By nightfall, the old Manor Lord's condition stabilized. However, having taken such a vicious palm strike while caught off guard, he looked much older, appearing as if he did not have much longer to live.
"The Manor Lord's pulse is chaotic. We still need to observe him for a while," the divine physician said.
The old Manor Lord nodded and expressed his thanks. Seeing He You walk in, he asked, "Has the villain been caught?"
He You knelt down and said, "Your son is incompetent. I failed to find the villain. However, I did find the token of a Demonic Cult Protector in Wu Zhen's room... I suspect that the villain is hiding in the forging room, but..."
He sighed. "Granny Ran and Young Hero Deng both spoke up to stop us, saying it would disturb Wu Zhen's sword forging and that we must wait for her for a few days."
"Is that so." The old Manor Lord's expression revealed neither joy nor anger. "Then we shall wait another two days. During this time, keep the manor under strict lockdown, seal off all passages, and allow no one to enter. Search the other areas once more."
He You said respectfully, "Yes."
Seeing this, the divine physician comforted him, "Manor Lord, you need not worry. With so many martial arts heroes present, that villain will not have a chance to escape."
The old Manor Lord revealed a smile. "Elder Xue is absolutely right."
In this chilling atmosphere, the entire manor remained under lockdown until noon on the third day.
During this period, the people in the manor still tried to investigate the situation but found nothing. Now, even those who initially suspected the wooden token was a deliberate frame-up could not help but turn their attention to the forging room.
No matter how frantic the people outside were, steady and powerful sounds of striking iron continued to ring out from the forging room, ceasing neither day nor night, as if the person inside was completely unaware of the incident outside.
"If we keep waiting like this, who knows what unexpected changes might occur. Whether it is a man or a ghost, we will know once we open the door!"
Granny Ran was feeling unwell today and was not present, making it the perfect opportunity.
"If you will not open it, then I will!" Dong Yin, the Sect Leader of the Flying Leopard Sect, stepped forward, ready to kick the door down.
Deng Caiying held his sword horizontally, blocking his path.
Dong Yin looked at the unsheathed sword and laughed out of anger. "Even if that Wu Zhen is your benefactor, there is no need for you to be so blind to right and wrong, is there? If I insist on forcing my way in, are you prepared to point your bare blade at me?!"
Deng Caiying said in a deep voice, "Sect Leader Dong, please do not make things difficult for this junior."
Furious, Dong Yin drew his saber, wanting to make a move. "I think you have also colluded with the Demonic Cult!"
At this moment, a Buddhist chant sounded from the side. An old Shaolin monk took a step forward and advised Deng Caiying, "This poor monk knows that Young Hero Wu has shown kindness to you, benefactor, and is also a friend who has traveled alongside you. But this matter concerns the Manor Lord of Flying Star Manor and the Red Fire Society. You must not act impulsively."
Deng Caiying said, "This junior understands."
But he still did not step aside.
Seeing this, the elders of the other sects behind them shook their heads.
They had practically watched Deng Caiying grow up. Since childhood, he had borne the heavy, bloody grudge of his family's annihilation, and his enemy was a contemporary devil with profound martial arts. For him to grow up into a kindhearted swordsman under such circumstances, rather than straying onto an evil path, was already incredibly rare and commendable.
Now that a benefactor had avenged him and wiped away his grievances, severing the shackles and hatred that had trapped him for over twenty years in one stroke, as long as there was no proof that this benefactor had done anything heinous, he would naturally side completely with them.
Everyone understood the reasoning, but it was impossible to persuade him otherwise.
They were well aware of Deng Caiying's character, but if he continued to be so stubborn, and if that Wu Zhen truly turned out to be a spy for the Demonic Cult, it was hard to say what rumors the outside world would spread about Deng Caiying...
He could be branded as an accomplice of the Demonic Cult.
The Shaolin monk sighed and said no more.
At this moment, the old Manor Lord He arrived, supported by others.
He waved his hand at the disciples who were concerned about his health and asked wearily, "Has Young Hero Wu not yet finished forging? ...Cough, cough."
"Manor Lord..."
Cries of concern rose one after another.
The old Manor Lord shook his head and looked at Deng Caiying again. "Caiying, I know why you are protecting her. But your father and I were old friends, and if he were still alive, he would surely want you to better distinguish right from wrong. We have already waited here for two whole days and thoroughly searched the other places, have we not?"
As soon as his voice fell, someone said indignantly, "Moreover, after such a long time, who knows if she might have ruined the precious sword!"
The moment these words were spoken, a sudden realization dawned upon the crowd. That is right, that was the forging room!
Deng Caiying glanced at the person expressionlessly, and his gaze toward the old Manor Lord also took on a hint of scrutiny. His tone grew slightly heavier. "This junior is also doing this for the good of everyone present."
"Still making excuses for yourself!" Dong Yin flew into a rage. Bypassing him directly, he prepared to cleave the door of the forging room open with a single strike of his saber—
"Clang!"
A flash of snow-white light seemed to dart past.
A crisp sound of gold and jade striking together rang out. Dong Yin's broadsword was violently knocked from his grasp. With a sharp swish, it impaled the ground, still vibrating and emitting a humming resonance as its momentum had yet to fully dissipate.
Meanwhile, that snow-white light gleamed brilliantly under the sunlight, piercing the eyes. After knocking down the saber, it spun through the air in a perfect arc and flew back in the direction it came from.
It landed steadily in a palm as pale and flawless as jade.
"Who is playing tricks over there?!"
Gripping his uncontrollably numb arm, Dong Yin felt a massive shock in his heart.
