Chapter 593: The Golden Family, A Single Buddhist Chant!

The carriage had slowly passed Nai Bridge; dismounting here, the West Wing Pavilion was not far away.

You pulled back the curtain and saw the carriage ahead enter Sima Family's carriage pavilion.

Only the two carriages behind you, lacking space to park, remained waiting outside.

How awkward!

That's why the coachman asked such a question!

You paused briefly, facing this situation… you decided.

1. Disembark and head to the West Wing Pavilion. (Hint: You may be drawn into this incident, revealing your cultivation—unfavorable to you.)

2. Wait here. (Hint: This may invite disaster.)

3. Disembark and go to Sima Family's carriage pavilion. (Hint: Ten deaths, no survival.)

4. Go to Xie Family's carriage pavilion. (Hint: Possibly beneficial to your future.)

5. Participate personally. (0/3)

From the great tripod, ten thousand rays of radiant light poured forth; the characters upon it slowly stabilized.

Yu Ke stared at the five options, especially Option 3—entering Sima Family's carriage pavilion—was a certain death sentence.

Eliminate the final option: participate personally.

Of the remaining options, only Option 4, based on the hints, was the most suitable.

Yu Ke dared not be careless now; having simulated this long, he was fully focused—this Grand Floral Banquet had spawned so many options.

They hadn't even entered the Grand Floral Banquet yet, and even this minor matter of disembarking from the carriage carried life-or-death peril.

Yu Ke made his choice directly.

4. Go to Xie Family's carriage pavilion. (Hint: Possibly beneficial to your future.)

You smiled: "Head straight to Xie Family's carriage pavilion."

The coachman froze. Go to the Xie Family?

"My name is Xie Guan."

The coachman suddenly understood—he was the young master of the Xie Family.

He immediately turned the carriage around and headed toward Xie Family's carriage pavilion, far from Sima Family's.

"Giddy-up—"

From the carriage ahead that hadn't entered, a slender hand lifted the curtain, revealing a pair of eyes like autumn water, watching the carriage behind depart.

Those beautiful eyes lingered in thought, then dismissed it, gently lowering the curtain.

Yet strangely!

The coachman of this carriage had lifeless, entirely white eyes, veins and tendons bulging grotesquely across his face, mouth gaping wide, his body like a dried corpse.

The coachman drove the carriage into Xie Family's pavilion; under the empty moonlight, row upon row of carriages stood silently, eerily still.

Too silent!

Something's wrong!

The coachman frowned—how could it be this utterly quiet?

He pulled the carriage to a stop. "Whoa—"

Your eyes glowed with star patterns at your third eye; your primordial spirit sensed the surroundings, and you too froze.

All the coachmen and servants on the surrounding carriages were dead—and the killer made no effort to hide: each had suffered severe internal injuries, their heart meridians shattered by brute force.

Not a single survivor!

All of Xie Family's coachmen and servants were dead—including people you knew.

Yet none of the ladies, young mistresses, or head maids of the courtyards were among them—only servants, maids, and underlings.

The coachman seemed to realize something; his face turned ashen with terror.

His voice choked with panic, his whip falling to the ground: "Dead… people!"

His throat felt constricted—he'd served Sima Family in Bianjing for years; when had such a thing ever happened?

A calm voice cut through his panic: "Don't panic yet."

"Drive the carriage inside."

The coachman hesitated—the inside was full of corpses.

"Young master, the servants are terrified…"

The young man stepped from the carriage to the driver's seat, tapped the ground lightly, and the whip flew into his hand; he flicked the horses, guiding the carriage into the stable.

The old man watched the young man's calm profile, his composure unshaken—and only then did his heart settle slightly.

After securing the carriage, you did not move again.

The old man looked around at the corpses; blood dripped from many of the carriage interiors.

The air began to reek of blood.

He had never experienced anything like this—he'd lost all sense of direction.

"Old man has an elderly mother above, a young child below…"

You glanced at him—how could a man his age still have a mother?

The coachman finally steadied himself, voice trembling: "Young master, what do we do?"

"Send for the household guards? The academy? The government?"

You looked at the surrounding carriages and the moon over the horizon: "Wait."

"The killer is still nearby—help from afar won't reach us in time."

"What?!"

The old man was startled again; his fragile composure shattered once more.

You returned to the carriage, a calm energy rising in your chest, continuing to visualize the "Slaying Demon Sword" within your mind-sea.

When facing great crises, the mind must remain still!

The old coachman squeezed into a corner of the carriage, trembling violently.

He begged the Master for protection, then the heavens and all gods, finally bowing to Prince Yan.

You could only smile helplessly—if gods, masters, or Prince Yan could help—

There would be no suffering in this world!

You glanced at the sky—it was nearly time for the Grand Floral Banquet to begin; Xie Yuan and the others must have arrived already.

At this moment!

Sima Family's carriage pavilion.

Of those who had just entered Sima Family's pavilion, all except six remaining individuals were dead.

Or rather, not quite dead—half-dead.

