The great conference hall of Shaolin Monastery, usually a sanctuary of austere quiet, now hummed with a restless energy that felt profoundly out of place. Sunlight, fractured into dusty beams by the intricate latticework of high windows, illuminated an assembly unlike any in recent memory. Monks in their saffron robes moved with uncharacteristic haste, their serene faces creased with concern, while the hall's polished wooden floor vibrated under the weight of masters and disciples from nearly every renowned sect and minor clan across the land.
The air, thick with the scent of aged incense and the nervous sweat of a hundred martial artists, was a tapestry of frustrated murmurs and clipped, urgent questions. Bearded elders, their brows furrowed with worry, gestured emphatically as they spoke, their voices occasionally rising above the din. Young, anxious faces, many bearing the distinct insignias of their respective schools, huddled in tense groups, their hands often straying to the hilts of their swords or the grips of their staves—a subconscious comfort in uncertain times.
At the head of the hall, seated on a raised dais, sat the venerable Monk Ling, his eyes closed in what appeared to be contemplation, though the subtle tremor in his prayer beads betrayed his own deep disquiet. Beside him, leaders from Wudang, Emei, and other prominent factions leaned in, their hushed discussions punctuated by frustrated sighs. The topic, unspoken yet omnipresent, hung in the heavy air like a shroud: the inexplicable disappearance of disciples, a spreading darkness that had begun as whispers and now roared into an undeniable crisis, threatening to unravel the very fabric of the martial world. Every gaze in the room, even those of the most stoic warriors, carried the same desperate question: Where had they gone, and who dared to take them?
Kuo Ju spoke with a tone of bitter certainty. "They know they can't fight us directly, so they've captured the younger generation to threaten us."
Tang Jianyu's voice was seething with rage. "Ten of our apprentices were captured by the Yueguang Sect. Their fate is still unknown. This time, if the Yueguang Sect wants a fight, we will give them the fight they seek."
Lee Kong Bai chimed in, his frustration clear. "I'm also tired of this Yueguang Sect. They sent Wang Biming to kill Monk Hao. Who knows what other evil plans they're cooking up?"
"Why not give them a chance?" Fu Yuanjun interjected, his voice calm amidst the anger.
Yong Gui looked at him, puzzled. "What does Chief Fu mean?"
Fu Yuanjun stood calmly amidst the heated discussion. "All they want is to become part of the Central Plains martial arts world. Why not let them join us?" he reasoned. "Indeed, their approach may be different from ours, but as long as they don't use it for ill intent, what's the harm?"
He then looked at everyone in the hall, his gaze unwavering. "I believe every single person here has blood on their swords. If the Yueguang Sect joins our ranks, they must, like us, abide by the rules. Nothing more, nothing less."
Monk Ling spoke with a gentle calm, his voice rising above the din. "Chief Fu, your idea is exactly what this old monk has hoped for. We have given so many new clans and sects the chance to join us, so why should we reject the Yueguang Sect? If we cast them out, we force them onto a darker path. If they kill others, we will have to take half the responsibility for the deaths of those innocent people."
Yong Gui interrupted, his voice edged with fury. "If you look at it that way, Sword Village will never let Wang Biming go. He killed my Er shixiong, and we will have our revenge."
"For that," Fu Yuanjun replied, "we will not prevent you from taking revenge."
Monk Ling looked out at the assembly. "Does everyone else agree to talk to the Yueguang leader?"
Lee Kong Bai spoke, his voice grave. "If we consider the incident at Mu Village, we are in no position to condemn them. I agree with Monk Ling and Chief Fu. Let's talk to their leader first, then we'll reconsider whether to allow them to join us."
"If we can solve this problem peacefully, and neither side loses lives, that would be ideal," Kuo Jing Song conceded.
Mo Enhuang burst into the small meeting room, her body trembling with exhaustion and grief. "Those disciples are dead," she said raggedly, her voice barely a whisper. "We don't know who is alive or dead." She stumbled weakly into the room, her words turning into a breathless, broken confession.
"The pagoda that held us captive fell. We escaped with the help of Kuo Lok... but we were soaked in oil. Miao Mingzhu launched fire arrows at us, and we had no choice but to jump from the cliff into the river." Tears streamed down her face as her voice finally broke. "Many disciples fell to their deaths when they hit the rocks below. Others burned alive, and some were killed by arrows as they tried to escape."
