The Return of Stars to the Jianghu

Chapter 218 The Sect-Protecting Array Opens the Gates to Welcome Guests into the Mountain

A moment later, Zhou Jin's body trembled slightly, and the confusion and tension in his eyes receded like the tide. He lowered his eyelids, as if adjusting to the constraints of this young body, then looked up at Roland, his gaze calm and imposing: "Roland, open the mountain gate."

Without hesitation, Roland formed a hand seal and shouted, "Open!"

Om-!

The protective array surrounding Fengyu Mountain emitted a low hum, like the sigh of a sleeping beast awakening. At the mountain's summit, the resilient, glass-like light barrier suddenly ripped apart at the mountain gate, as if an invisible giant hand had parted the sea to reveal a wide portal!

The mountain wind suddenly became fierce, carrying with it the immense, cold, and mixed spiritual pressure emanating from the twenty-one figures outside the mountain gate. Like a tangible tsunami, it surged in without any hindrance, instantly engulfing everyone around the campfire.

Outside the gate tower, the thin mist was torn apart by the strong airflow, clearly revealing twenty-one figures.

The four leaders, though of very different demeanors, were all profound and dignified.

Li Wujiu of the Holy Demon Sect, clad in heavy, jet-black armor, its surface flowing with dark red demonic patterns, resembling solidified magma, stood tall and imposing. His physique was as imposing as a mountain, his face rugged, his beard bristling, and his tiger-like eyes gleaming with a naked arrogance and scrutiny. His gaze, sharp as a hawk's and a wolf's, immediately locked onto the core group around the campfire. Behind him stood two other mid-stage Yuan Dan cultivators, also clad in black armor and exuding a murderous aura, like two unsheathed demonic blades, their sharpness fully revealed.

Yin Jiuzhu of the Ghostfire Sect stood slightly behind Li Wujiu. He was tall and thin, wrapped in a large cloak that seemed to be woven from countless ashes, the hood pulled down low, revealing only a pale, bloodless, pointed chin and thin lips. The chilling death aura emanating from him was almost tangible, causing the surrounding air to freeze and the withered grass beneath his feet to be covered with a pale frost at a visible speed. The three Ghostfire Sect cultivators behind him had equally chilling auras, like messengers crawling out of the deepest hell.

Yue Wuhen of the Moon Worship Sect stood on the other side, his moon-white robe spotless, the crescent moon and star trails outlined in silver thread on the sleeves fluttering gently in the mountain breeze. His face was almost eerily handsome, his skin fair, and his long, narrow eyes were like reflections of a cold pool under the moon, unfathomable, and a faint, elusive smile seemed to always linger at the corners of his mouth. The auras of the four cultivators behind him blended completely into the night and mist of the mountain peak, almost imperceptible unless one consciously perceived them.

Liu Xuanfeng of the Hidden God Sect stood at the very back of the four, in the most inconspicuous position. He was dressed simply in a gray cloth robe, like an ordinary schoolteacher. However, his aura was the most ethereal and unpredictable, as if he were one with the wind, rocks, and vegetation of the mountains. Even though he was right in front of them, a sweep of divine sense felt like passing through nothingness. The four mid-stage Yuan Dan cultivators he brought were like four solid rocks, their auras extremely restrained, but deep within their calm eyes gleamed a sharp light that seemed to see through everything.

Twenty-one gazes, like twenty-one cold, sharp cones, instantly pierced the campfire outside the dilapidated ancestral hall atop Fengyu Mountain. In this suffocating silence, "Zhou Jin" slowly rose from beside the campfire. His movements were composed, his gaze calmly sweeping over the four renowned leaders outside the mountain gate, finally settling on Li Wujiu's domineering face.

"Gentlemen," a young yet profoundly calm voice rang out, piercing through the heavy pressure and howling mountain winds, clearly reaching the ears of everyone present, "Wind Whisper Mountain is now open to guests. Whatever you seek, please come into the mountain to discuss it."

Li Wujiu's tiger-like eyes suddenly sharpened, like a tangible probe, the pressure of his divine sense almost piercing through "Zhou Jin" from the inside out. The other party's calm, almost indifferent gaze, and the composure in his words that was completely inconsistent with his young body, all exuded an indescribable eeriness.

He let out a deep, cold snort, and the dark red demonic runes on his heavy armor seemed to ripple slightly as if stimulated. His voice, like rolling thunder, echoed from the foot of the mountain to its summit: "Oh? You little brat, you do have some guts. When did it become your place to rule Wind Whisper Mountain?"

The two demonic cultivators behind him leaned forward slightly at the same time, and their intense baleful aura surged like a wild beast unleashed, pressing down on the mountain gate, making the air scorching and distorted.

The twenty-one people used various techniques, such as teleportation, flying, or running, and in a short time, they all arrived at the summit from the foot of the mountain.

