Mysteries of Immortal Puppet Master

Chapter 1587: Chapter 657: Under the True Words Bell (2)

Lin Jinglong said, "Whether he can survive against the Three Brave of Xiang Sect, just this courage alone, I acknowledge!"

Chun Yangzi stood at a high point.

His long hair was tied in a crown, his face was thin like an ancient pine tree, but his eyes held a hidden flow of golden light.

He watched Ning Zhuo ascend the steps, his eyes showing worry as well as burning anticipation.

Many cultivators from Flowing Cloud Peak also came. They stood further away, their robes varied in color, but their aura faintly connected into a coldness, like the undercurrents beneath a frozen lake in winter.

Some hoped Ning Zhuo would die, some wished the Three Brave of Xiang Sect would be injured, while others just wanted to see Nanming Village and other major forces fight until both sides were seriously wounded. Each person’s face bore different expressions, with their own calculations hidden in their eyes.

Not only Flowing Cloud Peak, but Heavy Array Peak, Danxia Peak, Ten Thousand Beasts Peak, Evil Slaying Hall, etc., all specially dispatched their envoys to witness the ceremony.

Ning Zhuo climbed higher and higher, the sounds on the mountain road gradually fading away. In the end, only the sound of the wind remained.

This wind came from the depths of the sea of clouds beyond the cliff, passing through Black Stone crevices, brushing over countless robes, emitting a low and long lament, like the only unrestrained breath between heaven and earth.

Ning Zhuo stepped onto the final stone step.

No Retreat Square spread open before his eyes.

The peak was shorn flat, surrounded on three sides by a deep abyss, cloud qi churning endlessly outside the cliff, like white ocean waves eternally pounding on an invisible shore.

The square was vast, paved with Black Stone, each slab heavy as a tombstone, stepping onto it felt like something invisible lightly pressed on the chest, calming original floating thoughts like rocks revealed after the tide recedes.

The square had no walls, no railings, only the endless wind and the distant churning sea of clouds.

A multitude of cultivators were scattered around the square, their robes flapping loudly in the wind like countless battle flags swirling in the breeze.

So many gathered, yet there wasn’t true commotion—all sounds seemed absorbed by the Black Stone, sinking in heavy silence, like ink dripping into water without a trace.

The True Words Bell was situated at the front end of the cliff.

There was no bell tower, no grand canopy, no Jade Pillar incense altar. The black matte iron bell rested on a low stone base, rough and deformed, with no sheen, like a piece of scrap iron abandoned at the cliff’s edge by heaven and earth.

The bell’s body resembled solidified night, or the scorched remains after a great fire. Behind it was the boundless sea of clouds, white clouds roiling like waves, making it seem even more somber and silent, as if the weight of Verification Peak’s thousand years was pressing down on this one bell.

Ning Zhuo’s first glance at it slightly sunk his heart spirit. He sensed the Yang Fish in his sleeve paused too, as if the little Spirit Treasure fish also felt the eternal silence deep within the True Words Bell, its golden scales dimming inside his sleeve, leaving only a warmth like a heartbeat near his wrist.

Under the gaze of all, Ning Zhuo walked before the True Words Bell.

The Black Stone beneath his feet was cold as iron, with a chill slowly seeping through the soles.

The mountain wind brushed his cheeks, stirring the hems of his Qingxuan Robe to flutter wildly.

The sight of countless eyes was simultaneously upon him. Some were passionate like fire, some hostile like blades, some assessing like rulers, some expectant like dawn, and some filled with malice waiting for him to fall into the abyss.

Ning Zhuo raised a hand, first greeting the True Words Bell with formal respect, then turned around, facing everyone from afar.

Though still youthful in appearance with a forehead full like a moon and bright eyes clear as if washed.

Standing now on this coarse, bleak, and cold Verification Peak, amidst the howling winds of No Retreat Square, his figure not considered tall, yet without a hint of retreat.

Ning Zhuo began speaking.

His voice was not loud, yet firmly held by the silent Black Stone of the square, transmitting clearly to all directions, like a pebble cast into a tranquil lake, creating ripples upon ripples.

"Esteemed seniors, fellow sect members, today Ning Zhuo ascends Verification Peak, facing No Retreat Square, not to seek fame, not for bravery, but to fulfill a promise and assume responsibility."

The wind paused slightly, as if even it was listening to him continue.

Many eyebrows slightly moved, their gaze becoming more focused.

