C17 He Borrowed the Momentum

Early the next morning, Zhao Lin was abruptly roused from his meditation by a commotion. Stepping out of his thatched cottage, he noticed disciples from the Northern District hurrying toward the South District. With a curious smirk, Zhao Lin blended into the crowd and followed suit. "Ah, if it isn't Junior Brother Zhao. I'm Cao Dahai. If you ever need anything, just come to me!" Zhao Lin had barely joined the crowd when he heard a voice trying to cozy up to him.

He took a quick look at the man. This was the same person who had claimed he wouldn't last more than three days in the Outer Sect. "Oh, Cao Dahai, Senior Brother Cao, that's great. I'll be sure to come to you if I need anything." Zhao Lin chuckled and edged closer. Cao Dahai, unsettled by Zhao Lin's grin, felt as if there was a hidden blade within that smile.

"Senior Brother Cao, why is everyone rushing to the South District so early? Could there be a treasure there?" Zhao Lin asked, his face alight with avarice as if lost in a daydream. "A treasure in the South District? I haven't heard of such a thing. Stop asking and just go see for yourself!" Senior Brother Cao replied, clearly annoyed. He had initially thought that Zhao Lin, having escaped punishment for yesterday's incident, must be someone of influence worth getting to know. But now, it seemed the man was nothing more than a daydreamer.

Cao Dahai quickly made his exit, while a sneer flickered across Zhao Lin's eyes before he resumed the persona of a naive dreamer and continued to blend in with the crowd. At the edge of the South District, right where it met the Northern District, stood several wooden racks that usually went unnoticed. But today, they were surrounded by disciples, all pointing and murmuring about the spectacle above.

Dangling from one of the racks was a body, its chest pierced and covered with a large piece of paper filled with writing. "That's Wang Ke, the one Zhao Lin killed. Wasn't he buried by Chen Yong and the others? How has he appeared here again?" one of the disciples recognized the face of the corpse.

I, Wang Ke, have been at Chen Yong's beck and call since I joined the sect, always ready to do his bidding. I've committed countless misdeeds under his command, thinking I had found a protector to shield me from others' bullying. But I never imagined that I was actually walking into a lion's den. Chen Yong, who takes orders from Lee Qing, sought to set up Zhao Lin, who had crossed Lee Qing, by making me take a Breath Closing Pill.

The plan was simple: as soon as Zhao Lin struck, I would channel my wakan, rendering me completely breathless, simulating death. It was supposed to be a mere setup, but to my surprise, Chen Yong, fearing exposure, had his henchman Wang Ran lace the pill with lethal poison. Poor Wang Ke, willing to risk his life to serve their interests, ended up being a pawn in their game. And they didn't stop there; after Zhao Lin was taken away by the Third Elder, they continued their charade by striking a heavy blow to my chest to create the illusion that Zhao Lin had killed me.

No sooner had the individual finished recounting this than he let out a horrific scream and was flung away. Beneath the wooden frame, Chen Yong and his associates turned pale. The disciple had screamed and scrambled to his feet, fleeing the scene. "Scoundrel, this is defamation! You all saw it—Zhao Lin killed Wang Ke, he's the murderer!" As the crowd began to murmur and point fingers, Chen Yong started to lose his composure. The Firetalons Sect had a strict rule: anyone who killed a fellow disciple would pay with their own life.

"Scoundrel, why are you staring at me? Get him down, now!" The people beside Chen Yong were trembling, knowing they had buried Wang Ke's body themselves—how could it have surfaced here? "Where's Wang Ran? Wang Ran, show yourself!" Chen Yong's desperation grew as the disciples from the South and North Districts fixed their gaze on him, his forehead beading with sweat.

"Brother Chen, Brother Chen, Brother Wang, Brother Wang, he...!" Just then, a disciple burst through the crowd, his voice laced with panic. The crowd of Outer Sect disciples from both districts swelled, all converging on the scene. Meanwhile, Zhao Lin, concealed within the throng, watched the figure on the distant hut, a sneer of contempt briefly crossing his face.

"Chen Yong, go see what's happened to Wang Ran!" The figure atop the thatched cottage spoke with a calm voice that nonetheless hushed the noisy crowd. This was Lee Qing, the very same Lee Qing who had witnessed Zhao Lin carrying Xie Ling's calf into the Firetalons Sect. Those in the know were aware that Lee Qing was among the top ten disciples of the Outer Sect and the cousin of Wang Feng, the sect's most esteemed prodigy.

"Greetings, Senior Brother Lee!" As soon as Lee Qing spoke, the crowd recognized his presence. Disciples from both the South and North Districts bowed respectfully, reaffirming Zhao Lin's observation of Lee Qing's high standing within the Outer Sect. If Lee Qing commanded such respect, Wang Feng's influence was undoubtedly even greater.

"Yes, Senior Brother Lee!" Lee Qing's words acted like a sedative, instantly calming the flustered Chen Yong, who quickly led a group toward Wang Ran's cottage. Before long, they emerged with Wang Ran's body, his face frozen in terror, eyes bulging, mouth agape—a clear sign he had died of fright. But what could possibly scare a cultivator to death?

Upon seeing Wang Ran, Zhao Lin's face subtly shifted. He hadn't anticipated that his ploy to uncover the truth—hiding behind Wang Ke's corpse to startle Wang Ran—would actually scare the man to death. "Senior Brother Lee, Wang Ran is dead. We found these in his room," Chen Yong announced, presenting a spirit tablet and various other items.

"Mm, take care of burying the bodies of Wang Ke and Wang Ran. Burn their possessions as well," Lee Qing instructed evenly. From within the crowd, Zhao Lin sneered. Lee Qing was playing a clever game, attempting to bury the truth along with the dead. Glancing around, Zhao Lin's eyes landed on a familiar silhouette and, seizing the opportunity, he stealthily approached.

What was odd was the absence of any elders despite the gravity of the situation. Those who were savvy eyed Lee Qing with respect on their faces, but their smirks betrayed their true feelings; they could see right through Lee Qing's attempt to obscure the facts. As Chen Yong and the others were about to lift the bodies of Wang Ke and Wang Ran, a thunderous shout erupted from the crowd.

"Brother Lee, I, Cao Da Hai, won't stand for these false accusations written against you. I may not be a saint, but I know better than to falsely accuse the innocent or let the guilty walk free. That's why I propose we perform an autopsy to clear Brother Lee and the others of any wrongdoing!" This impassioned declaration resonated with many, particularly the female disciples who gazed at Lee Qing with stars in their eyes.

"Yes, we must perform an autopsy to vindicate Brother Lee Qing!" Cao Da Hai's suggestion quickly garnered support from the crowd of over a thousand disciples, with seven to eight hundred in favor of the examination. Unbeknownst to those protesting the claims on the paper, a flicker of annoyance crossed Lee Qing's usually composed face. Meanwhile, Zhao Lin had already slipped to the back of the crowd, finding a hidden spot from which he could derisively watch Lee Qing feign composure.

"Let's do it, I'll conduct the autopsy. My father is a coroner in the secular world. I might not have his expertise, but I'm capable enough for a basic examination." A disciple shouted as he stepped forward to inspect Wang Ke's body for the cause of death. Nearby, Chen Yong and others guiltily backed away. A chilling intent flashed in Lee Qing's eyes, and Cao Da Hai, amidst the crowd, suddenly felt a bone-chilling cold envelop him.