Half an incense stick was not long.
Inside the Demon Sealing Ruins, it was already generous.
The cultivators in the Weapon Resting Hall used that short time carefully. Some swallowed pills. Some bound wounds. Some stood near their own groups with pale faces, pretending to study the weapon racks while secretly watching Fang Lin from the corners of their eyes. Those who had seen the blood on the floor no longer looked at the Night Burial Sword with simple greed.
The greed was still there.
It was only quieter now.
A few smaller sect cultivators left the hall before the half incense stick ended. They did not dare stay near Shen Mo, Xu Hanjiang, Zhu Kang, Feng Jiu'er, and the others for too long. When they left through the side passages, their footsteps were hurried, and their voices were low at first.
But words did not remain low for long.
In the broken corridors beyond the hall, a wounded cultivator leaned against a stone pillar and told his companions that a man called Shen Mo had taken a black sword from a hidden wall. Another said he had forced Xu Hanjiang of River Sword Sect to pay compensation. A third insisted that Black Mountain Gate had retreated after losing disciples. Someone else whispered that Jade Mist Palace had nearly been dragged into a political problem because of one greedy fool.
By the time the words reached the next resting chamber, they had already changed.
"The Silent Mountain Sword killed Black Mountain Gate cultivators with one sword."
"No, he crushed them first, then cut them. I heard the floor sank beneath him."
"He also made River Sword Sect pay him spirit stones."
"Pay him? For what?"
"For speaking."
"For speaking?"
"Apparently, his nickname has a fee."
The cultivator who said that looked very serious. The two beside him stared for a moment, then one of them choked on his pill and coughed until his face turned red.
The nickname spread through nearby ruin passages like a spark traveling through dry grass, but only inside the ruins. No message could easily leave this place. Spatial interference, formations, and the unstable aura of the Demon Sealing Ruins made outside communication unreliable. For now, the name Silent Mountain Sword belonged only to the people who were here, the wounded who had seen blood, and the curious who heard whispers in the dark.
Back in the Weapon Resting Hall, Fang Lin sat near the opened passage with his eyes half closed.
His breathing was calm. His aura remained at the level Shen Mo should display, steady but not overwhelming. The Night Burial Sword rested across his knees, covered in darkness so deep that even when dust drifted across the blade, the particles seemed to vanish.
Zhao Feng sat nearby, glancing at the sword from time to time.
After doing this seven times, he finally whispered, "Fellow Daoist Shen, does that sword eat people?"
Fang Lin opened his eyes. "Not politely."
Zhao Feng's expression stiffened.
Murong Yue leaned against a broken pillar and smiled. "That means it does."
Bai Qing lowered her head, her shoulders trembling slightly. Han Zhi gave Zhao Feng a look that told him he deserved the answer.
Luo Chen stood not far away, his spear held loosely in one hand. His gaze passed once over Fang Lin's storage treasure, then moved away. He was not greedy. He simply knew a good spear when he saw one, and the Battle-Scar Spear from the previous arena had left a deep impression.
Fang Lin noticed, but did not speak.
The hall was still too full of eyes.
Feng Jiu'er also noticed, though her expression did not change. Her gaze moved from Luo Chen to Fang Lin, then to the Night Burial Sword. The more she watched Shen Mo, the more certain habits began to feel familiar. Not enough to expose anything. Not enough to question in front of others. But enough to make her thoughts return to Fang Lin when they should not.
Across the hall, Duan Qingshan suddenly walked over.
The Iron Spear Valley disciples behind him followed, but not too closely. Their earlier arrogance had clearly softened. They still carried the direct bearing of spear cultivators, but their eyes were more careful when they looked at Fang Lin.
Duan Qingshan stopped several steps away and cupped his hands.
"Fellow Daoist Shen."
Fang Lin looked up.
Duan Qingshan's expression was blunt, but not unfriendly. "Earlier, my words about the spear were too direct. Iron Spear Valley cultivates spears, so when I saw a good spear, my mouth moved faster than my judgment."
