"What did you say? The Snow Sword Sect? Which 'snow,' which 'sword'?" Wei Zhao was startled at the words.

"The 'snow' that falls from the sky, the 'sword' that cuts." Fei Yangsheng gave Wei Zhao a rather odd look. It was just the name of a sect, for heaven's sake—did it really warrant that kind of excitement?

Wei Zhao was struck dumb on the spot. Not only did it sound the same, it was written with the exact same characters. What a coincidence—a storybook coincidence, the kind you would not believe if you read it. Had he not known that the Tai Gu Little Jianghu and Cloud Terrace Island were two entirely different places, he would have assumed this was the Snow Sword Sect of Cloud Terrace Island.

Cloud Terrace Island and the Tai Gu Little Jianghu had nothing whatsoever to do with each other—they were two wholly separate planes. Anyone with sense knew such a thing was impossible. Yet even though he told himself it must be pure coincidence, Wei Zhao still had a faint, nagging sense that something was off.

Because he had suddenly recalled Xue Jianfeng's moves from a moment ago; they had seemed rather similar to those of the Snow Sword Sect on Cloud Terrace Island. Whether that was an illusion or the truth, he could not say. After all, his knowledge of the Snow Sword Sect's techniques came only from the few moves he had seen Wei Shenjin use, which at best gave him a rough impression, not any true certainty.

"By the way, do you know what sect Leng Leng belongs to?" Wei Zhao asked, changing tack.

"Uh, she's from our Snow Sword Sect too." Fei Yangsheng could not help feeling awkward. Because of the improper designs he had once harbored toward Leng Leng, his heart jumped every time Wei Zhao so much as mentioned her name, and he was terrified the man would put two and two together and settle the score after the fact. That was why he had answered so vaguely the last time and glossed over it, so much so that Wei Zhao had never caught on that the two of them came from the same sect.

"Leng Leng is from your Snow Sword Sect as well?" Wei Zhao's interest was instantly piqued, and he pressed on: "Then tell me about your Snow Sword Sect."

"Yes, but I'm only an ordinary disciple in the sect. I really don't know much—at most, just the things everyone knows." Fei Yangsheng's voice was small.

"Tell me everything you know," Wei Zhao said mildly.

"Yes. Our Snow Sword Sect is a first-rate sect within the Tai Gu Alliance; the disciples are generally a cut above those of ordinary sects. In most other sects, a Foundation Establishment disciple would already be a core disciple, but in our Snow Sword Sect that is merely the threshold for a formal disciple. Only someone as powerful as Senior Brother Xue, a Foundation Establishment consummate, or someone with talent as monstrous as Leng Leng's, can become a core disciple singled out for the sect's key cultivation." Fei Yangsheng laid it all out, not daring to conceal the slightest thing.

Wei Zhao pondered in silence. That only a Foundation Establishment expert could become a formal disciple—on that point, this place was not far off from Cloud Terrace Island. After all, the formal disciples of the Threefold Pavilion on the North Island all took Foundation Establishment as their threshold.

"If a disciple's strength surpasses Foundation Establishment consummate and advances to the Golden Core stage, then he automatically rises to the rank of martial uncle or martial elder. Our Snow Sword Sect ranks its generations strictly by strength. Though true masters are still called master in private, on the surface, if a disciple also advances to Golden Core, then master and disciple must address each other as brothers." Fei Yangsheng continued.

Here the gulf in accumulated depth between the Tai Gu Little Jianghu and Cloud Terrace Island showed itself plainly. On Cloud Terrace Island, a Golden Core expert was merely an inner sect disciple; to become a martial uncle or martial elder, one needed at least a Nascent Soul.

"Above Golden Core, I've heard our Snow Sword Sect also has Nascent Soul old monsters, though I've never laid eyes on one in person. As for anything higher than that, I really don't know." Having said his piece, Fei Yangsheng looked at Wei Zhao with pleading eyes. This was already everything he knew; if Wei Zhao wanted more, there was truly nothing he could do.

Wei Zhao's face darkened. "Drive and watch the road. If you hit someone, could you afford to pay for it?"

"P-pay? I couldn't afford it..." At the mention of this, Fei Yangsheng was reduced to a well of bitter tears. The last time he had passed a village entrance, an old woman had lain down dozens of meters away and insisted he had hit her, refusing to let him go without compensation, and had even called a crowd out of the village. A fine Foundation Establishment mid-stage expert like him had been scared into fleeing for his life by a bunch of ordinary folk. The mere memory of it made his heart ache.

They sped along the whole way, and by the time Wei Zhao and his companion reached Snow Valley, the place was already in a state of panic from top to bottom. Nearly every Heaven-tier disciple of any real strength had been wounded, while the weaker disciples, precisely because no one had thought them worth noticing, had for the most part escaped unscathed.

By now almost all the Snow Valley disciples had gathered on the small square, staring at the four figures ahead as though facing a mortal foe. A mood of despair and terror spread ceaselessly among them. It was no wonder they felt so helpless—any one of those four, standing out alone, had flattened every disciple of theirs with the greatest strength. There was simply no fighting back.

"You've had long enough to think it over, I'd say. I told you, dragging this out does none of you any good. So long as these disciples I've named come along with me obediently, nothing else will happen to anyone. A thing that could have pleased everyone—why make trouble for yourselves?" said the leader arrogantly.

The Snow Valley crowd was silent. The newly installed Valley Master, hearing this, spat out a mouthful of black blood on the spot. These bastards of the Tai Gu Alliance had hardly come to recruit disciples—they had come to dig up the sect's very roots. Every disciple the man had named was a hope of the sect, of fine aptitude. If they were all carried off, Snow Valley would be finished from that day on, never again to dream of rising.

"In your dreams! These disciples were raised with the hard toil of all Snow Valley—this is their home! In life they are Snow Valley's people; in death they are Snow Valley's ghosts!" One Snow Valley elder forced himself to his feet and berated them.

"Noisy." The leader cursed coldly, and with a casual wave of his hand sent the elder flying through the air from afar, leaving a glaring streak of blood in his wake.

This scene once again filled the Snow Valley crowd with dread. From top to bottom, even the strongest of the grand supreme elders had been beaten into serious injury. How were they supposed to stand against such foes?

"Eldest Senior Brother, if you ask me, there's no point wasting words on them. Just drag these disciples off. Once they set foot in the Tai Gu Little Jianghu, they'll learn for themselves what's good and what's bad. Why squander time on them here?" suggested a burly, heavily bearded man beside him.

"Very well. I had hoped to settle this peacefully and leave as little for others to gossip about as possible, but since they're so blind to reason, there's no other way." The leader nodded.

The moment the words fell, the other two lackeys immediately shouted and moved to strike. The Snow Valley crowd turned pale with fright. They had no strength left to resist—they could not even flee. There was nothing left but despair.