Wudang's Lost Sword Returns

As Jiang Chen descended from the Azure Dragon Courtyard to the White Tiger Courtyard, the midday bell echoed across Wudang, signaling lunch. Qin Tianzhao followed closely behind, his curiosity evident.

"Tell me, how did you do it?" he asked.

Jiang Chen glanced at him, his expression unreadable. "I just had a great master who taught me how to absorb the pill better." A simple truth—one that could be easily misinterpreted to keep him safe.

"I see." Qin Tianzhao nodded, accepting the explanation without further question. It was easy to believe, given that Jiang Chen's former master was none other than Elder Zhang—better known in the sect as the Scheming Ocean of Wudang. As an Elder responsible for diplomacy and sect politics within Murim, his reputation made any unconventional training methods plausible.

As they neared the end of the long stone stairs connecting the two peaks, Qin Tianzhao suddenly stopped. "It seems someone is waiting for you down there." His voice was light, but there was a knowing edge to it. Then, without another word, he vanished—his mastery of subterfuge, likely taught by Yun Sheng, on full display.

At the foot of the steps stood Yujin, his posture tense, eyes sharp with concern.

"Chen," he called, his voice unusually serious. "I need to talk to you about something."

"What is it?" Jiang Chen asked.

"A delegation from Mount Hua is coming—a joint training exercise, or so they claim. But my family told me the real reason."

Yujin's eyes met his, sharp with unspoken weight. Of course, he'd know—his family's influence stretched far beyond Wudang. As the heir to a great merchant lineage, he had access to information that few in the sect could ever hope to hear.

He took a moment, studying Jiang Chen. When he noticed his newfound strength, a small smile flickered across his face. He didn't ask about it—not yet—but there was a quiet understanding between them, tinged with concern.

"The Demonic Cult is making its move," he finally said. "My family has advised caution. I'm asking you to do the same."

He stepped forward, clapping Jiang Chen on the back with a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes. "And considering everything that's happened so far... I'd bet this is because of you."

"Don't worry. If anything, it couldn't be about us. Outer disciples like us wouldn't mean much to the Demonic Cult, right?" Jiang Chen said, trying to reassure Yujin.

Suddenly—

"Young Jiang, I advise you to stay cautious as well," Juan Lei interjected. "We still don't know enough about what's happening. It could very well be related to me."

He took a deep breath, his voice carrying the weight of experience. "I fought the Demonic Cult for years. Their priorities go far beyond finishing off Wudang as it stands now. If anything, this might have more to do with that man… Zhang, the one everyone keeps talking about."

As much as Jiang Chen understood the connections, a part of him refused to believe it. Could his former master truly be involved in something so vast that even the Demonic Cult would take notice? And if so… just how deep did it run?

The thought lingered uneasily in his mind. He turned to look at Yujin, who seemed lost in his own thoughts as well. The midday sun cast long shadows on the stone path, its warmth unable to chase away the cold feeling settling in Jiang Chen's gut. He exhaled slowly, forcing a steady breath.

"Enough of that for now," Jiang Chen finally said. "Even if the Demonic Cult is making a move, Wudang and Mount Hua are already responding. Let's just hope that's enough to make them back off."

Yujin hesitated, then gave a reluctant nod. Silence stretched between them, not of discomfort, but of quiet contemplation.

Jiang Chen exhaled slowly, pushing down the unease creeping into his chest. If what Yujin said was true, then things were moving faster than he expected. But before he could dwell on it—

Drifting plum blossoms filled the air, their petals swirling in the breeze. The soft rustling of fabric and controlled footsteps echoed through the courtyard.

The delegation had arrived sooner than expected.

As if on cue, a grand spectacle unfolded—all Seven Masters of Wudang's Daoist peaks descended, accompanied by the Elder Council. Among them, Master Yun Sheng gave Jiang Chen a knowing nod before turning his gaze forward.

The air grew heavy. Disciples in and around the dining hall reacted with wide eyes and hushed whispers. Some even fell to their knees, unable to withstand the sheer pressure emanating from the gathered masters.

