128: Chapter 128 Double Ninth Festival, Three Counties in Double Ninth Festival are Surnamed Wang

Yang Zhenghua spun the jade talisman between his fingertips twice, the cruel smile at the corner of his mouth deepening, his gaze sweeping back and forth between Wang Chongyang and Wang Shouren as if weighing which one was more valuable.

Wang Chongyang suddenly smiled.

The laughter was not loud, yet it made the hearts of everyone present tremble slightly.

He turned around, his gaze slowly sweeping across the Face of Wang Yaozu, across the Faces of Wang Yaowen and Wang Yaowu, across the Faces of Wang Shouren, Wang Shoudong, Wang Shouyi, and Wang Shouxin, across the small hand with which Wang Qingcheng tightly clutched the Iron-Winged Bird Puppet, across Wang Qingxin's hollow eyes that had already welled up with a very faint layer of moisture, across the Face of every young disciple of the Shou generation, and across the Face of every white-haired veteran retainer.

Finally, he turned around to Face Yang Zhenghua again, but this time, he did not look at Yang Zhenghua, instead gazing at the overlapping distant mountains outside the mountain gate.

That was the direction of Baishan County, the direction of Lotus Pier, and the place he had guarded for a lifetime.

"There is no need to choose."

He spoke, his voice hoarse yet resonant, like an ancient bell atop the mountain ringing for the last time in the twilight.

"This old man has lived for nearly two hundred years. I have seen everything I should see, killed everyone I should kill, and guarded what I should guard. Today, being able to exchange this old life for the Wang Family's innocence, and to rid the Three Counties of the threat of the Ning and Yan families forever, this old man dies with no regrets."

He turned around, his back to Yang Zhenghua, facing the mountain gate, and took a deep look at the overlapping pavilions and towers behind the mountain gate.

His gaze crossed the mountain gate, passed over the lotus pond and the bamboo buildings, and landed on the back mountain that he had guarded for most of his life.

Buried there were the successive ancestors of the Wang Family, as well as all the attachments of his life.

"Sons of the Wang Family, hear my order."

His voice suddenly rose, carrying the final majesty of a Foundation Establishment Cultivator.

Wang Yaozu trembled all over, cupped his fists, and replied:

"Here!"

"After my death, you must not seek revenge or retaliate. The entire Wang Family must place the Family above all else and prioritize the clansmen. Anyone who violates this shall be expelled from the Wang Family and forbidden from returning to the clan for eternity."

Wang Yaozu's lips trembled violently. This man, who had not even bent his waist under the pressure of Foundation Establishment, was now so choked with sobs that he could barely speak.

He clenched his teeth tightly, and after a long while, he squeezed out a single word from the deepest part of his chest: "...Yes."

Wang Chongyang raised his hand, his withered five fingers pressed together, and an extremely faint crimson light lit up at his fingertips.

A Foundation Establishment Cultivator cutting off their own vitality was different from being killed by others; it was not the Divine Soul leaving the body, nor the destruction of the Physical Body, but rather using one's own spiritual power to shatter the internal organs and extraordinary meridians, destroying the Dantian along with them.

This was the most thorough way to die—leaving no intact corpse, no residual soul, and personally extinguishing even the last shred of thought of Possession and rebuilding cultivation.

That crimson light grew brighter and more blazing, spreading from his fingertips to his palm, from his palm to his arm, and from his arm to his entire body.

His withered body gradually became transparent in the blazing light, his skin cracking inch by inch. What leaked from the cracks was not blood, but light pure to the extreme.

"Sixth Uncle!" "Sixth Grandpa!" "Old Ancestor!"

Innumerable shrill cries burst forth from the Wang Family camp. Some knelt and kowtowed, some wept bitterly, and others bit their lips hard to keep themselves from crying out.

Wang Shouyi hastily caught Wang Yaowu, who had collapsed to the ground weeping, his own eye sockets completely red.

Wang Qingcheng buried her Face in the Puppet Iron-Winged Bird, her shoulders twitching violently.