Zhao Feng blinked and whispered, "That sounds painful."
Murong Yue whispered back, "For some people, admitting fault is a body-tempering method."
Duan Qingshan heard them. His cheek twitched once, but he pretended not to.
Fang Lin looked at him and said, "At least your judgment caught up."
Duan Qingshan stared at him for a breath, then laughed once. The sound was low and rough. "Good. Then I will speak directly again, but properly this time. If Fellow Daoist Shen has no sect, Iron Spear Valley is willing to open its doors. We may not be a major sect, but we do not mistreat strong people. With your strength, even if you only become a guest disciple, the treatment would not be low."
The hall quieted slightly.
Recruitment.
It was not strange. After what Shen Mo had shown, any sect with eyes would be curious. A cultivator with no clear background, no public sect protection, frightening combat ability, and a powerful sword was either a danger, an opportunity, or both.
He Lanyue's smile deepened faintly from Cloud Crane Manor's side.
Lan Meiyu also looked over, her expression soft and unreadable.
Xu Hanjiang's eyes turned colder.
Fang Lin looked at Duan Qingshan. "Who told you I have no sect?"
Duan Qingshan frowned. "Do you?"
Fang Lin smiled faintly. "I belong to myself. Unfortunately, that sect is difficult to enter."
The hall fell silent for a moment.
Murong Yue immediately lowered her head.
Bai Qing pressed her lips together.
Zhao Feng looked genuinely thoughtful. "Can a person count as a sect?"
Li Shan said calmly, "If it is Fellow Daoist Shen, the entry requirements may indeed be high."
This time, several Alliance disciples could not hold back their smiles.
Duan Qingshan stared for a moment before letting out another rough laugh. "Good answer. Shameless, but good."
Fang Lin's expression remained calm. "I will treat that as praise. It should be cheaper than Fellow Daoist Xu's."
Several gazes instinctively shifted toward Xu Hanjiang.
Xu Hanjiang's expression stiffened.
Murong Yue almost laughed aloud this time.
Even He Lanyue turned her head slightly, her smile threatening to become too obvious. She quickly recovered and stepped forward with graceful ease.
"Fellow Daoist Shen," she said gently, "Cloud Crane Manor also values capable friends. If entering a sect does not suit your temperament, cooperation may be easier than recruitment. The ruins are wide, and many paths ahead will not be kind to lone blades."
Her words were softer than Duan Qingshan's, but more flexible.
Duan Qingshan looked at her. "You move quickly."
He Lanyue smiled. "Crane steps are meant to be light."
Zhao Feng whispered, "Why does everyone sound clever today?"
Murong Yue replied, "Because you are listening from a safe distance."
Fang Lin looked at He Lanyue. "Cooperation depends on the road."
"Of course," He Lanyue said. "No one needs to decide before seeing whether the road has teeth."
Her answer made a few people look toward the opened passage.
The sword bells inside rang softly again.
This time, the sound carried farther. The black-red lines on the floor brightened, spreading from the hidden passage into the Weapon Resting Hall. Several weapon racks trembled, and the old weapons that had lost their spirit cracked apart one by one, falling into rust.
The opened passage widened.
Darkness pulled back like a curtain.
Beyond it was a long stone corridor lined with sword marks. The walls were covered in deep cuts, each one different. Some were straight and fierce. Some curved like flowing water. Some looked as though they had been carved by claws rather than blades. At the far end, faint black-red light flickered, revealing another chamber beyond.
A pressure came from within.
Not strong enough to crush, but sharp enough to warn.
The Night Burial Sword trembled once on Fang Lin's knees.
Fang Lin placed his hand on the hilt.
The sword became still.
That small movement did not escape the people watching.
Duan Qingshan's eyes changed slightly. He moved his group a little closer to Fang Lin's side, but not close enough to seem threatening. It was a clear choice. Iron Spear Valley would rather walk near Shen Mo than stand beside Xu Hanjiang or Zhu Kang.
