Renegade Immortal Chapters 64-66: The Fall of Heng Yue Sect and a Perilous Exodus

The roar of the ancient dragon sword was a final, desperate cry for the Heng Yue Sect, a sound that echoed the crumbling of a thousand-year legacy. Before the overwhelming might of the Nascent Soul cultivator Pun Nanzi, the sword’s spirit was effortlessly subdued with a contemptuous flick and a command. As the glow died in the blade, so too did the hope in the hearts of the two Core Formation ancestors, Liu Wenju and the old woman known as Ancestor Wang. With a heavy sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the entire mountain, Ancestor Wang gave the order that would shatter their world. “All Heng Yue Sect disciples, listen to my order: follow me off the mountain.”

Her gaze swept across the main peak, a landscape now stained with humiliation, before she ascended into the air. Pun Nanzi, standing as a conqueror, narrowed his eyes and made his offer, a venomous kindness. “My Xuan Dao Sect is going to recruit more disciples. If anyone wishes to join, they can stay here.”

The fracture was immediate and brutal. Of the ten Foundation Building elders, only two—Shang Guan and Song Yu—moved to stand with their ancestors. The other eight remained rooted, their faces a mixture of shame and pragmatic survival. Liu Wenju’s expression twisted, but he swallowed his words, joining Ancestor Wang in silent, bitter solidarity. The old woman’s voice trembled with suppressed rage. “Everyone has their own path. If anyone doesn’t want to follow us, I won’t force you.”

The erosion continued down the ranks. From Huang Long’s generation, only Sect Leader Huang Long himself, Elder Dao Xu, and the red-faced Elder Ma stepped forward. The dozens of inner disciples presented a pitiful spectacle; a mere ten or so, faces pale with fear and determination, flew to the side of the Core Formation ancestors. Wang Zhuo, Dao Xu’s own disciple, wrestled with his conscience, foot lifting and lowering, ultimately choosing to stay. The female disciples Zhou and Xu also held back, one out of hesitation, the other following Wang Zhuo’s lead.

Wang Hao, having regained his footing, offered a wry smile to Wang Lin. “Brother Tie Zhu, I’m not going to go anywhere. I plan on heading home and helping my dad. Don’t worry, brother Tie Zhu, I’ll take care of your family.” The simple promise, rooted in the mortal world, was a stark contrast to the lofty spiritual collapse happening around them.

Wang Lin’s mind raced. Joining the Xuan Dao Sect was a nest of vipers for someone guarding as many secrets as he was. His decision was leaning toward leaving with the remnants when Pun Nanzi’s voice, sharp and commanding, cut through his thoughts. “Wang Lin, you stay!”

A cold dread trickled down Wang Lin’s spine. He bowed respectfully. “Senior Pun Nanzi, why do you want junior to stay?”

“If I tell you to stay, you stay. What’s with all the questions?!” Pun Nanzi snapped, his tone leaving no room for debate.

Surprisingly, Liu Wenju intervened. “Senior Pun Nanzi, this Wang Lin is my Heng Yue Sect’s head disciple. I would like to request senior not to make it hard on him and let him leave with us.” He had seen Wang Lin’s potential, a future Foundation Building pillar he was loath to surrender.

Pun Nanzi snorted, turning his gaze back to Wang Lin, his words a manipulative blend of temptation and threat. “The Heng Yue Sect only exists in name. Are you going to follow them as they drift around the world? If you join my Xuan Dao Sect, your future will be much brighter. You decide for yourself what you want. You wouldn’t want rumors to spread, would you? Rumors saying that my Xuan Dao Sect not only stole the mountain, but the disciples as well.”

The pressure was immense. Every logical path pointed to submission. Yet, Wang Lin pondered only for a moment. Without a word, he clasped his hands, rose into the air, and took his place firmly next to Huang Long. Pun Nanzi’s eyes flashed with anger. “Ungrateful brat!” he spat, but made no move to stop him. Liu Wenju and Ancestor Wang exchanged a look of profound surprise and a flicker of renewed resolve. With a final, heavy sigh, Ancestor Wang gave the command. “Fine, let’s go.” And so, the pitiful remnant of Heng Yue Sect—two Core Formation ancestors, two Foundation Building elders, three Qi Condensation elders, and twelve inner disciples—fled their home like scattered leaves before a storm, carrying nothing but their shame and a burning, silent fury.

