Chapter 418: Seizing the Artifact

The three states of Yuzhou, Lingzhou, and Yongzhou formed a defensive line along the Ku Tong Mountains, Tian Jun Mountains, and Luo Fu Mountains, at the border of Qingzhou.

According to our current positions, the Western front is defended by the Wenda Sect, my Tian Shu Academy and Ling Jian Mountain hold the center, Shan Hai Pavilion holds the East, and the Chen Clan immortal guardians protect the three states’ supply lines.

The three eastern, western, and central lines support each other; with the Sacred Artifact in our hands, after Qingzhou, we will not allow the Descendants to advance another step.

The revival of the Descendants is a catastrophe of cosmic scale; no one can survive by mere luck. I hope all major Immortal Sects will respond with their full strength.

In the West Courtyard of Yipin City, after the joint resistance meeting ended, the five major Immortal Sects began signing agreements.

These were the true powers controlling humanity, and their alliance would undoubtedly improve humanity’s current situation.

After the agreement was signed, everyone rose from their seats and walked toward the hall’s exit.

As soon as they stepped outside the door, Shang Xiyao suddenly stopped and stared at Yan Shuyi’s expressionless face.

“I heard the Master of the Mirror recently welcomed a daughter—congratulations.”

At these words, everyone involuntarily turned their gazes and paused slightly to look over.

They had indeed heard of the young Master of Ling Jian Mountain’s disappearance in the Sacred Ground of the Ancients, then returning with a daughter, and were astonished, unable to understand what the young Master was thinking.

Now that Shang Xiyao had spoken of it, they naturally wondered how she would react.

“Xiyao, don’t be disrespectful.” Shang Xingdao spoke softly, his tone carrying boundless authority.

Shang Xiyao turned to look at Shang Xingdao: “Father, this is merely a congratulation—I doubt the young Master would consider it an offense.”

Yan Shuyi listened, then glanced slightly aside: “Thank you.”

“The young Master is too kind, but what troubles Xiyao is that with the Descendants now attacking, our five major sects are on the brink. This bond of yours seems unable to protect Ling Jian Mountain anymore—I wonder what the Ling Jian Mountain disciples think.”

At these words, everyone present froze their gazes.

They understood Shang Xiyao’s meaning—he was implying the young Master had chosen wrongly.

In fact, everyone else thought the same.

If the young Master of Ling Jian Mountain had chosen Shang Xiyao back then, the alliance between Wenda Sect and Ling Jian Mountain might have been the one most likely to endure even in a world ruled by the Descendants.

But she chose Ji You—and Ji You is dead, leaving her nothing but a daughter, a rustic cultivator who broke into the Immortal Realm with no other legacy.

They all truly wanted to know whether Yan Shuyi regretted having no one behind her.

What they never expected was that their curiosity met with a gaze as icy and merciless as a blizzard.

“Only the weak constantly think of being protected. Between him and me, there was never such a transaction.”

Shang Xiyao’s greatest wish right now was to see Yan Shuyi regret, to see her realize she had chosen wrong—it would bring him pleasure, making him feel the woman he had long pursued deserved it.

But he never expected Yan Shuyi’s reply.

Only the weak think of being protected—this implied he was weak. His eyes instantly darkened, a fire of rage flared within him, yet he could not refute it.

Everyone knew the seven major sects’ direct disciples were roughly the same age; Shang Xiyao was even older than most, yet only Yan Shuyi had reached the Divine Wander realm by her twenties.

She was the fastest in history to reach Tong Xuan, Rong Dao, Wu Jiang, and Shen You. Her role was never that of the weak.

Just as the atmosphere began to freeze, footsteps suddenly sounded outside the door.

Qin Rong, head of Tian Shu Academy, hurried in and bowed slightly before them: “Lord, survivors from Yuepo Plateau have arrived in the city.”

Zuo Qiuyang blinked in surprise: “The Descendants launched a night raid there—how could any survivors remain?”

“Indeed. Some members of the Gong, Lian, and Lan families of Qingzhou survived—they’ve now been brought into the city.”

“Do they have any intelligence on the Descendants?”

“They saw the Descendant Prince. They say his combat power exceeds even that of the royal ministers—like a true Lin Xian…”

Hearing this, everyone in the courtyard grew solemn, recalling the aura they had sensed at Xuan Yuan Immortal Mountain that day.

After a long silence, Zuo Qiuyang came back to himself: “Did the survivors know why they were attacked at night?”

“Yes. They said their kin were tortured before being killed—the Descendant Prince wanted to know where the human Artifact-Bearer was.”

“So they truly meant to seize the Sacred Artifact,” Yan Shuyi murmured softly.

At that moment, Huo Xingzhong suddenly spoke: “If the Descendant Prince himself acted, how could any survivors remain?”

Qin Rong nodded: “According to the Gong family, he was saved by a human cultivator in his twenties who reached the Ying Tian realm.”

“A Ying Tian cultivator in his twenties? Who?”

“He said he didn’t know.”

Huo Xingzhong frowned: “There are few Ying Tian cultivators at that age. How clueless must the Gong family be to not recognize him?”

Qin Rong raised his head slightly and glanced at the young Master of Ling Jian Mountain: “According to their description, the man excelled in sword arts—his sword intent resembled that of Ling Jian Mountain’s chief sword disciple, Qi Zheng.”

As soon as he finished speaking, everyone froze—even You Yingqiu and Zuo Qiuyang locked their gazes.

