Chapter 57: White Tiger Grand Sect!

Li Guanyi was gone.

After Xue Daoyong and Yue Qianfeng repelled the world’s tenth-ranked assassin, they rushed here—or rather, the assassin had retreated on his own; he was no suicide warrior, and upon realizing he could not overcome these two old bastards despite being rested, armed with a divine weapon, and clad in a treasure-grade armor, he abandoned his target without hesitation.

Fearing he might be beaten to death alive, he abandoned his goal without a second thought.

He turned and fled.

Yet Yue Qianfeng still landed a punch on his body, reversed his grip, tore off a portion of the Black Dragon Treasure Armor, and then the old man shot him clean through with an arrow, causing him to spew blood and cough violently as he escaped.

Do not pursue a desperate foe, especially since Li Guanyi was still being hunted; after this incident, Yue Qianfeng and Xue Daoyong lost all desire to fight each other, and when they arrived, all they saw was chaos. Yue Qianfeng crouched low, his hand sweeping over the corpses of the assassins, and said:

“...They died by the Blade of Po Jun’s Eight Cuts.”

“Five or six assassins surrounded him, chased him, fought him all the way here—where chains bound his weapons, someone killed his horse, leaving him trapped. Five men closed in. His spear snapped, his bow snapped. The traces here show he was struck by crossbow bolts—three of them...”

Yue Qianfeng’s voice was calm.

His voice grew colder.

He stood up and said: “If he lives, we find him. If he dies, we find his body.”

“Old bastard, I’m not fighting you now. That branch of the Mo School went astray—I’ll track down their nest. You’re the local snake; you search here.”

His spiritual sense detected no trace of Li Guanyi’s aura here.

The Crimson Dragon roared skyward; Yue Qianfeng’s eyes brimmed with killing intent as he pressed forward to continue searching.

Xue Daoyong took a deep breath, bent down, and placed his palm on the warhorse’s eyes.

He closed them.

Seeing the bloodstains everywhere, he knew the battle had been brutal. He seized the broken Su Ni Bow and hurried back to the city to mobilize troops, but halfway there, he met the Xue family’s guest masters arriving—these guest masters sighed in relief, bowed urgently, and said: “Old Master!”

Xue Daoyong asked: “Why are you here?”

Earlier, after Li Guanyi departed, Jiang Sutao had ridden straight to the Xue residence.

The girl, dressed in an elaborate gown, galloped her horse onto the main road and into the Xue estate, then threw herself off without care, tumbling to the ground. The old man ruled his household with iron discipline: without the master’s order, no guest master could be mobilized.

Jiang Sutao pressed a dagger to her throat, drawing blood, forcing the guest masters to ignore the master’s order and rush out en masse.

Jiang Sutao then went with Sun Wuchou and several renowned scholars to the Guan Yi City Garrison Commander’s residence, demanding the garrison commander dispatch troops. In the brief span of the old man’s battle, every person in the city had been mobilized, clearing out wanted fugitives and clashing multiple times with scattered, fleeing assassins.

The arriving guest masters were all bloodied, and sighed in relief:

“You’re unharmed—that’s the best outcome.”

He paused, then asked: “Where is Li Keqing?”

The old man did not answer. He gripped the broken Su Ni Bow, his eyes filled with sorrow, and pointed outside with a trembling finger: “Find him.”

The guest masters didn’t understand: “What?”

Xue Daoyong’s face twitched, and he said:

“Even if we spend every copper coin in the Xue family, dig three feet deep beyond the walls of Guan Yi City!”

“Tell everyone in Guan Yi City: whoever finds him, I’ll give him a whole street of shops, ten thousand taels of gold, a lifetime of endless wealth and glory!”

“If he lives, we find him. If he dies, we find his body!”

“Find him—for me, FIND HIM!!!”

……………………

Yaoguang transported Li Guanyi back and, using the secret methods of the Eastern Land Star Observation School, connected with the abilities of the White Tiger Grand Sect from five hundred years ago and the previous Yaoguang, concealing the aura of this stream like a lifeless stone. Not even martial cultivators lacking perception could sense it—nor could another branch of the Star Observation School, even if they came here.

The assassin stared wide-eyed at this place, as if realizing something.

Starlight... white hair?

Yaoguang rummaged through the pouch on her back and pulled out a black sack.

She covered the assassin’s head with it.

Then, holding Li Guanyi, she gazed at the stream and quietly stepped out, leaping into the water. Her aura flowed differently from a martial cultivator’s, forcing the current aside, turning the water into streams that curled around her, shimmering with specks of starlight.

She swam alongside the boy, gripping his wrist, surrounded by glittering starlight.