Ning Zhuo continued, "Nanming Village was founded originally for mutual support among fellow cultivators to seek a place to stand. Red Robe Guest, though emerging from the Demon Path, has been in Myriad Images Sect for many years, bound by sect rules, his actions adhering to the sect’s statutes despite past habits."

From Flowing Cloud Peak’s side, someone coldly chuckled, wearing a sarcastic grin, yet didn’t interrupt—before the True Words Bell, no one dared act recklessly.

Ning Zhuo’s gaze swept across everyone, his expression righteous like a stream flowing past white stones, "As Red Robe Guest perished due to the matter of Nanming Village, his Demon Soul now in others’ possession. This matter instigated by Nanming Village, I, Ning Zhuo, cannot stand aloof."

He paused briefly, "There’s a saying, establishing oneself requires credibility, walking the path necessitates responsibility. Though my cultivation level is shallow and my age still young, not daring to claim ability to turn the tide. But as the initiator of Nanming Village, entrusted by all, I must bear our difficulties."

His voice was deep and steady, "Today, I am willing to pledge under the True Words Bell." He lifted his head, looking at the black matte iron bell, "In this life, Ning Zhuo will do his utmost, seeking the restoration of Red Robe Guest’s Demon Soul. If his soul still exists, I will find ways to rescue it!"

Chun Yangzi’s eyes suddenly shone with a bright gold.

Situ Xing, Shen Xi, and Lin Jinglong remained silent.

Tu Yuanzi hiding behind the crowd, seeing this scene, felt a rush of emotions, quickly bowing his head to rub his face.

The faces of Flowing Cloud Peak’s Cultivator Gate turned visibly grim.

Ning Zhuo looked back at the True Words Bell, "These words spoke from the heart, asking the Bell Spirit to verify."

In the next moment, the black bell lightly trembled, emitting a sound.

Clang...

The bell sound resonated clearly, quickly spreading over the entire peak, confirming Ning Zhuo’s words truly came from the heart!

Everyone’s expression grew increasingly solemn.

Ning Zhuo turned back to see the cultivators in the square, "Currently, Red Robe Guest’s soul is trapped by multiple forces of Flowing Cloud Peak. With deep involvements, Ning Zhuo is willing to set a martial challenge against the Three Brave of Xiang Sect, unrestricted by life and death!"

"This battle, life and death unrestricted!"

"If defeated, I will face the consequences myself. If victorious, I ask all to witness—the soul of Red Robe Guest must be returned to Nanming Village, so it settles, and then I will return his relics and remains altogether."

The young man’s voice steadfastly spread in the wind, like an invisible sword embedded in the stone.

Open and upright!

Clang...

The True Words Bell resounded again, verifying Ning Zhuo’s words truly came from his heart.

Just then, a light cough came from the crowd, "Well said."

Everyone turned towards the sound, only to see a thin elder slowly coming out from the crowd.

He wore a blue worn robe, with frayed corners, his fingers long and dry like bamboo joints weathered for years.

Qinghuangzi.

Many cultivators recognized this elder.

Though with limited time left, he still possessed an unmistakable presence hard to ignore. Deep wrinkles carved his face like ravines, yet his eyes were clear like springs, carrying the transparency accumulated over the years.

He looked at Ning Zhuo, "The Empty Valley Sound Green Mechanism Tube of mine having a successor like you, very good."

Ning Zhuo quickly saluted, "Senior."

The young man exhaled a turbid breath, "I originally thought the senior would..."

Qinghuangzi waved his hand, "Rest assured, I don’t intend to stop you."

Following suit, he lightly gestured with his slender hand backward, "Not only that, but I’ve also invited someone to assist you in this endeavor."

As soon as the words fell, there was a surge of Vast Literary Energy from the other side of the square.

A group of Confucian Cultivators came together, their attire neat and dignified, their aura clear and proper like wind blowing over the pages of a book.

Leading was Duanmu Zhang—his face square, with well-kept hair and beard, and steady eyes. Behind him were several Confucian Cultivators, each with their own presence, some holding scrolls, others with Jade Pens at their waist, while the scents of ink floated between sleeves.

The Confucian Cultivators approached Ning Zhuo, standing firm.

Duanmu Zhang looked at Ning Zhuo, his expression solemn and grave, "Young friend Ning Zhuo, today’s actions, the peril need not be mentioned. Yet, to assume responsibility publicly on Verification Peak, there is already the aspect of a gentleman establishing oneself. We wish to affirm this matter with poetry, using Vast Literary Energy to wish you swift success."