Zong Shou's expression grew solemn as he looked towards Zhao Yanran and Xuan Yunlan; both women wore looks of profound concentration.

Even Chuxue released Zong Shou's hand, turning her gaze toward the direction the sound had emanated from.

Zong Shou pondered for a moment, then his brow arched sharply, and he immediately mounted his sword, soaring toward the direction of the wind outside the Dao Palace's eastern gate. The others followed swiftly in his wake.

The distance of a dozen li was covered in mere breaths. By the time they arrived, over ten thousand disciples of the Dao Palace were already streaming in from all directions. It seemed they intuitively understood the gravity of the situation, silently arraying themselves along both sides of the palace gate.

At this time, Zong Shou held considerable renown within this Cang Sheng Heaven Realm and across the Three Sects and Six Gates; he was rightfully the Chief Disciple of the Academy and a rare third-generation direct inheritor.

Everyone who recognized him paused as they passed to offer him a respectful bow.

Upon reaching the palace gate, no one dared approach, remaining standing far back, leaving an open expanse around Zong Shou. This afforded a fortunate convenience to Zong Yuan, Zhao Yanran, and the others, sparing them the crush of the general disciples.

They waited only a short while before another tolling of the bell sounded, and the main gate of the Dao Palace dramatically burst open.

Peering through, they saw over a hundred figures standing outside, their expressions blank and lost. They were all middle-aged men, ranging from thirty to forty years old; some looked haggard and defeated, others completely expressionless. Only a handful remained silent, though a faint sharpness already resided within their eyes.

The man leading the group was remarkably distinguished. Despite wearing only simple Daoist robes and bearing a weathered countenance, the calm, self-possessed magnanimity he exuded instantly reminded Zong Shou of Wei Xu.

Just then, a voice, deep and resonant like a bell or a bronze cauldron, boomed from the entrance of the Dao Palace: "We extend our congratulations to all fellow disciples on your return to the Cang Sheng Dao Palace!"

Zong Shou glanced sideways and saw that the speaker was also a man in his thirties, dressed in scholarly attire. Though his features were youthful, his hair was entirely white, and his expression was one of ineffable emotion.

He recognized this man as Fang Wen, the current Palace Master of the Cang Sheng Academy. If viewed from the perspective of 'Tan Qiu's identity, this man was currently his senior brother.

At this moment, the more than ten thousand disciples inside the gate adopted solemn expressions and bowed towards those outside.

"We respectfully welcome all fellow disciples back to our Cang Sheng Dao!"

The hundred or so middle-aged disciples outside staggered in surprise. Even those who appeared utterly numb and devoid of spirit lifted their heads, a spark of light appearing in their eyes.

Only the leader seemed completely unaffected. He walked into the gate trembling slightly. As he passed Fang Wen, the latter could not help but frown: "Junior Brother—"

The middle-aged man paid him no heed, stepping into the gate and silently tilting his head upward, gazing toward the sky. His sight was fixed upon the direction of the Ancestral Hall.

The atmosphere near the palace gate was a mixture of astonishment and palpable tension. Though silent, everyone was clearly restraining intense emotion, like a dormant volcano suppressing molten lava in their chests. Zong Shou, feeling none of this, carefully studied the imposing middle-aged man reminiscent of Wei Xu, musing that this must surely be the famed Xue Xi. Even Han Fang regarded this man with extreme seriousness.

In the next instant, Xue Xi suddenly broke into tears, dropping to his knees before the Ancestral Hall, executing a single, unreserved ke tou (kowtow).

The hundred disciples behind him could no longer hold back; tears streamed down their faces as they followed Xue Xi, performing three prostrations and nine kowtows.

Within the larger crowd, several hundred others also knelt down, but they bowed deeply toward the hundred returning figures.

Zong Shou was inwardly puzzled when Zhao Yanran quickly explained, "These people previously participated in the battle at Yan Cheng Pass, but they managed to escape by sheer luck. It is said that this was due to the bravery of those who were captured, who sacrificed themselves to hold the rear. We heard they were returning to the sect soon, so these men returned overnight."

Hearing this, Zong Shou was rendered speechless. Zong Yuan beside him gazed vaguely at the scene, murmuring, "Now I finally understand why the Three Sects and Six Gates of Cang Sheng Dao can withstand both the Righteous and Demonic paths for ten thousand years."

Though Ruo Shui remained silent, her expression was equally grave.

After completing the great ritual, Xue Xi slowly rose. His gaze swept through the crowd, pausing sharply when it landed on Zong Shou. He gave a slight nod—a form of acknowledgment. Gratitude was visible in his eyes, yet he spoke no words.

Zong Shou smiled, understanding the sentiment: a great kindness requires no verbal thanks. The friendship between gentlemen is as plain as water, needing no ostentation.

Xue Xi then shifted his gaze away, looking back toward the sky. His eyes held both joy and excitement, mingled with deep shame, and he bowed low once more.

Zong Shou followed his line of sight and saw that two more figures had appeared in the heavens above, seemingly from nowhere.

One was Han Fang; the other was a Daoist clad in black robes, whose aged face showed an equal mix of sorrow and elation.

Zong Shou's brow twitched. He wondered if this must be Xue Xi's master? To stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Han Fang, he must surely be a figure from the second generation of the Cang Sheng Dao.

