427: Chapter 427 The group, heavy-hearted and dejected, hung their heads in dejection.

Outside Tianyin Mountain, the twilight was vast and hazy.

Over three hundred people from the Hehuan Sect walked silently along the desolate mountain path.

No one spoke; only the sound of messy footsteps and occasional low sobs echoed through the empty wilderness.

Behind them, the silhouette of Tianyin Mountain gradually blurred, finally vanishing into the dusk.

That sanctuary where they once thought they could settle down and build a life, that paradise they had once placed high hopes in, had now become a distant memory.

Zhou Daniu walked in the middle of the group, half of his face swollen high—a result of Cang Songzi's slap.

He kept his head down and remained silent, his usual boisterous energy completely gone.

His fists were clenched tight, nails digging into his palms, blood dripping through his fingers, yet he was entirely oblivious.

Li Ergou walked beside him, glancing at him from time to time, wanting to say something but not knowing what.

He opened his mouth several times, but in the end, he only lightly patted Zhou Daniu's shoulder.

Zhao Tiezhu walked at the back of the group, shirtless, the bloody gashes on his chest still there, but he couldn't feel the pain.

He only felt a stifling sensation in his heart, as if a giant boulder were pressing down on him, making it hard to breathe.

He thought of his small Quiet Room, the Medicinal Pills he had saved up for years, and the Spirit Sword he had obtained with great difficulty—all gone.

Everything was gone.

Sun Xiaohua, Zhou Xiaolian, and several other female Disciples walked together, their eyes red and tear stains still wet on their faces.

They kept their heads down, not daring to look at each other for fear that one look would make them burst into tears again.

"Senior Sister," Zhou Xiaolian finally couldn't help but choke out, "Our things... can we really never get them back?"

Sun Xiaohua didn't answer; she just bit her lip as tears fell again.

A Junior Sister nearby sobbed softly, "The jade pendant my mother left me... it's still in the Quiet Room... it's the only keepsake she left me..."

"Don't say any more," Sun Xiaohua finally spoke, her voice hoarse. "Don't say any more."

The female Disciples huddled together, weeping silently.

At the very front of the group, the Grand Elder walked behind Xu Ruyu, his steps heavy.

His back was hunched, as if he had aged ten years in an instant.

He thought of the ancient texts he had guarded for most of his life, the Cultivation Techniques and secret arts that recorded the lifeblood of the Hehuan Sect's ancestors, and those rare Incomplete Manuals he treated as treasures—all gone.

All of it had been seized by the Taihu Clan.

Fifth Elder Hua Xunhuan walked beside him, her face ashen, not saying a word.

The Silk Fan in her hand had been snapped at some point, and she still clutched half of the handle.

Her heart was full of rage and resentment, but she knew that saying anything now was useless.

Granny Liu leaned on her cane, walking in the middle of the group with staggering steps.

She didn't cry or speak; she just walked in silence.

But her eyes were more hollow than ever before.

Those ancient texts were the result of her lifetime of effort in organizing and preserving them.

She had personally flipped through and repaired every single book.

She remembered which shelf, which level, and which position every book occupied. Now, they were all gone.

Qingyan walked behind Hua Xunhuan, head lowered, her small hands tightly clutching the hem of her clothes.

She didn't cry, but her eyes were red and her lips were bitten white.

She thought of her small Quiet Room, the texts that accompanied her Cultivation, and the small sword Master Hua Xunhuan had given her—that sword, she hadn't even had the chance to use it many times.

Leng Ningshuang walked at the very front of the group, side by side with Xu Ruyu.

There was no expression on her face, still as cold as frost.

But those who knew her understood that the calmer she appeared, the more intense the fury in her heart. A faint chill radiated from her, and a thin layer of frost condensed on the ground beneath her feet—that was killing intent she couldn't fully suppress.

Zhao Yan walked behind her, head down, his fists clenched so hard they creaked.

A scorching aura emanated from his body, and the soil beneath his feet was scorched black.

He was enduring. He told himself he had to endure.

One day, he would return today's humiliation tenfold.

Ning Caihe walked beside Zhao Yan, still expressionless, but the veins on the hand holding his sword bulged.

His sword trembled slightly; it was the sword's thirst for blood.

But he held back.

He knew that rushing back now would only be seeking death.

Qingyan walked in the middle of the group, head lowered, her small hands tightly clutching the hem of her clothes.

She didn't cry, but tears still flowed down uncontrollably.

She remembered what Xu Ruyu had said—"What is lost today, I will have you take back tenfold, a hundredfold in the future."

She believed in Xu Ruyu.

She had always believed in him.

But at this moment, she still felt a stifling weight in her heart.

Xiao Nianyin walked behind Xu Ruyu, head lowered, silent.

There was no expression on her face, but complex emotions surged in her heart.

She remembered that youth she had once viewed as an ant in the Hehuan Sect's ancestral land.

Now, he had become the pillar of the entire Sect, the backbone for over three hundred people.

And she, from the high and mighty Sect Master, had become the Bed-warming maid behind him.

But at this moment, there was no resentment in her heart, only an indescribable emotion.

She looked up at Xu Ruyu's back.

That back was still upright and composed, as if the humiliation and anger from just now hadn't affected him at all.

But Xiao Nianyin knew he wasn't without anger.

He had simply hidden his anger in his heart.

The group walked in silence, with only the sounds of footsteps and sobbing.

The twilight grew heavier, and the path ahead grew darker.

No one knew where they were going, and no one knew what awaited them ahead.

Just then, Xu Ruyu suddenly stopped.

He turned around, looking at the silent Disciples behind him with their lowered heads and red eyes.

His gaze swept over everyone—over Zhou Daniu's swollen face, Li Ergou's clenched fists, the tear stains on Sun Xiaohua's face, the hollow look in Granny Liu's eyes, the Grand Elder's hunched back, Qingyan's white-bitten lips, the chill surrounding Leng Ningshuang, Zhao Yan's clenched fists, and Ning Caihe's trembling sword.

Then, he smiled.