In an instant, the martial artists present drew their weapons, filled with alarm and uncertainty.
That direction led to a cliff. What kind of person could silently appear at the edge of a cliff? Could they have flown over?
Amidst their extreme vigilance, the person slowly walked out from the shadows, exposing himself to the sunlight.
The newcomer had a slender and tall figure and wore a snow-white Daoist robe along with a matching veiled hat. The plain gauze hanging from the hat resembled thin clouds, making his facial features indistinct and obscured. The object that had just struck down the broadsword rested quietly in his palm. Surprisingly, it was merely an ordinary, plain-colored folding fan.
He stood quietly there, his clothes untainted by dust, like a patch of mountain snow abruptly appearing amidst the colors of spring, carrying a serene coldness that was completely out of place with his surroundings.
For some unknown reason, no one dared to make a rash move.
"Who might you be, sir, and what business do you have at my Flying Star Manor?"
The old Manor Lord narrowed his eyes, breaking the silence, and asked slowly.
The man tilted his head slightly.
"I came here to wait for someone."
He smiled, not answering all the questions, but simply said in a soft, unhurried manner, "What a pity. As soon as I arrived, I saw people brandishing swords and spears. That is truly not good."
As he spoke, he walked toward the forging room and cast a glance inside. As if seeing something through the walls, the unconcealable aloofness surrounding him dissipated slightly and faded away.
The faint sense of danger that had been continuously looming over everyone vanished without a trace along with it.
Deng Caiying breathed a sigh of relief. "Young Master Jiang, you have returned."
The man addressed as Young Master Jiang nodded and said amiably, "Thank you for your trouble these past few days."
Before the others could question Deng Caiying, he turned sideways. His tone was gentle, as if carrying a smile. "As for all of you, since you are so impatient, why do you not wait a little while together with me."
Upon saying this, a cold, invisible aura pressed down from above. Astonishingly, everyone present except Deng Caiying found themselves momentarily unable to move, or even speak.
They exchanged alarmed and bewildered glances—
Could it be that some kind of poisonous incense had been used here in advance? Otherwise, how could they have lost control of their bodies?
The man clearly did not care what they thought. He found a stone table and sat down. With a sweep of his sleeve, a tea set appeared on the table. He brewed a few cups of tea, lightly tapped the side of a cup with his knuckle, and one of the cups flew steadily straight toward Deng Caiying.
Deng Caiying caught the teacup in surprise. Looking down at the clear, crisp tea inside, he recalled how this person had consumed deadly poison without batting an eye at the Wu family residence. For a moment, he hesitated.
He figured this tea was likely no ordinary brew. After a brief thought, he drank it anyway.
The moment the tea passed his lips, Deng Caiying paused.
He could not help but glance at Jiang Zhenxue.
The young man sat quietly by the stone table. His posture was straight as a pine, yet without a hint of tension. He held a cup in one hand, while his other hand rested casually on his knee, revealing faint pale blue veins and distinct, elegant knuckles.
His bearing was divine and clear as jade, exuding the transcendent grace of an immortal.
With his usual gentleness faded away, he only emanated a coldness like mountain snow, making him seem even less like a mortal being.
Deng Caiying obediently stayed where he was and kept his mouth shut.
After about the time it takes an incense stick to burn, the noises from the forging room finally ceased.
Someone picked something up, and then pushed the door open.
At the same time, the invisible pressure that had been suppressing the others quietly dissipated.
From the forging room, a tall young woman with long black hair walked out.
As if left unkempt for many days, her hair was extremely long, scattering loosely and obscuring the contours of her pale face. Only her facial features, framed by the black hair, were visible.
Along with a pair of pitch-black eyes, even darker than her hair.
She took a step forward. Her left hand hung by her side, but her right hand was hidden behind her, seemingly dragging something quite heavy. When she finally stepped out of the forging room and into the sunlight, they at last saw the object in its entirety.
It was a pitch-black scythe, nearly eight feet in total length.
The long scythe was as dark as ink. The blade alone was over three feet long, curved like a waning moon, leaving a deep trench as it scraped across the stone floor. To balance the weight of the blade, the long handle had to be made of solid material, dark and heavy as iron. Combined, its total weight was unimaginable.
...This long scythe was even significantly taller than the one who forged it.
Yet such a weapon, which looked terrifyingly heavy and impossible to wield at first glance, was pulled up by the young woman with a single arm. She effortlessly stood it by her side, letting it land without a sound.
...
For a moment, no one spoke.
Even though the effects of the poison incense on them had already faded.
The place was dead silent.
However, if they were not going to move, someone else would.
The young woman who had emerged from the forging room tilted her head slightly. Her large, dark, emotionless eyes swept over the crowd. She first walked over to the young man in white and downed the tea on the stone table in one gulp.
Then she turned her head, as if she had precisely locked onto a target, and looked straight at Old Master He.
And step by step, she walked toward him.
"...What are you trying to do?!" He You shouted hastily.
The black-haired girl turned a deaf ear, staring intently at Old Master He like a viper locking onto its prey.
"Protect the Master!"
In the blink of an eye, several of the world's top martial artists shielded the old master, with the disciples of their sects following closely behind, securely blocking the injured master from view.
Only then did the young woman's pupils move slightly, her gaze sweeping one by one over these martial artists standing in front of her prey.
Then, as if she understood something, she tilted her head slightly and shifted the upright scythe back into a combat-ready stance with one end touching the ground.
The blade hit the ground with a heavy thud.
"Since that is the case," she said lightly, as if merely stating a fact.
"Then let us fight."
"All of you, come at me together."
