Chapter 800

A silence fell; no one spoke.

Those who had previously conspired, secretly contacted the Darifa Sect, the Zhengmo Alliance, and Yuan Ying Master Dinghai Zhenjun of the Darifa Qingse Jianzong to defect and seize the inheritance, now all bowed their heads, struggling against the growing, instinctive terror in their hearts.

"Does no one want my head?"

"Too polite."

"If so,"

Jiang Ding said coolly, his gaze settling on Chun Chun Jian, the head of the Tushan maidens and the First Maiden of Spring: "You have committed three crimes.

First, you embezzled vast quantities of Yuan Ying-tier heavenly treasures without accounting for them within the three-tenths share;

Second, you secretly contacted forces like the Darifa Qingse Jianzong to negotiate terms of defection, yet took no concrete steps to defect;

Third, you allowed a strong spirit of independence to fester within the maiden corps, betraying your duty."

At these words, Chun Chun Jian's body trembled.

After three sentences, her body swayed uncontrollably, unable to suppress her instincts.

Even though she was at the early stage of Yuan Ying, she could not resist the fear in her heart; she sensed a thick, overwhelming death threat and was filled with profound regret.

"Are these facts true?"

Jiang Ding asked quietly.

For Darifa Qingse Jianzong cultivators, he could easily soul-search anyone—their Gong Fa would willingly cooperate.

These maidens, whom he had personally trained, held no secrets from him.

"... True."

Chun Chun Jian said hoarsely.

These were facts; amid the sudden shift in status caused by the vast heavenly treasures, she had lost herself.

"You deserve to die."

"Indeed."

Jiang Ding sighed faintly: "It's not because of your greed, nor your stupidity—it's because you're weak. Such weakness should never have bred such thoughts."

Chun Chun Jian's face turned pale; her body shook violently, swaying left and right—despite her Yuan Ying status, she could not stand steady.

All the maidens stared at her; some gradually revealed a murderous glint in their eyes, especially Jin Jin Yuzhen and the others, who now understood—their expectations had been wrong.

Tushan Master Dinghai Zhenjun values Tushan's laws more than the vast difference in value between a Jin Dan cultivator and a Yuan Ying Master Dinghai Zhenjun!

Chun Chun Jian herself was hesitating.

Her magic power surged within her; her Ben Ming Fa treasure, the Tian Chong Guang Yao Yang Dao Bing Chun Jian, vibrated in her dantian, trembling with extreme fear yet also thrumming with excitement, brimming with killing intent—as if sensing the heavenly opportunity for a great life breakthrough had arrived.

After several breaths,

Chun Chun Jian's face fell into despair; her spiritual sense withdrew from the flying sword.

"I leave myself to my Lord's judgment!"

Her expression dimmed; she abandoned resistance.

"No!"

"Are you mad?"

"We've struggled so hard on the Dao—besides, you're not alone; there are us, and those outside..."

In that instant, countless furious spiritual sense whispers flooded her mind, filled with rage and frustration, imploring her endlessly.

Chun Chun Jian ignored them, drew her Ben Ming Chun Jian—a short, emerald-green blade etched with wood grain—and let it fall to the ground with a clinking sound.

"I leave myself to my Lord's judgment."

Chun Chun Jian said again, kneeling, her hair falling loose, exposing her pale, delicate neck.

"At your mercy..."

The boy on the Wang Zuo gazed at her, his eyes hazy, lost in thought.

His mind seemed to span centuries, returning to the founding of Master Tushan Xiancheng, when he was purging the last remnants of demonic cultivators—and a subordinate reported finding a child with a Wood-elemental Heavenly Spirit Root, an omen that Master Tushan Xiancheng would flourish greatly.

Later, he taught her, guarded her as she fought in Master Tushan Xiancheng's battles, cleansed demonic cultivators, watched her grow...

One by one, these memories flashed before his eyes.

This girl had accompanied him through long years.

"Waste."

Chun Chun Jian froze, slightly lifting her head.

"Waste,"

"Waste."

Jiang Ding sighed: "A sword cultivator must have rebellious bones—he must draw his sword against the strong, face death to be reborn, ask no past grudges, ask no karmic ties, simply draw the sword.

"That is the supreme virtue.

"Only such a sword cultivator has a future."

Jing!

Jiang Ding slashed down.

The thunderous roar exploded in the void, searing into everyone's eyes, deeply Shen Shen Di Yin into their spiritual cores, their soul's heart—unavoidable.

Boom!

Before Chun Chun Jian could react, a piercing pain struck—her shield shattered, her arm cracked, her chest caved in, she spat a gout of blood, crashing violently into tables and chairs.

Her aura withered, weakened.

But she did not die.

Chun Chun Jian struggled to rise, ecstatic: "Thank you, my Lord!"

"Chun Chun Jian,"

"You're lucky to have met me now."

Jiang Ding said calmly: "For the loss of wealth, compensate tenfold. Regarding your duties, and your covert allegiance to the Great Sun Qingse Jianzong, within a century you must find a cultivator of equal strength—someone approved and recognized by me—and fight them to the death until one of you dies."

"If you have not completed this blood battle after a century, I will execute you myself."

"Understood?"

"Yes, Master!"

Chun Chun Jian's heart trembled.

But compared to facing this man now, she was certain—even if she resisted, unleashed her full power, even burned her essence-blood—the outcome would not change at all.

This is already good enough.

"Shang Gong..."

Jiang Ding no longer looked at her, but turned to another Nascent Soul Master Dinghai Zhenjun—the maid of Xia Zhi, Shang Gong—and sighed: "I still remember the scene when I took you, still an infant, from the storage ring of a Shang Clan collateral Jin Dan. I remember your sister. I thought we would remain bound from start to finish."

"You do not betray me, I will not betray you."

"Fulfill our mutual promises, our duties."

"Yet it turned out this way."

"It is truly lamentable. All people in this world—including myself—are mere mortals. No one remains unchanged. Time always brings change."

"I have disappointed my Master..."

Shang Gong's face twisted in bitterness.

She too had embezzled funds and secretly contacted one of the Northern Plains' Shang Clan families.

Many conditions had been negotiated; even the Shang Clan's ancestral patriarch had personally promised, sworn a Dao Oath, and offered extremely generous terms.

Under such promises, she had been tempted, hesitated.

Had the situation shifted further, it might already have become reality.

Ding!

She drew her life-sword and threw it to the ground, making the same choice as Chun Chun Jian—kneeling on the ground.

Qiang!

Jiang Ding slashed her with one sword, sending her flying, breaking her arm, blood spurting midair.

"Like Chun Chun Jian, but you must find someone and fight to the death within fifty years."

Jiang Ding said coolly.

A faint trace of even greater revulsion showed.

The Shang Clan treated her thus: her mother died in childbirth; her father, to ensure they lived, slew himself before a collateral Jin Dan of the Shang Clan, willingly letting his daughters become others' cultivation partners.

He chose this—to let them live, rather than become blood offerings to elevate the Shang Clan's direct line's spiritual roots.

Now, this woman wished to turn back, forgetting her father and mother entirely.

It was truly detestable.

"Thank you, Master!"

Shang Gong struggled to rise, spitting blood nonstop, kneeling deeply, her forehead touching the ground.

"My fellow cultivators,"

"They were raised by me since childhood; I have feelings for them."

"But you,"

Jiang Ding ignored her, turning to the other seven Nascent Soul maids, his eyes glowing faintly crimson: "You will receive no mercy. All your crimes will be reckoned."

"So—what is your choice?"

(End of Chapter)

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