In the past, the Snow Sword Sect had not ranked especially low, but its say in the Central Island Alliance had never counted for much. From this day forward, that rule would likely have to change.

"Indeed—the founder's spirit watches over us; our Snow Sword Sect has hope of great prosperity!" Hong Qingyuan gazed toward the horizon, his eyes burning bright.

True, the sudden rise of both Bing Wushuang and Xue Jianming spelled no small trouble for him, but if handled well, the Snow Sword Sect's strength would surely advance by leaps and bounds. And was a man capable of heading an entire sect likely to be without ambitions of his own?

He had a premonition: the age in which his Snow Sword Sect would unfurl its grand design had arrived.

Leaving the Snow Sword Sect, Bing Wushuang drove his flying spirit beast straight for the Northern Isle. The man he meant to see was, naturally, Wei Zhao.

He had already crippled Xue Jianming, had just delivered his harsh warning before the council of elders in full view of all, and had added a parting injunction for good measure. In his view, that was enough to discharge the task Wei Zhao had given him before they parted—at least for the near future, no one in the Snow Sword Sect would dare provoke Leng Leng unless they had lost their minds.

Since Leng Leng no longer had any troubles behind her, there was no reason for Bing Wushuang to remain at the Snow Sword Sect. Someone of Xue Jianming's stamp might relish the exalted airs of a Grand Elder, but Bing Wushuang plainly was not such a man; he had no interest in any of it. Now that his breakthrough to Nascent Soul had succeeded, apart from fulfilling Wei Zhao's commission, the first thing he meant to do was go and see Wei Zhao.

His purpose was twofold, and the first was to declare his loyalty.

That he could become a Nascent Soul master in so short a time was entirely Wei Zhao's doing. Without the steady supply of peerless elixirs Wei Zhao kept giving him, this would have been unthinkable. So by every principle of feeling and reason, he must be the first to voice his heartfelt gratitude—and, beyond that, pledge his allegiance to Wei Zhao. To do otherwise—to grow conceited, fancying that with his newfound strength his wings were full-grown, that he could spread them wide and soar without fear of anyone—would be to die a miserable death.

Since Wei Zhao could make him, Wei Zhao could just as easily destroy him. Bing Wushuang saw this as clear as a mirror; after all, had he forgotten the gu that Lin Dongfang had personally planted in his body?

In the past it had not mattered much, but now that he was a Nascent Soul elder whose every move drew scrutiny, Bing Wushuang knew full well that he must weigh each action carefully before taking it. Most important of all was to fathom Wei Zhao's attitude; for if he carelessly ran counter to Wei Zhao's wishes, a calamity would descend upon him out of nowhere.

Beyond all this, Bing Wushuang harbored a small selfish design of his own. He well understood that only if he behaved obediently could he hope to keep receiving peerless Nascent Soul–condensing elixirs from Wei Zhao's hand. Although a Nascent Soul elder already stood at the very summit of the Ancient Minor Jianghu, to him the early Nascent Soul stage was merely a beginning.

Running with an unfathomable freak like Wei Zhao, Bing Wushuang had never regarded the Nascent Soul stage as the end of the road. Indeed, both Wei Zhao and the entity at the Center were enough to overturn his entire former worldview. To borrow a common saying, his future goal must lie among the stars and the vast sea—Nascent Soul was merely a starting point.

Then again, traveling to the Northern Isle so openly was, to any watchful eye, as good as exposing his identity outright—Xue Jianming's, for instance, now that he had just been dealt with.

Of course Bing Wushuang was no fool; if he acted thus, it was because he had long since weighed the pros and cons. The fact that he was Wei Zhao's subordinate had been impossible to conceal ever since the moment he successfully condensed his Nascent Soul. Even if he had not gone to the Northern Isle to see Wei Zhao, Xue Jianming and those at the Center could easily have inferred the trick behind it. After all, the Center possessed no heaven-defying technique capable of bringing him to Nascent Soul so swiftly.

And indeed, just as Bing Wushuang expected, the instant Xue Jianming realized he was a Nascent Soul master, he grasped the truth at once—which was precisely why he had yielded and withdrawn so cleanly.

One had to understand: to Xue Jianming, a Bing Wushuang on his own side and a Bing Wushuang on the opposing side were two entirely different matters. The former would normally not move against him, and he could stiffen his neck and keep up appearances; the latter, however, would truly strike to kill.

Xue Jianming was arrogant and domineering, but he was no fool. Once he sensed this hidden truth, he snuffed out any thought of bravado without the slightest hesitation, for that would have been suicide pure and simple.

"Feng, how is the wound on your legs?" After carrying Xue Jianming back to his cave dwelling, Xue Liping looked at his son's blood-soaked legs and found himself utterly helpless.

"It won't kill me..." Xue Jianming gritted his teeth against the searing pain. Bing Wushuang had not struck to kill; he had merely frozen his legs. But this was no ordinary freezing—it was the work of an upgraded Heartless Ice Force. Treating such a wound in short order would be no easy matter, and if it was not properly handled in time, it could easily leave indelible aftereffects. His legs might even be crippled for good—an almost catastrophic blow to a master at the great consummation of the Golden Core who aspired to rise still higher.

"This injury is no trifling matter. I'll go summon people from the Hall of Medicine for you," Xue Liping said after a moment's thought.

"No need. The Hall of Medicine is full of Chi Qianqiu's people, and now that Bing Wushuang holds sway, those useless wretches won't heal me with any sincerity—worse, they might quietly play some trick!" Xue Jianming raised a hand to stop him. In truth, it was not that he refused treatment; chiefly he did not want anyone examining his body, lest they detect that foul poison within him—that would be troublesome indeed.

"Then what are we to do? We can't just grit our teeth and bear it, surely?" Xue Liping frowned. He had always doted on this son, and now that Xue Jianming had suddenly become a master at the great consummation of the Golden Core, his strength a cut above even his father's, he was naturally all the more devoted.

"This way—go and send word to the people outside for me. They'll have a way to deal with it..." Xue Jianming said, enduring the pain.

"The people outside? You mean..." Xue Liping was taken aback.

"Just the ones I told you about a few days ago—the Center. Father, hesitate no longer; if you keep hesitating, these two legs of mine will be ruined. Hurry and send them word as I said before!" Xue Jianming urged. (To be continued.)