Beneath Yin Jiuzhu's cloak, a thin, thin smile silently curved his lips into a cold arc, a smile devoid of warmth, containing only a chilling sneer. He remained silent, but the deathly aura surrounding him suddenly intensified, and the pale frost spreading beneath his feet emitted a faint cracking sound, as if even sound had been frozen. The figures of the three Ghostfire Sect cultivators behind him appeared even more indistinct in the thin mist, like three swaying, pale green ghostly shadows.

Yue Wuhen's eyes, reflecting the moonlight in the cold pool, narrowed slightly, his handsome smile deepening and becoming even more unfathomable. His wide, moon-white robe sleeves fluttered without wind, the silver-lined stars and moon seeming to come alive, shimmering with a faint glow. He didn't look at "Zhou Jin," but instead cast his gaze with interest at the various expressions on the faces of the people around the campfire behind "Zhou Jin." His gaze lingered for a moment, especially on Huang Yuyan, whose face was deathly pale and who clutched her jade pendant tightly, and on Zhou Jin (his physical body), who gripped the wooden hairpin tightly and whose body was tense. His eyes seemed to be watching a meticulously choreographed drama.

Liu Xuanfeng remained standing in the same spot, his gray robe motionless in the mountain wind. His face was expressionless, but deep within his eyes, as calm as an ancient well, a barely perceptible ripple flickered, like a speck of dust thrown into a still lake. The four Hidden God Sect cultivators he had brought with them possessed even more restrained auras, like four stones truly integrated into the mountainside.

A mountain wind, carrying a bone-chilling cold and four distinct yet equally powerful pressures, clashed violently inside and outside the open mountain gate, emitting a sharp hiss. The last embers of the campfire were completely blown away, and the few wisps of smoke that struggled to rise were instantly torn apart.

Zhou Jin—or rather, Ye Fan—remained completely unmoved by Li Wujiu's oppressive questioning and surging murderous aura. He didn't even look at Li Wujiu again, his gaze calmly sweeping over the other three leaders before finally settling back on Li Wujiu. There was not a trace of provocation or fear in his eyes, only an almost condescending indifference.

"At this moment, the one who truly holds power at Fengyu Mountain," Ye Fan, controlling Zhou Jin's youthful face, uttered each word clearly, his voice not loud, yet strangely drowning out the howling mountain wind, "is me." He slightly turned his body, making a simple "please" gesture, the movement fluid and natural, carrying an innate composure befitting a superior. "You have all come from afar, surely not to stand here in the wind. If you have any questions, come in and we'll talk. Or perhaps..." He paused, a faint, almost imperceptible hint of mockery in his tone, "Sect Leader Li... is afraid of Fengyu Mountain's Ancestral Hall?"

"Insolence!" A black-armored cultivator at the mid-stage of the Yuan Dan realm behind Li Wujiu shouted angrily, his beard bristling, and his murderous aura surged like raging flames. Li Wujiu suddenly raised his hand to stop his subordinate's actions.

Twenty-one figures, each carrying a powerful aura distinct from the surrounding area, brazenly entered the territory of the Fengyu Mountain Ancestral Hall.

Qi Yuan's gaze swept rapidly among the surrounding forces. Huang Yuyan's hand, clutching the jade pendant, trembled slightly, while Zhou Jin's body (currently Ye Fan) stood calmly in place, as if the oppressive force capable of crushing a True Yuan Realm cultivator was nothing more than a gentle breeze. Roland kept his eyes tightly shut, beads of sweat forming on his forehead, as he deepened his spiritual sense into the great formation, ensuring that the open portal would not become a fatal flaw. Roland's pale face grew even more frosty as he warily watched each person who stepped in.

Twenty-one gazes, like twenty-one invisible blades, were once again fixed on the center. The air was heavy as lead, stagnant as glue, as if it could be crushed and torn apart at any moment by this terrifying pressure.

However, they will soon regret stepping into Fengyu Mountain today.

Ye Fan (controlling Zhou Jin's body) seemed oblivious to the terrifying pressure emanating from the twenty-one gazes, a pressure powerful enough to crush even the finest steel. He stood calmly in place, even stretching his shoulders and neck as if it were a casual exercise in his own courtyard. The mountain wind, carrying a biting chill and the nauseating pressure of the mixed spiritual energy from all sides, ruffled the stray hairs on his forehead, yet it did nothing to disturb the ancient, icy stillness deep within his eyes.

"This place is simple, please make do." Ye Fan's voice remained calm, carrying an almost indifferent politeness, as if he were simply entertaining a group of ordinary guests who had come from afar. He raised his hand and pointed to a few relatively flat rocks beside the ruins of the campfire, "Please sit down."

