The Trash Sect's Ascension - chapter 8

The Sword Sect has twelve Sword Envoys, subordinate to the Punishment Hall, whose sole duty is to hunt down those unworthy Disciples who flee after violating the sect rules.

The Sword Envoys are always cloaked in black robes and masked faces. Aside from the Sect Leader and the head of the Discipline Hall, no one knows their identities. All that is known is that their cultivation is profound, their actions ruthless, and their hands stained with the blood of many Disciples.

In the past, when I was the Xian Shuang Sword Master, I had dealings with them once.

It seems they have cultivated some secret art, knowing neither pain nor fear, making them extremely difficult to handle in combat.

I spread my fingers slightly, summoning back the broken sword that had just been knocked away by the Imperial White Sword, and gripped it tightly in my hand.

With Xian Shuang in hand, I have never feared anything!

The twelve Sword Envoys slowly approached me, their encirclement gradually tightening.

A faint sound of something slicing through the air came from behind.

One of the Sword Envoys behind me could no longer restrain himself and was the first to raise his sword and thrust at me.

I dared not underestimate him. Gripping the broken sword, I prepared to meet his attack.

Suddenly, a sharp and piercing whistle rang out, echoing to the heavens.

At the same time, the twelve Sword Envoys suddenly clutched their heads, covering their ears, and collapsed to the ground in agony.

The whistle rose in pitch again and again. The limbs of the twelve Sword Envoys emitted a tooth-aching cracking sound, twisting backward in grotesque positions, pained moans leaking from beneath their masks.

The shrill whistle continued, and then the lingering sound of a pipa string reverberated in the air.

Second Junior Sister, with her black hair and red robes, her eyes sparkling, said, “Sect Leader Lu, don’t forget-Senior Sister did not come alone.”

Lu Mingzhao glanced at the Sword Envoys on the ground, their limbs all broken, his expression so dark it seemed water could drip from it.

With a clang, the Imperial White Sword in his hand pointed its ghostly blue blade straight at Third Junior Brother, who was fully focused on blowing the Bone Whistle.

Second Junior Sister’s smile turned cold, and her pipa played even more urgently, like a wild storm, like crashing waves battering a small boat.

Suddenly, a commotion rippled through the crowd.

Many young Disciples had blood seeping from the corners of their mouths, and people began to collapse one after another-a sign that the true qi in their Dantian was surging beyond what they could bear.

I stepped over the moaning Sword Envoys on the ground, gripping the broken sword, and stood in front of Second Junior Sister and Third Junior Brother.

A storm brewed in my father’s eyes, the calm before the tempest.

In the past, I feared him most when he looked like this. But now…

I lifted my chin, refusing to back down.

Our gazes clashed, neither of us yielding an inch.

Just as the situation was about to erupt, a resonant Buddhist chant echoed from the horizon.

Everyone around breathed a long sigh of relief, expressions as if they had seen a savior.

Master Wuliang of the Ten Thousand Buddha Sect had arrived.