The blood in the Weapon Resting Hall spread slowly across the cracks of the stone floor.
No one rushed to speak. No one rushed to move. The cultivators who had been eyeing the weapon racks with greed only moments earlier now stood very still, as if the old blades around them had suddenly become less frightening than the black sword in Fang Lin's hand.
Fang Lin lowered his gaze and walked toward the dead attackers.
The Night Burial Sword hung at his side, quiet and dark. It no longer released the pressure from before, but the way it drank the remaining blood from its edge made several people turn their eyes away. Fang Lin crouched beside the first corpse and removed the storage pouch from the man's waist. Then he took the second. After that, he walked to the Jade Mist Palace disciple whose head had fallen near the broken axe and collected his pouch as well.
No one stopped him.
Zhu Kang's face was dark, but he did not speak. The dead Black Mountain Gate disciples had attacked first. In a place like the Demon Sealing Ruins, their storage pouches had become spoils the moment their bodies hit the ground. If he tried to stop Fang Lin now, he would either have to fight again or admit that Black Mountain Gate could kill others but could not bear losing anything in return.
Neither choice was good.
Lan Meiyu's expression remained soft, but her eyes were no longer relaxed. When Fang Lin collected the Jade Mist disciple's pouch, one of her surviving disciples shifted slightly, as if wanting to speak. Lan Meiyu raised one hand without turning her head.
The disciple immediately lowered his gaze.
Ruan Cheng was still unconscious, his face pale and his chest soaked with blood. Two Jade Mist disciples supported him from both sides, but even they stood carefully, not daring to move too quickly. The earlier courage that had hidden inside the mist had vanished. What remained was fear, regret, and the hope that Shen Mo would not look their way again.
Fang Lin picked up a fallen short blade from one of the dead disciples. The weapon looked intact, but the spiritual pressure inside had already cracked apart. He let it go, and the blade struck the floor with a dull sound before breaking into three pieces.
Some things that fell after battle were treasure.
Some were only weight.
He did not waste time on trash.
After collecting the storage pouches, Fang Lin turned back toward the center of the hall. His movements were unhurried, but no one thought he was relaxed. The blood behind him made every step feel heavier than it sounded.
Xu Hanjiang stood among the River Sword Sect disciples.
His expression had recovered slightly, but the forced calm on his face was too polished. He had not attacked. He had not openly ordered anyone. There was no proof in the ordinary sense, but the eyes in the hall were not blind. His earlier words had been too sharp, and the attack that followed had been too convenient.
Fang Lin stopped several steps away from him.
Xu Hanjiang cupped his hands with a faint smile. "Fellow Daoist Shen's strength is impressive. I was mistaken before."
Fang Lin looked at him silently.
The smile on Xu Hanjiang's face stiffened.
Fang Lin raised one hand.
Xu Hanjiang's eyes narrowed. "What does Fellow Daoist Shen mean?"
"Compensation," Fang Lin said.
The hall fell quiet once more.
Xu Hanjiang's fingers tightened inside his sleeve. "Compensation for what?"
Fang Lin's gaze remained calm. "Your praise."
A few cultivators almost reacted, but quickly held themselves back.
Xu Hanjiang's face darkened by a trace. "Fellow Daoist Shen, words cannot be treated as crimes. If every sentence requires compensation, then this hall may as well become a market."
Fang Lin nodded slightly. "Then treat it as a market."
Xu Hanjiang went still.
Fang Lin continued, "Your praise brought trouble. Since you say it was not intentional, pay the price of a misunderstanding. If you refuse, I will treat it as an intent."
The words were not loud, but everyone understood the trap.
If Xu Hanjiang paid, he lost face. If he refused, he would be admitting that the matter had not been a misunderstanding. In front of Feng Jiu'er, Cloud Crane Manor, Iron Spear Valley, Jade Mist Palace, Black Mountain Gate, and several smaller sect disciples, that admission would not remain inside the hall for long.
Feng Jiu'er stepped forward slightly.
Her crimson-green aura did not erupt, but it pressed just enough to make the River Sword Sect disciples behind Xu Hanjiang lower their eyes.
"River Sword Sect should choose carefully," she said coldly.
Xu Hanjiang looked at her. "Junior Sister Feng, you also believe I plotted against him?"
