Seeing the elder, Murong Qiufeng hurried forward, raising a hand in polite deference. “Master Mo, no need for formalities—you flatter me too much.”
The elder Mo smiled kindly, stroking his beard, radiating a sage-like aura. He regarded Murong Qiufeng as if he were a beloved grandson, patting his shoulder and appraising him. “Hmm, not bad. Haven’t seen you in a year—you’ve grown taller, and your martial skills have improved. Why are you only coming now? You’re not finding us old folks troublesome, are you?”
Murong Qiufeng had a talent for winning people over, particularly elders. Polite, thoughtful, and simple-minded, he naturally drew their affection.
Part of the reason he had been accepted as the final disciple of the Sword Sage was Yun Feiyang’s influence, but another part was his own character: a clear-minded, perceptive, and pure soul—a perfect gem for the path of the sword.
Murong Qiufeng smiled apologetically. “Not at all.”
“Haha, Master Mo, don’t go easy on him, or he might never come back,” said another elder in white robes, entering with a hearty laugh. Though aged, his voice remained strong and full of vitality, movements fluid like a middle-aged man, brimming with energy.
Murong Qiufeng nodded politely. “Master Ling, I’ve come regarding the Mufeng Tower. Have you, or Master Mo, heard any information about its affairs?”
“Oh, regarding the Tower’s matter,” Master Ling stroked his white beard. Though he looked as if he had expected this, a hint of anticipation lingered in his eyes.
Master Mo patted Murong Qiufeng’s shoulder, smiling. “Have you been listening to too many rumors in the martial world?”
“Is the news about a crisis in Mufeng Tower inaccurate?” Murong Qiufeng asked, slightly taken aback.
“Not inaccurate. The Tower does face some internal unrest, but nothing serious. Such things were inevitable.” Master Ling stroked his beard as he seated himself.
Murong Qiufeng’s eyes lit up. “So it was prearranged internally?”
“You’re sharp—quick to grasp things,” Master Ling said. “Though some external forces triggered this unrest, half of it was intentionally guided from within. The Tower’s master had long planned a major purge, but the timing never worked out. This incident is, in a way, fortuitous. After this, the Tower will emerge even stronger.”
“So the disappearance of the Master… could that also be intentional?” Murong Qiufeng’s heart eased slightly.
Master Mo shook his head. “We don’t know the specifics of the Master’s disappearance. But he’s always cautious—surely his absence serves a purpose. There’s likely no danger. After all, you’ve known him for years and still doubt his abilities?”
Murong Qiufeng furrowed his brows. It wasn’t that he doubted his master, but the unpredictability of life made him uneasy. “By the way, did he leave anything behind when he returned?”
“Ah, I knew you’d ask,” Master Ling chuckled. “You and the Master are quite in sync.” He retrieved a small wooden box from his sleeve and handed it over. “The Master hadn’t visited for half a year, but recently, he secretly sent this with a note saying it’s for you should you come here.”
Murong Qiufeng took the box and opened it. Inside lay a piece of red Yunluo brocade. His confusion deepened. If his master could continually send them clues, why not appear in person? If he could guide them, he must already know or have discovered something—so why hide it?
Puzzled, he returned to the inn with the brocade.
Shangguan Ye examined it before commenting, “Perhaps it carries the same meaning as that paper.”
Murong Qiufeng leaned against the window, frowning as he studied the brocade. “Following the Master’s treasure-hunt style, there’s always only one line of clues. The paper contained a second clue’s location. This brocade likely isn’t part of that hunt. Perhaps the Master obtained new information and left this as a hint, though the range of possibilities is larger this time.”
“Hah, Yun Feiyang does have his interests,” Shangguan Ye said coldly, tossing the brocade aside.
Murong Qiufeng sighed, still unsure of his master’s intent. “At least we know the Tower is fine. Let’s head to Yanyang City next to find the second clue. As for this brocade… we’ll see if it connects to anything.”
“Mm.” Shangguan Ye nodded.
A knock came at the door—someone calling impatiently. It sounded like Xiao Yan.
Shangguan Ye frowned, opening the door. Seeing Xiao Yan’s anxious expression, he asked, “What is it?”
Xiao Yan hesitated, intimidated by Shangguan Ye’s calm, authoritative presence. Though familiar with Murong Qiufeng, Shangguan Ye exuded an inner cold that felt like a latent threat of death.
Murong Qiufeng, puzzled, asked, “Xiao Yan? What’s wrong?”
Yan Qiren followed, noting the serious expressions on both. “Come in and speak.”
The door closed, and they all sat at the table.
“Brother Yan, what happened?” Murong Qiufeng poured tea for them.
Yan Qiren frowned as he organized his words. Xiao Yan gulped down the tea and blurted, “Something’s happened—this time it’s serious.”
“What do you mean? Did the Sword Sect face another attack?”
“Not exactly, but it’s close. We overheard a discussion in an inn: two days ago, there was a bloodbath. This time it’s real—several smaller sects and gangs were wiped out overnight, no survivors.”
“What?” Murong Qiufeng’s brows tightened. Martial-world massacres weren’t unheard of, but the timing and frequency were suspicious. “You don’t mean they suspect the Master again, do you?”
“No, this isn’t the Third Grandmaster or the Mufeng Tower. It’s the Tiansha Pavilion—an organization that has never been fully dealt with.”