The flight was a somber, wordless procession through darkening skies. The wind that whipped past them felt like the mocking laughter of the heavens. Only when night had fully embraced the land did Liu Wenju and Ancestor Wang lead them down to a desolate mountainside. As they landed, the full weight of their predicament settled upon them. Ancestor Wang, her voice strained but firm, addressed the ragged group. “You guys shouldn’t lose heart just because the Heng Yue Sect has met this disaster. Things always change in the cultivation world. Today, he stole the Heng Yue Mountain from us, but, once I and ancestor Liu reach Nascent Soul, we will be able to take it back!”

Elder Shang Guan, the Foundation Building elder who had once observed Wang Lin in the main hall, echoed her with a dry cough. “Ancestor Wang is correct. The more miserable we feel now, the higher our fighting spirit will be. We must carve this humiliation into our hearts.” The other Foundation Building elder, Song Yu, a man with a wide, worried face, looked at the small band of disciples. “When disaster came, everyone flew in different directions. In the end, only you guys were willing to follow us from Heng Yue Sect,” he sighed, his gratitude tinged with deep sorrow.

Among the disciples, Wang Lin recognized a few faces: the steadfast Zhang Dekun, the ever-present Lu Song, and the little fatty from outside the sword pavilion. His own mind, however, was elsewhere, tethered to a small village far away. The fear was a cold stone in his gut—fear that the Xuan Dao Sect would seek vengeance on his mortal family. A sharp, protective coldness gleamed in his eyes at the thought.

This is the right way, Wang Lin, the voice of Situ Nan, the ancient soul in the bead, piped up proudly in his mind. Hehe, you should have been like this a long time ago. It’s only killing people, what’s the big deal? I have 10,000 ways for people to wish they were dead.

Killing people is not the solution, Wang Lin argued internally, frowning. If I kill one, there will be another, unless I kill all of the disciples of the Xuan Dao Sect.

What’s so difficult about that? Situ Nan pressed, ever the provocateur. I’ll teach you a technique, the puppet technique. Then, you can capture someone and reform them into a loyal puppet. How’s that?

Their mental exchange was interrupted by the approach of the fatty, who sat down beside Wang Lin with a familiar, wrily smile. “Head senior brother, my name is Huang Dashan. In the future, please take care of junior here.”

Before Wang Lin could respond, Zhang Dekun approached. “Huang Dashan, if you have time, you should cultivate more instead of asking someone to take care of you.”

Huang Dashan shrugged. “The sect is gone. Among the inner disciples left, senior brother Wang Lin is the strongest. No matter how much I cultivate, I won’t be able to beat him, so I might as well be his underling.”

Zhang Dekun turned his earnest gaze to Wang Lin. “Wang Lin, your progress has really been unexpected. I truly admire you.” Wang Lin felt a pang of warmth; Zhang Dekun was one of the few who had never mocked him, offering only encouragement in the past.

The circle widened as Lu Song joined them, a complex frown on his face. “Zhang Dekun, we haven’t seen each other for several years and you have finally reached the 6th layer. Do you still remember the promise from 10 years ago?”

Zhang Dekun’s eyes hardened. “Of course I remember.”

Lu Song sighed, sitting next to Wang Lin. He patted Wang Lin’s shoulder, a gesture Wang Lin subtly shifted away from. “Wang Lin, the Heng Yue Sect exists only in name. I’ll say something ugly. If you had stayed at the Xuan Dao Sect, you would have a much better future than coming here with us.” He then turned his bitter smile to Zhang Dekun. “Zhang Dekun, your stubborn temper is still the same as ever. What’s the point of that 10 year promise when the sect doesn’t even exist anymore? Sigh.”

Wang Lin watched him carefully. “Didn’t elder brother Lu Song also not stay at the Xuan Dao Sect?”

“Don’t call me elder brother. According to the rules, I should be calling you elder brother,” Lu Song corrected with a hollow laugh. “If I were to stay there, I would have no future, because I have offended too many people in the Xuan Dao Sect.”