A twenty-year-old Ying Tian cultivator? No one knew who that might be. But the next detail changed everything—they instantly pictured one figure.

At this thought, everyone unconsciously turned toward the young Master of Ling Jian Mountain.

Yan Shuyi frowned slightly, but otherwise showed no strong reaction—her eyes remained calm as a still lake.

“What else did the Gong family say about him?” You Yingqiu asked.

“They said he was extremely skilled in spell arts, and one technique in particular was extraordinarily powerful. Also, according to their description, he was a man with high cheekbones, a flat nose, and an ordinary, even unattractive face.”

The moment the six words “extremely skilled in spell arts” left his lips, the atmosphere shifted instantly.

Some chuckled softly; others dimmed their eyes.

“I thought the dead had returned,” Shang Xiyao said coldly, staring at Yan Shuyi.

Yan Shuyi said nothing in response, and walked out of the courtyard.

Her quarters were on the east side. As soon as she entered, she saw Ding Yao and Zhuo Wanqiu sitting at a stone table in the courtyard—one holding the tiny Ji Si, the other teasing her with a flower branch plucked from a tree.

Around them stood Cao Jingsong, Wen Zhengxin, Ban Yangshu, and the Lu sisters, their gazes glued to the baby in the swaddling.

Cao Jingsong and the others had long wished to meet Ji You’s bloodline, but so many events had followed that they never got the chance. Now that they heard Yan Shuyi had arrived in Yipin City, they hurried over.

The moment they saw her, Cao Jingsong’s heart melted.

Ji Si was stunningly beautiful, her features entirely inherited from her parents—especially her eyes and brows, which resembled the man who spent every day counting silver.

As Yan Shuyi arrived, they all rose and bowed gently to her: “Master of the Mirror, long time no see.”

“Long time no see.”

“How are the Yuan siblings and Old Qiu’s family?”

Yan Shuyi nodded: “They’re well. Qiu Ru has reached the Micro Illumination upper realm, but given the current chaos, I didn’t allow them to leave the mountain.”

“That’s wise. Ling Jian Mountain is certainly safer.” Cao Jingsong replied.

After Ji You’s death, Fengzhou became a land without a master; many factions had stirred with ambition. Though Cao Jingsong was from Fengzhou, he could not stabilize an entire large state, and the young Master of Ling Jian Mountain, stationed in Lingzhou, was too far to reach.

So after the memorial rites, Yan Shuyi brought Old Qiu’s family back to Ling Jian Mountain—originally to protect them from noble family retaliation after Ji You’s death. Unexpectedly, they also escaped the Descendants’ disaster, a small blessing amid great misfortune.

After brief small talk, Cao Jingsong and the others took their leave.

Yan Shuyi walked to Ding Yao and took Ji Si into her arms.

The baby was clearly intelligent—she recognized her mother and reached out with tiny hands, babbling.

The young Master couldn’t help but softly narrow her eyes, wrinkled her delicate nose—and Ji Si’s hands waved more vigorously, her babbling louder.

At that moment, Ding Yao’s voice sounded beside mother and child.

“Master, have you heard the rumors in the city? Survivors from Qingzhou fled to Yipin City. They say they were saved, and that their savior used Qi Elder’s Four Swords.”

Yan Shuyi nodded slightly: “I heard.”

Ding Yao and Zhuo Wanqiu watched their Master anxiously: “Some in the city are saying the Master’s husband has returned from the dead…”

Hearing this, Yan Shuyi said nothing—she simply reached out and pinched her daughter’s cheek.

The two women exchanged glances: “Master, we should meet the Gong family. Few can wield these four swords—perhaps…”

“Perhaps a humble Tian Shu Academy disciple has returned from the dead?”

Ding Yao and Zhuo Wanqiu were about to nod—then they saw their Master’s cold eyes, and their words stuck in their throats.

Yan Shuyi turned, holding her daughter: “Cao Jiaoxi and the others live in Yipin City—they must have heard this news before us. Did they react at all?”

“They… didn’t mention it.”

“Do you know why?”

Ding Yao and Zhuo Wanqiu bit their lips: “They know it’s false.”

Yan Shuyi raised her eyes: “Correct. He is buried on my mountain—how could he appear in Qingzhou? And he never understood spell arts. Cao Jiaoxi barely accepted his death—how could he endure another grief from a simple rumor?”

“Master…”

“The dead are dead. Life moves forward. The Qingyun world turns regardless of who leaves. I don’t wish to waste energy on rumors I know to be false.”

Hearing this, Ding Yao and Zhuo Wanqiu fell silent.

They had thought their Master would be delighted by the rumor—yet her reply was this.

Yan Shuyi handed her daughter to Ding Yao: “Si’er met many people today—she’s probably tired. Let her sleep. I’ll go complete today’s cultivation.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Go on.”

Yan Shuyi turned and stepped into the room.

Night had fallen; the empty room held only a candle, its flickering flame making the small bedroom feel lonely and still.

The young Master’s eyelashes trembled slightly, then she gently removed her Liulixianguan and the Master’s Immortal Robe.

“The Master has grown colder than before…”

In the side room of the courtyard, Ding Yao, who was soothing Ji Si to sleep, suddenly spoke softly.

Zhuo Wanqiu, hearing this, pressed her lips together: “The Master’s decision is right. If you think carefully, this rumor is obviously false—and the Master’s husband is buried right here on our mountain. How could he appear in Qingzhou?”