Ch. 80 - White Cloud Sword

But reality, in the end, was cruel.

Yue Buli had gone to Imperial Lineages and many other first- and second-rate sects, only to be rejected again and again due to various shortcomings.

He remembered it clearly.

It was a rainy night.

He had curled up beside a large tree, crying.

“The path of a warrior is never smooth,” an old man’s voice had spoken beside him.

He looked up. That night, the old man spoke to him for a long time.

Before leaving, the old man smiled faintly and asked, “Do you want to cultivate?”

His heart seemed to skip a beat. He nodded, overwhelmed and in disbelief.

The old man brought him into the sect and accepted him as a personal disciple.

Only later did Yue Buli learn that the sect was called Heavenly Sword Sect, and the old man was none other than its second Sect Master.

“White Cloud Sword Master!”

His master had devoted his life to expanding and glorifying the Heavenly Sword Sect. At the time, Yue Buli made a vow deep in his young heart:

“I’ll make the name of the Heavenly Sword Sect resound across the entire Western Region, make those sects that once rejected me see how wrong they were.”

That childish dream had been full of stubborn pride and youthful defiance.

But through all the years, what was rare and valuable was that he never strayed from that original vow.

Yet, his talent was limited, and the sect’s resources couldn’t nurture warriors of true strength.

Perhaps hard work really is the most humble way to reach success.

So he turned his hopes toward the legacy of a Grand Emperor. If he could obtain such an inheritance…

Then, given time, even if he couldn't match an Imperial Lineage, he might at least be able to compete with the first-rate sects.

He had massacred the Ren family and hunted Ren Pingsheng. It wasn’t only Ren Pingsheng who suffered, Yue Buli had suffered too.

Humans aren’t made of stone. Even trees and grass that reach enlightenment can feel.

He and Ren Pingsheng had been close for over a decade. He wasn’t heartless. He had simply chosen the sect over brotherhood.

No one could understand his pain and torment, because he was the one who had raised the blade.

Everything that happened, he brought it on himself.

Yue Buli’s eyes grew blurry. If he died here… maybe that would be a kind of release.

He felt… so very tired.

The wind howled past his ears. Just as he thought he would smash into the ground and be shattered...

His body suddenly felt light, as if someone had caught him midair.

He lay in a warm embrace. Yue Buli looked up and saw an elderly man holding him.

They stared at each other.

The moment felt… strangely intimate.

“Grand Elder, you, ” Yue Buli started to speak, but the Grand Elder shook his head and said:

“Don’t speak. You’re seriously injured. We’ve already brought out the ancestral coffins. Just focus on recovery,” the Grand Elder said seriously.

Yue Buli nodded and began circulating his cultivation technique to heal his battered body.

Beside Heavenly Sword Peak, several elders rushed over, carrying two coffins.

One was black. The other, white.

The black coffin was engraved with the image of a sword. The white coffin was covered in floating white clouds.

“Must you truly force a fight to the death with our Heavenly Sword Sect today?” the Grand Elder asked, looking up at Ren Pingsheng above.

“Did he think of life and death when he slaughtered my entire family?” Ren Pingsheng shouted, face twisted in rage.

His demonic aura surged even more, black mist covering half the sky. He stood high above like a devil who scorned heaven, overlooking the entire sect.

“Open the ancestral coffin,” the Grand Elder said firmly. He knew there was no hope for reconciliation now. He couldn’t allow someone like Ren Pingsheng to live.

If they didn’t kill him today, he would haunt the sect like a shadow. Disciples might never dare leave the sect walls again.

The elders used special methods to awaken the ancestral coffins. All disciples of the Heavenly Sword Sect dropped to their knees.

“Long ago, our ancestors founded this sect, cut down mighty foes, and brought justice to chaos. Now the weak disturb your rest, Great Ancestors, we ask for your help in our hour of need.”

The Grand Elder stood solemnly before the coffin, full of grief.

He knew that every time a founder was awakened, not only did it consume large quantities of Dust-Blood Stones, it also took several years off one’s life.

For those nearing the end of life, even a few seconds were precious, let alone years.

As the Grand Elder finished speaking, the white coffin began to tremble.

Cloud after cloud of white mist bloomed around it.

“Clouds drift, sorrows deepen… How many years has it been?”

A weary voice echoed from within the coffin.

“Ancestor, it has been 200 years since you fell asleep,” the Grand Elder quickly replied.

As the coffin lid slowly opened, Yue Buli began to tremble.

He remembered clearly, how, on that rainy day, the old man had brought him into the sect. That memory had been etched into his soul.

White clouds bloomed one after another, spreading across the land. As they unfurled, a hush fell over everyone present.

The years rolled by like a stray dog in the wind. The drifting clouds, the flowing time, everything felt as fleeting as mist.

The killing intent in everyone’s hearts began to soften. The world seemed peaceful, just for a moment.

“That... could it be…”

Some of the senior disciples watching from afar were too stunned to speak.

“That’s the White Cloud Sword Master, our previous Sect Leader!” one disciple said with a trembling voice.

The White Cloud Sword Master was a figure from centuries past. For many disciples, he existed only in the sect’s historical records.

But now, as the legend stood before them in the flesh, many couldn’t hold back their excitement.

The coffin fully opened. A white-robed elder stepped out, his hair already completely white.

He radiated no oppressive aura, only calm. His smile was kind and peaceful.

In his hand was a dust-whisk, like a sage from another world. Though he had slumbered for centuries, his robes were spotless, as if untouched by time.

“If the white coffin held Ancestor White Cloud... then what about the black one?” a disciple asked in confusion.

“Could it be…?” Some seemed to realize something, their eyes going wide, disbelief written on their faces.

“The Heavenly Sword Ancestor…” someone whispered the name with a trembling voice.

The disciples couldn’t help but be shocked. The Heavenly Sword Elder’s impact on the sect was too great.

He had personally founded the Heavenly Sword Sect. Legends said he once split an entire nameless mountain with a single strike from Heavenly Sword Mountain.

A breeze stirred the willows nearby, leaves fluttering as countless eyes turned toward the black coffin which had begun to tremble as well.

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