Section Nine: Xiao Luo, This Is Your Enemy

“They’re here.”

He had just opened his mouth to inquire when Tonglu, battered and bruised, came scampering over, every injury on his body tugging sharp threads of pain.

“Grand Elder Wuyun!”

With one sentence, Tonglu made Wuyun grin broadly, but before his smile had closed, Tonglu continued, “Inner Sect Elder Tonglu, here to pay respects!”

Since when had Tonglu become an Inner Sect Elder? Had the swordsmen of Sword Mountain all perished?

Tonglu’s hurried account soon clarified things: the Sword Mountain Sect was now little more than a ruin.

“After you fainted, Thousand Swords hastily passed the sect master’s insignia to Moonfall Hua. He and the other seven peak masters gathered the remaining loyalists and fled. Our branch, the leftovers, has become the main line of the Sword Mountain Sect!”

Tonglu’s scarred face radiated pride, but Wuyun cursed angrily, “So now, anyone with a grudge or even without one will come looking for trouble?”

“Exactly!”

No sooner had Wuyun spoken than a cold snort sounded from the sky: “So this is the so-called Grand Elder—just a wretched creature refashioned by the Saint Overlord, left behind as a contingency. Turns out, you’re nothing but a good-for-nothing at the Qi Condensation stage!”

The voice rang out, but through the great formation, there was neither tremor nor oppressive force.

Moonfall Hua’s face darkened terribly. On the day of his grand wedding, the demon cloud’s tongue proved as venomous as ever: barely had he spoken when a challenger arrived, spoiling for a fight.

Wuyun smiled generously. Under everyone’s gaze, he strolled around the perimeter of the grand hall, then sent a few words via voice transmission. Wearing a sullen expression, Moonfall Hua agreed to leave.

The speaker in the sky remained silent. Curious, Wuyun scanned the heavens, spotting a cloud like a celestial pavilion, where a young man and four maids played music and danced, toasting each other with fine wine.

“Little Hua, don’t go! So young—surely one of your enemies!” Wuyun hollered, and as Moonfall Hua was adding something to the array, he stumbled, nearly falling.

Indeed, this brocade-clad lord was Moonfall Hua’s rival in love.

This so-called Lord Brocade was over three thousand years old, yet his cultivation had already broken through to the Divine realm. It was said that, relying on his family’s power, he’d sought to marry Little Seven, storming Sword Mountain to propose—only to be slapped away by the Saint Overlord.

The four clan elders he’d brought hadn’t dared utter a word in protest and carried the badly wounded Lord Brocade away in shame.

“For more than two thousand years, I’ve finally found a way to settle this score with his disciple!” Lord Brocade sipped his wine, savoring the moment. “As for Junior Sister Little Seven—after so long, even if she’s still a maiden, she’s a bit old now. My household still lacks a servant. In all of Luoshui Star, only you are worthy of my notice!”

On hearing this, Little Seven’s phoenix eyes blazed with anger, and the sword at her back stirred restlessly. She was a late-stage True Soul cultivator, but against a Divine realm expert, she could hold out only a few moves.

“Why has the Brocade Family of Luocai Star come again?” Wuyun naturally recognized him. Back then, the lad, self-assured in his alchemical prowess and youthful talents, had met Moonfall Hua and Little Seven on his journey, chased them to Sword Mountain’s sacred peak, and been slapped away by the Saint Overlord.

Now, with Luoshui Star’s overlord vanished, he’d hurried over, seizing his chance.

At the banquet, someone recognized the future head of the Brocade Family—Luocai Star’s greatest clan—causing a commotion as guests scattered to hide.

Everyone knew this man was a notorious philanderer, with seventeen wives already—and the gall to back it up: wealth, cultivation, and good looks!

Soon, when Moonfall Hua returned, Wuyun, now full of confidence, casually picked up a jar of fine wine from the table, poured himself a cup, and drank deeply.

The fiery burn nearly brought tears to his eyes. Was this really wine? It might as well have been pure flame.

In this new life, Wuyun’s greatest pleasures were eating, drinking, and making up for all the joys lost in the heavens.

Seeing Wuyun ignore him and drink alone, Lord Brocade sneered, “A cloud demon that gained a spirit and was molded by the Saint Overlord’s blood magic. The ignorant think you’re a puppet; those who know, barely consider you human. Laughable!”

Wuyun set down his chicken leg, scowled at the sky, then turned to Little Seven and barked, “What kind of cook did you hire? Steamed chicken legs?”

The food’s blandness enraged Wuyun.

In the sky, Lord Brocade waved his hand, and a multicolored phoenix, ten meters long, soared forth, scattering all the birds circling above. Then, three dark clouds appeared, hovering ominously.

“Ephemeral Sword, you idiot—reaching True Soul is no small feat. The grudge between your master and me will be settled with a slap. If you can endure it, let’s call it even!”

“Don’t fall for it, Little Hua!” Little Seven called to her senior brother, casting a worried glance at Wuyun.

Wuyun’s eating was peculiar—he seemed eager, yet every bite tasted like wax.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Outside the great formation, as Lord Brocade’s four maids performed, they unleashed treasures, bombarding the array and shaking its very core.

Countless rune symbols shattered and fluttered down; at this rate, it would only take a few days to break through.

Lord Brocade nodded, pleased with the defensive array. “As expected, the Saint Overlord’s work is extraordinary. Still, your formation won’t last long. Unless you have another ace up your sleeve, I’ll be coming in soon.”

“Stop!”

At the first sign Lord Brocade would act, Wuyun hurriedly intervened. He halted his chewing, swallowed hard, and glared at Lord Brocade, shouting, “Repaying kindness with enmity—have you no shame?”

Lord Brocade’s face twisted in rage, but he restrained himself, knowing this demon cloud was the Saint Overlord’s final creation. “A grudge repaid is a grudge erased! If I ascend and leave with regrets, my cultivation will suffer—a flaw left behind!”

He raised a hand, and a massive treasure slowly rose behind him, turning into a rainbow that shot toward the formation.

“Don’t lose the whole forest for a single blade of grass!”

As Wuyun finished speaking, the rainbow froze midair, revealing itself as a thirty-meter-long, multicolored spike. Lord Brocade, stunned, turned red, then black, then purple, before finally regaining his composure.

That very phrase had inspired his devotion—yet he’d married seventeen times!

He folded his hands, bowed deeply, and said respectfully, “So it was Senior who saved me back then. I was truly blind! Since I owe you a debt, I shall let this matter rest. I will no longer meddle in the Sword Mountain Sect’s affairs!”

With that, he gazed at Wuyun for several seconds, then summoned his four stunningly beautiful maids. The hidden palanquin rose from the clouds, and eight multicolored phoenixes pulled it away with a sweeping cry.

The onlookers gasped at this flamboyant exit, but the sky cleared for only a moment before dark clouds gathered once more.

Tonglu, unable to restrain his curiosity, asked, “Grand Elder, how did you do that—”

Smack!

Wuyun rapped him on the head, snapping, “Such secrets are not for you to know!”

Tonglu hastily agreed, while Wuyun called out in a booming voice, “Fill my cup! I’ll regale you with a tale or two!”

The crowd fell silent, and even the clouds above parted, a single shaft of light shining down on Wuyun.

…