After the disruption of the duel and Yin Wu's disgraceful exit, Chairman Xie worked swiftly to steer the congregation back to its original purpose. His voice, calm yet commanding, resonated through the pavilion, re-centering the restless energy of the gathered sect leaders. The discussion returned to the coalition's mission—the proposed campaign to retake Fuhai City and restore the fallen imperial capital of the Wun Empire.
Hours of deliberation followed. Plans were presented, alliances discussed, and resources tallied. In the end, the dark sects reached a unified decision. They would collaborate with the Light Path Union and mount a siege against the invading forces.
But despite this outward display of unity, one glaring void remained.
The Eternal Damnation Sect still stood apart.
Throughout the negotiations, Ruan Yanjun remained silent. Chairman Xie had asked repeatedly for his support, Ruan Yanjun's response had been a simple but resounding 'No'.
Many sect leaders exchanged uneasy glances, their frustration thinly veiled. A few seemed on the verge of confronting him directly, but none dared to voice their grievances aloud. They understood too well: to provoke the Devil of the South was to invite disaster.
Without his forces, their coalition was little more than a brittle shell. The Wun Empire's army had long since been depleted, and only the Eternal Damnation Sect possessed the strength and numbers to decisively tip the balance of power.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Ruan Yanjun's smooth voice sliced through the heavy silence.
"If I were to humor your request and join your cause…" he said, his tone casual, almost bored, "exactly how many of my disciples do you expect me to commit to this endeavor?"
The entire hall turned to Chairman Xie. The question, though politely phrased, carried the weight of a sharp blade pressed to the throat.
Chairman Xie straightened, choosing his words with care. "Based on our records," he began cautiously, "the Eternal Damnation Sect commands a force of approximately twenty thousand disciples across the five empires. Of those, at least ten thousand are level three and below, over six thousand are level four, over two thousand are level five, two hundred are level six masters, and twenty-five are level seven grandmasters."
A low murmur rippled through the assembly at the sheer scale of the numbers.
Ruan Yanjun's lips curved faintly, a glint of cold amusement flashing in his eyes. "You seem remarkably well-informed, Chairman Xie," he said softly. "But that was not my question." His voice hardened, slicing through the growing whispers. "I asked how many disciples you expect me to provide."
The chairman's throat bobbed as he swallowed and offered his answer. "If the Eternal Damnation Sect were to contribute half of its strength, it would ensure the success of the campaign."
For a brief moment, the entire pavilion held its breath, waiting for Ruan Yanjun's response.
And then—he laughed.
It was a soft, scornful laugh, laced with disdain that echoed off the marble pillars. "Do you take me for a fool, Chairman Xie?" His voice rose just enough to ensure every sect leader heard him. "The Night Fall Sect commands over eight thousand disciples across the empire. Yet they pledge a pitiful two hundred level threes, ten level fives, and two level sixes."
He shifted his gaze to another corner of the pavilion. "The Illusive Ghosts Sect, with over five thousand disciples at its disposal, offers barely one hundred cultivators of level five and below, and a single level six. Shall I continue?" His voice grew colder with each word. "The smaller sects seated here barely scrape together a handful of disciples between them—and yet you expect me to hand over half of my entire sect?"
The leader of the Night Fall Sect, Grandmaster Liang Qingshan, rose from his seat, his movements slow and deliberate. Though his voice maintained a carefully respectful tone, the undercurrent of arrogance was unmistakable.
"Sect Leader Ruan," Liang began smoothly, "the Night Fall Sect's main stronghold lies in the Silang Empire. Our resources are stretched thin. We must retain sufficient forces to defend Silang should the Xue Empire turn its attention to us."
The Thousand Venoms Sect leader, Grandmaster Chi Wumei, nodded in agreement, his voice emerging low and eerily calm. "The same with the Thousand Venoms Sect. Our primary duty remains to protect our homeland. What we have pledged to this coalition is already the full extent of what we can spare."
Ruan Yanjun's cold laugh echoed lightly through the chamber. "And yet," he retorted, his tone deceptively casual, "the Eternal Damnation Sect is held to a different standard." His gaze swept across the pavilion, voice sharpening with every word. "The heart of my sect lies in Xianru, not in this fractured empire. My first obligation is to safeguard my own dominion. And yet you stand here, expecting me to sacrifice half of my strength while the rest of you offer mere scraps. Do you mistake my sect for a bottomless well to draw from at your leisure?"
