Senior sister, stop working and go home for dinner.

Chapter 275 The Dragon and Tiger's Lament

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The next day, before dawn, Longhu Mountain was shrouded in a solemn atmosphere of bell tolling.

In the square in front of the Qian Yuan Hall, plain white banners stood in rows, fluttering silently in the morning breeze. In the center of the square, paved with white marble, an altar, incense table, and prayer cushions had been set up according to regulations. Cultivators from various sects and aristocratic families arrived one after another, all dressed in plain clothes with black armbands, their expressions solemn. They stood in the square in order, a dark mass, yet completely silent.

The Yunyin Sect group stood on the western side. Chen Anran stood at the front, with Wei Qingyi slightly behind him to his left, Feng Xiaolu next to Wei Qingyi, and Huiming, Jiang Yun, and Qi Lan standing behind them in order. The Feng and Jiang families were not far away, and Feng Wenzheng nodded slightly in their direction.

Chen Anran wore the dark Taoist robe he had just changed into that day, with a plain white linen garment over it. His expression was calm, and his gaze was fixed intently on the altar. However, there was a faint dark circle under his eyes.

Wei Qingyi glanced sideways, her gaze lingering on his profile for a moment. She too was dressed in a simple blue robe today, draped with a white veil; her cool, aloof face shone like sculpted jade in the morning light. She subtly took half a step closer to Chen Anran and, in a voice only the two of them could hear, whispered:

Didn't sleep well last night?

Chen Anran's eyelashes fluttered slightly, but she didn't turn her head. She replied in a low voice, "Yeah, thinking about some things. I'm a light sleeper."

Wei Qingyi didn't press further, but simply turned her gaze back to the front, saying, "There are many people around today, so don't overexert yourself."

"I understand, Second Senior Sister," Chen Anran replied softly.

He was indeed exhausted. He returned to Qingxin Garden from Kuteng Cave late last night. Lying on the couch, the words of Lingdang, Zhang Nanshan's blurry smiling face, Mo Han's warning look, He Qingyun's grief-stricken accusations... all sorts of images and doubts churned and intertwined in his mind, keeping him almost awake all night.

Most importantly, the Crimson Fire God's Token was now his...

The bell tolled nine times, its lingering sound eventually dissipating into the clouds and mist of the valley.

All the hushed conversations in the square fell completely silent.

He Qingyun, the current head disciple of Longhu Mountain, dressed in heavy mourning clothes, his head covered with a mourning scarf, slowly ascended the altar, surrounded by eight fellow disciples also dressed in white. His face was haggard, his eyes sunken, but his back was ramrod straight, each step heavy as if carrying a thousand pounds.

After standing still, He Qingyun faced the sea of ​​people below the stage, bowed deeply, and as he stood up, his voice, hoarse yet clear, resonated throughout the entire venue through his spiritual power:

"Fellow Daoists, seniors, and fellow Daoists, today, we are deeply grateful for your presence from afar to bid farewell to my master, Zhang Nanshan. On behalf of all of Longhu Mountain, Qingyun expresses our sincere gratitude for your noble deeds!"

After saying this, he bowed deeply again.

The crowd below returned the greeting, creating a tense and rigid atmosphere.

After the ceremony, He Qingyun straightened up, his gaze slowly sweeping over every familiar and unfamiliar face below the stage, his eyes filled with a mixture of grief and pain:

"My master dedicated his life to upholding righteousness, vanquishing demons and protecting all living beings. Unexpectedly, evil and wickedness ran rampant, and he was ambushed by members of the Crimson Spirit Sect in his secluded cultivation spot on Dragon Tiger Mountain, suffering fatal injuries! This hatred is as deep as a mountain and as vast as the sea, an irreconcilable enmity!"

His voice suddenly rose, filled with a blood-curdling hatred: "The Holy Maiden Ling Caiyou of the Crimson Spirit Sect has personally violated our sect's rules and murdered my master! The evidence is irrefutable! This vile woman must be eliminated, or justice will not prevail! Longhu Mountain hereby swears that we will search every corner of the world to slay this demoness and utterly destroy the Crimson Spirit Demon Cave to comfort my master's spirit in heaven!"

