Dreaming for 10,000 years

Chapter 383: Sect Leader
The mountain wind howled, stirring up rustling pines.

go through fire and water?

Feng Qingyang's fingertips unconsciously caressed the old sword scars at his waist, and those long-healed wounds suddenly throbbed with pain.

Seventy years ago, when the Demonic Cult attacked the mountain, he stood guard at the back mountain pass with only his sword, his blue robe stained with blood for three days without retreating.

Forty years ago, during the most intense period of the sword and qi conflict, he bravely withstood three strikes of the Qi Sect's Purple Cloud Divine Palm to protect his fellow disciples. Those days of sword fights and shadows now seem like a distant memory.

“All gone.” The old man’s voice was hoarse, like the autumn wind blowing through withered branches.

Linghu Chong slammed his sword sheath heavily on the ground: "Mount Hua can be defeated by the generation of my grandmaster, it can be defeated by the generation of my master, but it must never be defeated by the generation of its disciples!"

His eyes shone brightly in the twilight. "Because this is my home."

This once unrestrained wanderer now stood as straight as a sword. The drifting duckweed had finally found fertile ground to take root, and the untamed wild horse had willingly donned its saddle.

He was a wanderer by nature, disliking constraints and not caring much about worldly doctrines. But a wanderer becomes a wanderer because he has no home; if a wanderer had a home, he could choose not to be a wanderer.

Linghu Chong has made his choice. He wants to take control of his own destiny instead of drifting along like before, or running away like before.

Some things are simply unavoidable!
"You scoundrel!" Feng Qingyang whirled around, his white beard flying. Linghu Chong's words were like a sharp sword, brutally revealing the truth behind the decline of the Huashan Sect!
What hurts the most is that every word of these words is true.

"The new Mount Hua I want to establish!" Linghu Chong's voice pierced the night wind: "I want to be able to have a place to retire to in my old age, just like my grandmaster uncle, decades from now!"

He patted his chest, shaking off the dust of his journey: "Instead of being like a stray dog, driven out of the place where I grew up!"

Moonlight suddenly broke through the clouds, shining into Feng Qingyang's suddenly contracted pupils. He saw this once drunken playboy now burning with a fire he had never seen before in his eyes.

Seventy years of memories come flooding back. Did I ever have such a resolute attitude back then?
Below the cliff, the sea of ​​clouds surged like a long river of time. The old man seemed to see Mount Hua decades later: the plaques covered in dust, the sword manuals scattered, and perhaps even the three characters "Huashan Sect" would be impersonated by new martial arts elites.
"Are you really sure?" Feng Qingyang's voice suddenly became as soft as a falling leaf.

Linghu Chong drew his longsword three inches from its sheath, its cold light illuminating his resolute brows: "Even if it means making enemies of the entire martial world, this disciple will fight for a future for Mount Hua and strive for a safe haven!"

The last sentence echoed through the valley, startling a flock of roosting birds. Those black shadows fluttering across the moon were just like the broken blades that danced in the sky when sword energy soared into the heavens.

Linghu Chong's words were frank and direct; he was doing it for Mount Hua and for himself.

If a person does not love himself, how can he love his family? If a person does not cherish himself, how can he cherish his family?
"Good! Good!" Feng Qingyang exclaimed twice, his white beard trembling with laughter. The young man before him, who had once been unrestrained, now had less of his wildness and more of a heavy sense of responsibility.

In this world of martial arts, the rarest people are never the chivalrous heroes who seek revenge, but the devoted ones who are willing to shoulder heavy burdens.

"Enough!" The old man suddenly let out a long howl, which shook the pine needles to the ground like rain. "This old man of mine will go crazy with you!"

With a wave of his sleeve, the pent-up frustration of seventy years vanished in an instant. "The current Mount Hua is indeed out of line."

Before he could finish speaking, Feng Qingyang was stunned. It turned out that his decades of seclusion, seemingly detached from worldly affairs, were actually bound by his unwavering determination to revitalize Mount Hua.

Ask any Huashan disciple in the world, who hasn't dreamt of—sword energy soaring to the heavens, purple clouds filling the universe?
The morning mist on the mountaintop gradually dissipated, and the first ray of sunlight pierced through the clouds, turning the Cliff of Contemplation golden.

It turned out that it was already dawn.

"What are your plans?" Feng Qingyang brushed the dew off the stone bench and slowly sat down.

Linghu Chong drew three trajectories in the air with his sword: "The decline of Mount Hua is rooted in the extremes of the Sword Sect and the Qi Sect. Sword techniques and internal energy cultivation should be means of chivalry, but they have been used as purposes for seizing power and profit!"

His voice echoed through the valley, startling a flock of birds into flight.
"We, the disciples of Mount Hua, should take pride in helping those in distress and be ashamed of fighting and arguing! We should take pride in protecting our fellow disciples and be ashamed of forming cliques and attacking those who disagree with us! We should take pride in diligent study and practice and be ashamed of arrogance and indulgence!"

Every word struck Feng Qingyang's heart like a hammer blow. The old man seemed to see his junior brother, who had died seventy years ago in the sword qi battle, holding his hand and saying, "Senior brother, Mount Hua cannot be divided."

He heard Linghu Chong say, "This is what a sect with magnanimity and responsibility should be like, not a group of frivolous people who become arrogant and forget themselves just because they know a couple of sword techniques!"

"Therefore, Grandmaster Feng, our first step is to gather the Sword Sect disciples who have wandered the martial world, select disciples, and cultivate the new Huashan lineage. The second step is to uphold justice and restore Huashan's prestige."

"These days, the martial arts world is all about power struggles and profit; there's very little chivalry. In Fujian... never mind!"

Linghu Chong continued, "The third step... I observe that there are too many shady dealings between Mount Hua and the Five Mountains Sword Sects. We just need to wait, and the opportunity will come to us, allowing us to rightfully reclaim the rightful inheritance of Mount Hua!"

"No destruction, no construction. Only by destroying the current Mount Hua can we build a new Mount Hua! The grudges between the Sword Sect and the Qi Sect have weighed on us for too long. Our new Mount Hua should set aside these grudges and forge its own path!"

"This is the future of Mount Hua!"

Linghu Chong listed them out one by one, clearly having already planned it out. He wanted to reclaim Huashan's reputation honorably, not through underhanded means!
Since you've made up your mind to do it, you should try your best to do it well!

The old pine tree on the cliff suddenly shook, scattering its needles all over the ground. Only then did Feng Qingyang realize that his hands were trembling slightly, not because of old age, but because of excitement.

The young man before us doesn't want a trick to steal the essence, but a legitimate and just revival!
"I originally intended to take you as my disciple, but now it seems that it's unnecessary!" Feng Qingyang looked at Linghu Chong, then suddenly straightened his clothes and solemnly clasped his hands in front of Linghu Chong in the morning sun:
"This old man, Feng Qingyang, pays his respects to the Headmaster of Mount Hua!"

Linghu Chong stood frozen in place. Feng Qingyang's salute caught him off guard more than any sword move.

"Grandmaster Uncle, how can this be!" He hurriedly stepped aside to avoid it!

Feng Qingyang laughed even more heartily, his wrinkles brimming with the morning sun: "What? Do you want this old bone of mine to be the sect leader?"

Linghu Chong had no idea how fervent the flame of hope could be rekindled in the heart of an old man on the verge of death.

It's hard for people to deceive themselves; once they start doing something they want to do, they're filled with hope!

"Sect Leader!" Feng Qingyang laughed loudly, "Let's get moving! The Huashan Sect is counting on you!"

(End of this chapter)