There was a beat of uncomfortable silence, but Liang Qingshan did not yield. Instead, he pressed forward with measured insistence. "Sect Leader Ruan must consider that the Eternal Damnation Sect has flourished within the Wun Empire for over a decade. Thousands of your disciples have been raised, trained, and protected under the imperial banner. I would hope that, in such times of crisis, Sect Leader Ruan would feel compelled to return the favor."
Ruan Yanjun stilled for a brief moment, then with glacial sarcasm, he spoke.
"Someone must have defecated on your brain, Sect Leader Liang," he said, his voice cutting like the edge of a blade. "Because only a man suffering from severe delusion could twist the truth so shamelessly."
The words caused a ripple of sharp inhales to sweep through the room.
"Let me correct your revisionist tale," Ruan Yanjun continued, his voice cool but growing sharper with every word. "It was the Eternal Damnation Sect that protected this empire for over two decades. It was I who mentored your emperor, filling his empty skull with enough sense to maintain peace and stability. The other empires did not hold their swords because they respected Wun—they held them because they feared me."
He paused, pinning each sect leader beneath the weight of his silence.
"So tell me, Sect Leader Liang, what favor is it that I owe to this empire?" Ruan Yanjun's voice grew colder still. "It is not I who am indebted. It is this empire that owes its very survival to me. Without the Eternal Damnation Sect, this fragile patchwork of provinces would have been carved apart like butchered meat long ago. And what became of it after that witless emperor banished my sect? The invaders walked into his capital as if strolling through a garden, barely encountering resistance. And now you crawl before me, asking me to clean up the wreckage he left behind."
His voice lowered to a dangerous whisper that somehow carried even more weight than his shouting had. "How utterly shameful of you. How utterly pathetic of the emperor you so eagerly defend."
The air inside the pavilion grew suffocatingly tense, the silence so thick it felt like an invisible pressure pressing against every chest. Liang Qingshan's face flushed, but he forced himself to remain composed. He would not yield so easily.
"Is Sect Leader Ruan's heart so calloused," Liang Qingshan pressed, his voice rising ever so slightly, "that he can watch countless commoners perish while doing nothing? The emperor's sins are his own—but what crimes have the people committed to deserve your indifference? You have the means to save them."
The plea sent another murmur through the chamber—a shift from self-interest to moral obligation. The room hung in balance, waiting to see how Ruan Yanjun would respond.
Ruan Yanjun's smirk deepened into something sharper, almost surgical.
"You speak as though you possess a beating heart of your own, Sect Leader Liang," he drawled, every word laced with biting mockery. "If you are so moved by the plight of the common folk, then why do you offer so little of your own forces? Why must you look to me alone to shoulder this war's burden?"
He paused. "Or is it because you hope to place me at the center of the battlefield, where my sect will bleed while yours remains safely sheltered behind fine words and empty posturing? Tell me, Sect Leader Liang—what precisely is your true intention?"
Liang Qingshan's lips tightened. For a moment, he seemed as if he might speak, but when he did, his voice was thinner than before. "We harbor no ill intentions. We seek only your assistance because we know you alone possess the strength to turn the tide and save the empire."
A low, humorless chuckle slipped from Ruan Yanjun's lips. "Ah, so noble. So righteous." His voice dipped into a soft, venom-laced mockery. "Shall I unravel your convenient logic, then? The truth is simple—you want to drag the Eternal Damnation Sect into this war, bleed us dry, and when the empire is saved and my disciples are spent, you'll turn your blades on us again. Just as you did after the failed ambush two years ago—the one you participated in. The moment I faltered, you all descended like vultures, eager to tear me apart. Shall I pretend to have forgotten?"
The pavilion grew stiflingly silent. Around the chamber, many sect leaders shifted uncomfortably, their gazes dropping to avoid Ruan Yanjun's unrelenting stare. The weight of his accusation pressed upon them like a suffocating fog.
