The Eternal Sin

A week later.

The mountain gates of the Heavenly Tiger Sect loomed ahead like the jaws of an ancient beast, half shrouded in drifting mist. Stone pillars rose toward the heavens, and the sound of distant bells echoed faintly across the valleys. Disciples moved in and out like ants returning to their nest, each carrying their own thoughts and desires.

Jiang Chen walked along the winding mountain path at a carefree pace. Flanking him were two youthful disciples whose faces were flushed with a mixture of lingering terror and deep admiration. Their robes were tattered and stained with the bile of a swamp python, clearly indicating the mortal peril from which they had just been plucked.

"Senior Brother Jiang, your Heavenly Tiger Fist must have reached the stage of perfection. To slay that middle-stage Rank One beast with a single strike... it is a level of mastery I can only dream of attaining," the taller of the two youths said.

The other nodded vigorously. "Your strike was like a tiger roaring against the heavens! That beast did not even have the chance to hiss before it fell. If not for you, we would have surely perished in the wilderness."

Jiang Chen offered a magnanimous smile, the kind that spoke of a heart as vast as the four seas.

When he had encountered these two sixth-layer juniors struggling at death’s door, he had intervened with the demeanor of an immortal hero.

After the beast lay dead, he had grandly refused to claim the carcass, merely patting their shoulders while explaining that the strong possessed a natural duty to shield the weak, a sentiment that had nearly moved the two youngsters to tears.

’Idiots. Had I not needed a set of witnesses to testify to my whereabouts and spread word about my "righteous" character, I would have let that snake swallow you both and then harvested the beast myself,’ Jiang Chen mused inwardly, his heart as cold as a frozen tundra despite the warmth of his outward gaze.

To him, the concepts of heroism and villainy were nothing more than different colored robes one donned to suit the weather. He had no favorites, only those that proved effective for the task at hand.

Whether praised as a savior or cursed as a demon meant nothing to him. So long as his path advanced and his enemies fell, any role could be worn without hesitation and cast aside just as easily.

’Reputation is like flowing water. Guide it well and it will carry you far,’ Jiang Chen thought silently.

In a righteous sect, a reputation for compassion and loyalty was a beneficial and expected front. It would be the invisible armor that allowed him to conduct his more devilish affairs without easily drawing the suspicious eyes of the Law Enforcement Hall.

Upon crossing the sect’s outer threshold, the two disciples cupped their fists and bowed.

"Senior Brother Jiang, please allow us to host a banquet to express our gratitude."

Jiang Chen shook his head gently. "There is no need for such things. Cultivate diligently and follow the teachings of the sect. That is the greatest repayment."

His tone was neither warm nor cold. It was delivered with the calm authority of a senior. The two did not dare insist further and could only bow once more before departing.

Jiang Chen watched them leave, knowing that by nightfall, the tale of the "Righteous Senior Jiang" would be circulating among their friends and family. For now, that was good enough for him.

He then made his way toward the Mission Hall. The air inside was filled with the scent of old records and the restless energy of disciples constantly coming and going, exchanging tasks and rewards, voices overlapping in a low ceaseless murmur.

He did not find the familiar face of Wen Shan behind the counter this time. Instead, he was met by Wen Liang, the man’s uncle. Jiang Chen produced a pouch containing several dozen greyish mushrooms that faintly smelled of honey.

Wen Liang emptied the contents, poking at the fungus with a silver needle to ensure they had been harvested under the correct conditions. After a moment of silent appraisal, he slid a small silk bag containing sixty-five spirit stones across the wood. Jiang Chen accepted the payment without counting them in public, showing a sign of trust.

"Is Brother Wen Shan well? I had hoped to share a jar of spirit wine with him upon my return," Jiang Chen inquired with a polite nod.

After some brief small talk regarding the younger Wen’s recent assignment to the Jade Heart Plantation by inner disciple Sun Jian, Jiang Chen took his leave.

This mission had never been about the spirit stones. It served as the perfect iron-walled defense for his two-week absence from the sect. While he had been busy drenching the black market in blood, the sect records would merely show a diligent disciple lost in the mountains gathering rare mushrooms.

Even though there was no need for disciples who ventured out to give reasons for their absence unless it lasted several months, Jiang Chen was a cautious man, never wishing to leave any flaws, especially not after the mass murder he had committed in Black Iron Village.

Jiang Chen did not directly return to his residence to rest. Instead, he made his way toward the Martial Scroll Hall.

Dark stone steps led upward to where four fifteenth-layer Qi Condensation cultivators stood guard. Two of them crossed their halberds to bar his path. Without a word, Jiang Chen flicked his wrist, flashing his sect identification token. The guards glanced at it and let him enter.

The first floor of the hall was filled with noise. Hundreds of disciples crowded around the technique racks, arguing over the merits of various sword styles or tiger-based techniques.

Jiang Chen ignored the noise, weaving through the crowd like a ghost. He passed the second floor quickly and ascended to the third section, where the high-grade manuals were kept under much stricter watch.

His eyes swept the hall and landed upon a middle-aged woman seated behind a high obsidian counter. She was draped in indigo robes of an archive administrator, her eyes closed as she circulated her Qi in a slow, rhythmic pattern.

She did not open her eyes as Jiang Chen approached, but the air around her seemed to vibrate with a subtle pressure.

"State the name of the technique," she said, her voice dry and cold.

Jiang Chen stared at her and replied, "The Midnight Sun Arrow Technique."

The woman’s eyes opened a crack, her brow furrowing as she scrutinized the young man before her. She reached for a thick, leather-bound index and flipped through the pages with practiced speed, her frown deepening with each passing moment.

"There is no such record in the Heavenly Tiger Sect’s repertoire. Young man, the Martial Scroll Hall is a place of strict conduct. If you have come here to play jests or cause trouble, I will have the guards throw you into the Sunless Reflection Pit for a month," she warned, her aura stirring like a waking predator.

"I am not here to cause trouble," Jiang Chen said, his eyes meeting hers with unflinching indifference. "I am here to sell this technique to the sect."

"...huh?"