Dance Of The Dragons
Chapter 449 : The Fall (1)

Chapter 449: Chapter 449 : The Fall (1)

Propped on her elbows, the warmth of the table seeping through her skin, Bai Ling observed Qiao Wei with a mix of amusement and affection as he savored the breakfast she’d prepared.

"Wei Wei, is it delicious?"

"Mmm." Qiao Wei smiled. "Delicious."

"It tastes as good as my own cooking," Huang Taichen remarked.

"Why, thank you, Little Huang. You can be so cute sometimes," Bai Ling ruffled the younger man’s hair lovingly, unaware of the sarcasm dripping from his words.

Qiao Wei put down the wooden spoon and looked at Bai Ling.

"Little Ling, we are going back to Wushan Temple."

Bai Ling’s face fell in an instant.

"But Wei Wei, why??? Do you not want me anymore?"

Huang Taichen cleared his throat.

"Technically, Shizun never asked for you in the first place."

Qiao Wei shot his disciple a look, signaling him to keep quiet.

Huang Taichen shrugged and continued eating his bowl of watery congee.

"Little Ling..."

Qiao Wei squeezed Bai Ling’s hand.

"I received a message from Shizun last night. Something is happening at Wushan Temple Sect. We need to find out what it is."

Bai Ling’s lips parted in surprise.

"My... My father?"

Qiao Wei gave her a solemn nod.

"Shizun asked me to take you away, far from here."

"... He would never..."

"I know, that’s why."

Qiao Wei rose to his feet.

"We need to go. But we should not go together. Let’s split. I will go alone, and you will go with Huang Taichen."

Neither Bai Ling nor Huang Taichen was happy with this arrangement.

"Wait, why am I going with this person???" They cried out in unison while pointing at each other.

"Shizun, this young lady will be nothing but a burden to me!" Huang Taichen exclaimed. "Please let me go with you, Shizun!"

Bai Ling sucked in a deep breath and glared at Huang Taichen.

"That was my line! I heard that you possess zero innate talent for cultivation. If anything, you are the burden and not the other way around!"

"Enough!" Qiao Wei spoke in a stern voice.

"Huang Taichen, Bai Ling is my Shimei. Since I have taken you in as my disciple, she is your Martial Art Auntie. You need to respect her as such."

A victorious smile graced Bai Ling’s face, bordering on mockery.

"Little Ling, Huang Taichen is your Martial Art Nephew. Kindly guide him in Wushan Temple Sect’s teachings."

"... And act more like a Martial Art Auntie," Huang Taichen added with a sneer.

"Very good!" Bai Ling shouted. She unsheathed her sword and swung it in Huang Taichen’s face. "I am going to teach you well, Martial Art Nephew!!!"

"Don’t mess around," Qiao Wei begged when Huang Taichen ran to hide behind him.

"Listen to me. Wushan Temple has a front entrance and a back entrance. We will each take one. Which one do you want to take, Little Ling?"

Faced with an unknown situation in her sect, Bai Ling furrowed her brows in concern.

"Back entrance then. Assuming that nothing happens at Wushan Temple, it is better to not stir chaos with Huang Taichen’s presence."

"Very well. Then I shall take the front entrance. Let’s meet in my living quarter."

Bai Ling nodded. She then curled her finger at Huang Taichen.

"Martial Art Nephew, come with me."

Leaving Bamboo Stream Village, the three parted ways. Qiao Wei ascended the familiar path, the thousands of steps echoing beneath his feet.

Though the mountain air fluctuated from season to season, it always grew purer with each climb. Yet, this time, an unsettling shift pricked his senses. The air, once crisp and clean, now reeked of blood and death.

Qiao Wei’s sword sang its silent song as it left the sheath, a blur of polished steel in his hand. The temple gate, usually guarded by two vigilant outer disciples, stood silent.

In their place, a writhing mass of serpents, their scales glinting like obsidian under the morning sun, barred his path. Their forked tongues flickered, and their menacing coils tightened as they threatened to strike.

Qiao Wei’s brow furrowed, etching lines of concern onto his face. A single, decisive slash of his sword split the writhing mass of serpents in two, eliciting a chorus of hisses that filled the air. Amidst the cacophony, a whimper, faint but distinct, pierced his ears, drawing his attention like a siren’s call.

"Shixiong... Shixiong, help..."

It was one of the disciples of the Wushan Temple Sect.

"Shidi!"

Qiao Wei, blade flashing, cut through the serpents and barged into the temple.

The inner courtyard of the temple offered a horrifying sight. More serpents writhed inside, some slithering across the ground while most coiling around the disciples of Wushan Temple Sect.

Most of the disciples lay sprawled on the ground, offering no resistance at all. Their bloodstained bodies were a testament to the serpents’ brutal grip.

The others were still conscious, their faces contorted in pain. "Shixiong, help," they rasped, their eyes filled with tears and desperation.

"Do not move!" Qiao Wei exclaimed.

Behind him, three enormous serpents erupted from the ground, their gaping maws lined with needle-sharp fangs, ready to sink into Qiao Wei’s exposed neck.

Qiao Wei whipped around and flung the serpents far from him.

If they weren’t holding his shidis captive, getting rid of them would be a simple task. But as fate would have it, he couldn’t risk using spells, lest he harm his innocent brothers.

Qiao Wei grabbed the nearest disciple with him and soared into the air.

With a flash of his blade, the head of the serpent coiling around his younger martial art brother was severed, and the weakened younger man slumped in his embrace.

"Shidi, get a grip of yourself!"

Qiao Wei tapped hard against his shidi’s cheek.

The young man’s eyes fluttered open, but instead of relief, Qiao Wei saw a chilling glint within them. A wave of murderous intent washed over him, icy and suffocating. He realized, a split second too late, that something was terribly wrong.

A searing pain erupted in his abdomen, thorns digging into his flesh. He looked down to see a thorny vine, its tip dripping with blood, protruding from his wound.

His gaze met his shidi’s, now twisted into a grotesque mask of evil.

"Shixiong..." the disciple rasped, his voice laced with venom. "You finally... return."