Chapter 65: Funerary Rite of the Grand Legion (2)

In ancient times, the Venerable Tongtian, founder of the Celestial Hall, fought the four Spirit Emperors of his era and their cultivator armies for a piece of blessed land to establish his faction on. Back then, 6,000 disciples followed Tongtian, and all died for his cause. To honor their service, the Venerable Tongtian created the Funerary Rite of the Grand Legion, a ritual formation used by the Celestial Hall to commemorate the deeds of their deceased heroes. 

Though initially not meant for battle, the Funerary Rite enabled legions of experts to unite as a single armored army that could not only release horrifying destructive strikes, but also cast grand barriers that built on the overlapping cultivation bases to resist or destroy those unfortunate enough to stand in their way. 

Over time, this ritual formation became a cornerstone of the Celestial Hall. Xinzi learned it from Tusha, and while the White Immortal sect’s inners and outers couldn’t compare to the Celestial Hall’s disciples, they were more than enough to turn the Yanzhou Province’s Pulse Condensation and Golden Core experts into helpless punching bags. 

With this formation to rely on, in the current war situation, Xinzi had all the tools to face the opposing factions’ Nascent Soul experts, to say nothing of Shui Jiankang, who in spite of all the tricks he concealed, still stood at the Golden Core realm. 

From the White Immortal sect elders to the Sacrificial Knives, all expected Xinzi to rely on a tweaked version of his sect’s formations. A grander Eight Trigrams Array, or something along those lines. No one expected the young monk to deploy an ancient array of the Celestial Hall, and unleash might of this magnitude. Instantly, Shui Jiankang despaired, despaired and cursed himself for having supported Xinzi’s plan. 

“The Golden Lotus be praised. Shui Jiankang, as the appointed King of the Dongli state, you not only shelter a traitorous prince, but defend one that, under the gaze of tens of thousands, sank into demonism. What is your motive? Could it be that just like your son, you too have colluded with the Dark Moon cult? That under the guise of helping the sect ward off its enemies, you aim to backstab us when we expect it the least? 

A lapse of judgment from a doting father is understandable. But a king, a monarch, should always be irreproachable. The Golden Lotus’ mercy is boundless, so in its name, I can forgive your mistake and give you one last chance to make amends. My recording mirror has registered all of your son’s ‘good deeds.’ Thousands also bear witness. Need I say more?” As the incisive words rolled off Xinzi’s tongue, his recording mirror rose above the formation, displaying Shui Haoyang’s deeds to the audience. 

Indeed, Xinzi was correct. With men and technology bearing witness, nothing Shui Jiankang did could preserve his feckless son. 

“Appointed King,” since he’d stepped foot on the cultivation road, Shui Jiankang had wanted to be the King of Dongli. But only when he’d inherited the seat, did he realize how insignificant his position truly was. As the head of state, he couldn’t even protect his kin from a Qi Refinement boy, had to bow, scrape, conceal and plot for his own survival. 

Rage and unwillingness welled up Shui Jiankang’s chest. His body trembled, but still he had to admit…that Haoyang was lost. Now, the best he could do was to protect Shui Haoyue’s interests. Imperceptible waves of Spiritual Qi sneaked into Shui Haoyang’s Sea of Consciousness—wreaking havoc in his mind, and ruining what little mental faculties remained. 

“Thank you, Abbot Xinzi, for your mercy. I was muddled, I was muddled,” Shui Jiankang said, and tossed Haoyang at Xinzi. Grabbing him by the collar, the monk caught him mid-flight, and with a swift inspection of his Sea of Consciousness, realized that Shui Jiankang had played tricks. However, whatever method the Dongli King used left no energy signature, preventing Xinzi from tracing the deed back to him. 

A hint of annoyance flashed in our monk’s eyes. For a while now, he felt that the hatred Shui Haoyang aimed at him had long stepped into the irrational domain. So irrational in fact that Xinzi wondered if there wasn’t more to Shui Haoyue’s fate than what Haoyang let him believe at first. That, or Xinzi had just underestimated the depth of genuine brotherly bonds—a bit of both, perhaps? 