Wang Qingxin stood in the crowd, and in those once-hollow eyes, something silently slid down, dripping onto the bluestone slab beneath her feet.

Wang Shouren did not cry.

He only stared fixedly at Sixth Grandpa's figure, his eyes bloodred, his nails digging deep into his palms as fresh blood trickled down between his fingers.

He did not dare to blink, afraid that if he blinked, he would never see Sixth Grandpa again.

In the mid-mountain market, it was unknown who knelt down first. Then came the second, the third, the tenth, the hundredth.

Loose Cultivators poured out from all corners of the market, silently kneeling along both sides of the mountain path, stretching all the way from the mid-mountain to the summit, spanning several miles.

No one organized them, and no one gave commands; they simply knelt down spontaneously to see off the old man who had given them dignity.

Old Daoist Chen knelt at the very front, tears streaming down his Face, holding in his arms that stack of rough paper that had long since frayed at the edges.

"Respectfully seeing off Master Chongyang—"

Who knows who shouted first, and then hundreds of voices converged into a torrent, shaking the pine forest in the mountains to rustle and causing the clouds across the sky to pause momentarily.

"Respectfully seeing off Master Chongyang!"

"Master Chongyang, have a safe journey!"

"May Master Chongyang be a member of the Wang Family again in the next life!"

Wang Chongyang heard it.

He stood at the center of the blazing light, a final smile rising at the corners of his mouth as he pressed down fiercely with the incantation gesture in his hand.

A visible shockwave exploded from his Dantian, sweeping outward in all directions with him as the center, whipping up withered leaves all over the sky, gravel on the stone terrace, and dust before the mountain gate.

The vitality within his body rapidly dissipated like a receding tide, his pulse cut off, his Sea of Consciousness collapsed, and his Divine Soul turned into countless spots of light, scattering into the mountain breeze of Wogui Mountain.

As the blazing light dispersed, Wang Chongyang still stood in his original place, his eyes already closed, his expression peaceful as if he had fallen asleep.

Only that withered body no longer possessed a shred of vitality, and only the hem of his grey Daoist robe fluttered gently in the mountain breeze.

The stone terrace remained quiet for a very long time—so long that the mountain breeze stopped and started again, and so long that the distant mountains changed from verdant green to dark cyan.

Yang Zhenghua put away the jade talisman, glanced at Wang Shouren again, and said coldly:

"Since this matter is now clear, the Yan Family has deceived the superior sect, and the Three Counties are struck off the register. All properties of the Yan Family in Funiu County shall be confiscated by the Spirit Sword Sect starting today, and temporarily managed by me. As for the Wang Family—behave yourselves."

He turned around and stepped onto his Flying Sword, followed closely by the two Foundation Establishment elders, and three streaks of escape light soared into the sky.

Hu Shan left last.

He walked over to Wang Yaozu, looked at this old friend who had once sat shoulder to shoulder with him, and remained silent for a long time before slowly speaking, his voice carrying a trace of sincere regret.

"Clan Head Wang, the new magistrate will arrive the day after tomorrow. I hope the Wang Family will strictly abide by the rules of the Spirit Sword Sect, behave prudently, and not stir up trouble again."

Wang Yaozu cupped his fists in salute, his voice hoarse yet steady: "Thank you, Magistrate Hu, for your care over the years. The Wang Family will definitely abide by the rules and not live up to Magistrate Hu's trust."

Hu Shan nodded, turned, and stepped onto his Flying Sword, his cyan escape light disappearing at the end of the distant mountains.

Hearing Hu Shan's call from behind in mid-air, a cold smile appeared at the corners of Yang Zhenghua's mouth, and he muttered to himself: "This Hu Shan really knows how to handle people; before leaving, he didn't forget to leave enough Face for his successor."

Before the mountain gate, Wang Shouren was the first to walk up to Wang Chongyang's corpse.

He squatted down and reached out to tidy up Sixth Grandpa's collar, which had been blown into disarray by the mountain breeze.

The moment his fingers touched the collar, his fingertips brushed extremely lightly against Wang Chongyang's glabella.