Chapter Sixty-Four: Shielding One's Own

Facing the Crimson Lord, both Ming Yi and Su He were on high alert. As soon as his words fell, the two immediately carried the person on their backs and raised their swords.

The Crimson Lord hurriedly raised his hand to stop them. “Wait, wait, no more fighting.”

With that, he obediently stayed in the lake, wanting to pursue them but not daring to come ashore.

The two exchanged glances, uncertain what new trick the Crimson Lord might try. They decided it was best to descend the mountain first; the person had been rescued, and the rest could be left aside for now.

As they turned to leave, the Crimson Lord grew even more anxious, gritted his teeth, and called out, “Wait! If you’re leaving, take me with you, will you?”

At once, Su He and Ming Yi halted. Ming Yi turned and said, “If you’re able to come out, follow us yourself. We have other matters to attend to and cannot keep you company.”

“Wait—I, well, I’ve already promised to protect this little one in the future, so you have to let me out.” The Crimson Lord, flustered, spoke without thinking, revealing his intention.

Had he not spoken, it would have been better; now Su He and Ming Yi were even more perplexed, sensing another scheme. The Crimson Lord was nearly spitting blood in frustration but couldn’t make things too plain—he still had his pride.

But if he said nothing, who knew how much longer he’d be trapped in this wretched lake? He said, “That boy pleases me. I’ve decided to watch over him from now on. You two, hurry up and find a way to get me out.”

“Really? Weren’t you about to eat my junior brother before? What’s changed?” Ming Yi sheathed his sword and gathered Wu Lei, who he carried, into his arms.

Since the Crimson Lord now had a favor to ask, the rest would be much easier. Su He understood Ming Yi’s intent but remained cautious, wary of any ulterior motives.

The Crimson Lord’s face changed again and again. In the past, he would have cut these two down a hundred times over—left them pleading for mercy before they even knew what had happened. But now, needing their help, he forced a smile and replied, “It was a sudden revelation—a gift from the heavens. If you let me out, I’ll protect him. What a bargain. If you don’t, you’ll regret it.”

His words sounded pleasant enough, but in truth, the red thread coiled ever tighter around his inner elixir, leaving him no choice.

“Oh? Hearing you say so, it does sound like a loss for us. But if we release you, what guarantee do we have you won’t betray us? What if, the moment we set you free, you attack us from behind? How do you answer that?” Ming Yi calculated the situation. The Crimson Lord was powerful—if he truly meant to submit, it would be a boon for their young brother and for the Sect of No Life.

As Ming Yi finished, the cold gleam in the Crimson Lord’s eyes nearly broke free. Fortunately, he had just enough self-restraint not to lose his temper, and he spoke as gently as possible: “I swear, if you release me, I will never do anything to wrong you. If I break this oath, then…”

“Then what?” Su He asked curiously.

“Then, from now on, every time I see a beauty, I’ll only be able to look but never touch. From this day forth… I’ll be powerless.”

“Shameless,” Yi Qingchen, just waking, heard this and blushed furiously. It was fortunate she was lying on Su He’s back—otherwise, had he seen her face, she would have been mortified beyond words.

The Crimson Lord’s hearing was sharp. Although Yi Qingchen’s words were soft, he caught them. His own expression grew awkward as well; after all, it was just something he’d said offhand. He’d never vow his own death—so he’d chosen something harmless. He was a blood python; what did he need with beauties? Female snakes—were they not beautiful enough?

Yet the moment he said it, he was rebuffed—by a beauty, no less…

Su He, however, paid no mind to his words. “Miss Yi, are you feeling better?”

Yi Qingchen gave a soft “mm” from his back, not daring to say more.

“That’s good.” He turned to Ming Yi, “Brother Ming Yi?”

Ming Yi nodded. “I understand.” He set Wu Lei down and asked, “What must be done to release you?”

Hearing this, the Crimson Lord’s face lit up. “The boy and I are linked by fate. Just a drop of his blood will do.”