Unbeknownst to Zong Shou at that moment, even as he observed the two above, Han Fang and the black-robed Daoist were discussing him.

"This is the disciple Senior Uncle Xuan Shuang accepted on behalf of Wei Xu. Our youngest junior brother now? I reviewed the residual projection of his swordsmanship—a Sixth Stage cultivator who actually managed to create his own sword technique. Setting aside his inherent talent, his comprehension is indeed unrivaled within our sect. This time, I owe him a debt of gratitude."

"Indeed!"

Han Fang smiled as he glanced down at the youth squinting up from below, then nodded deeply in agreement: "I know that Senior Brother Wei Tian, you have always treated young Xue Xi as your own son. You certainly owe him a debt now that he is free!"

The black-robed Daoist shot Han Fang a cold glance, aware that Han Fang still held resentment over his twenty-year absence from the sect.

Among his many martial brothers, Han Fang was known for his steady temperament, but also for holding the longest grudges.

Just as he was about to offer a sarcastic retort, it softened into a sigh: "I, Wei Tian, do not resent the sect. But every time I return to the Cang Sheng Dao Palace, I cannot help but see the past and mourn those lost; this knot in my heart simply won't unravel. Junior Brother Zong Shou’s great kindness this time, Wei Tian will certainly repay handsomely. Junior Brother Wei Xu’s actions are often unreliable, but taking this child as his disciple this one time was undeniably brilliant..."

Han Fang, meanwhile, felt a touch of shame, chuckling, "Why bring up such things now? But truly, Nephew Xue Xi has surprised me today. Twenty years of imprisonment and torment have not broken him. Observing his nascent soul, it is whole and suffused with spiritual light. His current potential in temperament seems even superior to Fang Wen’s. Perhaps these two decades of hardship have ultimately been a blessing in disguise."

Wei Tian smiled noncommittally. The next moment, a deathly silence fell over the Dao Palace entrance again. Xue Xi casually 'borrowed' a long sword from the waist of a nearby Cang Sheng Dao disciple and, without hesitation, sliced open his own wrist vein.

"Today, Xue Xi wishes to emulate the Buddhist Venerables and establish three great vows. First Vow: I pledge the strength of my entire life to ensure the eternal prosperity of our Cang Sheng Dao, thus realizing the Ancestor Master's original desire! Second Vow: I vow that every individual involved in the incident at Yan Cheng Pass shall pay in blood..."

At this point, the ten thousand-plus disciples near the gate exchanged glances, expressions of astonishment flickering in their eyes.

Xue Xi paused his speech, taking a deep breath.

"Third Vow: Within three thousand years, Xue Xi will personally shatter the Tai Ling Sacred Land! May the entire Tai Ling Sect be annihilated!"

As his final word faded, the entire Cang Sheng Dao Palace was instantly engulfed in wind, thunder, and lightning; dark clouds billowed overhead.

Streams of black energy surged upward from all directions, striking toward Xue Xi. A layer of golden radiance manifested around him, repelling the dark miasma, preventing it from drawing closer no matter how fiercely it clawed.

His face grew even more solemn, etched with fierce resolve.

"I ask all my fellow disciples to bear witness: If I, Xue Xi, break these oaths, may my soul be incinerated and perish in the future!"

As his final declaration ended, a surge of vital energy erupted from Xue Xi's body, climbing skyward until it pierced the heavens.

Finally, it spilled outward, a vast soul power crushing the surrounding space. Nearly everyone below the Sixth Stage in the area could not withstand it and fell to their knees.

Fewer than fifteen hundred people remained standing, their faces pale with cold sweat, displaying looks of terror. "This is... Ninth Stage?"

Zong Shou’s heart pounded with shock. When Xue Xi first entered the Cang Sheng Palace, he was clearly only at the Seventh Stage. But in this single instant, he had ascended two full ranks!

"This celestial phenomenon should be the sign of a Vow imprinted upon Heaven and Earth."

Zhao Yanran also stared blankly, somewhat at a loss. Zong Yuan remained silent; the scene was uncannily similar to when he had sworn his blood oath of servitude to Zong Shou, though the magnitude here was several dozen times greater.

Xuan Yunlan frowned, watching the black energy: "This is formed from the formless might of the Divine Cliff—it is the essence of human malicious intent condensed. Although this Grand Martial Uncle Xue Xi imitates the Buddhist method, he has missed the true essence. While he is currently borrowing the power of these inner demons to elevate his potential, if he fails to achieve his goals within three thousand years, he is destined to perish, his entire body consumed by flames to become sustenance for these fiends!"

Zong Shou remained stunned, unsure what to say. Yet he could discern the absolute determination and deep-seated hatred in Xue Xi's voice.

With such a monumental cosmic anomaly, he realized he might have truly saved a terrifyingly significant figure.

He could not help but silently pray for the Han King; that Highness had better pray for himself. Among all those involved in the Yan Cheng Pass incident, the Han King was arguably the most crucial figure.

The hundred returning disciples behind Xue Xi were equally astonished. But once they regained their senses, they too sliced open their own wrist veins.

"We swear to follow the vow!"

"To uplift our Cang Sheng Dao! To avenge the blood debt of our brothers! To see the Tai Ling Sect utterly destroyed!"

Thunder rolled mightily in the heavens, while Wei Tian sighed, "Foolish child! Foolish child..."