Reverend Cimu truly was an old monk as cunning as a thousand-year tortoise. As soon as Gao Chong had died, he sniffed something off on the breeze, then immediately fell ‘horribly ill’. As if the Buddha had finally remember this faithful believer of his, he swiftly went to beckon him to Sukhavati.

Another holder of the Writ, the ‘descendant’ of the Ancient Monk, Ye Baiyi, was also somewhere unknown.

Meanwhile, Gu Xiang’s quartet bore a different mission. Undergoing a simple disguise dress-up, they then caught up with the murderous-looking people that had scrambled for the Mountain.

Cao Weining quickly noticed that this time around, not only had his shishu, Mo Huaikong, come in person from Qingfeng Sword Sect, but even his Sect Leader shifu, Mo Huaiyang, had as well.

He was a bit unclear on the situation. He and his shifu had initially been sent down the mountain because his shifu had been in seclusion — had he come out of it, now? The two primary figures of the Sect were mingling here with Zhao Jing — did his shifu know the true face of that Zhao hypocrite, or no?

Mo Huaikong had always been a prick, but Mo Huaiyang seemed a bit like an immortal. He was quite a bit skilled in talking with people, was pleasant to all, wasn’t arrogant or ill-tempered, and could win over peoples’ hearts. It wasn’t strange at all that back when he and Mo Huaikong were of equal excellence, the position of Sect Leader had landed upon him.

The quartet rented a carriage, pretending to be the younger generations of average peasants. Smeared on their faces was some alleged ‘face-changing’ stuff that Gu Xiang had made up; in reality, it was just some yellow that made them hard to notice, totally not on the same level as Zhou Zishu’s massive overhaul.

Knowing that Cao Weining’s shifu was present, Gu Xiang got slightly more nervous. The exact circumstances were currently fuzzy, Zhao Jing was dominating the situation at large, Cao Weining was wavering, and Zhang Chengling plus Gao Xiaolian were all of a sudden seeing their father-murdering enemy, eyes nearly red, only barely consolable.

Of the four of them, Gu Xiang alone was still capable of thinking things over with a cool head, so no one else had any ideas. Now, it was the female Zhuge, Ah-Xiang, that had the prerogative.

“This is an extremely pressing matter,” she said. “Think about it, Brother Cao. If you rashly go up to your shifu and tell him, will he believe you, or that ‘Hero’ Zhao?”

Cao Weining pondered this for a minute, then didn’t have much of a retort, feeling that she had made sense. “Alright. I’ll listen to you,” he said with a nod, like a husband at his wife’s beck and call.