Gao Chong stood up upon hearing that, wan and haggard at first glance. He seemed to stumble a little, but as Deng Kuan rushed to his side, he pushed away the assistance. His eyes scanned the currently enraged sects, then darted to those who were whispering with doubts.

His gaze seemed to carry a weight and cause everyone to quiet down completely.

Then they saw him, a legend among martial artists for over twenty-five years now with his graying hair and solemn face, murmuring slowly. “This is a debt of blood.”

Gao Chong lowered his head to stare at the nine corpses. He raised his voice. “This is a debt of blood… A debt that they owe the Gao family, a debt that they owe all the sects, the world… A bloody debt that they owe anyone with conscience!”

He seemed to have trouble breathing for a second. Abbot Ci Mu turned the prayer beads in his hands and said “Amitabha Budhha” before closing his eyes and muttering prayers for the dead. Deng Kuan looked at his old Master with worry; he still wanted to help him but repressed the urge as he considered the act to be disrespectful.

When Gao Chong looked up, tears welled in his eyes. He pointed to the dead body who belonged to his family. “This disciple of mine was orphaned when he was little, and when the joined the family he took my last name, he was called Gao Hui. He didn’t talk much and was teased by other kids, they called him Old Shut-in…”

He looked like he wanted to laugh but couldn’t. The female disciples of the Gao’s Manor were already bawling their eyes out.

After pausing for a bit, he continued. “This little shut-in was a good kid, you must have seen him in the past few days, he was so innocent and honest… but a good kid nonetheless, always worked hard, never threw a fit. He had a grandmother who adopted him from the streets, she’s over eighty now. She is blind and hard-of-hearing, can’t really recognize anyone but her grandson, and that is only sometimes… You see, how am I gonna tell her the news? Everyone, you’re all chivalrous heroes, please have mercy on me and tell me how I can tell her about this!”

The autumn wind in Dong Ting rustled loudly, and dead silence spread over the scene. Gao Chong, an old and respected figure, was bowing to them with his hands in front, pleading with them—how can I tell her about this?

Even a rude mouth like Feng Xiaofeng clammed up. At this point, if anyone dared utter an unnecessary syllable, they should be considered to be below an animal.