Chapter 58: Three Sects

“Liu Suanban, you’ve been talking about Tiger Den for three days straight—aren’t you tired of it?”

The storyteller on stage spat foam everywhere, but someone in the tea house’s private seats slammed the table in annoyance.

“Exactly!”

“Our ears are calloused by now—every day it’s the Four Seas and Eight Extremes Hall or the Western Desert’s Iron Cavalry, six arms and three heads, blue faces and fangs—we’re sick of it.”

Other patrons joined in, echoing the complaint.

“Forgive me, Sixth Master!”

Liu Suanban wasn’t fazed: “Isn’t it because Tiger Den is gone, the trade routes are clear, and prices for rice, flour, oil, and salt have dropped? Seeing how you all will grow rich, Old Liu is just happy!”

“That’s true.”

The Sixth Master showed a faint smile, then fell into thought.

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If anyone overheard their secret voice transmission, they would be startled.

Liu Suanban slammed his wooden gavel, drawing the tea house patrons’ attention.

“So this is the scion you claimed has a primordial background?”

“That brute…”

The Zheng family were in-laws to the marquis’s household, having married the marquis’s legitimate daughter, and maintained close daily ties—many of the marquis’s household affairs were managed by the Zheng family. How could the Zheng family’s steward utter such treasonous words? “Esteemed sir, you know only half the story—”

Upon seeing the speaker’s appearance, even the Sixth Master and other wealthy patrons were shaken to their core, thoughts surging wildly in their minds.

But one had to admit, Chen Chen’s possibility existed—and it was not so negligible as to be ignored.

!.

“Good!”

“Lords, Tiger Den was merely a local scourge of Dongling Prefecture—have you heard of the earth-shattering event that happened recently?”

Jiang Ding’s expression was grave. According to what he knew, after the primordial realm, immortal sects had no path forward—they could only turn to cultivation. Could it be that here, a true genius had forcibly carved out an entirely new path?

Liu Suanban’s face flickered with panic; he coughed a few times, pretending nothing had happened: “The name ‘Three Sects’ isn’t just a term—it’s the reverence of martial artists for three Grand Masters.”

“Dream on. Qingniu Palace is a martial holy land—how many princelings have broken their heads trying to get in?”

“A breakthrough elixir? Even if gained through a miraculous encounter, it’s not impossible.”

“It’s him! How could he say such a thing—has he drunk himself senseless…?”

Only when the Tianji Tower’s Dragon-Feng List revealed him at #12 did the name “Black Flame Blade” become known.

All eyes turned.

“Just half a month ago, the Wolf Lord challenged the Qing Daoist atop the Eastern Mountain of Yuejing. The sect masters of every major school, martial heroes from all corners, and many Dragon-Feng List prodigies came to watch.”

#12 on the Dragon-Feng List: “Black Flame Blade” Hei Jin! Legend says he acts with eerie secrecy—anyone who’s seen him is dead.

“In the end, the Wolf Lord was gravely wounded by a sword from beyond the heavens and fled in disgrace, causing the Southern Eighteen Demon Cults to quiet down for a long while.” Liu Suanban praised loudly: “Qingniu Palace is truly the foremost orthodox sect!”

Chen Chen bowed respectfully: “Young Master Hei Jin, you study under a primordial elder, the ‘White Bone Blade Demon’ among the Eight Great Heroes—your insight is naturally exceptional. Could you discern which force or family this man belongs to? Might he interfere with our plans?”

The black-robed youth frowned: “He looks utterly ordinary, his internal qi barely at minor accomplishment—mediocre at best.”

One could say it had some literary value, but none in martial cultivation.

“These three Grand Masters are the immortal figures standing atop the martial world!”

“Who doesn’t know? Qingniu Palace, Banruo Temple, Wolf God Sect—these three sects tower above all. Even the Golden Knife Sect, though powerful, is nothing before such holy grounds; only the imperial family might rival them.” And here, right now, was a constable who had just finished duty and was relaxing here.

Jiang Ding left his tea money and turned to leave.

“Imperial family? You could say that at the founding, but it’s been three hundred years—now the imperial family can’t even hold the boots for the Three Sects!”

The black-robed youth sneered, as if breakthrough elixirs were nothing extraordinary to him.

To eradicate the root cause, one must look to how the government governs—ensuring no large number of landless peasants are left starving.

“Do you know what the ‘Two Floors, Three Sects, Six Schools, Eight Heroes’ means? Who are these ‘Three Sects,’ and who leads them?”

In Nangling Prefecture, there once was a sect called Chiyan Sect, stronger than the former Qixuan Sect—until one night it was slaughtered to the last, wounds bearing signs of burning and rotting. Nangling Prefecture trembled in terror; everyone feared ghosts had struck.

Whether or not it matches, such martial cultivators who achieve breakthroughs deserve respect—they represent humanity’s step forward in exploring the unknown supernatural science.

…

He first steered the topic elsewhere.

Behind his back, Chen Chen and the black-robed youth retracted their lingering glances.

“I heard Qing Daoist had cranes deliver lingzhi mushrooms to celebrate his childhood—truly a celestial being fallen to earth. If only my son could enter Qingniu Palace!”

A familiar regular picked up the thread.

The constable first flew into rage, standing up—but upon seeing the speaker, he sat back down faster than he’d risen, as if he’d seen nothing.

“It’s a good thing, certainly—but getting rich? That’s uncertain.”

Jiang Ding noticed several other guests, dressed in obvious wealth, wore similar expressions.

“That battle—sand and stones flew, sun and moon dimmed, demonic shadows swarmed, and a blue celestial sword descended from beyond heaven, sweeping away demons…”

Everyone knew it, but those who dared speak such words were rare—if the constable heard them, he’d arrest them on the spot.

Dongling Mountains—a lawless land, naturally gathering bandits and thieves.

There stood a strikingly handsome middle-aged scholar, holding a folding fan, occasionally waving it, exuding elegance and charm.

Liu Suanban’s saliva flew as he spun the battle into a dazzling, dramatic tale, drawing every tea guest into rapt attention, many tossing copper coins and silver taels as tips.

Zheng Family steward, Chen Chen! The man seated beside him was no ordinary figure either—clad in black robes, young and handsome, his face betraying an unconscious air of superiority—he must be of noble birth.

He raised his hands toward heaven, reverently saying: “The three Grand Masters are the Wolf Lord of Wolf God Sect, Master Kushi of Banruo Temple, and Qing Daoist of Qingniu Palace.”

The tea patrons cheered loudly, tossing even more copper coins.

Chen Chen knew the man was referring to young martial cultivators in his circle—he didn’t mean it was easy for someone young to reach minor accomplishment in internal qi.

“To possess multiple breakthrough elixirs, and to be linked to the deaths of two internal qi perfected cultivators—there can be no mistake.”

Jiang Ding listened intently for a while, then turned his eyes away.

Previously, it was only Tiger Den that gathered and recruited them; without Tiger Den, other bandits would emerge—but none so powerful.

“No.”

He carefully recalled and compared: “I’ve never seen him, nor heard of such a person—at least not a disciple trained by the top-tier sects.”

“Then all the better.”

Chen Chen bowed his thanks.

(End of Chapter)