Feng Jiu'er's expression did not change. "I believe your words caused trouble. Whether your heart was dirty or your mouth was careless, both have a price."
Murong Yue sighed softly from behind. "Careless mouths are very expensive today."
Zhao Feng nodded, then quickly stopped nodding when Xu Hanjiang's gaze swept toward him.
Duan Qingshan watched the scene with a grim face. He did not like Shen Mo, but he liked Xu Hanjiang even less at this moment. A man who borrowed another's spear hand to test a treasure and then pretended innocence was not the kind of person Iron Spear Valley respected.
He Lanyue smiled faintly, but her eyes were sharp. She did not speak. Some fires were best enjoyed from a distance.
Xu Hanjiang stood silent for several breaths.
Then he slowly took out a storage pouch and tossed it toward Fang Lin.
Fang Lin caught it.
His divine sense swept inside briefly. Spirit stones, a few recovery pills, and some ordinary materials. Not poor, but not sincere either.
Fang Lin tosses the pouch up and down, amused and frowned. He then said, "Why do I feel that this pouch is a little light?"
Xu Hanjiang's mouth twitched.
The River Sword Sect disciples behind him grew even quieter. One of them looked down at the floor, not daring to show the strange satisfaction that flickered across his face(Well, you guys remember him. Don't you? :P).
After Black Lamp Hall, Xu Hanjiang's face no longer represented all of them equally.
Xu Hanjiang took out another smaller pouch and threw it over.
Fang Lin accepted it and stored both away.
Only then did he move the Night Burial Sword slightly away from Xu Hanjiang's direction.
The pressure in the hall loosened.
Xu Hanjiang smiled again, but this time the smile was thin. "Fellow Daoist Shen is truly careful with accounts."
Fang Lin replied calmly, "Debts must be paid."
The sentence was simple, yet for some reason, several people remembered it.
Xu Hanjiang did not speak again.
His face had been preserved on the surface, but only barely. Everyone present knew he had paid because he could not afford to refuse. This was not a defeat in battle, but sometimes face lost in silence hurt more than wounds taken under sword light.
Lan Meiyu chose that moment to speak softly. "Jade Mist Palace will discipline Ruan Cheng after leaving the ruins. His rashness today was personal and does not represent our sect."
Feng Jiu'er looked at her. "It is best if that is true."
Lan Meiyu lowered her head slightly. "Moon Reflection Valley and Thousand Leaf Immortal Sect have always maintained good relations. Jade Mist Palace has no wish to damage that."
Her words were smooth and careful. She did not plead, and she did not argue. She placed the matter where it belonged: not between two wounded disciples, but beneath the shadow of the powers behind them.
Her sect 'maybe' able to affront Green Bamboo sect, but not the ones behind them or the Moon Reflection Valley.
Feng Jiu'er accepted the answer with a cold nod.
Fang Lin did not comment. He had already taken compensation from Ruan Cheng. Whether Jade Mist Palace chose shame, denial, or discipline afterward was their own matter. If they continued, then the next debt would be counted differently.
Zhu Kang also moved.
He turned toward his disciples and said in a low voice, "We leave."
A Black Mountain Gate disciple looked at the corpses on the ground, his lips trembling. "Senior Brother Zhu, their bodies…"
Zhu Kang's eyes turned cold. "Take them."
The disciple hurried forward with two others. They collected the bodies quickly, faces pale and hands shaking. When one of them passed near Fang Lin, his shoulders stiffened so much that he almost dropped the corpse he was carrying.
Fang Lin did not look at him.
The disciple exhaled as though he had narrowly escaped death.
Zhu Kang watched this scene, and humiliation flashed through his eyes. But beneath that humiliation was something deeper.
Suspicion.
Fang Lin noticed it without turning his head.
Black Mountain Gate would not forget this. More importantly, they would not forget the pressure methods he had shown. Elder Luo Cheng and Wu Shanzun were missing, and now Shen Mo had appeared with heavy pressure techniques that felt close enough to make sharp people uneasy.
The thread had been touched.
It would move later.
Zhu Kang led Black Mountain Gate toward one of the side passages. Before leaving, he looked back once. His gaze landed on the Night Burial Sword, then on Fang Lin's face.