Kuo Ju rushed forward, his face pale with fear. "Miss Mo," he asked desperately, "did my children make it out alive?"
Mo Enhuang shook her head, her body trembling with exhaustion. "I don't know," she said, her voice barely a whisper.
"How many have died?" Yong Gui asked, his voice low and grave.
Mo Enhuang began to weep, unable to hold back her grief. "I don't know," she cried. "But so far, there's only me and two Tianshan disciples. One of them is badly burned. He might not make it through the night. Fortunately for us, the young Master Hua helped us escape."
In a fit of rage, Tang Jianyu slammed his fist onto the small tea table. His powerful inner energy shattered the wood, sending fragments scattering across the floor. "We forgave them before," he said, his voice laced with fury. "But after what I've heard, I no longer support Chief Fu or Monk Ling's idea."
"If they want a fight, we will give it to them!" Lee Kong Bai snarled.
Just then, a monk ran frantically into the hall, gasping for air. "Fāngzhàng Ling, the Yueguang Sect is here, and they've injured many of our monks!"
"Let's go see what they want," Monk Ling said, his voice remaining calm despite the chaos.
"Good," Kuo Ju spat, "they are right on time."
When the group of senior martial artists arrived, they saw a group of people led by Miao Mingzhu standing in a silent standoff before Shaolin's front gate.
Kuo Ju stepped forward, his voice a low growl. "Where are the disciples your sect captured?"
Miao Mingzhu's lips curled into a chilling smile. "I believe the treacherous Mo Enhuang has already told you."
Kuo Ju's eyes blazed. "You admit to harming those disciples, then?"
"Yes," she replied, her voice soft and full of a cruel, mocking pity. "To be honest, I admire your son, Kuo Lok, very much, but it's a shame he appeared in the wrong place at the wrong time." She smiled again, a cynical glint in her eyes. "Truthfully, I would have rather been your daughter-in-law than your enemy, but it's a great pity that Kuo Lok died at such a young age."
"As long as I am his mother," Kuo Ju spat back, "you will never have a chance to be my daughter-in-law."
"I know I have no chance," Miao Mingzhu replied, her voice chillingly devoid of emotion. "Because he is dead."
"Which of your eyes saw my Lok ge ge die?" a voice bellowed from behind her.
Miao Mingzhu whirled around, stunned. From behind her party, a group of survivors walked forward, and her eyes widened in surprise when she saw Ma Jingguo among them. Her gaze scanned the group again, and she let out a quiet sigh of relief when she didn't see Mu Dishi.
"Wen'er! Lok'er!" Kuo Ju cried out, her face breaking into a wide, joyous smile. She rushed down the steps and ran toward Kuo Lok and Kuo Wenqian, relief washing over her.
Miao Mingzhu's face darkened with rage. "You're not dead?" she snarled.
Bazar Batu gave a wide grin. "I am a descendant of the great Khans of Mongolia," he boasted. "I don't die that easily."
Yan Zhanjin looked at him, his eyes wide with surprise. "You are?"
"I'm bluffing," Bazar Batu said quietly.
Yan Zhanjin sighed with disappointment. "Oh... I thought if you were, we could live in a Mongolian palace for a few years."
Bazar Batu laughed. "You two are still welcome to live in my house. My family is very rich."
Kuo Ju gave Miao Mingzhu a hard glare. "You've come for a fight," she said coldly. "You've got one."
Miao Mingzhu offered a chilling smile and calmly accepted the challenge. She knew the leader of the Yueguang Sect would soon arrive to back her. With her followers, she ascended the steps and followed the six heads of the martial sects into the heart of Shaolin.
In the front yard of the main hall, a large assembly of martial artists was already waiting, their faces stern and their hands resting on their weapons.
Miao Mingzhu smiled at the gathered crowd, her gaze sweeping over them in a mockery of a respectful greeting. "So, is this how the Central Plains greets its guests?"
"A friendly person will receive a friendly welcome," Kuo Ju spat back, her eyes narrow. "An unkind person will not."
Miao Mingzhu, "We are friendly towards you, it was you who are not friendly towards us."
"You are so friendly enough to imprison many of our disciples," Suo Dongmei said, her voice laced with bitterness.
