Chapter Thirteen: Worth More Than Gold

The old man and Liu Yueming turned toward the source of the voice, only to behold a giant of a man, clad in a golden battle robe and standing a full two meters tall, striding toward them with a bearing like a dragon or tiger.

“Elder Jin, wait!” Hua Queyue hurried after him from behind, but the giant in the golden robe paid him no heed, heading straight for the old man and Liu Yueming.

The giant halted before them, unleashing an overwhelming aura that made it difficult for both the old man and Liu Yueming to breathe.

He was arrayed in a robe of gold, with a golden helmet atop his head and golden boots upon his feet. Below thick brows, his broad, electric eyes flashed, and his stout limbs and towering physique were like a mountain incarnate. This was a man of unmatched power.

“I am Jin Buhuan.” The giant’s voice thundered in their ears like a clap of heaven’s wrath.

Liu Yueming bit the tip of his tongue, steadying himself, and replied coolly, “I am Liu Yueming.”

“So you’re Liu Yueming?” Jin Buhuan’s gaze fell upon him, sharp as lightning, almost tangible in its intensity.

Liu Yueming subtly shifted his stance, letting the chill of his icy aura seep forth, resisting the force of Jin Buhuan’s stare and presence as best he could.

“I am,” he affirmed.

“Hmph! Weak as you are, you still somewhat resemble Liu Wujian’s son!” Jin Buhuan withdrew his oppressive aura.

In a flash of white, Liu Yueming’s sword leapt from its scabbard, the tip aimed at Jin Buhuan’s throat. “Say he’s my father one more time and I’ll kill you,” he threatened.

Jin Buhuan sneered in disdain. “How amusing. A son who denies his father. You think you can kill me with those pitiful moves?”

“Yueming! Put the sword down! How can you be so rude to Elder Jin?” Hua Queyue pinched the blade between two fingers, shifting its point away.

Jin Buhuan suddenly looked at the old man and began to laugh heartily. “Ha! So it’s you—twenty years ago, the coward who feared death! You’ve got the nerve to show your face in this world again?”

The old man trembled—not from fear, but because a fire of anger smoldered within him. Yet he forced it down, stood up, and walked into the room.

“Stop! You’re coming with me. There are matters that need your explanation,” Jin Buhuan commanded.

The old man turned, his voice bitter. “What else does Elder Jin want with a cowardly cripple like me?”

“Enough nonsense. Just come. And you, boy of the Liu family!” Jin Buhuan was not making a request, but a demand.

Hua Queyue hurried before the old man and said, “Senior Iron Sword, the demon invasion is like wildfire now. All the sects have sent emissaries to Lingrealm to discuss strategy. You are the only one to have faced the Demon Emperor White Bone Weeps in person. They want to ask you about him, nothing more.”

The old man fell silent for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll go.”

Jin Buhuan no longer spared the old man a glance. He turned and left, and the old man followed.

Hua Queyue looked at Liu Yueming. “Yueming, you should go too. You’re all that’s left of Sword Command Gate.”

Liu Yueming raised his head, met Hua Queyue’s gaze, and asked, “Is he dead?”

Hua Queyue sighed. “No.” Though perhaps death would have been kinder—words left unspoken.

Liu Yueming said nothing and went after the old man and Jin Buhuan. Hua Queyue lingered a moment, shook his head, and departed.

Within the room, Zhou Yu struggled to sit up, sweat pouring from him as pain wracked his body, drenching him as if he’d been fished from a vat of water.

“Du Niang, follow them,” Zhou Yu said.

“Close your eyes. I already placed energy crystals on them. As long as they’re not far, I can track everything they experience. I’ll transmit the images directly to your mind,” Du Niang’s voice replied.

Zhou Yu closed his eyes. “Just how many tricks have you hidden?”

“No more. Setting energy crystals isn’t easy. After all this time, I’ve only managed it for those two, and only because they’ve been around you so long. It takes more than a day or two to complete the process,” she explained.

Liu Yueming and the old man followed Jin Buhuan into a grand building. Above the ten-meter-high main doors hung a plaque inscribed: “Council Hall.” This, it seemed, was where the meeting would be held.