A few smaller sect disciples saw this and immediately shifted as well, pretending to adjust their formation. Their faces carried careful smiles. One even cupped his hands toward Fang Lin from far away, though Fang Lin had never spoken to him before.
Cozying up to strength was not shameful in the ruins.
Dying with pride was rarely admired by the living.
Lan Meiyu watched these movements and did not follow. Jade Mist Palace remained at a cautious distance. She had already said enough. Moving too close now would look false, and moving too far would look guilty. So she chose balance.
Xu Hanjiang saw Iron Spear Valley's movement and felt his mood sink. A man he had tried to use as prey was becoming the center of the hall's balance. Even worse, no one was calling him out loudly. They were simply moving their feet.
Sometimes reputation changed without announcement.
Feng Jiu'er stood.
The Alliance disciples rose with her.
She looked toward the corridor and said, "We enter."
Duan Qingshan immediately said, "Iron Spear Valley will follow behind Green Bamboo Sect. If danger comes from the rear, we will hold it."
The offer was practical, but everyone understood the meaning beneath it.
He was drawing closer.
Feng Jiu'er glanced at him. "Do not interfere with our formation."
Duan Qingshan nodded. "Naturally."
He Lanyue smiled. "Cloud Crane Manor will follow after Iron Spear Valley. We are better at movement than holding ground, so we will not crowd the front."
This arrangement left Xu Hanjiang and River Sword Sect with an awkward choice. If they followed too closely, they would seem shameless after what had happened. If they stayed too far, they might lose access to whatever lay beyond the passage.
Xu Hanjiang smiled thinly. "River Sword Sect will enter later. There is no need to rush."
Fang Lin did not look at him.
That made Xu Hanjiang's smile even harder to maintain.
The Alliance entered the corridor first.
The moment Fang Lin stepped past the opened wall, the Night Burial Sword grew colder in his hand. The sword marks on the corridor walls flickered one after another, as if recognizing the blade. Behind him, the others entered carefully. No one touched the marks. No one wanted to learn whether the resentment of old swords could still cut flesh.
Zhao Feng walked near the middle, his eyes darting left and right. "If a sword mark moves, I want everyone to know I disliked this corridor from the beginning."
Murong Yue said, "Your courage is very well documented."
"Good," Zhao Feng replied. "If I die, write that down too."
Fang Lin looked back once. "Survive first. Write later."
Zhao Feng immediately nodded. "That is a much better plan."
A few genuine smiles appeared.
The corridor stretched longer than it looked from outside. After they walked for several dozen breaths, the sound from the Weapon Resting Hall faded behind them. Ahead, the black-red glow grew clearer.
Whispers still followed from the groups behind.
"Silent Mountain Sword…"
"He really entered first."
"Is Shen Mo truly a rogue cultivator?"
"No rogue cultivator walks like that."
"Maybe his master is hidden."
"Maybe his sect is hidden."
"Maybe his sect really is himself."
"Then I do not want to offend that sect."
The last line made someone laugh nervously, then immediately go quiet when Fang Lin turned his head slightly.
A faint smile touched Fang Lin's lips.
Feng Jiu'er saw it.
She walked beside him for a few steps before speaking in a low voice. "You seem pleased."
"I am only thinking that rumors are sometimes more hardworking than cultivators."
"They are also less loyal."
"Then I should not recruit them."
Feng Jiu'er glanced at him. "So you are willing to be recruited?"
Fang Lin looked ahead. "That depends on whether the sect can afford the entry fee."
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "And what is the fee?"
Fang Lin's smile became softer. "Trust."
Feng Jiu'er did not answer immediately.
For a brief moment, the corridor grew quieter.
Then the black-red glow ahead suddenly expanded.
The stone floor ended.
The group stepped into a wide chamber filled with suspended swords.
Hundreds of blades floated silently in the air, all pointing downward.
At the center of the chamber stood a stone platform. On it, ancient words slowly lit up.
Those who enter with a weapon shall leave with a wound.
The swords suspended above them trembled.
Then every blade turned toward the living.
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