Liang Qingshan's face flushed, but his pride forced him to speak. "Sect Leader Ruan, this is not the time to settle personal grudges. We are gathered here for the welfare of this empire—of its people."
"If this congregation is truly about the welfare of the people," Ruan Yanjun said silkily, "then let me offer a simple solution. Every sect present here shall pledge half of its disciples—regardless of rank. No exemptions. No exceptions. We shall all make equal sacrifices. What say you?"
His words hung in the air like a dagger poised above them. The room remained frozen, the silence deafening. Not a single voice rose in agreement. The discomfort among the sect leaders was palpable, their unwillingness exposed like raw flesh under a blade.
Ruan Yanjun let out a quiet, scornful breath. "You see? You brand me heartless, but not one of you is willing to sacrifice what you so righteously demand of me. This entire congregation…" He paused, his lip curling. "…is not about unity. It is nothing but a farce. A pitiful attempt to turn the Eternal Damnation Sect into your sacrificial hound while you sit comfortably in your halls, counting your wealth."
He let the words sink in for a beat before concluding with icy finality. "I've wasted enough breath in this hall of hypocrites."
Without waiting for a reply, Ruan Yanjun leapt from the elevated platform to the ground floor in one fluid motion, bypassing the stairs entirely. His landing was silent, but the impact of his departure reverberated through the pavilion like the echo of a thunderclap.
"Sect Leader Ruan, please reconsider!" Chairman Xie called after him, his voice tight with growing desperation.
Ruan Yanjun turned to face the chairman, his expression unreadable, but his voice calm and razor-sharp.
"Even with just a handful of my disciples and one hundred thousand Xianru soldiers at my command, I could take Fuhai City myself. Those soldiers answer to me whenever I summon them. So why should I waste my strength reclaiming this capital for an emperor who once sought my death?"
His tone sharpened, filled with quiet menace.
"Wouldn't it be far more efficient if I simply took the capital for myself? From there, I could seize the surrounding provinces without resistance. And unlike your incompetent emperor, I would protect the commoners directly. I imagine they would rather have me as their emperor than continue suffering under a hollow throne. His gaze swept across the pavilion, icy and amused. "Does anyone here disagree with such a plan?"
The pavilion remained deathly silent. None dared answer. Uneasy glances shifted from one sect leader to the next, but every mouth remained sealed. The weight of Ruan Yanjun's words hung like an invisible noose, drawing tighter with every passing second.
A soft, unsettling chuckle escaped him—low, mocking, and cold enough to send a chill through the chamber. Without another word, he turned and strode toward the exit. His footsteps echoed sharply, each one punctuating the paralysis that gripped the hall.
At the threshold, he paused for the briefest of moments, as though considering something—but he didn't turn back. With a final step, he vanished from the pavilion, leaving the sect leaders frozen in his wake.
I sat motionless, my thoughts spiraling. Somewhere deep within me, a part of me had almost expected him to glance in my direction before leaving—but he hadn't.
Even as I tried to make sense of his words, I couldn't deny the brutal clarity of his logic. Why should he sacrifice his sect when none of the others were willing to share the burden? His earlier suggestion, that every sect pledge half its disciples, had been met with silence. That moment exposed the congregation's hypocrisy in full. This wasn't about protecting the empire. This was about using the Eternal Damnation Sect as a shield, an attack force, while the others remained safely behind their walls.
Ruan Yanjun had seen through them all effortlessly.
Slowly, I rose and offered Chairman Xie a polite bow. Without speaking, I turned and made my way toward the exit.
The cool air hit my face as I stepped outside, but I barely registered it. My mind was still chasing after his shadow.
Ahead of me, I caught sight of Ruan Yanjun's figure as he approached his carriage where Huang Wen waited. Even with his back turned, his bearing radiated an unshakable calm—a sovereign who needed no crown to wield authority. Though the sound of the door closing behind me must have reached him, he didn't glance back.
The crowds that had gathered earlier were gone, leaving the grounds eerily quiet.
I followed at a steady distance, my steps slow, my heart tangled between admiration, unease, and something else I dared not name.
Infuriating, arrogant, impossible.
And yet—his clarity, his strength, his ability to cut through layers of deceit with surgical precision…
That, even I could not deny.