Chapter 145: The Name of the Great Hero
The Clear Sky Sect officially renamed contribution points to Dao Fate, and simultaneously announced the monthly salary and Dao Fate allocation for each disciple rank.
The notice was posted across every courtyard on Clear Sky Mountain, stirring widespread discussion among the disciples.
Outer Disciples could receive ten Dao Fate per month, Inner Disciples twenty, and True Transmission Disciples fifty.
The martial secret manuals on the third floor of the Scripture Repository were priced at a hundred Dao Fate or more, while the spell manuals on the fourth floor started from a thousand Dao Fate.
Overall, this basic welfare made disciples of all ranks satisfied—for no matter where one stood, there was always hope to climb higher.
In addition to the monthly allowance, disciples could earn extra Dao Fate through sect construction, inventions and innovations, or completing commissions from the Tempering Hall.
Dao Fate could be exchanged for secret manuals, weapons, spirit stones, spiritual plants, talismans, and more.
Everyone in the sect understood that more exchangeable goods would appear in the future.
It was worth mentioning that the Primordial Unity Scripture could not be exchanged with Dao Fate.
As long as one’s realm met the requirement, one could go to the Cultivation Hall and directly claim the next layer of the heart method.
Dao Fate was non-transferable, yet the items obtained through it could be privately traded—giving hope to disciples born from noble families and powerful clans.
To prevent trouble, the burden of the Enforcement Hall grew heavier, and more decrees were issued regarding Dao Fate.
Li Qingqiu, however, felt little pressure.
The Clear Sky Sect was still, in essence, ruled by his word alone.
Should any issue arise, he could adjust promptly.
The sect was still in its exploratory phase; mistakes were bound to happen.
The balance between Dao Fate and worldly wealth would, in time, naturally find equilibrium—no fixed rule could dictate it.
While the Clear Sky Sect reformed from within, the chaos beneath the mountain intensified.
Battles erupted across Guzhou, and the state capital’s control over the counties collapsed entirely.
As the saying went, “In turbulent times, heroes arise”—and many believed themselves to be such heroes.
By the fifth month, a group of refugees arrived at the foot of the mountain, seeking shelter from the Clear Sky Sect.
Zhang Yuchun refused.
He merely handed them some dry rations and ordered them to leave.
However, the refugees did not go far.
They hid within the Ancient Great Mountain Range, returning occasionally to beg for food from the sect.
At the start of the sixth month, the Grand Dao Tournament began its selection for the top sixty-four.
By the end of the month, the list was finalized and posted by the Free Spirit Hall.
The weakest among the sixty-four finalists had reached the Third Layer of the Nourishing Vital Energy Realm.
Each had already made quite a name for themselves.
Everyone could sense that the Clear Sky Sect was brimming with talent.
Every one of the sixty-four had proven themselves through numerous duels, all relying on true strength to rise.
Several well-known True Transmission Disciples had even been eliminated.
That day, at noon—
A group of True Transmission Disciples entered the Lingxiao Courtyard.
Among them was Yu Lin, ranked second among the Seven Sons of Clear Sky.
He walked at the back, his expression heavy with melancholy.
As some of the sect’s earliest disciples, the Seven Sons of Clear Sky had contributed greatly to its foundation.
Yet aptitude was innate.
Aside from Huang Shan, who had broken through to the Fourth Layer of the Nourishing Vital Energy Realm last month, the other six could only remain at the Third Layer despite all the resources of the Blessed Lands.
From the Third Layer to the Fourth—it was as difficult as ascending the heavens.
Summoned by Li Qingqiu, Yu Lin felt immense shame.
The other True Transmission Disciples, on the contrary, entered with laughter, believing their own performances had earned the Sect Master’s recognition.
Upon entering the courtyard, they found not only the Sect Master but also two others—Shen Yue and Jiang Zhaoxia.
At the sight of these two, all disciples fell silent, not daring to speak rashly.
Li Qingqiu watched as the thirty disciples arranged themselves into order, and he felt quite pleased.
He then spoke of the Source Iron Blessed Land, informing them that they would be stationed there as guards.
The land’s spiritual energy was abundant—comparable to cultivating within the Blessed Land of a Thousand Spirits.
