Chapter 557: The Sect
Chapter 559: The Sect
The Strange Daoist’s expression was as indifferent as ever.
He looked at Mister Zhuang—this junior brother he had not seen for several centuries. In those pitch‑black pupils flickered a trace of wariness and gravity, but soon after, only blank astonishment remained.
There was nothing here.
No formation.
No killing intent.
And this junior brother of his, with his oil‑lamp nearly spent, was nothing like the arrogant, untamable peerless genius he once remembered.
A nameless anger surged in the Strange Daoist’s heart, and his voice carried a chilling edge:
“Where is your Heavenly Secret Derivative Algorithm?”
“Where is your Immortal Heavens Formation Flow?”
“Where are your cultivation, your abilities, your means and stratagems?”
Mister Zhuang gave a weary smile. “Utterly exhausted, powerless to turn back fate. Why waste strength on struggles that mean nothing…?”
A fierce light flashed in the Strange Daoist’s eyes.
“So you’re just waiting here to die?”
Mister Zhuang stayed silent. After a moment, he sighed gently. “Everyone is born, everyone must die…”
“When alive, one believes man can overcome heaven; when dying, one finally understands how powerless we are to reverse fate…”
“I’m the same, Senior Brother…”
In the Strange Daoist’s dark eyes surfaced a hatred for someone who refuses to fight. “Even if you must die, you could at least die later. Your Heavenly Secret Derivative Algorithm can’t have failed to find even a sliver of hope…”
“And if it did? What then?” Mister Zhuang countered.
The Strange Daoist froze.
Mister Zhuang smiled faintly, his tone laden with exhaustion, his breath weak to the extreme. “Sooner or later, it’s the same…”
“The Dao is fifty; Heaven evolves forty‑nine…”
“I am the forty‑ninth sect master. Heaven’s ultimate number comes to an end; thus the sect ends here, and my life also ends here.”
“No matter how I calculate, the result is the same.”
“The Heavenly Secret Derivative Algorithm determines inevitability—it cannot be changed…”
The Strange Daoist’s expression grew fierce, but moments later, all his emotions faded, restoring his cold indifference.
He said quietly:
“Very well. Then I shall grant your wish.”
His pale right hand closed, and out of thin air appeared an ancient, unadorned longsword. Its bronze blade was carved with mottled, cryptic patterns that blurred between real and illusory.
“The Xumi Sword…”
Mister Zhuang murmured, a nostalgic look softening his face—alongside the calm acceptance of one meeting death.
Just then, nearby array‑patterns trembled, a barrier broke, and Bai Qingcheng—holding the Splendid Mountains and Rivers Parasol—revealed herself.
She saw Mister Zhuang, face white as paper, offering no resistance.
And she saw the Strange Daoist, sword in hand, murderous intent pouring from him.
Her heart tightened. “Eldest Senior Brother!”
The Strange Daoist halted the sword tip before Mister Zhuang, then turned slightly toward Bai Qingcheng. His expression was icy, eerie.
“Master is dead. The sect is destroyed.”
“I am no longer your Senior Brother, and you… are no longer my junior sister.”
Bai Qingcheng’s eyes burned with bitterness. “I beg you… spare him…”
The Strange Daoist’s cold mask slowly twisted, revealing a mocking smile.
A strange smile, as if pieced together from the faces of many different people.
His voice became chaotic as well—like many voices speaking at once, all sneering.
“Spare him?”
“At this point, what’s the point of talking about mercy?”
He stared at Bai Qingcheng, indifferent.
“If I don’t kill him, how would I obtain the Return‑to‑Ruins Diagram?”
“And without the Return‑to‑Ruins Diagram, how can your Bai Clan seize it? And without seizing it, how would you find the Heavenly Burial Ground?”
“Before you came, did that Bai family elder tell you to ‘stay out of it’?”
“They don’t want you involved. They’d be happy to see it happen.”
“They too want me to kill this junior brother of mine!”
“And you?”
“You beg for mercy with your lips—but in your heart?”
“Haven’t you also been calculating against him?”
“You covet the inheritance of his Innate Formation Flow. You want the secret of the Return‑to‑Ruins Heavenly Burial, to bring merit to the Bai Clan, to pave an immortal future for your dual‑Heaven‑Spirit‑Root children.”
“You call him Senior Brother, but in your heart—have you ever treated him as one?”
Bai Qingcheng turned pale as snow. She wanted to say “No— it’s not like that—” but the words refused to come. Shame gnawed at her heart.
The Strange Daoist glanced at Mister Zhuang again, his gaze complex.
“I’ve hunted you for hundreds of years…”
“This junior sister of yours—you treated her like a real younger sister. But she schemed against you her entire life…”
“You once accepted many disciples, all peerless prodigies. Yet in the end, they all betrayed you. Not one remained by your side…”
“The Dao Court wants to kill you and strip your Dao Bone.”
“The Demonic Sect wants to kill you and seize your Dao Diagram.”
“And the master you respected all your life…”
A cold smile crept onto his face.
“How was your Qi sea shattered?”