Yaoguang’s silver-white hair drifted gently in the water, her gaze serene and tranquil, like a water deity—yet Li Guanyi slept, unaware. She carried him into the cave behind the waterfall, climbed ashore, her clothes untouched by moisture, then turned, clasped his hands, leaned back with all her strength, and pulled the boy onto land.

Expressionless, she leaned on her knees, gasping heavily.

She raised her head and saw starlight rising gently. Her strength was low; here, she could only stand behind Li Guanyi, gripping his body and slowly dragging him toward the center. Xue Shenjiang sat cross-legged there, still wearing a faint smile.

At the very center of the cave, the rock above cracked open—though it was daytime, starlight could be glimpsed.

Yaoguang straightened her simple robes, removed her hood, and knelt quietly beneath the starlight, hands clasped, eyes lowered, softly reciting the sacred words of the Eastern Land Star Observation School. Starlight gathered beside the cross-legged, serene Shenjiang, forming another woman.

Her black hair fell softly, her appearance plain and tranquil.

A golden mark on her forehead matched Yaoguang’s.

Starlight descended here. The ancient illusion unfolded: young figures of the present sat in the positions of the Four Symbols. This was the true sacred realm—the final safeguard prepared by Xue Shenjiang for the future world. Only when the true White Tiger Grand Sect appeared, and Yaoguang, the one who aided him, arrived here, could it fully awaken.

According to the records of the Eastern Land Star Observation School, the light of the stars flows across time. The radiant light that left the White Tiger Seven Mansions five hundred years ago, after a long journey, reached the mortal world and settled here, forging the legacy between past and present.

The black-haired woman lowered her gaze, clasped her hands, and softly chanted the ancient language of the Star Seers.

Faint starlight gathered.

Finally, Li Guanyi’s aura escaped his body, connecting heaven and earth with his being.

Though it was still daytime, the starlight above blazed brilliantly.

Streams of light descended, falling upon the peacefully sleeping Li Guanyi. Glowing lines converged across the cave, forming intricate characters and patterns beneath him. Li Guanyi completed his entry. His aura burst forth, linking with heaven and earth.

This heart is pure. This body has endured a hundred battles.

The supreme foundation.

Starlight converged. The radiant light of the White Tiger Seven Mansions descended.

Beside the boy, the White Tiger’s spiritual form emerged beneath the starlight.

Still a tender cub, bathed in starlight, it raised its head and roared. Then, nourished by celestial power, it began to change—growing from the size of a large cat to a full-grown White Tiger, over seven feet long, roaring to complete its entry transformation.

The bronze tripod hummed softly.

The Crimson Dragon and Black Tortoise greedily devoured the White Tiger’s aura.

They forcibly slowed its transformation.

But the starlight was endless, freely available.

As if encountering a vessel unmatched by any White Tiger Grand Sect in the past three thousand years.

Li Guanyi absorbed four times the star power.

Only when the Crimson Dragon’s scales became truly solid and the Black Tortoise’s markings grew clear, and another aura remained behind, did they cease their absorption. The White Tiger finally roared with all its might—its tiger’s howl pierced the heavens—while the White Tiger Seven Mansions above blazed four times brighter than before.

To those who watched, the White Tiger Seven Mansions suddenly flared with unprecedented brilliance.

…………

On the desert beyond the oasis, a young man rode a camel, carrying a massive bundle, a jade flute at his waist. Ahead, an old man rode another camel and sighed:

“Not him either?”

The young man smiled and said: “No. The Turkic prince is heroic and martial, with ambitions to conquer the steppes—but he’s not yet a true hero. His words carry grandeur, but only because he stands atop his throne.”

“Like climbing high to see farther; when one is wealthy, one naturally cultivates aura. But the hero I seek must be one who, even when crouched low, still roars.”

“His friend Andar, however, possesses true heroic spirit.”

“They say when he was born, his right hand clenched a stone-like lump of blood. People sang he was a celestial demon fallen to earth, destined to bring blood and slaughter. His name, translated into Central Plains script, means ‘The Essence Within Steel.’”

“But he’s not the one I seek either.”

The old man frowned: “This one isn’t, that one isn’t!”

“Then what exactly are you looking for?”

The young man plucked his horsehead fiddle and played idly, replying: “I seek the one fated to me. I fulfill an ancient pact to find him, aid him in igniting the fires of chaos, burning this age to ash. It sounds mystical, but others are searching for him too.”

“My fellow travelers.”

“Their branch is too naive, hoping to ease chaos peacefully—but the smoke of war has already risen. It will not end until every so-called hero and sage is dead.”