The people within were like "puppet figures," forcibly transformed into corpse puppets.

Only six remained alive.

Three were surrounded in the center; the other three were Sima Family's guards and patrons—two were mid-tier martial cultivators, the third a Nascent Soul cultivator of the seventh realm.

Now!

The three within the circle felt only icy dread, their expressions terrified, eyes locked on the middle-aged man standing across from them, one hand behind his back.

"Protect the Lady and the Young Misses."

The six dared not slacken; they clung tightly to shield the three in the center.

Around them, Sima Family's servants, turned into corpse puppets, twisted bodies writhing like mad beasts, lunged at the six.

Shen Kui stared at this scene, swallowed hard, sweat drenching his back, every hair on his arms standing on end.

Is this the demonic sect's method?

All the evil I've done—compared to this, it wouldn't even fill a tooth gap.

As soon as Sima Family's caravan entered here, some people, like infected by plague, lost their minds, clawing and biting those beside them.

In moments!

Most of Xie Family's people had become corpse puppets, stripped of reason, zombie-like, obeying only the commands of this middle-aged man.

Most terrifying of all!

He had done nothing—just stood there, not even moving a finger.

His methods were so bizarre, they surpassed Shen Kui's imagination.

He suddenly recalled: years ago, this Demon Master had used this technique to forge tens of thousands of corpse puppets, slaughtering an entire city.

Truly terrifying!

The lame old man stood silently to the side, saying nothing, yet his gaze grew increasingly wary.

He had doubted this man's authenticity moments ago—now, not a shred of doubt remained.

This man was the Demon Master, Xu Jiangxian!

This method was the Blood God Sect's "Demon Refining Art," capable of silently transforming people into corpse puppets.

Corpse puppets could spread the infection among themselves—any wound or bite would transmit it.

And it could not be reversed—only by killing the caster could it be stopped.

The three protected in the center of the circle.

Two of them—if Xie Guan were here—he would recognize them: Sima Muqing and Zhu Zi.

Sima Muqing's face turned pale with panic, as if he had never imagined such a scene would unfold.

Zhu Ziqian, however, remained calm.

Sima Muqing supported a middle-aged woman of striking beauty, clad in a long blue robe embroidered with patterns, golden hairpins adorning her jet-black hair coiled into a phoenix crown.

Her face was delicate and exquisite—high, straight nose, eyebrows and eyes as if painted—upon closer inspection, she bore a faint resemblance to the middle-aged man across from her.

Yet now her gaze was hollow; even as her daughter clutched her hand, she showed no reaction, her expression etched only with resignation.

This woman was Xu Yuexi, Lady Xu of the Sima family and Sima Muqing's biological mother.

The corpse puppets surged wildly forward; the three of them could handle them without much difficulty, but they dared not take their eyes off the middle-aged man across from them, not for a moment.

One of the guards wielded a dragon-twining staff, keeping the corpse puppets at bay.

Another held a shield, standing at the front.

Though they did not know why the servants had suddenly become corpse puppets, they dared not let them come near.

Another Nascent Soul cultivator controlled a massive flying sword circling beside him; with a flick of his wrist, he slashed at the nearest corpse puppet, aiming to sever it clean in two.

Just then!

"Watch out!"

One of the martial experts shouted a warning, but it was too late—the flying sword struck the corpse puppet.

The corpse suddenly exploded.

The blast triggered the others nearby, one after another detonating.

Corpse Explosion!

"Damn it!"

Only then did Xu Yuexi snap back to awareness; with a flick of her hand, streams of purple qi spiraled forth, and every corpse puppet collapsed like marionettes whose strings had been cut, motionless on the ground.

The three guards were stunned—the frail Lady Xu was a cultivator.

"Clap. Clap."

The middle-aged man walked forward slowly, clapping his hands, a serene smile on his face, as if nothing before him surprised him.

He looked at Xu Yuexi and said: "Little sister, you haven't changed—you've always excelled at corpse manipulation."

Zhu Ziqian's expression shifted slightly as he savored the words "little sister."

Sima Muqing clung tightly to her mother, her face filled with terror.

She had never experienced anything like this—had never even seen someone die so vividly before her eyes.

Xu Yuexi comforted her: "Muqing, don't be afraid. Mother is here."

She turned to the middle-aged man: "I did wrong. Let me die alone—why drag my family into this?"

Xu Jiangxian's gaze was flat: "All these years have passed, and now you won't even call me 'big brother.'"

Xu Yuexi fell silent, saying nothing more.

The lame old man froze—Sima family's Second Lady had ties to the Demon Master.

This was a secret even within Bianjing.

Had the Demon Master come here for this Sima woman?

Not for Xie Guan?

Shen Kui had no interest in unraveling the connections—he only wanted to leave this cesspool as quickly as possible.

The three guards whispered: "Lady, Miss, hurry and go. We'll handle the aftermath."

"Head to the west pavilion—Master is there, and the Academy's masters are with him."

Xu Yuexi only shook her head, bitterly: "We can't go."