Zhang Dekun’s voice was cold. “Not only have you offended people from the Xuan Dao Sect, you have offended a lot of people in the Heng Yue Sect as well.”

Lu Song met his gaze, a shadow of old guilt passing over his face. He spoke plainly, addressing the old wound. During a core disciple competition a decade prior, Lu Song had injured Zhang Dekun to secure the slot for a relative. He had told a furious Zhang Dekun to seek him out in ten years if he wanted revenge. “Junior brother Zhang, before I became a core disciple, I was a very hated person, but that was in the past… I offer my apologies to you.” He then shifted the focus to the present crisis. “Brother Zhang, I’ll do my best to make up for what happened 10 years ago, but, currently, the sect is in hardship, so us inner disciples should band together.” His eyes scanned the group. “Forget the disciples under 5th layer. Between us four, Huang Dashan is at the 5th layer, Zhang Dekun is at the 6th layer, and I’m at the 8th layer. So, what layer are you at, Wang Lin?”

All eyes settled on Wang Lin. He saw no point in deception here, among these few who had chosen loyalty over comfort. “14th layer of Qi Condensation.”

A collective intake of breath hissed through the trio. Lu Song’s mouth went dry. “Congratulations, elder brother Wang. You will soon reach the Foundation Building stage. When that happens, I’ll have to call you elder.” Respect and a new hierarchy instantly crystallized around the revelation.

Seizing the moment, Lu Song proposed a new structure. “Senior brother Wang Lin, from now on, we are the top disciples in the Heng Yue Sect. You will be the Elder Senior disciple, I’ll be the second disciple, Zhang Dekun will be 3rd and Huang Dashan will be the 4th. We should from now on share our experience and form a group. What do you think?”

Huang Dashan eagerly agreed, and after a moment’s hesitation, Zhang Dekun nodded. “There should be leaders among the inner disciples. This will help the elders.” Wang Lin, his mind preoccupied with familial dangers and his own secret burdens, gave a quiet nod of assent. The leadership of this shattered band was the least of his concerns.

At that moment, the green light dome surrounding the resting ancestors shimmered and faded. Liu Wenju and Ancestor Wang rose, their spiritual energy restored. The time for mourning was over; the desperate flight for survival began in earnest.

Liu Wenju took charge, his movements swift and precise. He and Ancestor Wang each produced a piece of jade, tossing them into the air where they fused and spun, releasing a cascade of rainbow light. The light solidified into a massive, shimmering disc on the ground—a high-speed travel formation. Liu Wenju issued rapid orders. “The four of you, aside from Wang Lin, will be in charge of protecting the other inner disciples because there will be powerful fluctuations, so be careful not to fall off. Huang Long and you three, you will be in charge of 2 disciples each. Shang Guan, you two and Wang Lin will be in charge of keeping balance on the sides.”

The group scrambled into position. Wang Lin found himself forming one point of a triangle with the two Foundation Building elders at the edges of the disc. Liu Wenju took a deep breath, formed a seal, and shouted, “Rise!”

The world lurched. The light disc tore itself from the mountain with a tremor and shot into the sky, its speed dwarfing that of any flying sword. Immediately, the inner disciples cried out, battered by the violent force of the wind and momentum. As they struggled, the stabilizing force was mystically transferred to Wang Lin, Shang Guan, and Song Yu.

Wang Lin grunted as a tremendous pressure slammed into his body, threatening to fling him into the void. He activated his attraction technique, feet clinging to the glowing surface, but his entire frame shuddered violently. He glanced at the two elders, who stood composed and unshaken, and felt the vast gulf between Qi Condensation and Foundation Building.

This is nothing special, Situ Nan sniffed in his mind. It is simply an air travel technique. Back when I used it, I could carry 10,000 people and didn’t need people to keep balance!

There is no need to compare yourself every time, Wang Lin thought back, straining. I already know you are powerful.

The disc accelerated further, pushing Wang Lin to his absolute limit. Just as he was barely managing, a foreboding dark cloud appeared on the horizon, lightning arcing within its depths, moving on a collision course. Liu Wenju’s face darkened. “Shang Guan, Song Yu, Wang Lin, you three, keep yourselves steady!” he barked.

