The seven ancestors of the South Bank and the North Bank, along with the many elders, came to a consensus after days of discussion and investigation.
Du Lingfei, Hou Yunfei, the fallen Feng Yan, Bai Xiaochun… They were all heroes, Bai Xiaochun in particular. His was the greatest contribution of all.
“Before the storm comes, we need… a surge of spirit. The spirit of the Spirit River Sect, the will to avenge Bai Xiaochun, who, with his small life, rendered such a great service to the entire sect. His funeral will be carried out so such a great contribution; those which greatly benefitted the sect, will eternally remain with the sect!” Those were words of the Spirit River Sect’s Sect Head, Zheng Yuandong.
In the following days, the sect halted all investigations regarding the reasons for the Fallen Chen Clan’s betrayal. They did, however, used this incident to spread the tale of Bai Xiaochun, praising his selfless actions for the greater good of the sect.
His story was known to all disciples in both the South and the North Bank. All of them knew what he had done for his companions and for the sect.
At the same time, the fervor of the disciples continued to burn. Li Qinghou alone was enough to destroy the clan, but two thousand disciples of the South Bank were still sent following him making it seem like ‘using a sledgehammer to kill a chicken’. It was a massacre of matchless and helpless livestock.
At the same time, Bai Xiaochun’s name was instilled in of all the disciples by the sect’s deliberate promotion of Bai Xiaochun but... this also filled all the disciples with zeal.
This is the Spirit River Sect with ten thousand years of tradition!
A finger laid on our disciple will be paid back with rivers of blood!
This was true for every Spirit River Sect disciple. When they were away from the sect, the disciple was never alone, it had the backing of the entire Spirit River Sect.
And this assurance had grown into a strong sense of belonging, to the point where all disciples were willing to sacrifice everything, including their lives, to defend their sect, to defend their home.
This, was the Spirit River Sect... ten thousand years ago, it was but a small sect, less than a dozen strong.
As for the death of Bai Xiaochun, the ancestors summoned an elder masterful in the art of deducing the heavens, personally casting spells and reading the signs of heaven. Traces of Bai Xiaochun’s existence, unfortunately, were not found, only the scent of decay, confirming for the sect... that Bai Xiaochun … was dead.
A few days later, in the early morning, rain poured from the sky. Each raindrop landed with a sorrowful tune. Crowds of disciples were draped in black robes, silently leaving their homes to gather at the hillside of the Scented Cloud Mountain.
A tombstone lay there, with a portrait of Bai Xiaochun’s joyfully laughing.
Zhang Fatso One stood in the crowd, looking at the amount of people who came, and turned to the tombstone with the name ‘Bai Xiaochun’ imprinted on it. Rain fell, soaking his clothes, as tears flowed his face. The memories he had with Bai Xiaochun, eating stolen spirit fruits together, laughing together, selling the promotional positions together, stealing chickens together…
“Fatso Nine…” Zhang Fatso One’s eyes reflected his sorrow, and his broken heart. It was as if his whole world had become darker.
The other fatsos from the Burning Stoves Kitchen were also present, including Black Fatso Three, tears running down their faces.
Xu Baocai, Chen Zi’ang, Zhao Yiduo, Elder Xu, Elder Zhou, all the people Bai Xiaochun had met after going up the mountain, all the people who knew him… all of them mourned.
Zhou Xinqi had come as well. She stared silently at the tombstone. After hearing the story, the first thing she could think of was the passion with which he had guarded the Spirit Tailed Chickens.
Hou Yunfei was leaning on Hou Xiaomei as they stood in the crowd, his fist curled tightly, his body trembling, filled with grief.
“Junior Brother Bai…” Hou Yunfei smiled bitterly. He had drowned himself with alcohol the day he returned to the sect, unable to rid himself of the image of Bai Xiaochun luring the enemies away.
More and more people gathered, covering the hillside, all staring at the tombstone in silence.
Du Lingfei was pale as she stood in the front, rain covered her face, a rain of tears, as she looked on in a trance, her usually beautiful face now scarred by sorrow.
“You could have survived… I live on, but you…”
Du Lingfei sobbed. The last few days she looked emaciated, the iron-blooded figure of Bai Xiaochun returning to save them appeared in her dreams again and again. The scenes stabbed her heart like knives, times and times again as tears flowed.
The funeral knells weighted in the air as multiple rainbows heralded the arrival of the ancestors of the seven mountains. The Spirit River Sect’s elders and Sect Head were all draped in black, sorrowfully looking at the tombstone.
Li