"He's here. No one can leave."

The three looked at the middle-aged man across from them, utterly at a loss.

Sima Muqing asked hesitantly: "Mother, who is he?"

The middle-aged man smiled: "Who am I? By blood, I should be your maternal uncle."

Sima Muqing frowned: "Maternal uncle?"

"Your mother isn't from the Great Qi. You should know that."

"She comes from the noblest Golden Clan of Changsheng Tian."

"The blood in your veins isn't Sima blood—you were born to rule the steppes."

Golden Clan!

The lame old man had heard the term before.

The imperial family of the northern Changsheng Tian carried divine blood, also called the Golden Bloodline.

Legend held that in their sacred texts, Changsheng Tian was both their nation's name and the northern deity, who would descend upon those born with the Golden Bloodline.

The Demon Master was from the imperial family of Changsheng Tian!

This was unheard of even among the martial world.

Xu Jiangxian sighed:

"Pity. Your mother abandoned this noble bloodline. Today, I've come to reclaim it."

He sighed again: "Pity. Your mother betrayed this bloodline, betrayed her clan."

"I've come today to reclaim it."

Xu Yuexi had knelt down, bowing her head repeatedly, tears blurring her vision.

She cried out desperately: "It's all my fault—I betrayed the clan, I've wronged it. But the child is innocent—can you spare her?"

Yet Xu Jiangxian shook his head:

"The Golden Bloodline cannot be allowed to leave the steppes. You know this—it is clan law, and the will of the gods."

Sima Muqing listened to their exchange, her heart filled with terror and helplessness.

Watching her mother beg, head pounding against the ground, her chest ached with pain.

Xu Yuexi realized resistance was futile; she rose slowly, her gaze now hardened with a final, desperate resolve.

"You dare come to Bianjing alone—don't you fear the Academy's masters, or the Divine Shock Array that blankets the capital?"

Xu Jiangxian smiled: "Normally, I wouldn't dare."

"But today is different."

"The Academy is too busy with its own affairs. Tomorrow, Bianjing will be in chaos—who will care about a foreigner like me?"

Xu Yuexi's heart tightened—she suddenly realized: "Could it be… you came to Bianjing at his invitation?"

Xu Jiangxian's smile widened: "At my level, bloodline means nothing to me. Coming here was merely an afterthought."

"I came only to see an old friend."

Upon hearing this!

The lame old man was stunned—only one person in Bianjing could be called an "old friend" by this Demon Master: the Third Master of the Academy.

Was Master's years-long plan—the Gathering of the Flowers—not meant for the two Academy masters after all?

How had things changed so suddenly?

The three Sima guards were utterly confused, but they felt the middle-aged man drawing nearer, their hearts pounding like drums.

They knew—if they moved, they would die.

The middle-aged man walked calmly, a clear smile on his lips.

The guards grew more terrified, unable to even conceive of escape.

Sima Muqing stared at her mother's despairing face, her heart filled with dread.

She couldn't help asking: "Mother, how do you reclaim bloodline?"

Xu Yuexi slowly closed her eyes, tears streaming, voice trembling: "Extract the sinews, pull the marrow—return it to Changsheng Tian."

Sima Muqing's eyes widened in horror as she stared at the middle-aged man advancing toward them—like a death-bringing Yama.

At this moment!

Among the three guards, the Nascent Soul cultivator at the Seventh Realm felt it most acutely.

He felt the middle-aged man approaching like a colossal snow-capped mountain crushing down, suffocating him.

Blood trickled from his eyes; he clawed at his scalp, his head throbbing as if about to burst.

Zhu Ziqian also felt his breath grow ragged, his heart hammering—but his eyes burned with heat.

He had finally witnessed the pinnacle of the Demon Path—filling him with both exhilaration and awe.

He bowed deeply, his voice trembling with barely concealed excitement:

"Zhu Ziqian, Holy Son of the Blood God Sect, greets the Demon Master!"

Xu Jiangxian gave a slight nod—he had learned of Xu Yuexi's whereabouts precisely because Zhu Ziqian had betrayed them.

Seeing the Demon Master nod, Zhu Ziqian felt the mountainous pressure lift from his body.

Sima Muqing stared at the back of her "former friend," her expression twisted with fury and betrayal.

The three guards' minds rang like thunderclaps.

The Demon Master!

This man was Xu Jiangxian—the legendary Grandmaster of the Demon Path.

They could only think: Our lives are over—despair took root.

At this moment!

In the Xie family's carriage pavilion, the boy slowly opened his eyes—he seemed to hear, from afar, a Buddhist chant.

"Namo Amitabha Buddha!"

The voice was like celestial music, filling him with an inexplicable sense of peace.

Xu Jiangxian also frowned slightly and turned to look toward the entrance of the bamboo grove.

A monk in gray robes and cloth shoes clasped his hands together, chanting a Buddhist mantra, and walked in slowly.

Double vote tickets! Father figures, please beg for vote tickets! Extra chapter tomorrow!!

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(End of Chapter)