Ten Thousand Swords Piercing the Heart (3)

Xiao Lanle refused the assistance of her fellow disciples, silently placing Xiao Shen’s remains into the storage pouch herself. Her obsidian eyes, cold and fathomless as frozen wells, held no tears. She carefully aligned his severed head beside the pouch, then drew a fire talisman. Before the gathered sect members, she burned both the pouch and the grotesquely contorted head to ash, her face an impassive mask.

Beneath her sleeves, her palms lay mangled and raw, each finger’s imprint a bloodied crevice on her palm.

Lin Qianshuang eyed Xiao Lanle, concern flickering beneath her veneer of deference. With a polished, ingratiating smile, she clasped her hands and said, “Merely fulfilling my duty as your subordinate. Your gratitude is too generous, City Lord.”

She hauled up Liang Jingxuan—trussed like a zongzi[^1]—and addressed Mu Weiyin: “I’ve neutralized the demon’s spirit sword. He still carries a horned dragon spirit beast and Superior Purple Lightning Fire—handle him cautiously. The murder of Penglai Immortal Sect’s leader and the release of the Beast-Sealing Tower’s horrors were all his deeds. The sect must answer to the world for this, City Lord.”

Liang Jingxuan stared at Lin Qianshuang, disbelief twisting his features. She’d been acting earlier—all that sparring just to weaken my Purple Heavenly Sword! The charade, he realized, had been a stall tactic until the Tianshu City Lord arrived.

Now Tianshu City’s forces swarmed Penglai Immortal Sect, his phantom army vanished without trace. Only Senior Sister Lin had known his plans.

They came from foreign lands — only these two shared true kinship in this world. Senior Sister Lin had even held affection for him. Childhood companions turned kindred spirits, so why would she betray him?

Liang Jingxuan frowned. Had he misread her from the start? Senior Sister Lin had cherished him, but perhaps confinement in the Demon Realm twisted that devotion into resentment over time. Yet she’d hidden her bitterness, wearing camaraderie like a mask while nurturing a venomous thorn in her heart. Now, festering grievances erupted.

Still, unease eluded him. The Heavenly Dao shields the Son of Destiny, he reassured himself. Death won’t claim me so easily.

Mu Weiyin rose gracefully, her smile inscrutable as she addressed Xiao Lanle. “This Penglai Immortal Sect affair falls to you, Lanle.”

Clutching the urn, Xiao Lanle’s lips thinned into a glacial line. Her luminous eyes — sharp as winterstars — pierced Liang Jingxuan, jolting him like a blade’s kiss.

“Today, upon this altar,” she declared, voice ringing cold, “I execute this traitor who betrayed masters and ancestors. Let his death console my father’s spirit, avenge slaughtered disciples and demon-ravaged innocents, and grant them worthy rebirths.”

Xiao Lanle’s declaration sent shockwaves through the Penglai Immortal Sect.

The elders erupted into fervent debate, each grasping the weight of her words. Ascending as sect leader required rites at the altar—a privilege reserved solely for stewardship over life and death. Only the leader could execute those who defiled the sect’s laws.

An elder rose, stroking his beard skeptically. “Niece Xiao, you’re a mere woman—how can you preside over the Penglai Immortal Sect? Our leaders have always been unparalleled cultivation geniuses, one in ten thousand. With your humble abilities, how can you shoulder such responsibility?”

A silver-haired elder countered sharply, “Niece Xiao possesses a rare Fire Spiritual Root. Did she not earn the Lingxiao Sword Sect’s esteem during the Jinshui Lake competition? Even Sect Leader Chen Sanxuan praised her aptitude. Why shouldn’t she lead?”

The first elder snapped, “The Penglai Immortal Sect heads the righteous sects! A green young girl can’t command respect, much less rally the disciples. If you seek a worthy candidate, look to Master Qingyun’s disciple, Chen Shangqing!”

Fairy Jinghua swept into the hall, her voice sharp. “Sect Niece Xiao not only enjoys Tianshu City Lord’s utmost trust but embodies unwavering integrity. Her cultivation rivals any of you chatterboxes here - yet you nitpick her because she’s a woman? Our path recognizes capability, not gender! If any doubt her merit, challenge her openly instead of cowering in groups.”

Chen Shangqing emerged behind her, bowing near Master Qingyun. “Elder Jinghua speaks true. This junior’s meager skills couldn’t possibly contend with Sect Sister Xiao.”

…

Xiao Lanle stood clutching the urn as elder against elder sharpened arguments to blades. Her knuckles whitened around the reliquary. “Enough!” The word cracked like thunder. “If I’m to lead Penglai Immortal Sect, I’ll face the Sect Leader Trial like proper successors of old. Contest me here and now if you dare!”

Silence choked the chamber. The Sect Leader Trial - abolished for three generations, its mere mention taboo. Every disciple knew the stories: how even cultivation prodigies had emerged broken or not at all from that hellish crucible. After the Fourth Sect Leader’s bloody reign, leadership passed through consensus, never again through that purgatory’s gauntlet.

Yet this untested girl dared invoke the forsaken rite? Murmurs rippled - part awe, part dread. To voice such madness bordered on suicidal ambition.

The elders murmured among themselves, their initial skepticism giving way to muted approval. This young woman who had just lost her father handled the sect’s fracturing hierarchy with ice-calm authority—perhaps the sect leader’s daughter truly had substance beneath her poise. At the very least, she defied their expectations of a fragile, pampered heiress.

Xiao Lanle sat rigid in the sect leader’s seat, frost-edged gaze raking the assembly. “With my father dead,” she declared, voice blade-sharp, “I assume interim leadership. Today, we raise the mourning altar. Twelve bell tolls for the sect’s requiem. Let them echo across every peak.”