"We must slay this demoness! We must crush her demonic lair!" Hundreds of disciples from Longhu Mountain roared in unison, their voices echoing through the mountains, their grief and indignation soaring to the heavens. Many cultivators who were on good terms with Longhu Mountain or had also received favors from Zhang Nanshan also showed their indignation and echoed his sentiments, creating a surge of emotion among the crowd.

Chen Anran watched quietly from below the stage, but her gaze passed over the impassioned He Qingyun and landed not far behind him.

Mo Han also stood at the back of the stage, dressed in mourning attire. Her face was almost translucent with paleness, her lips pressed tightly into a straight line, her eyelids lowered, seemingly oblivious to the surrounding uproar, like a jade statue devoid of all life. Only when she occasionally glanced towards her master's coffin did a fleeting, cold glint in the depths of her eyes reveal that her inner world was far from as lifeless as it appeared.

Chen Anran then glanced at another eye-catching figure on the side of the stage—Zhang Qingyuan. This middle-aged Taoist priest was also dressed entirely in plain clothes today, his expression a mixture of sorrow and grim determination. His gaze swept across the crowd below the stage with lightning speed, lingering particularly on certain corners and unfamiliar faces, as if searching for something. Behind him followed several capable disciples, each with a restrained aura and wary eyes.

He Qingyun's accusations and vows continued, his voice choked with tears, moving all who heard him. Most of the cultivators' faces were filled with hatred for the Crimson Spirit Sect and sympathy for Longhu Mountain.

The ceremony continued. The elders of Longhu Mountain presided over the ceremony, burning incense, offering wine, and reciting the eulogy, all in a solemn and sorrowful atmosphere. Zhang Nanshan's coffin was slowly lifted by eight disciples and moved towards Guizhen Valley. The funeral procession, winding like a long white dragon, silently traveled along the mountain paths.

Wei Qingyi suddenly spoke softly, only Chen Anran could hear: "Fellow Daoist He's grief and indignation do not seem to be feigned."

Chen Anran hummed in agreement, her gaze falling on He Qingyun's slightly trembling shoulders: "He may have really seen 'Ling Caiyou,' and he may truly believe it. But what he saw may not be the murderer."

Feng Xiaolu followed closely beside Wei Qingyi, her eyes still slightly red, but her expression had calmed down considerably. She quietly tugged at Chen Anran's sleeve and asked in a low voice, "Junior Brother, did you... not sleep well last night? You look a little pale."

Chen Anran glanced at her sideways and softened her tone: "It's alright. Third Senior Sister, there's no need to worry."

Feng Xiaolu hesitated for a moment, but eventually nodded silently.

Guizhen Valley is located in a secluded valley behind the main peak of Longhu Mountain, shrouded in mist and filled with spiritual energy year-round. Successive Celestial Masters rest here, and the valley is dotted with stone tablets, creating a solemn and desolate atmosphere. Zhang Nanshan's tomb has already been prepared, situated on a slope surrounded by green pines.

The burial process was solemn and dignified, yet not lengthy. As the last mound of earth was laid down, the tombstone was erected, and the disciples of Longhu Mountain chanted sutras for the deceased in unison, many practitioners couldn't help but shed tears.

Chen Anran gazed at the brand-new stone tablet and silently vowed, "Master Zhang, I will definitely investigate the matter you entrusted to me. Whether it's the Crimson Spirit Sect or an internal traitor, I will not let you die without knowing why."

After the funeral, the crowd did not disperse immediately. As arranged, representatives from various factions would move to the "Council Hall" on Longhu Mountain to discuss how to deal with the Red Spirit Sect.

Chen Anran moved with the flow of people, his gaze sweeping over his surroundings discreetly. He saw Daoist Tianbao of Maoshan talking in hushed tones with several white-haired old cultivators, their expressions solemn; Jiang Yan of the Jiang family was surrounded by several elders of powerful families, seemingly discussing something; Feng Wenzheng was walking side by side with his younger brother Feng Wenyuan, occasionally nodding to acquaintances he encountered.

At the same time, Chen Anran also saw another acquaintance.

Han Bailian, the head of the Han family in the lake.