“So we must find the strongest hero, aid him to end chaos as swiftly as possible. The one I seek must be the tyrant of chaos—his destiny pierces heaven, his youth was ruined, his ferocity beyond words. Among the Five Elements and Four Symbols, he claims Gold and the Tiger.”

“The White Tiger Lord.”

“Ohhh, the White Tiger Lord—that’s the stars rising in the west, right?”

The old man understood, pointing to the western sky, smiling: “In our tales, it’s the weapon in the hands of the Heavenly God—its blade sharp, meant to sweep away all injustice in the world.”

“In that, it’s much like Central Plains culture.”

The young man smiled to reply, but froze. Beneath the dim sky over the vast grassland, seven stars blazed abnormally bright. The youth, calling himself Po Jun, slowly widened his eyes:

“...The White Tiger Seven Mansions?!”

Behind him, the bundle suddenly shrieked violently. In that instant, as if blood had exploded—camels that had endured desert storms and sandstorms without flinching now collapsed, legs buckling, blood spurting from their mouths, dead from terror.

The old man’s scalp prickled, his heart nearly stopped: “You—what is this?!”

This young man came from the Central Plains.

Elegant, eloquent, seemingly a strategist from Ying State of the Central Lands—every warlord in the Western Regions welcomed him. Every night, different women left his tent, eyes full of longing. But before, this fellow had fled from the Tangut holy site at night, and since then, that massive bundle had appeared behind him.

He ran. Damn it—he dragged the old man along all night, nearly vomiting from exhaustion.

The Tanguts chased him three hundred li.

Only when he reached Turkic territory did he slow down, then detoured back through the desert to the Central Plains.

Suddenly, the old man heard a muffled roar like thunder.

He shuddered, looked up—and the heavens turned gray.

A colossal storm surged from afar. The old man’s face drained of color. A sandstorm—the most dangerous thing on this vast land, the roar of the Heavenly God. His scalp prickled; he was superstitious, screaming: “What did you bring out from the Tangut holy mountain?!”

With camels, one could hide behind them and survive a sandstorm.

But the camels were dead!

Was this truly the wrath of the Martial God?

The old man knelt on the ground, bowing his head in plea for forgiveness, but the storm approached too swiftly—he confessed even the secret he had carried to his grave: how, at seven, he had sneaked a peek at his neighbor’s sister bathing, before the heavens.

A resonant hum exploded, and the old man lifted his head to see the sandstorm torn apart.

It veered away from here, as if avoiding something—only dry sand stung his face faintly. He turned around and froze.

The massive bundle howled.

As the sandstorm swept over it, the blood-red inscribed cloth wrapping it shattered completely, revealing a weapon of pure black metal, faintly etched with golden patterns, descending heavily between sky and earth.

Its fearsome, majestic tiger-head pommel, its spear’s blade—even after five centuries of dust—still radiated chilling dread.

Pointing toward the heavens.

The desert wind howled past the weapon, and the spear roared like a white tiger—so powerfully that even the desert sandstorm parted before it. The storm churned through heaven and earth, spiraling as if a thousand giants from the Northern Reaches hammered bronze war drums; the heavens trembled, filling the old man with terror.

He could not stand, collapsing to his knees, his heart quivering.

Yet the youth’s eyes blazed with brilliant fire. The old man turned his head and saw the young man kneeling half-bowed before the colossal spear. Starlight rained from the sky, the dust before him parted—everything resembled the epic scene passed down through generations on the grasslands: the first man receiving divine guidance. In the warrior’s eyes burned fierce solemnity as he spoke:

“Lord of the Western Chen, Master of Arms.”

“Endless heavens, the primal might of the conqueror.”

Beside him, the divine weapon—once passed through generations, then placed by the Xue family’s divine general upon the Sacred Mountain—roared.

In the Xue family’s quiet chamber, the Cloud-Piercing Heaven-Bow hummed, its string’s resonance barely contained.

Beside Li Guanyi, the silver-haired girl gripped his hand, steadying his Qi. Yaoguang’s gaze fell softly as she chanted the ancient honorific name, her voice calm and serene:

“God of the Western Chen, Lord of Gengjin.”

“The Four Celestial Spirits, establishing the Four Directions.”

Both divine weapons, one in Jiangnan and one in the desert, rejoiced as that aura appeared in heaven and earth. Above, the Seven Stars of the White Tiger shifted, glowing with a brightness four times greater than ever before—visible even in daylight—proclaiming the same truth.

Since the first divine weapon appeared, in three thousand years.

The strongest White Tiger Grand Sect has emerged.

………

And within Li Guanyi’s “dream” upon entering the realm, he saw something different.