Chapter Eighty: The Missing Fairy

Suhe had not yet settled when he saw this man attack without warning or explanation, which instantly stirred his anger. Glancing at the crowd craning their necks to watch, it was clear they were all eager to see him embarrassed.

He cared little for these antics, but such incidents had become unbearably vexing—they demanded a decisive end. So, without betraying his intent, he quietly gathered his true energy, and when the sword neared his face, he calmly intercepted it between his palms. A surge of force, as mighty as a tidal wave, rushed toward his opponent.

The man was startled and tried to withdraw his sword, but Suhe’s grip was unyielding; despite his desperate efforts, he could not move it an inch. This hesitation cost him his retreat, and he was sent flying by a single blow from Suhe.

He crashed to the ground, coughing blood. The crowd was stunned by the sight. But soon enough, they found their voices and began to clamor, eager to settle accounts with Suhe.

Witnessing this, Genchi, a plainspoken man, felt his composure slipping. Rising in silent anger, he said, “Baili Suhe, did you come here just to hurt people?”

I’ve given you face; must you make things so difficult for me?

Suhe took the man’s sword, approached with a smile, and helped him up, returning the sword with both hands. “My apologies for acting rashly just now.”

The man accepted the sword, clutching his chest and muttering, “I concede, my skills are inferior.”

With that, he staggered back into the crowd.

Suddenly, the raucous noise faded, and a chilling silence settled over the gathering. All along, they had believed Suhe’s forbearance and cautious speech stemmed from guilt, from needing something from them. They thought he was a murderer, ripe for their torment, easily subdued.

Yet, to their surprise, Suhe had quietly revealed his strength—reasoned, unassailable—blocking every avenue of attack they might try.

Genchi, though not eloquent, was no fool. Surveying the scene, he quickly understood. He invited Suhe to sit, then said, “Baili Suhe, I know you must have questions for coming here. Shall we sit and talk properly now?”

Though the words were addressed to Suhe, everyone understood the message. They fell silent, resigned—after all, they had thrust him into this situation, and now that the leader had spoken, they had to listen.

Suhe clasped his hands in salute. “I only hope you can enlighten me, Brother Gen.”

To be honest, Genchi was not well-acquainted with the matter of the missing female immortals. He was a solitary immortal, usually spending his days cultivating alone in his modest but tranquil cave-dwelling. He harbored no grand ambitions, had no family ties—only the pursuit of daily cultivation.

However, many immortals lived nearby, some following the path with sisters or companions. Over time, he’d inevitably heard a thing or two.

But to explain the whole story was difficult, so he called out, “Scarblade Third, could you summarize the situation for us?”

Scarblade Third stepped through the crowd to Genchi’s right, sweeping his gaze over everyone, taking in their reactions before clicking his tongue and beginning: “It’s hard to pinpoint exactly when this began. At first, when a female immortal went missing, no one was suspicious—perhaps it was just closed-door training or a journey.

“But as more vanished, and as relatives and friends began to disappear, suspicion grew. Was there foul play? Had they been captured? We resolved to investigate.

“But the culprit was elusive, and we found no clues. In the end, we could only warn one another: those with female kin must be especially cautious.

“Yet, no matter the precautions, more female immortals vanished without cause. Panic grew. One day, someone suggested that Old Xiao Fourth, with his wide connections, might know something.”

Suhe raised a brow. “So you went to ask him?”

“Yes.” Scarblade Third answered crisply, “From him, we learned that when you returned from Moon-Inviting Peak, you were intercepted by Lin Mao and others. Through him, we also heard that his wife and daughter died by your hand.”

“So, you laid an ambush for revenge?”

“Should we not avenge such a crime?” Scarblade Third retorted. Any man with blood in his veins would not let a ‘murderer’ go unpunished. Even if Suhe’s guilt was debatable, he saw no fault in seeking redress.

Suhe read his reaction, then rose and addressed Genchi: “I have some things I wish to discuss with you privately, if you would permit.”

Genchi left his seat and said, “Come with me.”

The two left the clearing, crossing a narrow bridge to the foot of a stone cliff. To the left lay Genchi’s cave, Autumn Chill Grotto; to the right, a natural stone overhang, not manmade but formed by nature. The space was just enough for two to stand.

From the cliff seeped lines of water that dripped down onto the blue stones below.

“It’s fine, speak,” Genchi said. From here, everyone could see them, avoiding unnecessary gossip.

Suhe silently praised his thoughtfulness—this man was cautious, not foolish.

“What I’m about to say, you must prepare yourself.”

“Why?…” Genchi’s eyes flickered as he recalled Suhe’s confrontation with Lin Mao. A wave of dread rose within him—could it be…

A terrible suspicion dawned on Genchi: had they all been used?

“Here’s how it happened: about two months ago…” Suhe recounted everything about Liuxin Studio, holding nothing back.

“Is this true?” Genchi’s face changed dramatically. If Suhe spoke truth, then they had been wielded like weapons against their own. The shock was immense.