“How was your Sea of Consciousness drained dry?”
“Who could lay such a heaven‑shrouding scheme to trap you?”
“It was… Master.”
Bai Qingcheng’s pupils contracted violently, disbelief written across her face. She had never heard even a whisper of this.
The Strange Daoist’s gaze sharpened, and he continued:
“Master used you. From the very beginning— from the moment he accepted you into the sect—it was all part of his plan.”
“Master—following the sect’s ancient teachings—spent his life seeking someone born with the Dao Bone!”
“He searched his whole life, and finally found you.”
“Do you know why?”
Mister Zhuang remained expressionless.
The Strange Daoist sneered, answering himself:
“Because a naturally‑born Dao Bone… is the key.”
“The secret of the Return‑to‑Ruins Heavenly Burial is hidden inside a single drop of ‘Celestial‑Human Blood’ passed down since ancient times, tens of thousands of years ago.”
“This drop of blood is eternal and indestructible.”
“Thus it must contain the opportunity to ascend.”
“For countless ages, no one could decipher its mysteries.”
“But Master figured it out…”
The Strange Daoist’s eyes trembled slightly as his tone deepened.
“That drop of Celestial‑Human Blood cannot be comprehended—so it must be hatched.”
“And the only one qualified to merge with it is someone with extraordinary talent—someone born with the Dao Bone.”
The Strange Daoist looked at Mister Zhuang.
“That was you, Junior Brother…”
“To Master, you were never a disciple. He didn’t even see you as a person.”
“You were a piece in his Heavenly Secret Derivative Algorithm. A tool. A vessel to incubate the Celestial‑Human Blood and reveal the secrets of the Return‑to‑Ruins Heavenly Burial.”
“And do you know how that Celestial‑Human Blood is incubated?”
“Right. You already know…”
The Strange Daoist’s eyes held mockery. “Even if you didn’t know before… you should understand now.”
“Master handed you the sect’s entire legacy, pouring everything he had into you, letting you become a peerless prodigy… Then, once your cultivation was perfected—he planned your death.”
“First, he shattered your Sea of Qi so your cultivation drains away.”
“Then, he shattered your Sea of Consciousness, destroying your Divine‑Sense.”
“For ordinary people, once either the Qi Sea or Sea of Consciousness is broken, they’d die instantly. But you won’t—because you were born with a Heavenly Dao Bone, and carry the Celestial‑Human Blood.”
“Once both your Qi Sea and Sea of Consciousness are destroyed, your Heavenly Dao Bone becomes your Qi Sea and Sea of Consciousness, supporting your life force.”
“This is ‘pulling up seedlings to help them grow.’”
“By removing the support of your Qi Sea and Sea of Consciousness, the Heavenly Dao Bone greedily devours the Celestial-Human Blood, overgrowing, accelerating the fusion of bone and blood.”
“Once the fusion is complete, the Celestial‑Human Blood will be refined.”
“And on your Heavenly Dao Bone, the secret hidden within that Celestial Blood will appear—The complete Celestial Ruins Heaven-Burial Diagram.”
“At that point… killing you…”
“And stripping your Dao Bone…”
“Would yield a perfect Return‑to‑Ruins Heavenly Burial Diagram—containing ancient opportunities.”
Bai Qingcheng’s face grew increasingly pale.
She never imagined her gentle master could possess such depth of scheming… and such venom.
Her master raised her senior brother, treated him as his own child…
But what he nurtured was a plan as cruel as a tiger eating its cub.
And the senior brother she regarded as a once‑in‑a‑generation genius—Zhuang Shixiong—turned out to be nothing more than a “tool” in their master’s grand design…
The Strange Daoist looked at Mister Zhuang. His tone carried sorrow… and ridicule:
“You mastered the Heavenly Secret Derivative Algorithm. In your whole life, no one ever out-calculated you. Yet from beginning to end, from birth to death, you’ve never stopped being someone else’s pawn.”
“They respect you, fear you—but none of them care about you.”
“Whether it’s the Dao Court or the Demonic Sect, everyone only wants you dead.”
“They want to kill you, rip open your heart, tear out your Dao Bone, and see what fortune you hide.”
A faint loneliness crossed Mister Zhuang’s face, but acceptance outweighed it.
“Yes…”
He looked again at the Strange Daoist, as if trying to find a trace of the refined, gentle senior brother he once knew within that sinister expression.
But he could no longer see it.
He had gradually forgotten what his senior brother used to look like.
Mister Zhuang sighed softly.
The Strange Daoist stared at him, anger and disappointment welling in his eyes.
After all that was said, he still showed that same calm, desireless acceptance of life and death.
Faces distorted across the Strange Daoist’s own—twisting, merging—before fading. His gaze turned cold and merciless.
He lifted the Sumeru Sword and pointed it at Mister Zhuang.
“Senior Brother, stop!!”
Bai Qingcheng cried out in horror.
She tried to rush forward, but the Strange Daoist restrained her with a reversal of strange array-runes.
Her gaze sharpened; she activated the Splendid Mountains-and-Rivers Parasol, brilliant lights swirling—yet each ray was dissolved one by one by those eerie runes.