Upon hearing this, all the disciples, Yu Lin included, grew excited.
It was a great opportunity!
In the past, those assigned to guard the Spirit Mines had nearly all become True Transmission Disciples.
Even if later transferred elsewhere, they advanced far beyond their peers.
Such chances were rare indeed.
The thirty disciples immediately bowed in gratitude.
“Go and make preparations. Tomorrow, Elder Jiang and Elder Shen will accompany you there. Yu Lin, stay behind.”
Li Qingqiu waved his sleeve.
The disciples bowed once more before departing.
When only Yu Lin remained, he stood nervously, not daring to meet Li Qingqiu’s gaze.
“Why so tense, Nephew? I won’t eat you,” Li Qingqiu said with a smile.
That single word—Nephew—struck Yu Lin like a thunderbolt.
His emotions broke at once; he fell to his knees and kowtowed, crying, “Martial Uncle, I have failed your teaching and brought shame to both you and my master!”
The Seven Sons of Clear Sky had all come from villages at the mountain’s foot.
They were the sect’s first disciples and had all apprenticed under Zhang Yuchun, witnessing the sect’s rise with their own eyes.
But as more disciples joined, the distance between the Seven Sons and Li Qingqiu grew.
They could no longer freely enter the Lingxiao Courtyard, nor did they often see their Sect Master.
Yu Lin had thought Li Qingqiu had long forgotten them.
So when he heard him call him “Nephew,” his emotions surged uncontrollably—part gratitude, part grievance, and part joy.
Li Qingqiu rose, walked around the long table, and helped him up.
“What’s this talk of shame?” he asked gently.
“I didn’t make it into the top sixty-four…”
“So what? There are always winners and losers. The Clear Sky Sect values more than strength alone. Your seniority and contributions are unmatched—none would dare belittle you. If any do, I will not forgive them.”
Li Qingqiu’s stern words made Yu Lin’s heart burn with renewed fervor; his face flushed red with emotion.
The reason Li Qingqiu had kept him behind was to entrust him with an important duty: to oversee all spirit stones and the ancient Geng Metal Source Iron within the Source Iron Blessed Land, forbidding any disciple from taking even a fragment without authorization.
Though the chosen disciples were all loyal, loyalty alone could not erase greed.
If one thought becoming stronger faster was for the sake of the Sect Master and the sect, would that not also lead to temptation?
Though Jiang Zhaoxia would be stationed at the Blessed Land, his temperament favored cultivation over supervision—he would not watch over every action.
The Source Iron Blessed Land was vast, impossible to monitor at a glance.
Facing Li Qingqiu’s instructions, Yu Lin accepted at once, vowing with his life that no mishap would occur.
“You child, no need to exaggerate. Go and prepare,” Li Qingqiu said, ruffling Yu Lin’s hair with a faint smile.
Yu Lin smiled, bowed deeply, and departed.
From a distance, Shen Yue and Jiang Zhaoxia exchanged glances.
For reasons unknown, both felt oddly unsettled—as if something was out of place.
At dawn the next day, Jiang Zhaoxia and Shen Yue led the thirty disciples away.
The journey from Clear Sky Mountain to the eastern coast spanned over seven hundred li.
Mountains towered, cliffs loomed, the terrain perilous—but for cultivators, such barriers were hardly insurmountable.
Several days later, Shen Yue returned alone, resuming his instruction of the Sword Sect disciples.
Recently, the Sword Sect had recruited fifty new disciples, all of whom had registered for the Grand Dao Tournament.
Many believed their selection meant they had performed exceptionally well, which only heightened the tournament’s prestige.
The seventh month arrived.
The sixty-four finalists now competed for the top ten.
The matches were not all held in one day; though fewer each day, the excitement only grew.
Many disciples had their favorites among the contestants and eagerly watched to see if their chosen genius could reach the end.
It was worth mentioning that Xu Ning did not participate in any of these matches.
She would advance directly to the final competition in August—without taking one of the top ten spots.
None objected; rather, all praised the Sect Master’s fairness.
If Xu Ning had joined from the start, wouldn’t those who faced her be too pitiful?
By mid-July, Li Sijin approached Li Qingqiu.