He forced himself to stay calm. “You swear you’re not lying?”

If it was true, even the much-admired, righteous Old Xiao Fourth’s character would now be suspect. The implications ran deep, too dangerous to contemplate.

Suhe nodded. “Rest assured, the blame does not rest on you. If we analyze the matter thoroughly, I must bear my share of responsibility. If you didn’t come for me, someone else would have. The enemy seeks to ruin me utterly; they won’t stop easily.”

Genchi struck his palm in anger. “Those wretches! Such venom, such cunning!”

“It was my failing that, with Brother Huai, I could not intercept that divine sense. Had I succeeded, none of this would have happened. I brought this disaster upon everyone.” Suhe sighed, bowing deeply.

“Don’t.” Genchi caught his arm, refusing the salute. “I pride myself on knowing men. Compared to Lin Mao and the likes of Old Xiao Fourth, I trust you more.”

“Thank you!” Suhe’s relief was genuine and heartfelt. With Genchi’s support, his next steps would be much easier—at least he need not worry about enemies on all sides.

“I’ve wronged you before. Please do not hold it against me,” Genchi said, returning the salute.

“Not at all,” Suhe replied in kind.

“Do you have a plan to counter… them?”

“It’s difficult.”

“What, you have no way either?”

“It’s not that—there are simply no leads, no starting point. How can I plan or retaliate?”

“I see… Let me think.” Genchi gazed at the crowd across the river, pacing with clenched fists, his brow tightening.

The people on the other side could not hear their words, reluctant to use spells to eavesdrop—should they be caught, the embarrassment would be far greater than the present awkwardness.

So they fidgeted, growing more impatient. Several tried to approach, but Scarblade Third drove them back mercilessly.

“You should all have some self-respect,” he snapped. “No one said he wants to be White Gourd Mountain’s leader. You forced him into this, but won’t follow his lead. If word gets out, won’t the world look down on us loose cultivators even more? They’ll say we’re the dregs, never to become great.”

“Scarblade Third, you—”

“What about me? I’m open and aboveboard, not like your scheming ways.”

“Enough, he’s right. We chose him, we should respect our choice. Even if Genchi struggles, with Baili Suhe here, do you think he’ll run?”

The speaker was the one whose sword had been seized—his name was Bian Qing, and his elder sister was Bian Min.

The siblings were trueborn of Desire-Sea Heaven, but their parents perished in a duel years ago. Bian Min, much older, had always cared for her brother as a mother would. While other female immortals found partners, Bian Min remained alone for her brother’s sake.

Their talents were unremarkable, but they were steady and diligent, their path in cultivation smooth. If not for Bian Min’s recent misfortune, Bian Qing would have believed they would live in peace forever.

But fate is seldom kind.

The sister he depended on had become a sacrifice in others’ schemes. How could he not be agitated upon seeing “the murderer” Suhe? How could he not attack?

Seeing Bian Qing’s stance, the others withdrew, pretending to chat casually. Bian Qing said little, but having fought Suhe, he knew a head-on struggle would end badly—better to wait and see what Suhe told Genchi.

Scarblade Third ignored them, not out of special loyalty to Genchi, but simply because he despised their behavior.

After a private conversation, Genchi led Suhe back to the clearing. “The road down the mountain is perilous—take care. As for the truth, we’ll abide by the agreement: half a month. In that time, White Gourd will not hinder your movements. If you need help, we’ll assist as we can. But you must find the true culprit to clear your name.”

Everyone exchanged glances—was that all?

Suhe bowed in farewell. “Thank you, Brother Gen. Until we meet again.”

With that, he retraced his steps down White Gourd Mountain.

After he left, the crowd surrounded Genchi, demanding answers. He told them to return to their seats, and when all were settled, he looked up and said, “It seems we have all been used.”

“What? How can that be?”

“Yes, do you mean Old Xiao Fourth lied?”

“This is only my suspicion for now, but there’s a seventy percent chance. Let’s put aside our anger for half a month and let him uncover the truth.”

Scarblade Third and Bian Qing exchanged looks, each lost in thought.

Half a month…

Suhe descended White Gourd Mountain and hurried toward Liuxin Studio, planning to investigate the Shrine of the Divine Lady again that very night.

When he reached a small grove, he suddenly heard a woman’s cry for help and immediately rushed over.

Arriving in moments, he called out, “Stop!”

The assailant, masked in black, sneered, “Meddler, you’re courting death.”

With that, he struck with both palms, his force roaring like a tiger, thunderous and unstoppable. The air trembled under the assault.

“Go!” someone shouted.

“Don’t let them escape!” Suhe countered, launching forward, but suddenly, behind him, another scream rang out.

In that instant, the masked figure took advantage and fled.

“Damn!” As the words left his mouth, another, more harrowing scream tore through the air.

“Not good—someone’s in trouble.”

He could not pursue the attacker; saving lives came first. He hurried toward the sound, but when he arrived, he found only a heap of women’s garments—nothing else.

Suddenly, a faint sound broke the silence.

“Who’s there?”