Xue Jianming had of course not forgotten this most important task; in fact, from the very first day he returned to the Xue Sword Sect, he had been working on his father Xue Liping. The matter was simply too momentous, however, and until Xue Liping had seen with his own eyes just how terrifying the Center could be, he had been unable to make up his mind.

After all, for the Xue family this was a wager of life and death. Win, and they would rise to glory beyond measure; lose, and they would be utterly ruined. With the fate of the entire clan at stake, Xue Liping could hardly afford to be careless.

Xue Jianming was in no hurry. He understood that such a thing required time to be accepted. Besides, even by the Center's means, moving into the Ancient Minor Jianghu was no matter of a day or two; for the time being they would at most send a small advance team to sound things out. It was not yet time for any great campaign, and there was no pressing need to make his father take sides.

But now everything had changed in an instant. The sudden rise of Bing Wushuang had thrown their rhythm into complete disarray. That was a Nascent Soul old monster. In a situation like this, if they did not hurry to consult the Center, Xue Jianming felt he was nothing more than a rooster awaiting the block—whenever Bing Wushuang took a disliking to him, his life could be snuffed out at any moment.

Xue Liping's expression shifted between light and dark as he hesitated. At last he stamped his foot and went out, meaning to contact the Center's advance team by the method Xue Jianming had instructed him in earlier.

He had never truly doubted the Center's strength. Indeed, with Xue Jianming and Bing Wushuang standing before him as living proof, he had long since lost any skepticism about the Center's formidable power; he had merely not yet weighed the pros and cons clearly enough.

And now Xue Jianming had been gravely wounded, while Bing Wushuang was so overbearing and insufferable. Once they chose unconditional retreat, the other side would surely press further and take a yard for every inch. The days to come would only grow worse and worse—of this Xue Liping was perfectly clear. Unless he gave up this son who had grown into greatness and was content to be a turtle retracting into its shell, he had no other choice at all.

Watching Xue Liping's departing back, Xue Jianming's lips curled, for some reason, into a strange arc—not because he had finally made his father choose wisely, but because of Bing Wushuang.

True, Bing Wushuang, suddenly become a Nascent Soul old monster, was a tremendous threat to him. But at the same time the man had exposed his own true circumstances. Since he had betrayed the Center, then no matter how strong he was, this creature was already a dead man—of that Xue Jianming had not the slightest doubt.

Though his legs had been gravely injured by the other's merciless ice force, in truth, amid the terror, Xue Jianming could not help feeling a certain excitement—even elation.

Bing Wushuang was a traitor, which meant that in the contest for the Center's internal resources he had lost his strongest rival. In both talent and strength, none of the others could compare with him. That is to say, at least on this side of the Ancient Minor Jianghu, he had become the Center's sole target worthy of key cultivation; the interests that represented in turn needed no elaboration. In a sense, this was a blessing in disguise.

North Island, the Cangwu Sect.

Beneath the gaze of a host of disciples, a giant snow eagle descended from the sky, and at once heads turned and tongues wagged.

Though nearly all the Ancient sects used spirit birds as their flying spirit beasts, that was only so for ordinary elders and disciples; for certain high-ranking figures of special standing, the flying spirit beasts they rode were often the signature beasts of their respective sects—as with Hong Zijun, sect master of North Island's Cangwu Sect, whose mount was a spirit vulture.

The snow eagle was the signature spirit beast of Mid-Island's Xue Sword Sect.

Seeing Bing Wushuang step down from the snow eagle's back, everyone exchanged glances. Though North Island's Cangwu Sect and Mid-Island's Xue Sword Sect both belonged to the ranks of the Ten Minor Sects and Clans, one was under the North Island Alliance and the other under the Mid-Island Alliance. There was virtually no contact between them, and the high members of the two sects seldom visited one another. What was the meaning of this today?

"May I ask who you are?" a steward disciple stepped forward and inquired.

"Xue Sword Sect. Bing Wushuang," Bing Wushuang said flatly.

At the sound of that name, everyone around was startled. Bing Wushuang was a veritable celebrity in the Ancient Minor Jianghu—in his day the foremost figure of the Foundation Establishment stage, a prodigy nearly every disciple of the Ancient sects had admired. Even on this remote North Island, he was known to all.

But why would such a one-time man of the hour suddenly appear here?

"What business brings you to our Cangwu Sect of North Island, sir?" the steward disciple asked, neither servile nor overbearing.

"I've come to see a man. His name is Wei Zhao—your Cangwu Sect's Ancient Grand-Uncle." Bing Wushuang spoke bluntly. Since he had come openly to North Island's Cangwu Sect, there was naturally no need for concealment; even if he publicly revealed his relationship with Wei Zhao, he believed Wei Zhao would not mind.

"Ancient Grand-Uncle?" The steward disciple was slightly taken aback. He had assumed that since the man had come from afar, he must be paying a visit on behalf of the Xue Sword Sect—he had not expected him to be looking for Wei Zhao.

"Is there a problem?" Bing Wushuang frowned at his peculiar expression.

"This..." The steward disciple hesitated. These days, this so-called Ancient Grand-Uncle Wei Zhao was an extremely controversial figure throughout North Island's Cangwu Sect. Having set himself against the Grand Elder Chen Jiu, he was shunned by nearly all the disciples save Xin Yi'an and his circle; after all, in their eyes, opposing a Nascent Soul old monster was simply courting death, with not the slightest chance of victory.

"Go and make the inquiry. I will wait." Bing Wushuang did not know what had befallen Wei Zhao and the others, but from the steward disciple's manner he had vaguely sensed something amiss. Naturally, before he understood the actual situation, he could not act rashly; he could only watch and wait.

"Very well." The steward disciple dared not be negligent. Even had Bing Wushuang not said so, such a matter had to be reported at once; how to deal with this uninvited guest was hardly a problem for a mere steward disciple to fret over.

Before long, several Golden Core higher-ups of North Island's Cangwu Sect hurried into view. The one at their head was none other than Lu Ping'an, personal disciple of the Grand Elder Chen Jiu.

Now that sect master Hong Zijun had vanished without a trace and vice-sect master Chen Dongcheng was senseless and unknowing, the only one among the remaining higher-ups even marginally capable of holding the situation together was Lu Ping'an! (To be continued.)