The morning light completely dispersed the night, yet could not dispel the sorrow permeating above Qingxu Temple or the rising dust smoke among the ruins. On the temporarily cleared main hall plaza-a part of the original Mountain Gate Plaza-surviving disciples gathered. Their numbers were less than two or three percent of the sect's peak, most were wounded, their spirits drooping, and the atmosphere was oppressive like dark clouds before a storm.
Several elders with relatively lighter injuries stood at the front, their faces also full of exhaustion and heaviness. The Temple Head was in closed-door cultivation recovering from serious injuries, True Person Xuan Lin had perished for the Dao, several elders had fallen in battle. The senior combat power had been almost completely wiped out, and sect order teetered on the brink of collapse.
Right at this juncture when hearts were restless and the future was uncertain, a figure walked steadily to the front of everyone.
It was Senior Brother, Mu Qingfeng.
The bandages on his chest still seeped dark red, his face was pale, his qi was much weaker than usual. However, those eyes that were always calm like an ancient well were now sharp like an eagle, sweeping across each face below-some bewildered, some grieved. His spine was straight as an arrow, as if bearing an invisible heavy burden, yet giving everyone a strange, reliable, solid feeling.
An elderly affairs officer stepped forward, his voice hoarse, breaking the silence: "The Temple Head, before entering closed-door cultivation, left instructions: sect affairs, temporarily, to be managed by... Junior Brother Mu Qingfeng, with us elders assisting."
At these words, a slight stir arose below. Although Mu Qingfeng, as the Temple Head's head disciple, had always enjoyed high prestige and outstanding ability, he was, after all, young and his cultivation had not yet formed the golden core. Entrusting such a heavy responsibility to him at this critical moment of the sect's survival inevitably caused some doubts in people's hearts.
Mu Qingfeng seemed unconcerned with the subtle reactions below. He took a deep breath, suppressed the qi and blood churning in his chest cavity and that heavy pressure, his gaze calm as he looked at everyone. His voice was not loud, yet clearly spread across the entire plaza:
"Esteemed elders, esteemed fellow disciples."
His opening was simple and direct, without any ornate rhetoric.
"The demonic catastrophe has retreated for now, but the sect has suffered this great disaster. Our teachers have fallen, our fellow disciples have perished-this pain is etched bone-deep." His voice carried a barely perceptible tremor, but quickly steadied. "However, the lineage of Qingxu Temple has not ended, and we still draw breath. Crying and sinking will not bring back the departed. Only by bearing the burden and moving forward can we live up to our teachers' sacrificial protection, and not disappoint our fellow disciples who bled on this mountain!"
His words were like heavy hammers striking each person's heart, forcefully transforming the pervasive sorrow into an even heavier responsibility.
"At present, the urgent matters are threefold." Mu Qingfeng's pace was not fast, his logic clear, demonstrating exceptional composure and organizational ability.
"First, treat the wounded, collect the remains, and soothe people's hearts. All who can still move must take up their duties. The alchemy room and medicine hut must be organized immediately, prioritizing treatment of seriously wounded fellow disciples. Remains must be properly placed and registered. Once the situation stabilizes somewhat, they will be properly buried with honor. The affairs officers of each peak must soothe emotions of their disciples. If there are any material shortages, report immediately."
He turned his gaze toward several elders and affairs officers responsible for general affairs. Several people nodded and departed to carry out their missions.
"Second, clear the ruins, stabilize the foundation, and reconstruct defenses. Although the core of the mountain protection formation was protected by Elder Xuan Lin's life sacrifice, the outer formation bases are severely damaged and must be immediately investigated and repaired to prevent the demonic cultivators from returning. Important halls like the Transmission Hall and Scripture Library must be prioritized for clearing to rescue inherited scriptures and teachings. Reconstruction must proceed gradually, prioritizing basic shelter and cultivation spaces for disciples."
He pointed out several disciples skilled in formation studies and civil engineering, as well as several inner disciples with lighter injuries and steady work habits, to be responsible for different areas.
"Third, inventory supplies, tally losses, and plan for the future. Sect treasury, spirit fields, and mining veins all need to be recounted. Losses from this battle must be tallied. Future sect expenditures and disciple cultivation resources need early planning. At the same time, envoys must be sent to contact friendly sects in the vicinity, report the situation, and remain vigilant against the spread of demonic calamities."
This item he assigned to several meticulous affairs officers skilled in arithmetic.
Orders were issued one after another-clear, definite, with assigned responsibilities. No superfluous talk, only the most practical, most urgent arrangements. The originally somewhat chaotic and bewildered situation began to become orderly under his coordination. People seemed to have found a backbone, knowing what they should do and where they should go.
Mu Qingfeng did not stay in place issuing orders. After making the initial arrangements, he personally walked into the depths of the ruins, dragging his wounded body.
He came to the area with the heaviest casualties, silently helping disciples lift heavy broken beams, rescuing buried comrades' remains. He saw a young disciple having a mental breakdown, huddled in a corner trembling, after witnessing his good friend's tragic fate. He walked over, squatted down, said nothing, just gently patted his shoulder, and handed over a waterskin.
He inspected the temporarily erected wounded shelter, carefully inquired about injuries, checked whether herbs were sufficient. He even personally transmitted a thread of weak spiritual energy for an unconscious junior brother to steady his heart pulse.
He walked among disciples working urgently to repair formation bases, disregarding status, rolling up his sleeves, helping carry carved spirit stones, carefully inspecting every connection of formation patterns.
His figure appeared everywhere needed. Sweat soaked his back clothing, mixing with bloodstains. His face grew paler, his breathing heavier, yet he did not stop, nor did he show any exhaustion or impatience.
His composure, his responsibility, his attitude of sharing weal and woe with all disciples-these were like a silent force, quietly soothing the trauma in everyone's hearts, gathering the scattered morale.
Some elders and disciples who originally had doubts about him taking charge of sect affairs, watching him busy and steadily commanding among the ruins, saw their doubts gradually transform into trust and recognition.
Tang Xiaoqi, holding his master's wine gourd, sitting beside the ruins of the side hall, also saw Senior Brother's busy figure from afar. He watched his Senior Brother, clearly also seriously injured, yet bearing all the pressure and responsibility on his own shoulders, systematically hosting this reconstruction work with countless threads.
A complex emotion surged in Xiaoqi's heart. There was heartache toward Senior Brother, worry about the sect's current state, but more was an indescribable relief and admiration.
When the Temple Head fell, when the master sacrificed, when the sect teetered precariously-it was Senior Brother who stepped forward, using his not-so-wide shoulders to prop up this tilting sky.
Senior Brother's responsibility, like a lighthouse in the darkness, not only guided the direction of reconstruction but let all survivors understand-Qingxu Temple has not fallen. As long as hearts do not scatter, hope still remains.