“Senior Brother, the refugees below the mountain must be dealt with! Some have started stealing from my Medicine Garden—and when caught, they even act righteously!” she said indignantly.
Land on Clear Sky Mountain was becoming scarce.
The Cultivation Hall had to expand down the slopes and even to Ziyang Peak, reclaiming more fields and gardens.
Li Qingqiu pondered briefly before saying, “Go to the Tempering Hall and find Xue Jin. He’s entered the top ten—let him lead a group to handle this matter.”
As he spoke, he handed her his silver Sect Master Token, engraved with the shape of the Tianhong Sword—a design proposed by Zhang Yuchun and crafted by the Heavenly Works Hall.
It ensured he no longer relied solely on verbal commands, avoiding potential confusion.
Li Sijin took the token and leapt over the courtyard wall, flying down the mountain in fury.
Li Qingqiu merely shook his head and continued writing spell manuals at the long table.
Lately, outside his cultivation, he had been contemplating ghost-related spells—seeking a method of spirit control less sinister than the Soul Restraining Curse.
Since ghost cultivation already existed in the Clear Sky Sect, he needed to broaden its scope and give disciples more options.
If a disciple lacked sufficient aptitude for Qi Refining, perhaps they could walk the ghostly path.
If one could turn a ghost servant’s aptitude into one’s own—or share cultivation with it—wouldn’t that open countless possibilities on the road to immortality?
…
At the foot of Ziyang Peak, Li Sijin entered the forest with Xue Jin and a dozen disciples from the Tempering Hall.
Hundreds of refugees were scattered inside—some lying on the ground, others leaning against trees.
The stench was overwhelming.
At that moment, several disciples from the Cultivation Hall were quarreling with a few elderly men.
“Someone’s coming!”
A messy-haired woman pointed toward Li Sijin’s group, her voice shrill enough to draw every pair of eyes toward them.
Seeing the filth and squalor around, Xue Jin frowned.
It was the first time many Tempering Hall disciples had witnessed such misery, and they too furrowed their brows.
“If we don’t drive them out, more will come,” Li Sijin said helplessly, halting her steps.
She felt regret.
At first, seeing the refugees near her garden, she had taken pity and offered them food and drink—never expecting it would attract so many.
Xue Jin nodded slightly and stepped forward.
“Who’s the leader? Come out and talk.”
The leader?
Li Sijin hadn’t expected these refugees to even have one.
Just as she thought Xue Jin was mistaken, a hunchbacked old man came hobbling forward with a stick, making her eyes widen in disbelief.
As he approached, several burly men stood up, surrounding them protectively.
The old man stopped before Xue Jin, smiling faintly.
“Young man, don’t blame us. We’re starving and desperate. The world’s in chaos—only the mountains offer shelter. If your Sect Master hadn’t killed the Emperor, how would the world have fallen into such ruin? We wouldn’t be wandering like this.”
Li Sijin was furious.
“If my Senior Brother hadn’t acted, that Emperor would still be abducting the townsfolk’s children in search of his Elixir of Immortality! Aren’t you afraid he might have taken yours next?”
A burly man snorted.
“So what? There are countless people in the world. We live far from Zhenyang—he’d never have reached us. But now the world’s in turmoil, and we all suffer because of your Clear Sky Sect.”
At those words, the other refugees echoed him, cursing Li Qingqiu and making Li Sijin and the disciples flush with anger.
Xue Jin looked at the hunchbacked old man.
“Anything else you want to say?” he asked.
The old man raised his hand, silencing the crowd.
His gaze grew cold.
“Tell your Sect Master to come see me. I’ll speak with him myself. I want to see if Li Qingqiu truly deserves the name of Great Hero.”
Clang—
A flash of sword light, followed by the crisp sound of a blade unsheathing.
Everyone froze.
The next instant, the refugees and Clear Sky disciples alike saw the old man’s head tumble to the ground, blood spurting from his neck like a fountain.
Xue Jin shielded himself with Vital Energy, warding off the splatter.
His expression remained calm as he stared forward.
“I’ll count to ten. After ten, I’ll begin the slaughter—and I won’t stop until my sword curls from killing.”