As Nie Yun entered the memorial hall, the elders rushed to greet her.
She was young—only a few years older than Su Mo—and had earned her position as the Opening Light Elder through sheer, unshakable strength.
However, aside from the Celestial Pivot Elder and Nangong Xuan, the other Grand Elders didn’t involve themselves in politics. Their role was to handle problems beyond ordinary means—specialists dealing with high-tier powerhouses.
“Let’s get this memorial started. Elder Nangong must be getting impatient,” she said, sending chills down everyone’s spines.
What did she mean by “impatient”? The man was already six feet under. Was she implying he might just sit up and demand they hurry?
But Elder Han paid no mind to the odd phrasing. He declared the memorial officially begun, taking the stage alongside Nie Yun to deliver their eulogies.
The atmosphere finally turned solemn, even oppressive.
The mournful melody of the funeral dirge tugged at heartstrings, drawing sobs from the crowd.
Su Mo wasn’t overwhelmed with grief, but he couldn’t help feeling a pang of regret. An A-rank powerhouse, dead under mysterious circumstances—it was tragic.
Had he not seen the stiff corpse himself, Su Mo might’ve suspected it was all an elaborate ruse.
An A-rank, killed just like that? It would’ve taken another A-rank—and a meticulously planned ambush—to pull it off. High-tier battles were like that: defeating an opponent was one thing, but killing or capturing them? That was a whole other challenge.
As the music swelled, Su Mo suddenly felt drowsy. Strangely, his instincts didn’t raise any alarms.
He wasn’t alone. Yang Jie, Shen Hong, and the other commanders and delegates were similarly affected. Those with weaker mental fortitude had already collapsed.
Something’s wrong.
Then it hit him—the bianzhong!
Su Mo snapped back to alertness, recognizing a familiar resonance in the music—the same eerie chime from the ancient bronze bells he’d once seized from tomb raiders.
But why were Elder Han and the others unaffected?
Silently activating his Green Core, Su Mo summoned Yin Flames to shield his mind from further corruption. He pretended to faint, covertly observing their next moves.
Sure enough, one of the musicians was rhythmically shaking a small bianzhong. Yet Elder Han and his faction showed no signs of distress.
They’ve developed a countermeasure.
Unlike before, the corruption didn’t induce hallucinations—just debilitating weakness and mental fog. The difference likely lay in the method. Those tomb raiders had been clueless, fumbling blindly with the artifact’s power.
With the crowd subdued, Elder Han finally bared his fangs. “These commanders are a stubborn lot. Took some effort to round them all up.”
Elder Wei hesitated. “They’re the backbone of Beidou. Without them, Xia Kingdom could descend into chaos.”
“Relax. I invited them here to discuss important matters, not execute them.”
“But—”
“Elder Wei,” Han cut in coldly, “you’re unusually talkative today. Still holding a grudge over your precious disciple’s… unfortunate end?”
Elder Wei stiffened. “You jest. Li Guozhong betrayed his country and his organization. His execution was a service to the nation. Why would I resent that?”
“Good. Remember your place.” Han’s tone was icy, but he switched to obsequious deference when addressing Nie Yun. “Elder Nie, per our agreement, the purge of dissidents is in your hands.”
“Fine. Just don’t forget what you promised me.” Nie Yun’s expression remained frosty as she left.
Before departing, she paused beside Yang Jie, scrutinizing him to confirm the corruption had taken hold.
From his feigned stupor, Su Mo made a startling discovery—Yang Jie now clutched a small bronze bell. It resembled the one from before but was slightly larger.
Was Nie Yun helping him… or setting another trap?
The moment Nie Yun left, Yang Jie—the strongest present—stirred, though unsteadily. “Planning a coup?” he slurred.
“Coup?” Elder Han scoffed. “I’m reclaiming what’s rightfully mine. Nangong Xuan thought being A-rank entitled him to monopolize power and dismantle the Elder Council. Even Yin Tianxi never dared go that far.”
Yang Jie tightened his grip on the bell, suppressing its chime. “Times have changed, Elder Han. Fossils like you should step aside. Beidou needs a true leader.”
“Hah! You mean him?” Han jabbed a finger at Nangong’s coffin. “He’s dead. The other Grand Elders are useless. So tell me—why not me?”
Yang Jie swayed, barely staying upright.
“Oh, right. You’re in no state to object.” Han smirked before addressing the room. “Last chance to pledge loyalty. Spare yourselves a pointless death.”
The doors burst open as Han’s son, Han Yun, stormed in with a squad of enforcers. “Surrender, and you’ll be spared!”
Nearly a third of the assembly defected on the spot.
Yang Jie’s heart sank. Beidou isn’t what it used to be. Rot has set in. Even the commanders have lost their spine.
Just as Han Yun’s men moved to arrest the “traitors,” massive vines erupted from the floor, ensnaring them instantly.
Yang Jie straightened, pushing up his glasses with a faint smirk. “Recognize this?”
Han’s eyes bulged at the object in Yang Jie’s hand. “The Yang Bell?! How—?” He frantically patted his pockets—empty.
“A gift from a friend,” Yang Jie said dryly, his usual aloof demeanor back in place.
The vines coiled through the hall, immobilizing the Elder Council and their turncoat allies without exception.
Ding-ling-ling…
With the Yang Bell’s clear chime, the mental corruption shattered.
The tables had turned—and Yang Jie had done it single-handedly.
The others were drenched in sweat, clearly recovering from the ordeal. Only Su Mo looked refreshed, as if he’d just woken from a nap.
Talk about a carry. He’d been bracing for a desperate fight, but this? Pure victory served on a silver platter.
The elders began cursing Han, scrambling to plead innocence—”We were deceived!” “Spare us!”
Yang Jie didn’t waste words. One swift strike silenced the loudest protester. The rest shut up immediately.
“Think this is over, Yang Jie?” Han suddenly laughed. “I’ve waited too long for this day.”
The temperature in the hall spiked. The restraining vines burst into flames.
Yang Jie’s blood ran cold. Instinctively, his gaze snapped toward a shadowed corner—where something far beyond his power lurked.