Without invoking her Nascent Soul power, she couldn’t break free.
Bitterness welled in her chest.
She was no match for her former senior brother—now the Strange Daoist—in cultivation, Divine-Sense, formations, or algorithmic arts.
She could only watch.
Watch as the Sumeru Sword pierced Zhuang Shixiong’s chest, sliced open his heart meridian, and extracted the crystalline, jade-like Heavenly Dao Bone sustaining his shattered Qi Sea and dried Sea of Consciousness.
Not a drop of blood spilled—
The sword qi shredded all of it.
The Dao Bone glimmered, etched with incomparably complex, ancient innate patterns fused into bone and blood.
The diagram resembled a formation—
The very one coveted by countless cultivators:
The Celestial Ruins Heaven-Burial Diagram.
The very instant the Heavenly Dao Bone was removed, Mister Zhuang’s life force plummeted.
His complexion turned deathly pale, the light in his eyes dimming, his aura fading to mist…
Bai Qingcheng felt her heart twist.
The Strange Daoist stared at Mister Zhuang, dazed.
He knew this moment would come.
But he never expected it to actually happen.
He had killed his junior brother with his own hands.
Mister Zhuang’s breath was nearly gone, yet he held on, as though something still weighted his heart.
Celestial Blood, Dao Bone, the Heaven-Burial Diagram… none of it mattered to him.
“Senior brother…”
He murmured softly, “For the sake of our bond… don’t trouble… my disciples…”
The Strange Daoist froze, then turned cold again, about to mock him—
When suddenly several golden shackles appeared in the sky.
They bore vast, rugged Dao-patterns and instantly formed a prison, trying to bind the Strange Daoist.
He sneered. “Old fool trying to profit from chaos!”
His eyes flashed—he swallowed the Heavenly Dao Bone whole.
Black-grey runes crawled over his body, dissolving his flesh from the outside in…
His figure faded, dissipating.
A venerable, thunderous voice boomed from the void:
“Heavenly Secret Deceptive Escape… you think you can flee?”
Golden light erupted, chains layering—
Yet they could not stop his escape.
As he vanished, he looked once more at Mister Zhuang—a gaze filled with complexity, pain… and final resolve.
Then he was gone.
A cold snort echoed; the golden light dispersed, and the unknown expert chased after him along the trail of calculations.
Only Mister Zhuang remained in the Hidden Formation Pavilion.
Without the Heaven-Burial Diagram, dying, forgotten—No one cared about him anymore.
Bai Qingcheng hurried forward to hold him. His body was lighter than willow fluff, thinner than paper. Her heart trembled.
“Senior brother…”
He slowly opened his eyes, looked at her, gentle and faintly smiling, but silent—
as if even speaking cost too much.
“You can’t die!” she pleaded anxiously.
Only after a long moment did he respond, weak and weary:
“I’ve calculated all my life… I’m tired. I want to rest for a while…”
Her heart clenched. “You can’t die! Isn’t there anything or anyone left in this world you still want?”
After hesitating, he shook his head.
“No… there’s no one left I wish to see.”
When he finished, he closed his eyes.
No matter how she called him, he didn’t respond.
The last trace of color drained from his face.
His fading life force seeped away like a spring disappearing into desert sand.
Bai Qingcheng stared blankly at his expression.
She never imagined she would witness this—
Her senior brother dying before her eyes.
That Zhuang Shixiong…
A prodigy unmatched, dazzling, invincible— Always calculating flawlessly, always forgiving her, always helping her.
The Strange Daoist had been right.
She, too, had been using him.
But…
She always thought that no matter how she schemed, Senior Brother would still be the same Senior Brother—the one who mastered the Heavenly Secret Derivative Algorithm, the one always calm and in full control of everything.
Not like this, pale and lifeless before her…
“Senior brother… is he going to die?”
A tremendous terror spread through her entire body.
Bai Qingcheng trembled all over.
Death is inevitable.
Yet she had lived for hundreds of years and had never realized, never imagined, that one day, the Senior Brother who treated her like a true sister, who always forgave and cared for her, would… die?
Her chest tightened, her heart twisted like a knife.
Two silent tears fell.
Bai Qingcheng wiped her cheeks, looking at the drops on her fingertips, murmuring, “So… I can still cry…”
Death…
Bai Qingcheng was suddenly shocked.
“No… he can’t die!”
“Senior Brother… he cannot die!”
Her Master was dead…
Her Senior Brother had fallen to demonic cultivation…
If Senior Brother died too, then everyone in this world who had ever truly cared for her… would be gone.
“Senior Brother cannot die!”
“But… how do I save him? With what can I save him?!”
Her Qi Sea shattered, her Sea of Consciousness drained, her Dao-body stripped, her life force dissipating… in this state, no pill could help…
Bai Qingcheng felt suffocated, clutching her chest, enduring the pain, her mind racing.
A moment later, a flash of inspiration struck her, and she suddenly realized:
“Master Situ… the Celestial Brightness Lamp…”
There will be one more chapter later, but it will come a little later.