The disc jerked violently, swerving in a sharp arc to avoid the cloud. The sudden maneuver unleashed chaos. Disciples tumbled like ninepins. One was hurled directly toward Wang Lin, his face a mask of terror. Wang Lin himself was thrown off-balance, his footing lost. Just as he felt himself about to be ejected into the sky, a familiar, icy energy surged from the bead on his chest, coursing through his meridians and anchoring him firmly to the disc. With the stability granted by Situ Nan’s intervention, Wang Lin acted on instinct. He shot out a hand, grabbed the flailing disciple’s wrist, and with a powerful spin, hurled him back to the relative safety of the disc’s center.

A mocking voice, laced with spiritual energy, rolled out from the dark cloud they had just avoided. “Fellow cultivators of the Heng Yue Sect, have you all met my Xuan Dao Sect’s ancestor, Pun Nanzi?”

Wang Lin’s blood ran cold. From the dissipating cloud emerged a monstrous, hundred-foot centipede. At its head stood Elder Ouyang, and behind him, seven or eight Xuan Dao Sect disciples, their expressions cruel and sneering. Among them, three emanated auras that rivaled Liu Wenju and Ancestor Wang—Foundation Building experts, at the very least. The speaker was a black-faced man among this powerful trio.

Liu Wenju’s expression turned to granite. Without a word of reply, he poured his energy into the disc, which shot forward with renewed, desperate speed, leaving the ominous cloud and its threatening occupants as a shrinking blot in the distance. The pursuit was on, and they were prey.

The landscape below began a stark transformation, lush forests giving way to barren, rolling deserts as they crossed vast distances. The disc finally slowed, circling a mountainous region before homing in on a specific, nondescript peak. It descended and landed, the rainbow light dissipating with a sigh. The moment it touched solid ground, the inner disciples collapsed, retching, their faces ghastly white. Wang Lin, too, felt a profound dizziness and a tightness in his chest, the aftermath of the harrowing journey.

Without ceremony, Liu Wenju formed a seal and pointed at the mountainside. The rock face shuddered and split open with a grinding rumble, revealing a dark passage. He jumped in without a backward glance, Ancestor Wang following closely. The others staggered after them, supported by the elders. Once the last disciple was inside, the crack sealed itself shut, leaving no trace of their arrival.

Wang Lin’s divine sense swept the cavern. It was a barren, utilitarian refuge: rough-hewn stone walls and a series of empty chambers. One room held stores of simple food. This was to be their tomb and their womb for the foreseeable future.

Liu Wenju addressed the exhausted, demoralized group, his voice echoing in the hollow space. “Most of you have reached a cultivation level where you don’t need to eat anymore. As for those of you who are too low and need to eat, there is food in the stone room over there that should last for several years. Me and your ancestor Wang will go into closed door training and won’t bother with other matters. Listen to the elders for your arrangements.”

Ancestor Wang’s voice was heavy with grim resolve. “My Heng Yue Sect will go into closed door training for 100 years, then we will wipe away all our disgrace. For the next century, unless there are any major events, none of the disciples are allowed to leave.” She instructed Huang Long, Dao Xu, and Elder Ma to focus all efforts on breaking through to Foundation Building.

Finally, Liu Wenju’s gaze, sharp and assessing, landed on the inner disciples. “Lu Song, you are in charge of all the inner disciples.” Then his eyes found Wang Lin, the disciple whose potential had sparked a moment of defiance even against a Nascent Soul cultivator. “Wang Lin, you follow me. I’ll arrange a special place for you.”

The command hung in the damp air of the cavern. For Wang Lin, the immediate crisis of flight was over, but a new chapter was beginning—one of seclusion, relentless cultivation, and the heavy burden of being singled out in a sect that had been reduced to a ghost of its former self, hiding in the belly of a mountain, nursing a century-long grudge and a fragile, flickering hope. The path ahead was dark, narrow, and fraught with the perils of pursuit and the immense pressure of expectation. The renegade immortal’s journey had descended into the earth, where the only way forward was down, deep into the roots of patience and power.