Miao Mingzhu smiled, her eyes cold. "I heard you're no longer part of the six sects, but I'm still willing to be your opponent."
Suo Dongmei's face hardened. "I will gladly trade skills with you," she declared. She drew her sword and flew toward Miao Mingzhu, her blade a blur of silver.
Suo Dongmei swung her sword, but Miao Mingzhu gracefully executed a backward somersault, avoiding the strike. As she did, she released two green ribbons from her sleeves that whipped through the air like venomous snakes. Suo Dongmei soared backward, just barely avoiding the ribbon attack.
Miao Mingzhu withdrew her ribbons, her eyes narrowing in accusation. "This is a violation of the martial arts world's rules! You are no longer a disciple of Tianshan, so why are you still using 'Sword Spirit' skills? You are no longer qualified to fight with me."
Kuo Wenqian calmly stepped forward, his expression resolute. "Very well, then let me finish this fight."
Miao Mingzhu looked at him with a hint of surprise. "Who are you?"
"Kuo Wenqian, of the Jinfeng Sect," she replied.
A smile spread across Miao Mingzhu's face, transforming her demeanor from rage to delight. "It is worthwhile to fight the first rank beauty of the martial arts world," she said with a smirk.
Miao Mingzhu sent three green ribbons whipping through the air toward Kuo Wenqian. With a swift, practiced movement, Kuo Wenqian drew her sword and effortlessly cleaved them in two. She then flew directly at Miao Mingzhu, intent on ending the fight quickly.
Miao Mingzhu, however, refused to let her approach. She continuously released ribbon after ribbon in a deadly cascade of silk, creating a barrier that kept Kuo Wenqian at a distance. As Kuo Wenqian deftly avoided the attacks, Miao Mingzhu made a final, desperate move. She released her last two ribbons, and from one of them, a small green snake, perfectly camouflaged against the green silk, moved with a sinister swiftness. It streaked toward Kuo Wenqian, its movement silent and deadly.
A sudden, frantic cry pierced the air. "Jiejie, the snake is on the left!" Yan Zhanjin shouted.
Kuo Wenqian reacted instantly. She brandished her sword, her blade a blur of silver, and with a swift flick, she cut Miao Mingzhu's green ribbon in two, severing the small snake along with it.
Enraged, Miao Mingzhu leaped back and, with a venomous glare, raised her palm to strike Yan Zhanjin. But before she could, Ma Jingguo pushed Yan Zhanjin out of the way and intercepted Miao Mingzhu's strike with his own palm. The force of the collision sent Miao Mingzhu flying back toward her subordinates.
At the same time, at the foot of Shaolin Monastery, Mu Dishi arrived at the gate, his mind drifting back to the last time he stood here—a time when he sought vengeance against the three great sects. He found it unsettling that the front gate was entirely unmanned. An ominous trail of numerous footprints was all that greeted him.
Hushed footsteps and the low murmur of voices grew louder behind him. Mu Dishi turned to see a large group of martial artists emerging from the forest. At their head were Wang Biming and an elderly man. Mu Dishi immediately knew the man must be the leader of the Yueguang Sect, or at least someone of greater status than Wang Biming.
The elderly man strode forward and stopped directly in front of Mu Dishi. He stared at him, his gaze running up and down Mu Dishi's form several times. "You don't look like Mu Jiao Long at all," he said, his voice laced with disdain. He then glared frantically at Wang Biming. "I hope you learned your lesson."
Wang Biming stood motionless, not daring to speak.
The elderly man turned back to Mu Dishi. "I hope you don't try to stop me," he said.
Mu Dishi didn't reply. He simply stepped to the side, giving the man a clear path.
"Many years ago, you stood here to avenge these three sects and four clans." the elderly man said, his voice gaining a chilling edge. "And today, I am doing the same thing. I hope you will not interfere."
Mu Dishi met his gaze, his expression unreadable. "What you want to do is not my business."
The elderly man let out a harsh, triumphant laugh before turning and leading his men up the long stone stairs toward the main Shaolin temple.
Wang Biming lingered behind. He turned to face Mu Dishi, a soft, melancholic smile on his face. "Dishi, let us walk in together," he said. "This may be our last chance to walk side-by-side like in the past, when you were still mine."