No one protested. The elders tacitly acquiesced—who else could steady Penglai Immortal Sect’s shaken foundations? White lanterns bloomed like funeral flowers throughout the compound. Fresh memorial tablets gleamed in the ancestral hall, Xiao Shen’s name dominating the central altar. Beside it stood an empty table reserved for Xiao Lanle’s own natal soul lantern, to be lit once she entered the Sect Leader Trial. The ancient bell’s dirge—unheard since demons last scorched the mortal realm—rolled heavily through mist-choked valleys.

Above the altar in the square, a white crane circled lost, keening for its slain master. Below, spread-eagled against the sacrificial pillar, Liang Jingxuan hung shackled, his face contorted in silent fury.

Sect disciples moved like ghosts, mourning bands tied around brows, heads bowed in mourning.

Lin Qianshuang couldn’t care less about Xiao Shen’s death. The man had been morally bankrupt—he’d gotten exactly what he deserved. A grand memorial like this was far more dignity than the wretch merited.

She elbowed through the crowd to the front, gaze locking onto Xiao Lanle. Clutching the Star-Plucking Sword—the very symbol of the sect leader’s authority—Xiao Lanle advanced toward the sacrificial pillar where Liang Jingxuan was restrained.

For the first time, the male lead’s famously “heavens-splitting” handsome face twisted into an expression of stunned disbelief and terror.

The scene struck Lin Qianshuang as unnervingly familiar. She smacked her forehead. Oh right—this mirrored the original plot! After Liang Jingxuan murdered the Penglai Sect Leader and framed Chen Shangqing, he’d seized power while Xiao Lanle stabbed the bound Chen over two hundred times with the Plain Inquiry Sword.

Except in that storyline, Chen Shangqing had faced death with icy composure, his gaze sorrowful yet unflinching. Back then, Liang Jingxuan had stood triumphant as Penglai’s heir apparent—not this disgraced traitor trembling on a sacrificial pillar.

Lin Qianshuang found the spectacle gruesome, but given the scumbag’s history of vile deeds, a part of her eagerly anticipated his comeuppance. After all, hadn’t Chen Shangqing once died in Liang Jingxuan’s stead? Now, karma was finally balancing the scales.

Liang Jingxuan trembled as Xiao Lanle approached, his demonic energy sealed, leaving him unable to summon his horned dragon or wield the Purple Thunder Fire. His lips quivered as he pleaded, “Junior Sister Xiao—wait! This is all a misunderstanding! Free me, and I’ll explain everything!”

Xiao Lanle drew the Star-Plucking Sword, its blade scattering searing shards of sunlight. With a swift strike, she drove the tip into Liang Jingxuan’s collarbone. She relished how his once-heroic features twisted in agony, a vicious satisfaction surging through her.

“This,” she hissed, “is for my Senior Sister Lin. Your callous heart drove her into my arms. I love her—more than you could ever fathom. Every time I imagine your filthy hands on her…” Her voice cracked. “Do you know how it torments me? I want to shred you to pieces for daring to touch what’s mine!”

Wrenching the blade free, she sent blood arcing across the sacrificial pillar. Liang Jingxuan’s scream pierced the air, the pain near-blinding. He slumped, barely conscious.

The agony of tearing flesh in his abdomen ripped through him, drawing an involuntary, pig-like screech.

“This blade,” Xiao Lanle hissed, crimson light flaring in her eyes as she yanked the sword free only to plunge it back, “is for Huaixiang—the one who betrayed me for your sake. Did you ever cherish her? No. You slaughtered her instead.” Her lips twisted into a grotesque half-sob, half-sneer.

Another brutal thrust. “This one’s for the fool I was—gullible enough to swallow your lies, to let you manipulate me into hurting the one I loved most… into letting you murder my father.”

A sickening tear echoed as scarlet smeared the blade. She lifted the Star-Plucking Sword one final time, driving it through Liang Jingxuan’s heart. Leaning close, her icy glare burned with revulsion, as though he were dung beneath her boot. “And this last strike? For the village innocents you condemned, the Penglai disciples you slaughtered. Your avarice drowned the mortal realm in blood, unleashed the Beast-Sealing Tower’s horrors, and shattered peace across the cultivation world. Rot in disgrace.”

Liang Jingxuan’s veins throbbed violently, the searing agony of multiple sword wounds leaching the last dregs of his awareness. Blood congealed around the blade embedded in his heart, his breaths shallow and labored.

He glared at Xiao Lanle, teeth bared in defiance. “I’m not wrong,” he spat. “Never was. You’re the fools! So what if I seized mounts and artifacts? A few nobodies died—this is the law of the jungle! Power dictates truth. Women flocked to me willingly. Blame your own stupidity for falling into my traps!”

Blood trickled from his lips as he tilted his head toward the heavens, laughing hoarsely. “Xiao Lanle, you can’t kill me. I’m this world’s god! Everyone exists to serve me—you, Senior Sister Lin, everything I desire. You think you’ve won? Pathetic!”

Xiao Lanle drove her sword deeper, her gaze glacial. “Still ranting, Senior Brother? Death won’t come swiftly for you. I’ll carve your rotten soul to scraps. Slowly.”

Chains shrieked as his body convulsed against its bonds.

Liang Jingxuan’s bloodshot eyes locked onto Lin Qianshuang in the crowd. “You’ll regret this!” he howled. “After all I sacrificed for you—you chose her! Even in death, I’ll ensure you never escape this world. Never return home!”

Lin Qianshuang bit into half an apple, then casually hurled the remaining core and flesh in a sharp arc at Liang Jingxuan’s head.

“Tsk. We’re hardly from the same world. Claiming to be an Earthling? I’m embarrassed for you.”

[1]: Traditional Chinese rice confection, wrapped in bamboo leaves and usually bound tight with string