Mysteries of Immortal Puppet Master

Chapter 1574: Chapter 651: Three Brave Life-taking Nail

After receiving the news, the Confucian Cultivator Group of the Myriad Images Sect could no longer sit still.

Duanmu Zhang, Chu Xuangu, Nangong Zhi, Li Guanyu, and others urgently gathered in a study.

The study was brightly lit as if it were daytime, with portraits of sages hanging on the walls, looking solemn and heavy in the firelight, as if the eyes of the ancients were gazing upon this group of juniors through the ages.

Chu Xuangu furrowed his brows deeply: "That Ning Zhuo kid is getting deeper and deeper. Swearing under the True Words Bell makes this matter as good as settled."

Li Guanyu whispered, "He’s had it too easy, inevitably leading to impulsiveness."

Nangong Zhi sighed softly, "Is there still no response from Daoist Wen Ruanyu?"

Duanmu Zhang shook his head.

They had secretly relayed Ning Zhuo’s latest situation, but Wen Ruanyu remained silent, the message sinking into oblivion.

The Confucian Cultivators looked at one another, sharing the same unease in their hearts.

What they didn’t know was that Wen Ruanyu at that moment was immersed in the deepest part of his cultivation.

Within the serene courtyard, doors and windows were tightly shut as if sealed.

Outside the courtyard, two cultivators stood guard, their watchful guise being more of a house arrest.

Inside, the setup was elegantly simple. An old plum branch stretched across the window, with no blossoms on its branches, only a few young fruits hiding among the leaves. The night wind lightly brushed against the window paper, making a soft rustling sound, like time flowing quietly in the shadows.

Wen Ruanyu sat cross-legged in the room.

He wore a Confucian robe, pure as snow, with features warm as jade. In front of him lay a bamboo scroll, its script faintly glowing with literary light, each character seeming to breathe quietly.

He was completely unaware of the special information coming from the outside world.

He had been immersed in his cultivation world for a long time.

For a long period, he had been tirelessly managing the affairs of the White Paper Immortal City, mediating among various forces, addressing civic disputes, soothing people’s hearts, managing conflicting interests...

He practiced the Confucian path of engagement with the world, walking among the mortal realms, barely having a moment of peace each day.

Returning to the Myriad Images Sect this time for a report, he thought it would merely be a formality, never expecting to be quietly detained here.

The confinement brought restriction but also a rare tranquility.

During this idle period, he gradually heard good news about Ning Zhuo, which gradually put him at ease.

With a calm mind, he reviewed the affairs of the White Paper Immortal City from the beginning.

He revisited every decision he made, questioning where there might have been selfish motives, where there was bias, where he served the greater good, where he might have harmed the common people, where he lost courtesy due to impatience, and where he missed opportunities due to softness.

He peeled back the layers of his heart like an onion, the deeper he went, the clearer his insights became.

In the Literary Palace, a clear light quietly emerged, like a lone lamp on a night sea, gentle yet firm.

Wen Ruanyu’s breathing gradually slowed, his features growing more serene.

The writings on the bamboo scroll began to float one by one, transforming into a gentle literary energy, slowly revolving around him like stars encircling the moon.

He felt the bottleneck that had trapped him for so long starting to loosen, like the first trickle of clear water seeping through a dam’s crack.

A gentleman examines himself thrice daily.

This is the fundamental method of cultivation for Confucian cultivators.

The night wind brushed past the courtyard walls, carrying a faint scent of burnt incense.

The walls were not high, with several small red lanterns hanging atop, kept alight by an invisible array pattern, undisturbed even by the mountain wind passing through the forest, only swaying gently within the thin lampshade.

In the courtyard stood an ancient osmanthus tree. Its branches leaned horizontally, its leaves dark green as if soaked in old ink, the branch tips covered with dense clusters of golden flowers, tremulous in the night wind, shining like a handful of gold dust scattered beneath the dusky sky.

Beneath the osmanthus tree, Zhu Fenxiang sat beside a stone table, clad in red patterned battle armor with sleeves tightly bound, a Fire Pattern Jade Pendant hanging from her slender waist.

Her eyes were bright and vivid as autumn maple fires, a spark of fire flickering beneath her gaze, that usual sharp confidence now suppressed by a layer of gravitas.

All because she had just learned of Ning Zhuo’s announcement to swear under the True Words Bell.

Her mother, Zhu Guizhi, was sitting opposite her at this time.

Zhu Guizhi had a lush figure and wore luxurious attire, with a Red Jade Osmanthus Branch Hairpin in her hair, glowing with a luster like warm jade in the lamplight.

"He’s walking a very dangerous path this time," Zhu Guizhi said slowly.

Zhu Fenxiang looked up: "Mother never had confidence in him."

"You and I both know what kind of people the Three Brave of Xiang Sect are," Zhu Guizhi’s voice was slow and heavy, like an old millstone turning steadily.

"Their reputation isn’t just the result of storytellers’ bluster in taverns. More than ten Nascent Soul cultivators have died by their hands, and they’ve experienced countless life-and-death battles, backed by the formidable Xiang Si Sect. No matter how smart Ning Zhuo is, no matter how intricate his Mechanical Techniques, no matter how favorable his luck, he is ultimately just a Foundation Establishment Mid-Stage cultivator."

She stared fixedly at her daughter: "This time, the likelihood of him dying in the Martial Arts Arena is very high."

Zhu Fenxiang’s expression tightened: "Ning Zhuo is no ordinary Foundation Establishment Cultivator. He has many unexposed means at his disposal. But this is indeed a difficult hurdle, and he insists on facing it head-on, as if deliberately."

Zhu Guizhi silently observed her daughter, quietly sighing in her heart. Her daughter still subconsciously spoke up for Ning Zhuo, that stubborn sense of protection palpable even across the stone table.

Zhu Fenxiang lowered her eyelashes, her voice softening a little: "If he truly wants to pledge under the True Words Bell, there will be no turning back."

Zhu Guizhi’s mind raced, remaining silent for a moment before finally speaking: "Fenxiang, this is an unparalleled opportunity."

Zhu Fenxiang was puzzled: "What opportunity?"

Zhu Guizhi leaned forward slightly, her voice lowered further, as if afraid the night wind outside the wall might hear: "The chance to approach Ning Zhuo proactively. From now on, you can stand directly by his side!"