Chapter 44: Enter the City! Enter the Sect!

The sky faintly brightened, a pale streak of fish-belly white appearing in the east.

The mist over the wasteland thickened, shrouding distant hills and nearby withered grass in a hazy veil.

Jiang Ye’s figure emerged like a wisp blending into the mist, silently appearing atop a small hill.

He stood behind an ancient locust tree, squinting slightly as he gazed down at the winding path below.

There, the Su family’s procession moved slowly forward.

After a night of travel and slaughter, the once-nearly-hundred-strong group appeared weary and disheveled.

The women supported one another, their steps unsteady.

The guards’ hands, gripping weapons, had grown numb, yet they still forced themselves to remain vigilant.

Liu Qingshi walked at the front of the procession, his back still rigidly straight, but the gloom enveloping him could not be hidden.

He walked in silence, not uttering a word, like a moving statue of stone.

Huang Xiyu followed not far behind, supported by Liu Yiyi.

Her face remained pale, her eyes filled with exhaustion and fear, yet her gaze toward her husband’s back held more sorrow and worry.

She opened her mouth as if to speak, but finally sighed and said nothing.

Liu Yiyi remained ever alert, her cold eyes scanning the wasteland around them.

Her delicate face showed little expression, yet a trace of uncontainable guilt still gathered between her brows.

Su Yan walked in the middle of the procession, her martial attire stained with blood and dust, yet she still strove to maintain her gentle, composed demeanor, softly comforting the women beside her.

Guo Wei lay on a wooden cart, his severed arm wrapped in thick bandages—the bleeding had stopped, but his face was as white as paper, eyes tightly shut, occasionally emitting pained groans.

Several Su family servants guarded him carefully, ready to change his dressings at any moment.

Su Chen walked at the rear of the procession, his expression grim as he counted heads, occasionally whispering with a few stewards.

His brow remained furrowed, his eyes heavy with worry.

Last night’s battle had cost them Guo Wei’s arm and several clan members.

Several more days of travel lay ahead—who knew what they might encounter.

Jiang Ye stood silently on the hill, his gaze piercing through the mist to rest on Liu Qingshi’s silent, rigid back.

He could faintly sense the suppressed pain and guilt within that silhouette.

“Ah...”

He sighed softly, a complex emotion flickering in his aged eyes.

It held admiration, guilt, and a deep, quiet helplessness.

He knew that not revealing himself was the wisest choice now.

In the shadows, he could continue protecting Liu Qingshi’s family.

More importantly, Liu Yiyi would surely enter the Tianqing Sect soon.

And he, through Wen Yueyao’s connections, had already secured an opportunity to join the Tianqing Sect as a “herb-keeping old man.”

Then, within that sect, he could continue secretly guarding the girl he had watched grow up.

After a moment’s thought, Jiang Ye slowly suppressed the impulse within him and completely abandoned the idea of revealing himself.

Three days passed quickly.

Fortunately, aside from that night’s bloody battle, the Su family’s procession encountered no bandits along the way.

They now traveled on the official road, where travelers increased—merchant caravans, and many others like them, families fleeing disaster from county towns to relocate to Fucheng.

As the crowds gathered, the fear that had weighed on everyone’s hearts for days finally began to lift.

Soon after.

A massive silhouette slowly emerged on the horizon.

At first, merely a faint shadow at the edge of the sky, as the procession advanced, the shadow grew clearer, more imposing, until it filled the entire view.

“It’s Fucheng!!!”

Someone in the crowd shouted, voice trembling with excitement, pointing at the black giant stretching across the sky and earth.

It was a true metropolis.

Its walls rose over ten zhang high, built of massive black stones, each measuring a zhang square.

These stones, weathered by countless years of wind and rain, were smooth as mirrors, yet glowed with a cold luster under the sun.

From afar, the entire city resembled an ancient beast crouched upon the plain, silently overlooking the tiny, ant-like masses below.

Along the walls, every few zhang stood an arrow tower, three stories tall, with upturned eaves and bracket sets, bronze bells hanging from the corners, chiming clearly in the wind.

The city gate stood open, five zhang high, wide enough for four carts to pass side by side.

Above the gate, three bold iron-character inscriptions were deeply carved into a black stone tablet—“Yunling Prefecture.”

The characters were powerful and vigorous, each stroke like a chisel blow, radiating an air of supreme dominance.

“We’ve finally arrived!!!”

Someone in the crowd burst into tears, covering their face and crouching on the ground, shoulders shaking violently.

Others stared dumbly at the massive city, tears of relief glistening in their eyes.

Everyone knew that once they stepped through that gate, they would be safe.

“Sss... It’s truly enormous.”

Even Jiang Ye, hidden in the shadows, felt a flicker of astonishment in his aged eyes at the sight of Fucheng’s distant outline.

To see the city is to see the sect.

He could already imagine how mighty the Tianqing Sect must be, the power behind this city.

The procession advanced another half-day before finally reaching the city gate.

The stream of entrants was dense, forming several long lines that crept forward slowly.

Strangely, despite the crush, not a single person dared cause trouble, and even loud shouting was rare.

Because on either side of the gate, every few zhang stood a soldier clad in black armor.

Each soldier exuded steady qi, their eyes sharp yet restrained—clearly all were Mingjin cultivators.

And the captain stationed at the center of the gate, responsible for verifying identities, had eyes blazing with intensity, his aura subtly surging—he was unmistakably an Anjin expert.

Before such a group of “city gate officers,” even the most brazen troublemaker would obediently queue.

After roughly half an hour, the Su family’s procession finally passed through the heavy gate and entered Yunling Prefecture.

The instant they entered, a roar of human noise surged over them, a stark contrast to the silent wasteland outside.

The streets were broad and level, lined with shops, banners fluttering, pedestrians shoulder to shoulder, cries of vendors, haggling, children’s laughter—all woven into a vibrant tapestry of life.

The group stood at the street entrance, gazing at the overwhelming prosperity, feeling as if they had stepped out of another lifetime.

“Liu brother, Guo brother, you’ve endured so much on this journey!”

Su Chen drew a deep breath, and for the first time, a glimmer of vitality returned to his weary face.

He turned and bowed deeply to Liu Qingshi and Guo Wei, gratitude evident in every gesture.

“Come with me to my residence to rest first, then we’ll decide our next steps!”

“I’ve bought a house in Fucheng—small, but more than enough to accommodate all of you.”

“Alright, we’ll follow Su brother’s arrangement,” Liu Qingshi nodded slightly, his face still expressionless, yet the furrowed brow that had tightened for days finally eased a little.

Guo Wei, leaning on the cart, remained listless but gave a weak nod.

His wound had stabilized, but his vital energy was severely damaged—he would need three to five months to recover.

Su Chen knew Fucheng well, leading them through several alleys until they arrived before a three-compound courtyard.

The house was modest but clean and orderly, sufficient to house their entire group.

Jiang Ye trailed far behind the procession like an invisible shadow.

He watched Liu Qingshi’s family enter the courtyard with Su Chen, waited a moment to confirm no further changes, then silently approached and memorized the residence’s location.

He stood in the shadow of the alleyway, gazing at the black lacquered gate slowly closing, a complex light flickering in his aged eyes.

Then, quietly departed.

“I’ll head to the Tianqing Sect now.”

He reached into his robe and touched the dark iron token, still faintly fragrant.