Chapter 4506 — The Old Sect of Xishan

One and all were stunned into silence, disbelief written across every face. This wasn't the disciple selection grounds of the East Continent Academy, for heaven's sake—so how had such an invincible existence suddenly appeared out of nowhere?

In an instant, the crowd, who had already hardly dared to move, now hardly dared even to breathe. Every one of them hunched his head down and stared at his neighbors, not a single one venturing a sound.

For all that this gathering could boast a dense crop of capable fighters, if they all rose up together, even a Xuan Ascension cultivator might not be able to withstand them—but their opponent now was a Mountain-Opening colossus, high and above them all. Best snuff out such unrealistic notions at once. If it truly came to blows, every last one of them together would not be enough to die.

"A Mountain-Opening heretic colossus—fate's really outdone herself with this joke today..." Qi Wenmo said with a bitter smile, his face grim. The black mist clinging to this strange old man was far denser than Wu Baoliang's or Cheng Haonan's, a heretic aura so fierce it overawed the entire hall. If they still could not tell the man was a heretic cultivator, they might as well gouge out their own eyes—no point in keeping them in their faces anyway.

Wei Zhao nodded, his expression dark as deep water, and said nothing. From the moment this strange old man had appeared, the whole situation had spun completely out of control. Even the innocent bystanders in the hall were trembling with fear, and Wei Zhao, whom Cheng Haonan was eyeing with ill intent, was naturally in an even more precarious position. Today, he feared, was dangerous.

Wei Zhao clenched his fists. At a time like this he could not rely on others—only on himself. For all that the crowd here mouthed off about how right and evil could never coexist, hunting Cheng Haonan like a rat scurrying across the street, that was then and this was now.

Absolute power meant absolute say. With the terrifying strength of this strange old man, a Mountain-Opening colossus, whether he was a heretic cultivator had ceased to matter at all—because whatever he said, not a soul in the hall would dare defy him. Defy him, and there was only one outcome: death.

Circumstances were stronger than men. At a moment like this, no one dared keep his head raised. Never mind that the man was a heretic cultivator—even if he were the chief of bandits who had robbed them of every last possession, not one person present would dare make trouble. Swallow the broken teeth with the blood, tuck your head down, and play the ostrich—that was the only way.

Facing a Mountain-Opening heretic, it was no shame to play the coward. Only dying would be a shame.

In the dead silence, Hai Wuliang stirred where he lay embedded in the ground, then clambered to his feet, blood smeared across his face, wheezing and gasping. He was, after all, a peak late Nascent Soul expert; before his opponent truly got serious, he would not die so easily. Of course, he was in a sorry state, badly wounded into the bargain.

His earlier absurd plan to build his reputation was instantly flung to the back of his mind. This time, as Hai Wuliang staggered to his feet, he did not spare Cheng Haonan so much as a glance. He only dared steal one furtive look at the strange old man, then, like everyone else, hunched his neck and did not dare breathe.

Yet though Hai Wuliang himself dared not stir up trouble, the strange old man's gaze fell of its own accord upon him. Who told the fool to hog the spotlight so?

"You're the host of this piss-poor assembly?" The strange old man gave Hai Wuliang a cold look, his voice even drier and more grating than before, making the whole hall break out in gooseflesh—hideous beyond all description.

But however hideous and unbearable it was, no one could possibly object. They could only endure it obediently.

Fixed by the strange old man's sinister gaze, Hai Wuliang instantly wet himself. His knees gave way and he dropped to the ground despite himself, stammering and shaking his head frantically: "N-no... this one is not... that man is... just now this one was rash and gave offense, please, Senior, be magnanimous and overlook the small man's fault..."

Hai Wuliang pointed a finger straight at Qi Mingyuan, betraying this new overlord of the escort agencies without a moment's hesitation. A wave of contempt swept through the hall. Though none of them dared defy this Mountain-Opening heretic colossus either, that did not stop them from despising Hai Wuliang, this spineless creature—all high-sounding righteousness from his lips, yet when the crunch truly came, he licked boots more nimbly than anyone.

Seeing the strange old man's unfathomable, sinister gaze turn his way, Qi Mingyuan's heart tightened, but he did not make a sound. He too could not possibly defy an existence of that caliber, but he would never stoop to licking boots in public as shamelessly as Hai Wuliang.

"Good. Whoever it is doesn't matter—this sect is taking over your assembly for the time being. Anyone who objects can speak up now." The strange old man looked down upon them all with the lofty air of one surveying lesser beings.

The crowd nodded vigorously. Not one dared make a sound at such a moment. To object was to seek death; no one here was a fool, and no one would be the bird that stuck its head out first.

"Not bad. You know your place, at least. This sect has cut down no fewer than eight thousand capable fighters in its time—some say ten thousand—but these years I have cultivated my nature and am not much inclined to slaughter freely anymore. It will do you good to behave." The strange old man smiled a sinister smile, then added: "Allow me to introduce myself. This sect hails from Xishan. My Dao name is the Old Sect of Xishan."

"The Old Sect of Xishan?!" Another collective gasp swept the Moleng Plaza. If the crowd had still harbored some faint, unrealistic hope before, that hope was now utterly shattered. Not a soul dared nurse any further disloyal thoughts.

"What's so special about Xishan?" Wei Zhao could not help but start slightly at the crowd's expressions of sheer horror. He had heard of West Island, but never of any Xishan. Could it be some peculiar place within the South Continent seas?

"Eh? Brother Ling, you really don't know?" Qi Wenmo at his side looked astonished, and quickly lowered his voice to explain: "Xishan is the most famous gathering place of heretic cultivators there is! The most savage and powerful heretic cultivators on all of Cloud Terrace Island assemble at Xishan and have formed the Xishan Heretic Sect. Word is the sect's Grand Helmsman is called the Xishan Ancestor, and the Second Helmsman below him is none other than this Old Sect of Xishan."

"A gathering place of heretic cultivators? There's such a place?" Wei Zhao grew even more bewildered. Such a thing he had truly never heard of. Weren't heretic cultivators vermin scurrying across the street, forever able only to hide in shadows and skulk out of sight?

Heretic cultivators of that kind could find no foothold even in a chaotic region like the South Continent seas, let alone on Cloud Terrace Island, where mighty sects stood thick as a forest. To any normal person's understanding, a heretic gathering place like the Xishan Heretic Sect, existing openly, was plainly begging the great sects to join hands and come wipe them out.

"Oh, it exists, and has for a long time. I heard that many years ago the great sects of Middle Island, North Island, and West Island even joined forces to go purge it, and in the end the whole thing just fizzled out." Qi Wenmo shrugged and sighed.

"What? The Xishan Heretic Sect is that powerful?" Wei Zhao clicked his tongue and asked, somewhat aghast.