Chapter 227: Background

This made no sense. Even though Xia Fei was not in the Assassins Sect, he knew Breath Control and Crafty Thrust, two abilities unique to them. Especially Crafty Thrust, only the top disciples who had trained hard years on end would have the opportunity to learn that technique. There was no reason for Xia Fei to possess it, too.

Xia Fei had a deep understanding of Crafty Thrust and Breath Control, and he was quite well comfortable in executing both, obviously a result of years of training. The Assassins Sect had always been strictly controlled; nobody who entered could leave, and they must stay in the discipleship until the end of their lives.

This point more or less removed the possibility that Xia Fei’s abilities had been acquired from someone in the discipleship; thus, it could only be someone outside of the discipleship who taught Breath Control and Crafty Thrust to Xia Fei.

This quickly became an extremely serious matter, for this was the first time in the history of the Assassins Sect that two top skills of theirs got leaked out.

Nobody suspected Phantom as everyone knew of his death, and none would think that, despite dying, he had a way to linger on in spirit form and even passed his abilities to Xia Fei.

Everyone furrowed eyebrows, and Craneshadow, who was sitting on the highest seat, kneaded his temple, utterly confused.

“Someone, bring Xia Fei somewhere to rest; we’ll talk about it some other time,” Craneshadow ordered in a deep voice.

Soon, the bunch of Deathguards, who were guarding the door, brought Xia Fei to a secluded area on the tenth level, leaving Craneshadow and his three grand disciples behind.

“Grandmaster, what should we do about this?” asked Silvershadow.

Craneshadow thought for a few moments. “I thought of something; let’s talk about this after I get back. Let Xia Fei rest here for now, and don’t cause him any trouble.”

Craneshadow then walked outside. After sending off their grandmaster, Silvershadow and the others returned to their residence.

Craneshadow walked up the stairs leading to the top of the mountain. As he neared the peak, the air gradually became bitingly cold, with the stone road covered in piles of white snow. Compared to the warmth at the foot of the mountain, this place was like a harsh winter.

In truth, the life on the peak was quite terrible. Setting the cold aside, even the paths were hard to traverse. There was more to the founder of the Assassins Sect assigning the disciples their residence according to their ranking from top to bottom. He reminded those in power not to abuse it and that the more authority they had, the more responsibility they must bear.

Although Craneshadow was quite old, he was still nimble on his feet and was not any worse than a younger person in the discipleship. These snow- and ice-covered roads were nothing to him.

The eleventh and the twelfth floors were empty and was used to store ancient books and other precious goods. Craneshadow did not stop on his feet and kept moving toward the thirteenth level.

If the eleventh and twelfth floors were restricted because they contained many precious ancient books, the thirteenth floor where Craneshadow resided was even more forbidden. The elders had the authority to access them, while the ones under them were also given time every month to enter said places for training, yet even Darkshadow and the others did not dare enter the thirteenth floor as it contained the most important secrets of the Assassins Sect.

On the platform of the thirteenth floor, Craneshadow took a deep breath and looked toward the lush forest and clear rivers beneath him, taking everything in.

White snow drifted in the air. It did not snow hard, but it never ceased all year round. Everywhere Craneshadow breathed out at would freeze and slowly drift downward. It was at least negative fifty-something degrees.

There was actually still about five kilometers of walking until the peak of the mountain from the thirteen floor; it was just that thos happened to be the last platform on the mountain. There was still a rocky bend ahead which was covered in snow, and as it was not maintained, those familiar with the area would be unaware of it at all.

As for what was on the peak, only the sect master of the discipleship knew; there had been no exception to this in their sect history.

Craneshadow continued walking on the piled-up snow as he took in the view from afar.

After walking a kilometer or so, Craneshadow arrived at a lone courtyard. Walking through the snow-covered stone arch, he came to the year where the ground was noticeably clean. As it snowed all year around, it took constant cleaning to keep the ground so clean. Obviously, this yard was being taken care of.

There was a bald old man with an old-fashioned broom in his hand who was constantly sweeping away snow. His movements were quite weird; when he walked, he stuck his right foot out, then he used the broom to support himself before dragging his other feet out.

It was hard to imagine that it was someone with a disability who managed to keep this courtyard so clean. There was no snow on the ground; even the doors and windows were clean like brand new. There was not a single piece of ice on the beams, either.

With technology as advanced as it was today, there were many ways to remove snow buildup, be it with a hot-air blower or an automatic snow-sweeper, either would be much easier to use than something as ancient as a broom, yet this elder still chose such a cumbersome and ineffective tool to do his work patiently.

Craneshadow tiptoed behind the bald elder to greet him with a lowered voice before he said, “Sect Brother Shadowless, there’s something in the Pavilion of Ten Thousand Respect that I would like to inquire about. Is sect brother free?”

Sect brother?