“Didn’t you ask us for a method earlier? Why wait here if you already knew?” Ming Yi eyed him warily, suspecting trickery.

“Ah… an oversight. Hurry, hurry.” The Crimson Lord looked skyward—so long as he could get out, all would be well.

“Wait a moment.” Ming Yi drew blood from Wu Lei’s fingertip and flicked it into the lake.

Immediately, the lake’s surface erupted with dazzling light, and after a few earth-shaking rumbles, the Crimson Lord leapt ashore.

He was just considering how to deal with the others when he came face-to-face with the now-awakened Wu Lei.

In an instant, he wilted, the red glow in his eyes—though faint—still enough to make his blood run cold.

Ming Yi picked Wu Lei up, displeased. “What? Can’t restrain yourself?”

“Haha… what a joke. Am I the sort of man who breaks his word? I just got ashore—my hand cramped, that’s all.” With that, he turned away in a show of pride, striding out in front. Su He and Ming Yi said nothing, simply hastening down the mountain with their burden.

By now, the auspicious hour had passed. Who knew what trouble might have arisen below?

Indeed, though Bu Feng had only invited the heads of four sects to the banquet, only two actual sect leaders arrived. The other two were merely those in charge within their sects—wielding authority, yes, but not true leaders.

Besides them were all manner of opportunists—members of lesser sects and wandering cultivators. In short, a motley crowd.

The Sect of No Life could not simply drive them away—doing so would only hand others an excuse to criticize them.

But after Mu Yan was beaten, Bu Feng could not let it go.

So, after descending from the Twin Insect Courtyard to the Hall of Wind and Thunder, exchanging courtesies with Xing Yanzong, Qiu Shui Wuhen, and others, he began to seek out those responsible for the violence.

Mu Yan dared not let his grandmaster intervene on his behalf; if he tried to stop him, he’d fail, and if he tried to drag him away, it would not work either. In a panic, he rushed to enlist a few of his martial uncles for help—but they, as if conspiring, all remained silent.

Some pretended not to hear, others were “too busy” to help.

At last, he could only turn to Ming Ying. “Uncle, please, help me persuade him. Or at least, speak to Master Granduncle on my behalf—otherwise, when Master returns and hears what I’ve done, who knows what punishment awaits me?”

Ming Ying could stand it no longer, dragged him aside, and clamped a hand over his mouth.

This foolish Mu Yan—kindness is good, but you must know to whom you show it. To a pack of wolves, and you want to talk kindness? They’d sell you and still not have enough to go around.

“Mmm… mmm…” Mu Yan looked at Ming Yi, patting his hand. “Uncle, let me go…”

“Be silent. Watch and don’t cause trouble.”

Most of those present were third- or fifth-rate sorts. If you don’t knock them down a peg, they’ll think themselves important.

One man, seeing Bu Feng’s dark expression, pressed close behind his companions and shouted, “What? Is the Sect of No Life using its strength to oppress us?”

“That’s right! We’ve come from afar. Are we not guests? If you mistreat us, how can that be justified?”

“So what if we beat your man? He’s just a servant who pours tea—what’s the big deal? Even if we killed him, at worst, we’d pick a new one to compensate you. Is that really worth making such a fuss?”

His words drew a chorus of agreement before Bu Feng could even speak.

Seeing their faces, Bu Feng was so angry he laughed. “Gentlemen, do you truly believe I’m making a mountain out of a molehill?”

His tone was neither soft nor harsh, but his anger was plain.

“That’s not fair—these things happen, just a misunderstanding. Since it’s a misunderstanding, why not have your servant come out and apologize, and we’ll offer our respects in return? Would that suffice?” The speaker was Zeng Sanyuan, who had climbed the ranks years ago, befriended a few unsavory sorts, and founded the Yi Yuan Sect. After several centuries of maneuvering, he’d gained some reputation, and with all the flattery, he’d begun to believe himself a man of talent.

So, in this heated moment, he jumped out to mediate, hoping to win some acclaim.

