"I don't care. Release them or kill them, whichever is more convenient for you—it makes no difference to me." Lin Dongfang looked utterly indifferent.

"Then we release them?" Xin Yi'an ventured cautiously. Strictly speaking, Bing Wushuang and his companion had come looking for trouble, and by the rules of the Ancient Little Jianghu, killing them outright would have drawn no objection. But that would mean tearing all ties with the Snow Sword Sect—after all, neither Bing Wushuang nor Xue Jianming was a nobody within that sect. Unless it was absolutely necessary, Xin Yi'an had no wish to make the enmity too deep.

"Fine." Lin Dongfang answered offhandedly.

"Good. I'll have them carried out at once, so as not to disturb Senior Lin's peace." Xin Yi'an heaved a sigh of relief. Had Lin Dongfang been less accommodating and insisted on killing them both, he would have been utterly helpless, and that would have been a disaster—not only would he have offended the Snow Sword Sect to the death, but afterward even the elders of his own Cangwu Sect of Beidao would have blamed him. He would have pleased no one.

The two were promptly dragged away like dead dogs, and once the news spread, not only the Snow Sword Sect disciples but every trial disciple of the Ancient sects was thrown into an uproar. Bing Wushuang and Xue Jianming were both famous figures in the Ancient Little Jianghu—to be beaten into such a state was truly jaw-dropping.

At last, after who knew how long, Xue Jianming drifted back to consciousness. In the very instant his mind cleared, a fierce pain that had lain dormant burst through his entire body, and he drew in a sharp breath and howled in agony.

Yet worse was still to come. After the searing pain swept over him, he found he could not stand at all, and the moment he forcibly circulated the true qi within him, the pain multiplied several times over—an exquisite torment that made him wish for death.

"W-what's happening to me?!" Enduring the piercing agony, Xue Jianming struggled and tumbled clumsily off the bed.

Then from somewhere behind him came a voice utterly devoid of emotion: "To crawl up even with your meridians broken like that—so this so-called foremost Foundation Establishment expert of the Ancient Alliance is not entirely worthless after all."

"Uncle-Master Bing?" Only then did Xue Jianming realize he had at some point been moved back into a room. And there in the shadows of the corner behind him, a figure sat leaning at an angle—none other than Bing Wushuang.

Bing Wushuang said nothing, sitting quietly in the shadows, his whole body still radiating a bone-chilling coldness. Yet it was nothing like the domineering air he had shown before; instead he had become somehow more sinister and cold.

"Uncle-Master Bing, those wretches dared to treat me like this—you must stand up for me..." Xue Jianming's words broke off as he suddenly froze.

He had not witnessed the scene in which Lin Dongfang destroyed Bing Wushuang's dantian with a single punch, but he was not blind. He could tell well enough how wretched Bing Wushuang's condition was now. That right hand bent at a grotesque angle was clearly ruined beyond repair, and Bing Wushuang's whole bedraggled state mirrored his own of before—from head to toe, it was unmistakably the sign of a shattered dantian.

"That old man is unfathomable. I am no match for him." Bing Wushuang's tone still betrayed not the slightest ripple, but the eyes beneath the shadow held a distinct trace of venomous hatred.

From the day he had mastered the Heartless Ice Force until now, he had never suffered such a crushing blow. He had never imagined that this departure from the Ancient Alliance would land him on an iron plate and leave him crippled. If he did not harbor resentment after that, he would not be human.

"How is that possible?" Xue Jianming was struck dumb, staring in disbelief. Only now did he truly grasp his own predicament. Bing Wushuang's right hand and dantian were both destroyed—he was a cripple. And his own meridians were severed—he too was a cripple!

Escorting Lenglen—with Bing Wushuang's formidable strength, it should have been an effortless task. Who could have imagined things would turn out like this? It was absurd!

"Th-then what do we do now?" Xue Jianming asked in alarm. The situation had spiraled completely out of control, and he was at a loss.

"Wait," Bing Wushuang said coldly, spitting out a single word.

"What?" Xue Jianming was taken aback.

"I have already sent word back to the Snow Sword Sect. If all goes well, we will receive healing pills, and stronger reinforcements will be sent." Bing Wushuang's voice was grave.

In the eyes of others he was a proud and peerless prodigy, but in truth he had never cared a fig for so-called face. Just as he had unhesitatingly exploited Lenglen when the situation turned against him, now that he knew Lin Dongfang's strength was unfathomable, calling for reinforcements from the Snow Sword Sect was only natural. He felt not the slightest hesitation or misgiving.

"And if it doesn't go well?" Xue Jianming frowned at that.

Bing Wushuang met the question with silence. It needed no answer, and he did not know how to answer it. He and Xue Jianming were now both cripples without a shred of power. If the Snow Sword Sect did not send healing pills or stronger experts, there was nothing the two of them could do.

"No, it won't come to that. My father is there—the sect elders won't just ignore us, they absolutely won't!" Xue Jianming could only console himself this way, though even he lacked confidence this time. A thing could not be repeated twice—and his father, after all, was only a vice sect master.

In the Ancient Little Jianghu, the Snow Sword Sect.

The atmosphere in the council hall was heavy with tension. Every senior of the sect was present, and before them lay a letter of appeal for aid—a letter from Bing Wushuang.

After hearing the contents of the letter, all the sect elders looked at one another. What it described was simply unbelievable: in the secular world there existed a master capable of crippling Bing Wushuang in a single move. Was that even possible?!

Of course, everyone knew Bing Wushuang would never joke about such a thing. It only meant that after a thousand years, they—and the elders of every other Ancient sect alike—knew far, far too little about the secular world.

Sect Master Hong Qingyuan tapped the table lightly with his finger and spoke with calm composure: "Well, you have all heard the contents of the letter. Let us hear your views."

"Revenge! Of course, revenge!" Xue Liping was the first to leap up and shout. He was the vice sect master of the Snow Sword Sect, and also Xue Jianming's father.

All eyes fell upon him, waiting for him to continue, and Xue Liping, righteous indignation burning in him, declared at once: "It is only right that our Snow Sword Sect apprehend a traitor disciple—no one has the right to interfere. Not only did the Cangwu Sect of Beidao harbor Lenglen, but they struck down our people and crippled Bing Wushuang and my son Xue Jianming. This is far too brazen, too arrogant—it is beyond all endurance! If we swallow even this insult, we will be looked down upon by every other Ancient sect. As one of the Ten Minor Sects and Clans, the Snow Sword Sect cannot afford to lose face like this. What say you all?" (To be continued.)