Li Wujiu let out a heavy, cold snort, like a rolling thunderclap. His gaze, like a tempered steel cone, was fixed on Ye Fan, as if trying to find any flaw in the pretense on that excessively young face. However, apart from an unfathomable calm, he found nothing. He strode forward, his heavy iron boots pounding on the scorched earth with a dull thud, each step causing the ground to tremble slightly. He didn't sit on the cold rocks, but stood before Ye Fan like an iron tower. The dark red demonic patterns on his black armor moved slowly like awakened venomous snakes, and a scorching, domineering aura emanated from him, almost igniting the air around Ye Fan.

"Boy!" Li Wujiu's voice was like the clash of metal, carrying an undeniable pressure. "Stop playing tricks! Hand over the item and tell me its whereabouts, and I might consider giving you a quick death!" The two black-armored cultivators behind him stepped forward at the same time, their intense killing intent forming a solid barrier of flames that sealed off the space on Ye Fan's flanks.

Almost as soon as Li Wujiu finished speaking, a chilling, deathly aura silently spread from the side, like icy tides, instantly neutralizing some of the heat.

Yin Jiuzhu's figure had appeared like a ghost a short distance away on Ye Fan's other side. His wide, ashen cloak billowed without wind, and beneath the shadow of the hood, his pale chin and thin lips curved into a chilling smile. His voice was like sandpaper rubbing against withered bones: "Sect Leader Li, why the haste? This... young friend dared to invite us in, so he must have his reasons. Let's hear them." The pale frost beneath his feet silently spread, and wherever he passed, even the air seemed to condense into tiny ice crystals.

Yue Wuhen casually flicked the sleeves of his pristine white robe, the silver threads outlining the stars and moon casting a hazy glow with his movements. He didn't approach, but instead chose a slightly higher rock, settling down with an air of ethereal grace, like a banished immortal beneath the moon. His narrow eyes held that eternally unchanging, mysterious smile as his gaze swept between Ye Fan, Li Wujiu, and Yin Jiuzhu, finally settling on Ye Fan with keen interest. He murmured, "Indeed interesting. A body at the True Yuan Realm, yet bearing such…ancient soul fluctuations. Fengyu Mountain, as always, never disappoints." The four Baiyue Sect cultivators behind him seemed to merge into the shadows of the rock, their presence completely vanished, as if they had never existed.

Liu Xuanfeng chose a secluded, inconspicuous rock on the outermost edge and sat down, his gray robe almost blending into the rock. He remained silent, his calm eyes, like the most exquisite magical artifacts, silently sweeping over everyone present. They passed over Luo Yifei's tightly gripped musket, Roland's closed eyes and the beads of sweat on his forehead, the faint glow emanating from the jade pendant between Huang Yuyan's fingers, Roman's tense and wary posture, Qi Yuan's flickering gaze, and finally, they settled deeply on Ye Fan—or rather, the being occupying Zhou Jin's body. He observed with extreme care, as if trying to imprint every flow of aura and every subtle fluctuation of spiritual energy.

Twenty-one figures, though already inside the mountain gate, occupied their respective positions with distinct boundaries. Their invisible auras pressed, probed, and collided with each other, turning this small bonfire ruin into the center of a vortex filled with destructive energy.

Ye Fan (Zhou Jin) calmly swept his gaze over the four leaders' distinctly different demeanors, taking in Li Wujiu's tyranny, Yin Jiuzhu's sinister nature, Yue Wuhen's playful expression, and Liu Xuanfeng's composure. His face remained expressionless, as if the situation before him was not a life-or-death crisis, but merely an insignificant tea party.

"The thing?" Ye Fan finally spoke, his voice still steady, even carrying a perfectly appropriate hint of doubt. He tilted his head slightly, looking at Li Wujiu, "Sect Master Li, are you referring to the 'root of trouble' that has attracted everyone here?" He paused, his gaze slowly sweeping over the other three, "Or is it that what you are truly concerned about is... the 'source' behind that root of trouble?"

Ye Fan's voice wasn't loud, but it was like a stone thrown into a stagnant pool, instantly breaking the solidified oppressive field and stirring up ripples.

Li Wujiu's tiger-like eyes suddenly widened, like two burning molten lava fireballs, fixed on Ye Fan's face. "The root of the trouble? The source?" The anger in his voice was almost tangible, and the demonic runes on his heavy armor flowed wildly, radiating scorching heat. "Stop playing riddles with me! Hand over that thing! Otherwise, I will raze your Fengyu Mountain to the ground today, leaving no one alive!" The murderous aura behind him suddenly erupted, like two volcanoes erupting, turning the rocks behind Ye Fan a dark red.

A faint "heh" came from beneath Yin Jiuzhu's cloak, like a venomous snake gliding across ice. The spread of the pale frost accelerated subtly, and wisps of chilling air, like living creatures, tried to coil around Ye Fan's ankles. "Whether you're the root of the trouble or the source, stirring up trouble in all directions, there should be an explanation. Young friend, don't make a mistake." His hoarse voice carried a chilling coldness that froze the soul. "This Fengyu Mountain cannot withstand the power of Sect Master Li's palm strike." His words seemed like advice, but were in fact a threat.