Fang Lin met his eyes calmly.
Zhu Kang looked away first.
After Black Mountain Gate and Jade Mist Palace withdrew to the edges of the hall, the atmosphere changed again. No one dared reach for weapons carelessly anymore. Even those who still wanted to test their luck moved slowly, asking their companions to guard them first.
The smaller sect cultivators whispered among themselves.
"Silent Mountain Sword…"
"He forced Xu Hanjiang to pay."
"And Black Mountain Gate retreated."
"Do not say it too loudly."
"Why?"
"Because if he charges naming fees, none of us can afford it."
The last whisper was quickly smothered, but a few people nearby nearly laughed despite the tension.
Fang Lin heard the whisper.
He pretended not to notice.
Murong Yue, unfortunately, also heard it. Her eyes brightened with terrible interest. "Fellow Daoist Shen, your business reputation is spreading."
Fang Lin glanced at her. "Then I should raise prices."
Zhao Feng immediately looked at Li Shan. "You warned me too late."
Li Shan's expression remained calm. "You survived. That is enough."
Bai Qing finally smiled openly, though only for a brief moment.
Feng Jiu'er watched them quietly. The faint warmth that appeared among the Alliance disciples did not escape her. Shen Mo had joined them only recently, yet somehow he had already become someone they looked toward when danger rose.
That should have been strange.
But it felt familiar.
Too familiar. Like he was naturally included in the group.
The hidden passage behind the wall had not closed. After the Night Burial Sword accepted Fang Lin, the darkness inside had grown quieter, but not dead. Faint black-red lines now pulsed along the passage floor, leading deeper into the ruins. From within came a soft ringing sound, like distant sword bells swaying in wind.
He Lanyue looked toward the passage and spoke gently. "It seems the sword was only the key."
Duan Qingshan frowned. "Or bait."
Murong Yue smiled. "In ruins, the difference is usually discovered by whoever walks first."
Zhao Feng stared at the passage. "Why do I feel like everyone is looking at us?"
"Because they are," Su Wanqing said calmly.
Indeed, many gazes had turned toward Fang Lin and Feng Jiu'er. No one wanted to rush ahead after seeing what had happened in this hall, but no one wanted to leave either. A hidden passage opened by a weapon like Night Burial Sword could not be ordinary.
Feng Jiu'er looked at Fang Lin. "What do you think?" Unknowingly she was made him the main character of the troop.
Fang Lin did not answer immediately. He looked into the passage, then at the weapon racks, then at the cultivators pretending not to watch him.
"Rest for half an incense stick," he said. "Those who are injured should recover some Qi. Those who want to follow can follow. Those who want to scheme should do it more quietly."
Several faces changed.
Murong Yue lowered her head and laughed softly.
Feng Jiu'er's eyes moved slightly. She did not object. "Half an incense stick."
The Alliance disciples gathered near the opened wall. Su Wanqing checked Bai Qing's condition. Han Zhi watched the rear. Luo Chen stood near Fang Lin for a moment, his eyes briefly passing over the storage treasure where the Battle-Scar Spear had disappeared earlier, though he did not ask.
Fang Lin noticed.
He said nothing.
Some gifts were better given away from greedy eyes.
After the others settled, Feng Jiu'er walked to Fang Lin's side. Her voice was low enough that only he could hear.
"Fellow Daoist Shen."
Fang Lin looked at her. "Fairy Feng."
Her gaze stayed on his face. "You are becoming more difficult to understand."
Fang Lin smiled faintly. "That may be because Fairy Feng thinks too much."
"I do," she said.
The answer came too directly.
Fang Lin paused.
Feng Jiu'er's expression remained calm, but her eyes were sharp enough to cut through disguises. "Especially when someone's habits feel familiar."
The distant sword bells rang again from within the passage.
Fang Lin looked away first this time, toward the darkness ahead.
"Inside ruins like this," he said softly, "familiar things may not be safe."
Feng Jiu'er watched him for a long breath.
Then she said, "Neither are unfamiliar ones."
Neither spoke again after that.
Behind them, the Weapon Resting Hall remained full of blood, greed, fear, and whispers.
Ahead of them, the hidden passage silently waited.
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