condensation cultivators remaining, the Ling Zhen Sect would be struck from the Hundred Sects Assembly roster entirely.

Even Zhao Chun, only a Qi Refining Stage disciple, could feel the storm building within the sect.

Once they left territory under Ling Zhen control, the skies grew crowded. Flying tools crossed in every direction—some lacquered black and gold, some carved like giant beasts. Each sect flew its own style.

Even so, Zhao Chun could not help thinking the Ling Zhen Sect’s vessel carried the truest immortal bearing. It was richly built, beams carved and rafters painted, but its grandeur was ancient and restrained, never gaudy.

Sects rarely seen in ordinary times emerged along this route. The name of the Secluded Valley’s Ling Zhen Sect had once covered the Southern Domain for 1,000 years. After its retreat, it had little contact with the outside world, and in many minds it had become less a sect than a half-forgotten legend.

“Martial Uncle, look at that ship ahead!” a bright voice called. “It’s enormous!”

A girl of 11 or 12, still in the Qi Refining Stage, leaned forward with eyes curved in delight. She pointed at the grand vessel gliding through the clouds and tugged at the sleeve of the man beside her.

“Do you know which sect it belongs to?”

They were disciples of the Yuan Cang Sect, a small sect that had risen only within the last 100 years. Their sect master was a late-stage Essence Condensation Stage cultivator. He and his Dao Companion had founded the sect together, passing on teachings, expanding their line. Later, another disciple broke into the Essence Condensation Stage, bringing their number to 10—enough to enter the Hundred Sects Assembly roster. This was their first trip, and their disciples found everything new, heads constantly turning as they took it all in.

The man the girl called Martial Uncle was an Essence Condensation Stage cultivator with clean, gentle features. He smiled. “Green pines cling beneath the hull; immortal cranes circle through the clouds… This is the Immortal Crane Roaming Vessel of the Ling Zhen Sect.”

“The Ling Zhen Sect?” The girl blinked. “Is that the hidden sect in the Secluded Valley? Grandfather mentions it sometimes.”

The Yuan Cang Sect was young, and its structure was looser than older sects with rigid hierarchies. Relationships within were close, more like family and friends than a strict chain of command. Others mocked them for their “small-sect manners,” but the Yuan Cang disciples wore the label gladly.

Martial Uncle laughed. “No, no. If it were truly a hidden sect, would it come out so casually? The Ling Zhen Sect simply doesn’t mingle much with the outside world. It isn’t sealed. Their disciples still go out to train all the time.”

The girl did not think too hard about it. She kept staring at the vessel ahead, sighing in awe at its workmanship.

High cultivation made having children difficult. The Yuan Cang Sect’s sect master and his Dao Companion were devoted to each other, and only after more than 100 years did they finally have a son. Unfortunately, his talent was ordinary; it took him decades to reach the Foundation Establishment Stage. Their granddaughter, however, was gifted, and the sect master had brought her close and taught her personally.

Martial Uncle patted the girl’s head, still smiling.

As Zhao Chun stepped out of her cabin, she happened to meet the girl’s gaze across the distance.

The young miss sprawled against a black-and-gold railing, her own ship behind her a blaze of brilliant gold. To mortals, it would be the kind of wealth that made the heart ache with envy. To cultivators, it was a little… excessive.

The girl blinked at Zhao Chun, then grinned, teeth showing. Zhao Chun gave her a small nod in return.

But Zhao Chun had business to attend to. She did not linger. Sword at her side, she headed for the deck.

The girl watched her go, puzzled—until her attention snapped sideways.

Another vessel was drawing near, a glazed glass ship that gleamed in the cloud layers like a lantern.

“Martial Uncle!” she cried, tugging again. “Look! Look!”

Martial Uncle soothed her, then narrowed his eyes toward the approaching ship. “Chang Yuan Sect,” he said. “Judging by their posture, they’re here to debate the Dao.”

To invite another sect to debate the Dao, you had to send a challenge letter first.

Li Shu had only just received the Chang Yuan Sect’s letter when he gave the order: all disciples were to assemble on the deck at once. Along the route to the grand gathering, such debates had become an unofficial custom. The Immortal Crane Roaming Vessel’s deck even held an octagonal arena built specifically for it.

Zhao Chun and the others had already been told these unwritten rules. When the summons came, no one panicked.

If anything, fighting spirit rose.

Especially among the 20 Qi Refining Stage disciples. They would not be able to make a move at the Hundred Sects Assembly itself. These smaller duels were their battlefield.

Up on the pavilion overlooking the deck, Huo Zi Xun watched the gathering disciples with open satisfaction. “Look at them,” he said, warmth bright in his brows. “This generation is full of talent—bold, spirited, full of life. The sect has produced genius after genius in recent years. We’re no longer mired in decline. There are signs of revival. Once these disciples mature, the Ling Zhen Sect will restore its former glory.”

When Huo Zi Xun had been at the Qi Refining Stage, he had traveled at Li Shu’s side to the Tun Qi Pool to observe. When he reached late-stage Foundation Establishment, he had been able to fight on the arena himself. Now, with battle looming again, he stood here as an Essence Condensation Stage cultivator.

After the Ling Zhen Sect’s retreat from Song Mountain, it had not only suffered heavy disciple casualties—its fortune had been cut down at the waist. Decline followed decline.

In past Hundred Sects Assemblies, even when the sect still had a Profound Division Stage cultivator holding the line, its disciples had been humiliated by forces at the bottom rung. In Huo Zi Xun’s own generation, of the 10 Foundation Establishment Stage fighters, only three had been late-stage. The remaining seven were filled with mid-stage disciples—an embarrassment that still burned.

If Qiu Silhouette had not risen out of nowhere, the Ling Zhen Sect would already have become a joke.

But this time was different. In the Essence Condensation Stage, Qiu Silhouette would lead. In the Foundation Establishment Stage, there were late-stage peak talents like Liu Xuan, Du Fan Zhi, and Jiang Yun. Even looking ahead to the next gathering, there would be Zhuang Kun, Fang Cai Ran, and Zhao Chun to fill the ranks. And if Zheng Chen Qing’s momentum held, in 10 years the sect might gain yet another Essence Condensation Stage cultivator.

Li Shu watched the disciples below with quiet relief. Huo Zi Xun was not wrong. The sect truly showed signs of recovery, and Li Shu could see it with his own eyes.