328: Chapter 328 The Mountain Explorer

Twilight was gathering the last rays of daylight, dyeing the gate of the Qingyun Sect a quiet, dark cyan.

When Ling Ye stepped out of his door, many Disciples were already poking their heads out along the path in the outer residential area; some looked around in confusion, while others wore nervous expressions.

The shouting came from the direction of the gate. Separated by several courtyards, it wasn't very clear, but the words "Gate Crasher" reached everyone's ears distinctly.

Wang Dazhuang also ran back, clutching half a handful of freshly picked herbs, and asked breathlessly, "What happened, what happened? Is someone attacking?"

Ling Ye did not answer and walked quickly toward the gate.

He was not running, but his pace was fast, his gaze scanning the road ahead.

When he reached the stone steps between the outer gate and the main gate, he saw several Green-robed Disciples hurrying down, their swords already unsheathed at their waists, their expressions serious.

As one of them brushed past Ling Ye, he heard the person whisper to a companion, "It's only one person, but it injured two guards at the gate."

One person. Injured the guards. Did not retreat.

Ling Ye quickly calculated the possibilities in his mind. He did not continue to push forward but stopped at a corner with a good vantage point, hiding in the shadows of an old locust tree, looking toward the gate.

On the stone terrace of the gate, several lanterns had already been lit, their dim yellow light revealing a few blurry figures.

Two injured Green-robed Disciples were being helped back by their companions, and there were a few drops of dark blood on the ground.

In the center of the stone terrace opposite them stood a person in tattered clothes.

That person was thin, wearing a tattered gray robe covered in dust and dried blood, its original color indistinguishable.

Its hair was disheveled, covering most of its face, but one could vaguely see its gaze coldly fixed on the Qingyun Sect Disciples in front of it.

Its right hand held a broken sword—the blade had snapped in the middle, leaving only half, yet in its hand, it gave off a dangerous feeling.

It was injured.

Ling Ye noticed that its left arm was hanging down, with a large patch of blood seeping through its sleeve, and its center of gravity shifted slightly toward its right foot while standing, suggesting its left leg might also be injured.

Yet, as it stood there, its Aura was not in the least bit diminished, like a lone wolf backed into a corner.

A middle-aged man in a deep cyan robe walked out from inside the gate.

Ling Ye recognized him—it was Deacon Shen, who had presided over the entrance trial and was the actual manager of outer sect affairs.

He walked onto the stone terrace, his gaze landing on the intruder, and asked in a calm tone, "Who are you? Why have you crashed our gate?"

The intruder looked up, and Ling Ye finally saw its face clearly—it was a young face, about twenty-something, gaunt, with prominent cheekbones, and an inescapable exhaustion and malevolence between its brows.

There was a dried bloodstain at the corner of its mouth; it was unclear whether it was its own or someone else's.

It spoke, its voice hoarse, as if it hadn't had water for a long time: "My name is Jiang Li. A Loose Cultivator. I am being hunted, passed by this place, and wanted to borrow your sect to hide for a few days.

The gate guards wanted to capture me without asking for the reason, so I had no choice but to injure them."

Deacon Shen did not respond immediately.

He was silent for a moment, seemingly evaluating the credibility of what this Loose Cultivator named Jiang Li had said.

Then he slowly spoke: "You say you are being hunted. By whom?"

Jiang Li was silent for a moment, then said two words: "Blood-Clothed Tower."

As soon as these two words were spoken, the stone terrace went quiet for a moment.

Ling Ye noticed that Deacon Shen's brows furrowed slightly.

He did not know what kind of organization "Blood-Clothed Tower" was, but judging from the reactions of those around him, this was clearly not a name to be trifled with.

Deacon Shen pondered for a moment, then said, "The hunting range of the Blood-Clothed Tower usually does not cross the boundaries of the Qingyun Sect.

If you were just passing through, they would naturally retreat once they pursued you here.

But you injured my people, and this matter cannot just be let go."

Jiang Li did not speak, only tightened its grip on the broken sword in its hand.

Deacon Shen continued, "I will give you two choices.

First, put down your weapon and let me seal your cultivation; you can stay in the Qingyun Sect's dungeon until the Blood-Clothed Tower retreats, at which point I will let you go.

Second—"

He paused, his gaze becoming sharp: "You continue to resist, and I will personally take you down.

By then, it won't be as simple as just sealing your cultivation."

Jiang Li was silent for a few breaths, then slowly released the broken sword in its hand.

The broken sword fell to the ground, emitting a crisp metallic clatter.

"I choose the first one," it said, its voice hoarse, filled with unwillingness, but also the calmness of someone who had recognized reality.

Deacon Shen nodded, signaling the Disciples beside him to step forward.

A Green-robed Disciple walked over cautiously, took a pair of silver shackles engraved with runes from its waist, and locked them on Jiang Li's wrists.

The moment the shackles closed, the runes flashed once and then faded.

Jiang Li's body swayed slightly, and its complexion became even paler—that was the normal reaction after one's cultivation was sealed.

Two Green-robed Disciples, one on the left and one on the right, led it toward the inner side of the gate.

Jiang Li did not struggle; it lowered its head and followed them.

Ling Ye stood in the shadows of the old locust tree, watching that thin figure disappear into the depths of the twilight.

Blood-Clothed Tower. Loose Cultivator. Being hunted.

He silently committed these keywords to memory, then turned and returned to his residence along the way he came.

Night had completely fallen, and the mountain wind carried a chill, blowing through the plants and trees along the road, making a rustling sound.

As he walked back to his residence, his mind was still replaying the scene from just now—the expression of that Loose Cultivator named Jiang Li when it released the broken sword.

That was not fear, nor was it submission.

It was a kind of calmness that came after weighing all choices and selecting the current optimal solution.

That person was not simple.