# 469
**Chapter 469 – The Believers Assemble**
In a daze, Lin Qiye slowly opened his eyes.
The lingering sword intent in his mind continued to wash over his consciousness, causing a faint ache. He furrowed his brow and sat up from the bed, feeling utterly weak—like he had drunk counterfeit alcohol.
Lin Qiye lowered his head. At some point, the blanket had been neatly pulled over him. His slippers were placed side by side at the foot of the bed, toes pointing outward. On the small bedside table sat a thermos cup. He unscrewed the lid, and wisps of steam rose into the air.
A trace of confusion flashed in his eyes.
The sword tide hadn’t ended yesterday when he passed out. He had no idea what happened afterward—or how he had gotten back to his room.
He glanced at the sky outside the window, stepped out of bed, and walked toward the training ground.
As expected, the ever-diligent Zhou Ping had already begun his daily cleaning. Aside from him, the only other person in the empty field was Jialan, sitting on a small stool.
Lin Qiye glanced at the clock on the wall—8:07 a.m. Theoretically, class should have started by now, but Zhou Ping hadn’t woken them up.
“You’re up?” Zhou Ping caught sight of Lin Qiye. “Class is delayed today. We’ll start once everyone’s awake.”
Lin Qiye nodded, then seemed to remember something. “Sword Saint, after the sword tide training yesterday… how did we get back to our rooms?”
“She carried you back one by one.” Zhou Ping pointed at Jialan.
Lin Qiye blinked. “Oh…”
So it was her…
He walked over and sat on the small stool beside Jialan.
“Thank you for yesterday…” Lin Qiye began earnestly.
But before he could finish, Jialan quickly turned her head away with a soft snort, lips pressed tightly together—clearly not intending to speak to him.
Lin Qiye froze.
What’s going on… is she mad?
But I didn’t do anything!
As he tried to decipher her mood, An Qingyu and Cao Yuan dragged a half-asleep Baili Pangpang out of their room. They each took a seat on the stools.
“Why did you all come out of the same room?” Lin Qiye asked in surprise.
“No idea. When we woke up, we were all in one room,” Cao Yuan said, rubbing his stiff neck. “Qingyu and I were at least on the bed. Pangpang was on the floor…”
Lin Qiye turned to Jialan. Her expression suddenly turned guilty.
“Since everyone’s here, let’s begin.” Zhou Ping dragged the box of novels in front of them. “Pick one each. This morning’s lesson is, as usual—reading.”
…
Lintang City.
A black car slowly pulled into a dilapidated estate on the outskirts. Shen Qingzhu and Ninth Seat stepped out, eyes narrowing as they surveyed the ancient villa covered in vines and moss.
“This is the place Lord Yiyu mentioned?” Shen Qingzhu looked around. “Doesn’t seem special.”
“If Lord Yiyu chose this place, it has its reasons.” Ninth Seat locked the car and walked toward the villa. “Let’s go. Third and Seventh Seat should already be here.”
They entered one after another. The floor tiles were cracked and uneven. Cobwebs clung to the ceiling. Rats scurried through the dim hallway. Sunlight filtered through wall cracks, and green vines twisted like grotesque veins along the walls.
“This doesn’t look livable…” Ninth Seat muttered.
“It was never meant for living.”
A lazy voice echoed from the end of the corridor. Both Shen Qingzhu and Ninth Seat tensed, squinting toward the source.
A woman in a qipao stood before an ancient door, her hair slightly curled, a painted fan in hand. Her blood-red lips curved into a smile as she gazed at them.
Ninth Seat relaxed upon seeing her.
“Seventh Seat, can you not appear like a ghost every time?” he sighed.
She snapped her fan shut with a cold smile. “What, the mighty Ninth Seat of the Believers is afraid of ghosts? Maybe you shouldn’t take part in this mission…”
“This mission involves ghosts?” Ninth Seat caught the key point.
Seventh Seat said nothing more. She turned, her graceful figure swaying as she walked into the room behind her. The click of her heels echoed in the empty corridor.
“Bring your little friend and come in.”
Shen Qingzhu frowned slightly but followed Ninth Seat into the room.
The space inside was larger than expected. Compared to the ruins outside, the interior was relatively intact. In the center of the moss-covered room stood a massive wooden table. A gaunt man sat silently beside it.
He lifted his drooping eyelids briefly as they entered, then looked away.
“Third Seat,” Ninth Seat greeted, then glanced toward the corner where a young man in his early twenties stood by the window, gazing into the distance. “That is…?”
“A newcomer Lord Yiyu brought in to replace Old Han. He’s now Twelfth Seat,” Seventh Seat explained.
The young man turned, his gaze sweeping past Ninth Seat and landing on Shen Qingzhu. His eyes narrowed slightly, a dangerous glint flickering within.
“A newcomer…” Ninth Seat murmured. “So, aside from First Seat, all remaining members of the Believers are here.”
“No.”
Third Seat, still seated, spoke coldly. “First Seat is here too.”
“First Seat is here?” Both Ninth and Seventh Seat were visibly surprised. “Where?”
Though they had been in the Believers for a long time, they had rarely heard of First Seat, let alone seen him. Now that Third Seat claimed he had arrived, confusion was natural.
“You don’t need to know that,” Third Seat said as he slowly stood. “When it’s time, he will appear.”