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, growing into an excited hum.

"Is that The Cold Wind Immortal in the flesh?"

"Holy crap, it's Master Zhen Wu! Do you think he'll notice us as talents?"

Some disciples whispered in awe, while others barely managed to contain their excitement, their eyes fixed on the legendary figures before them.

"A delegation being greeted by all of Wudang's most important figures at once?" Juan Lei chuckled, the amusement clear in his tone. "Even if the Demonic Cult is involved, this response is excessive. If mere signs of their activity warrant this much attention, it will only embolden them further." His voice, carrying the weight of experience, echoed with wisdom.

As Jiang Chen listened to Juan Lei's remarks, a strange realization struck him—had his voice always sounded this clear in his mind? The thought lingered for a moment before he shook it off, pushing it to the back of his mind for now.

Greeting the delegation, Elder Lei Zheng stepped forward. His long, grayed hair and flowing beard exuded wisdom, though those who knew him well understood they also concealed his infamous bad temper and blunt nature.

"Master Liu, pleased to make your acquaintance," he greeted, his voice steady yet guarded.

"The same to you, Elder Lei." Master Liu's gaze swept over the Wudang elders and masters, as if silently weighing their strength.

A thin smile played on his lips. "It seems this will be beneficial after all," he remarked, his tone carrying an unmistakable arrogance despite the veneer of respect. It was clear—he had seen Wudang as lesser ever since the war.

Lei Zheng's brow twitched, and his jaw tightened ever so slightly. "Beneficial indeed," he replied, his voice clipped. "After all, I do enjoy seeing how much Mount Hua has to offer beyond words." he muttered, biting back a sharper response. Behind him, the Wudang elders and masters maintained strained smiles, their restraint palpable.

Among the gathered disciples, reactions varied—some chuckled at the veiled insults, while others trembled, unnerved by the thought of such powerful martial artists exchanging thinly disguised barbs.

Master Liu let out a brief, knowing snicker before continuing. "Then let us speak as friends. The disciples I have brought should prove worthy for both our sects to learn from while we talk."

With that, the delegation moved forward. The Mount Hua disciples, who had been standing in perfect formation, finally relaxed—but the shift did little to change the atmosphere. It was obvious to everyone in the White Dragon Courtyard—these were not mere outer disciples. The sheer difference in power was undeniable.

Jiang Chen glanced beside him to gauge Yujin's reaction, only to realize his friend was no longer there. A quick look toward the Mount Hua disciples revealed Yujin already approaching them, his usual easy going demeanor on full display.

"Are you guys really outer disciples? You're crazy strong," he laughed, attempting to break the tension.

His words, however, were met with stunned silence. The Mount Hua disciples merely stared at him, their expressions ranging from disbelief to mild amusement.

Before the awkwardness could settle, Haoyu—despite having just recovered from the sparring match—suddenly appeared, looking none the worse for wear. Without hesitation, he smacked Yujin on the back of the head.

"Aghh! What was that for, man?!" Yujin growled, rubbing the sore spot.

"Stop being a pain. Let them rest from their journey, dumbass," Haoyu grumbled before grabbing Yujin by the collar and dragging him toward the dining hall.

"Let go of me!" Yujin flailed like a child, his protests exaggerated. Despite being one of the strongest outer disciples, he never used his full strength against his peers—a trait that made him well-liked.

Jiang Chen sighed, shaking his head. Some things never changed.

Just as he was about to move on, Haoyu glanced back at him. For the first time, there was no hostility—just a firm nod of acknowledgment. Though still clearly irritated, it seemed the martial artist in Haoyu had finally come to respect him.

As the three make their way to the dining hall, hoping to clear their minds, Jiang Chen feels multiple eyes on him. Glancing back, he finds nothing out of place—only Qin Tianzhao, seemingly lost in thought, gazing at the plum blossoms.

Shaking his head, Jiang Chen dismisses the feeling. Lately, he's been doing this too often. With a quiet sigh, he pushes the thought aside and continues toward the dining hall, steeling himself for the so-called joint training exercise between Wudang and Mount Hua.