Initially, the monk aimed to verify this after handling the current war situation. But thanks to Shui Jiankang’s meddling, he couldn’t find the answer. Still, the mere fact that Shui Jiankang played such tricks showed that there was more to this story than Haoyang ever revealed. His last rational words “Xinzi, you destroyed my beloved sister and drove her onto a path of no return” echoed in Xinzi’s mind, and the monk shut his eyes. 

‘First, Haoyue hid in the Nameless Sword mountain and settled for their inferior techniques. I’m certain that Shui Haoyang didn’t lie about this. But with the love Shui Jiankang has for his late queen’s children, how could he let her waste her potential in the Nameless Sword mountain. Even if she couldn’t bear staying in the White Immortal sect, the Shui clan’s techniques are more than a match for the Nameless Sword mountain and better suited to her Water Spiritual root. Did he just want her to find peace in whatever way she deemed appropriate? Or perhaps…while hiding in the Nameless Sword mountain, Haoyue sought new, greater backers? The Dark Moon cult? Are they connected?’ Xinzi’s thoughts trailed off. 

Did Haoyang alone sneak these experts into the White Immortal sect, or did his father help him carry out the task? At first, Xinzi didn’t believe that the vassal leaders were just fighting for an alibi. Especially the Albizia court mistress, who was surnamed Zi. But the longer he thought, the more doubtful he became of their true motives. 

For now, these questions would be put on standby. Without hesitation, Xinzi packed Haoyang in his storage ring. A palanquin rose from the formation’s center, and Xinzi took his rightful seat on top of it. His eyes ignored the vassal leaders, who now felt the weight of the White Immortal sect elders’ inquisitive eyes, and focused on the rumbling forces nearing the sect’s borders. 

‘As expected, with Lady Ziyun dead, the enemy throws caution to the wind, and the real invasion force rear its ugly head. Now, let’s just hope that I haven’t overestimated the White Immortal sect’s leadership.’ As Xinzi’s thoughts reached this point, led by their prime disciple, the core zone’s elites flooded the scene—the doomstack awaiting on the mountain peak struck their momentum down, forcing them to look in awe at Xinzi and his nightmare-inducing crew. 

‘Eh, isn’t that Xinzi? Where did the little monk learn this horrifying formation from? Don’t tell me that the elders are right to always push me for better results. Will I really have to start seeking opportunities in the cultivation world to keep up with them juniors? Wrong question. Where is Ling’er? What a pain. Let’s hope the little girl is fine, or that overindulgent dad of hers will throw another fit.’ Zi Zuixian sighed, then shifted his attention to his troops. A lot more experienced than their juniors, though perplexed by the armored legions surrounding Xinzi, the elite disciples quickly banded with their elders to get a clear sense of the situation and assist the sect to the best of their abilities.

Colossal Spiritual Arks flew towards the White Immortal sect’s borders—signaling the arrival of the Flower Plucking gang, Soaring Crane Mountain and Dark Moon cult coalition. 

Meanwhile, following the instructions of the Dark Moon cult, Lord Soaring Crane completed his setup. A spiral of dark-gray energies formed around the old man, with eerie faces of deceased Sacrificial Knives twisting in its midst. Unbeknown to the White Immortal sect’s elites, whenever a Sacrificial Knife lost its life, it generated foul energies that flew right back into this formation to power the refinement of the artifact that Lord Soaring Crane placed his hopes on: the Spirit Extinguishing Bead. 

“With the Spirit Extinguishing Bead to power my cultivation base, a beast tide, and the armies at our disposal, Hanxing, no matter what trick you’ve prepared, you cannot prevent the destruction of your White Immortal sect.” Lord Soaring Crane said, and while the helpless white fox still powered the Beast Tide Summoning, the ominous vortex shrank into a palm-sized blue bead, with a plethora of blank-staring faces flashing on its surface.