Craneshadow was three generations apart from Darkshadow and the others and was the sect master of the discipleship. The disciples thought that he was the highest-ranking person in the Assassins Sect, so who would have thought that, in an inconspicuous courtyard at the peak of the mountain, there lived Craneshadow’s sect brother?

Since he was his sect brother, it would mean that he should be the successor of the discipleship. Why did Craneshadow become the sect master, while Shadowless, who was older, was willing to just maintain this mysterious courtyard clean?

The elder, addressed as Shadowless, limped and turned to look at Craneshadow. He had white and dim eyes; obviously, this old man was blind.

How could a blind cripple manage this courtyard? If he could not see, how could he keep everything so tidy? It was unbelievable to say the least.

Despite being this cold, Shadowless only had one article of thin clothes on. There was nothing on top of his bald head either, so snow settled on it.

“And what information does the sect master seek?” Shadowless returned the greeting and said in a raspy voice.

“Sect brother, I’d like to check the people who practiced Breath Control and Crafty Thrust, then left the discipleship sans authorization with their whereabouts unknown,” said Craneshadow.

Shadowless nodded. “Oh, is that so. Follow me.”

After putting away his broom, Shadowless limped to a red alloy door on the left of the courtyard with Craneshadow in tow.

There was no lock on the door. Shadowless pushed it open. “Three people matched the sect master’s description, their information is at 1-605, 4-237, and 5-112.”

Shadowless listed off the three codes without mistake, effortlessly uttering everything as if all were his ID number. The blind turned out to know this information like the back of his hand. Since the sect’s formation, there would have been countless members who entered the discipleship. What kind of memory did it take to remember everyone’s information? It would take decades upon decades just to look through all this information, let alone memorize them all.

“Thank you, sect brother.” Craneshadow walked into the room after giving thanks. Shadowless then quickly closed the door and returned to the courtyard to continue cleaning slowly and awkwardly.

As the room was dim, Craneshadow turned a spotlight, revealing rows of racks made of wood.

As there was no heater, it might have been a lot colder in the room than it was outside. This was also a rule dictated by the founder of the discipleship; not only did anyone with high authority have no right to enjoy heating and air-conditioning, even the food they eat must be lighter and more plain. They lived lives similar to ascetic monks in the legends.

Craneshadow had lived hundreds of years with unimaginable cultivation; coldness was not going to do anything to him. It was probably impossible for a normal human to live in these conditions.

The racks had documents that had yellowed over time yet were in pristine condition, displaying the care Shadowless took of these documents every day.

Craneshadow took out three documents from the racks just as Shadowless described. Information on anyone in the sect could be found here, be it the sect master or just a chef. They were not sorted by ranking but by the time of death or when one went missing.

There was a tiny desk by the door with a small fluorescent lamp used for reading. Nobody could take the documents out of the room and could only peruse them inside.

Craneshadow pulled over a chair and placed the rolled-up documents on the table before opening them one by one.

It was not just the information of one person on each document but hundreds of people who had been in the sect, too. It would take quite a bit of time just to find one person.

The Assassins Sect had strict rules, was in the middle of nowhere, and had no neon lights or people hustling and bustling. It was not unheard of for people who could not take the boredom anymore to try and run away when they were on a mission. After all, not everyone could endure such a rough life.

However, very few of those who ran away from the sect achieved true freedom. Once discovered, a large army of Deathguards would descend upon them and be killed without a question. Anyone who planned to abscond from here must weigh the risks they could take and need to have enough courage.

In the long history of the sect, only a few managed to escape, and those who did must live in secret in some corner of the universe. Craneshadow thought that perhaps Xia Fei was a descendant of someone who had escaped from the sect, thus came seeking information immediately.

He set his target on the escapees who also knew Crafty Thrust and Breath Control. If Xia Fei was a descendant of an ordinary disciple, he definitely would not have gotten hold of such incredible techniques.

Soon, Craneshadow pulled out three thin sheets of paper and placed them side by side. The three of them were escapees from a long time ago who were fairly well trained and had practiced Crafty Thrust and Breath Control.

Craneshadow’s eyes lit up and revealed a cheeky smile on his face.

He grabbed one of these pieces of paper and looked into it in more detail. Outside of being filled with words, there was a picture of a middle-aged man with brown eyes, black hair, and yellow skin who even slightly resembled Xia Fei.

From the documents, this person was known as Bloodshadow and was a disciple who lived on the eleventh floor. He was someone who was likely to succeed the sect master in the future. About three thousand years ago, that person took advantage of being out on a mission to escape; no news had been heard from him ever since then.

Just their similar looks alone was not enough to convince Craneshadow of his guess that Xia Fei was a descendant of Bloodshadow, but he was convinced when he saw that the last known location of Bloodshadow was the Endaro Star Region, same as where Xia Fei’s home planet Earth was in.