Chapter 20:
Eradicate the Root of the Problem
“Q-QINGTONG-ZHENREN...” The core formation cultivator’s face went ashen with fear as he hurriedly backed away.
The spiritual energy on Taixuan was becoming increasingly impure these days, making it hard to cultivate to higher levels even with the help of a soul beast. Even a nascent soul cultivator could become a sect elder. But this Woyun Sect sanctum-master was an undisputed soul transformation cultivator.
Core formation was considered high-level, but a cultivator at that stage was still a miserable ant in the face of a great master at the soul transformation stage.
The qi-refining cultivator was scared senseless too. He had seen Qingtong when he participated in the sects’ grand meet, and he knew that this elder had a terrible temper.
“Raaaaah…” The stumbling leopard cub had finally caught up with them, and he let out an emotional howl at the sight of the gorgeous man in midair.
The cub’s cry snapped everyone back to their senses. The qi-refining cultivator took a deep breath and cupped his hands to Qingtong. “Greetings, Qingtong-zhenren. My name is He Xijiu, the grandson of Elder Yunsong of Qingyun Sect. I’m here at my grandfather’s behest to pay Woyun Sect a visit.”
There was an unwritten rule in the orthodox sects: Cultivators under the protection of elders or masters could report their protector’s name when they were in danger, and fellow orthodox cultivators would typically show them leniency or give way. If they insisted on killing them anyway, they would make an enemy of the dead cultivator’s protector. This was the reason Mo Tianliao had declared his own identity earlier.
Such was the hypocrisy of the orthodox sects, and it had bred a bunch of pampered young masters. Mo Tianliao sneered. The demonic path was about survival of the fittest, where actual power reigned supreme. People who lacked skills and the ability to read the room never lived long.
Qingtong descended to the ground, his icy gaze falling upon a grime-covered Mo Tianliao. “Come here.”
Mo Tianliao brushed the dirt off himself and walked over to bow in greeting. “Shizun.” His eyes, however, were searching frantically around for his missing cat.
“So he’s your disciple! It’s all a misunderstanding. We were just curious when we saw him with an unclaimed spirit beast…” Regaining his composure, the core formation cultivator smiled and wiped away the blood from the corner of his mouth.
With just a few words, he reframed their murder and cat-napping attempt as a misunderstanding, completely denying any prior knowledge of Mo Tianliao’s identity. At the same time, he was tattling on Mo Tianliao: Look, your disciple got himself a spirit beast behind your back; maybe he even stole it from your sect!
Qingtong glanced impassively down at the chattering cultivator and raised his hand to reveal a tuft of snowy-white fur inside his sleeve. That made it clear—the spirit beast wasn’t Mo Tianliao’s, but Qingtong’s. The cultivator promptly shut up.
Mo Tianliao heaved a sigh of relief. His cat was safe with his master, but… He stared at that fair, slender hand and at the fur right next to it—his cat was close with someone else?! Did his master have his eyes on Pawpaw too? Did he want to take him for himself?
“So, which one will it be? Will you end yourselves, or shall I do it?” Qingtong asked in that clear, melodious voice of his, moving that hand behind his back.
He Xijiu froze. He’d reported his grandfather’s name, and Qingtong still wanted to kill them?!
“Xijiu is the only grandson of my master, the Patriarch Yunsong. We were at fault for offending your disciple earlier. Pleasearghhh—” Before he could finish, Qingtong swung his hand—a massive phantom palm materialized in sync with its movement and slapped him with such force it sent him flying hard into the cliff wall.
“Tedious.” Qingtong shook his hand in disdain.
Mo Tianliao gulped, deciding to keep his conversations with his master brief in the future, or he just might get slapped against a wall. That looked really painful.
“Please spare me! I’ve realized the error of my ways. I-I can offer these treasures to you.” Realizing Qingtong had no intent to respect Elder Yunsong, He Xijiu shakily dumped out all the items in his inventory pendant. In his panic, he even tossed over the leopard cub.
“Oh?” Qingtong hummed, his long lashes fluttering as his gaze shifted to the curled-up, trembling cub. “Very well, then. But it has already signed a pact.”
Hearing this, He Xijiu slapped himself lightly. “Whoops, I completely forgot.” Soul beasts that had signed a blood pact couldn’t sign another with someone else, and if their masters died, the soul beasts would die along with them. This was why Mo Tianliao was glad he hadn’t signed a blood pact with Pawpaw.
Qingtong suddenly grabbed He Xijiu by the neck and locked eyes with him.
He Xijiu screamed, and the leopard cub’s eyes began to roll back.
With his powerful soul, Mo Tianliao could see a wisp of bloodred mist flying out from the center of He Xijiu’s forehead and into the leopard cub’s body.
Qingtong released his grip, and He Xijiu slumped to the ground, unconscious. The leopard cub lay on the ground with a weak mew before closing his eyes.
Qingtong pointed to the sad ball of drab fur. “Bring it with us.”
Mo Tianliao hurried forward and scooped up the leopard cub. The little one was limp, and his divine soul was unstable. Pressing his forehead against the cub’s, Mo Tianliao sensed that the tenuous divine soul connection between the cub and He Xijiu had been severed. It was free again!
Had the blood pact really been severed?
Mo Tianliao was shocked. Three centuries ago, he had, in his boredom, thought of researching a spiritual treasure that could sever a blood pact. Theoretically, it was feasible, but a blood pact was essentially a partial exchange of divine souls between spirit beast and human. To sever the connection, one would have to cut off a part of one party’s soul—it would essentially give that person brain damage. He had only made a prototype back then and never managed to refine it. Who would have thought that a spell that could sever blood pacts would exist three hundred years later?
A slap to the back of his head snapped him out of his thoughts. Mo Tianliao looked up to see his master looking at him with a hint of disdain in those beautiful crystal eyes.
“Shizun?”
“So messy,” he said in that clear, melodious voice. Then he flicked his finger, and an ice blade shot over to impale the core formation cultivator who had just peeled himself off the cliff wall.
Mo Tianliao’s eyes curved slightly in appreciation for Qingtong’s swift and decisive action. He detested the so-called righteousness and benevolence that the orthodox sects preached. They demanded other people play fair, but apparently that didn’t apply to them when they wanted to kill someone else for their treasures. If his master had arrived a moment later, he’d have been the one robbed of his spirit beast and impaled.
Mo Tianliao looked at He Xijiu, presumably effectively lobotomized, and decisively grabbed the burly demonic cultivator’s broadsword to end his life. Letting him live would only fuel Elder Yunsong’s hatred further. He might as well eliminate the problem entirely.
Dusting off his hands, he hoisted the leopard cub and followed after his master. “Shizun, wait for me!”
“Give it to the sect leader.” Qingtong stopped and glanced at the leopard cub in Mo Tianliao’s hands. “Then come see me in Qingning Palace.”
The sect leader? Mo Tianliao frowned. “If the sect leader asks…”
“Tell him the truth.” With that, he transformed into a brilliant streak of light and vanished over the horizon.
“Shizun…” Mo Tianliao thought about how far he’d have to walk to get back to the mountain. At least give him a lift back, or it’d be sunset by the time he got home!