Bu Feng sneered. “A misunderstanding, you say? Let me ask: which sect are you from?”

Zeng Sanyuan, thinking Bu Feng had accepted his offer and wanted to negotiate, straightened his clothes, bowed, and said, “I am Zeng Sanyuan, master of the Yi Yuan Sect.”

“No need for pleasantries—we’ll settle that later. Tell me, Master Zeng, do you have disciples present?”

“Yes, yes—come and pay your respects to Master Bu!” Zeng Sanyuan, thinking this was a chance to curry favor, quickly dragged forward a young man—pale-faced and beardless, with a sickly air about him.

“Greetings, Master Bu.”

Bu Feng smiled, raised his hand, and with a single palm strike sent the man straight to the underworld.

Zeng Sanyuan screamed, leaping and cursing, “You old villain! How dare you murder before the world’s eyes! Give me back my disciple’s life—!”

Poison Hand Qian was about to step in but was quietly restrained by Angler of the Hidden Stream. Bu Feng’s wrath was not meant for them—soon enough, he would settle with them directly.

Thus, all Bu Feng’s anger fell upon Zeng Sanyuan and his ilk. Seeing Bu Feng kill, their shouting only grew louder. Not daring to demand his life, they fixed their fury on Mu Yan.

Frightened, Mu Yan stopped struggling, letting Ming Ying hold him fast.

Bu Feng advanced a few steps, forcing Zeng Sanyuan and the others to retreat. “Is he your disciple?”

“No.” Zeng Sanyuan shook his head.

“Is he your fellow student?”

“No.”

“Since he’s neither, then take his body and go. Farewell.”

“Bu Feng, you… you disgrace your strength, bullying the weak and friendless!” Zeng Sanyuan was nearly choking with rage at the shameless old man.

“Is that so? Then allow me to ask you plainly, Master Zeng—do you have an invitation?”

“No.” He did not want to answer, but under Bu Feng’s gaze, he yielded.

“And the rest of you—do you?”

“This…”

“N-no…” At his words, the crowd lowered their heads, whispering anxiously. Some, seeing the situation, slipped away as fast as they could. The rest either wanted to leave but dared not, or simply lacked the nerve.

Bu Feng spared them only a glance. Since those in charge did not lead their people away, perhaps it was time to clean house.

Zeng Sanyuan shivered, finally realizing the danger. Terrified, he dropped to his knees and crawled to Bu Feng’s feet, but Bu Feng stepped aside.

“Mu Yan, come here.”

“Yes, Master Grandfather.” Mu Yan broke free of Ming Ying.

At that, all present were stunned. Master Grandfather? Wasn’t he just an ordinary servant? If so, was he not Bu Feng’s own disciple’s disciple? They’d struck his great-grandson and now…

For a moment, everyone was at a loss for words, glaring at Mu Yan as if wishing to devour him whole. Why hadn’t he said earlier he was Bu Feng’s great-grandson? If he had, would they have dared lay a finger on him? Even if they’d killed a few, they could have defended themselves. Now, thanks to him, they were doomed.

Bu Feng lowered his gaze. “Master Zeng, I have failed in discipline and raised an unworthy disciple. Now, I shall have him apologize to you all. Mu Yan.”

Mu Yan stepped forward, bowed, and said, “Everyone…”

Zeng Sanyuan hurriedly cried, “No, no, young master, please be magnanimous and forgive us.”

“Yes, please—if you must vent your anger, step on us a few times.”

“Right, right, and me too—slap me if you wish.”

“Master Grandfather?” Mu Yan tried to leave, but his legs were held fast.

Bu Feng’s eyes narrowed slightly. He helped Zeng Sanyuan to his feet, making Zeng’s heart pound in terror.

“Master Bu…”

Bu Feng straightened Zeng Sanyuan’s rumpled clothing and brushed the dust from his shoulders. “Master Zeng, what are you doing? Do you refuse my disciple’s apology?”

“No, no, not at all…”