Jin Buhuan strode to the front and seated himself in a redwood chair at the head. He gestured to two empty seats beside him, indicating that the old man and Liu Yueming should sit.

Within the hall, about twenty people sat in two rows. Among them were the seductive Nan Fenglang, whom they’d met on the road to Lingrealm, and the despicable Zuo Xiao of the Beast Sect. The rest were emissaries from the various great sects and factions.

Through his energy crystals, Zhou Yu discovered that the bald Morrison was also present. Had Lingrealm officially recognized him as leader of the transmigrators?

“Hmph! Elder Jin! What do you take us for? We’re emissaries from all the great sects, traveled thousands of miles to discuss how to resist the demon horde, and your Lord of Lingrealm isn’t present? And those two—a cripple and a boy—are they emissaries too? What right do they have to sit with us?” Zuo Xiao challenged as soon as Jin Buhuan sat, berating the elder of Lingrealm—a most unusual display.

“The Lord of Lingrealm isn’t someone a petty nobody like you can meet at will,” Jin Buhuan replied, his electric gaze pinning Zuo Xiao.

The pressure was so real that Zuo Xiao felt as if he’d fallen into an abyss, yet for some reason, he seemed unafraid. Gritting his teeth, he retorted, “Is this how Lingrealm treats emissaries?”

Jin Buhuan snorted, withdrew his gaze, and intoned, “You have journeyed far. You have my thanks.” His voice boomed like a great bell, shaking the hearts of all, making clear his unfathomable cultivation.

“Spare the pleasantries! Get to the point!” Zuo Xiao shouted.

Nan Fenglang glanced at Zuo Xiao with interest, then turned her gaze to the handsome Liu Yueming.

“Has the Beast Sect gone mad, to act so brazenly?”

“You don’t know? Sword Command Gate was destroyed, and Lingrealm’s strongest have all gone to the front lines. The Nan Feng and North Star clans, Soul Sect—those top sects have sent their elite warriors too. The casualties are grave. Beast Sect, always holding back, now has the momentum to be second only to Lingrealm.”

“No wonder the Beastlands dare to be so bold! They only sent a mere demon general-level emissary—a clear show of disrespect. They have no intention of joining the alliance.”

A few emissaries whispered among themselves from afar.

“The Lord of Lingrealm is away on important business and cannot meet with you. Apologies for the slight,” Jin Buhuan said evenly, ignoring Zuo Xiao.

“Where has he gone? What could be more important than the demon invasion?” Zuo Xiao pressed, clearly intent on causing trouble.

Jin Buhuan glanced at him, then continued, “Thus, I will preside over this alliance council. United, we stand and fall together. Only by combining our strength can we defeat the demons.”

“Well said, Elder Jin.”

“Elder Jin is right. We should have allied long ago. The demon race is the common enemy of humankind.”

The assembly voiced their agreement. Zuo Xiao fell silent; to oppose now would be to stand against everyone. He remembered his sect master’s orders: cause trouble if you can, but if not, let things be—it was up to them to play as they liked; whether to comply or not was another matter.

“If there are no objections, then it’s settled,” Jin Buhuan concluded. He made no mention of electing an alliance leader, nor did anyone else, for with Sword Command Gate annihilated, only Lingrealm held the authority to command all.

“We’ll discuss the details of the alliance later. For now, let’s talk about Sword Command Gate.” His voice filled the hall, and at the mention of Sword Command Gate, the crowd fell silent; the air was so still a pin drop could be heard.

Liu Yueming’s hand unconsciously tightened around his sword, his icy aura intensifying.

Across the room, Nan Fenglang watched him closely. The change in the beautiful young man confirmed her suspicions.

She parted her lips, her voice soft, enchanting to the bone. “Is this young hero perhaps Liu Yueming, heir to Sword Command Gate?”

“What! You’re that dog Liu Wujian’s son?” Zuo Xiao shot to his feet, pointing at Liu Yueming.

Liu Yueming raised his head and gazed at Zuo Xiao, his voice utterly devoid of emotion, cold as the depths of winter. “What did you say?”