Rong Tian’s attention moved steadily from one pavilion to another while the crowd settled into its assigned places. Several guests had arrived with expressions so carefully controlled that they appeared less interested in Huo Xin Jian than in watching which faction would reveal its intentions first. Very little about the gathering felt spontaneous. The routes had been divided according to status, the seats had been assigned with obvious calculation, and important guests arrived at intervals that kept the whispers alive without allowing the atmosphere to relax. Even the ringing of the sect bells seemed arranged to guide attention from one entrance to another. If the imperial court had merely wished to display a legendary sword, such careful tension would have been unnecessary. Rong Tian glanced toward the Radiant Sword Sect delegation before examining the empty section prepared for the imperial representatives. Seve

Rong Tian entered the narrow side trail without appearing reluctant. He deliberately shortened his steps and allowed his shoulders to tighten whenever he crossed an exposed root, creating the impression that the slope required his full concentration. The Pure Heaven disciples remained below and watched with open amusement. They believed that the pale young man had accepted his humiliation because he possessed neither courage nor the strength to resist. “Look at the way he climbs,” the thin disciple said. “He truly belongs on that path.” The female disciple crossed her arms. “Someone should remind him not to blame the sect when the thorns tear his clothing.” Another disciple laughed and added that a torn robe might improve his appearance. Their voices carried far enough for the nearby travelers to hear, ensuring that Rong Tian’s embarrassment became part of th

The news reached the pavilion of honor before the second round of tea had been served. A Pure Heaven servant climbed the main stairs with a tense expression, bowed to the senior responsible for the pavilion, and whispered the report beside him. Although the servant kept his voice low, the change in the senior’s face attracted attention. Several important guests stopped their private conversations and watched the Pure Heaven representatives exchange hurried signals. Zhao Hua noticed before most of them. She narrowed her eyes and rested her fan against the table. “What has happened now?” she asked. “The expressions around this pavilion suggest that someone has brought more than a minor inconvenience.” The serving disciple lowered her head. “There has been a disturbance near the lower gate, Miss Zhao.” “A disturbance?” Zhao Hua r

When the Xuefeng delegation fully entered the pavilion area, the atmosphere of Qingyun Mountain changed without anyone giving an order. The silence came naturally from the realization that the center of attention had moved. The men who had been discussing Zhao Hua, Guang Jiang, and the other sect guests lowered their voices. Several straightened their posture without noticing, as though sitting too casually might make them look small before the northern delegation. The women among the guests watched with a different kind of attention. Their gazes moved from hairstyle to clothing, then to posture and bearing. One by one, they realized the same thing. The woman in the middle was not trying to attract anyone’s eyes, yet attention followed her anyway. A tea servant slowed while pouring hot water into a guest’s cup. The teapot remained suspended for a moment because the servant’s eyes ha

Mu Cai did not advance the two golden snakes, but neither did she call them back. They remained suspended before Zhao Hua’s face and throat, close enough for their exposed fangs and flicking tongues to keep her frozen in place. The fear that had taken hold of Zhao Hua no longer resembled anger. Her shoulders trembled, her fingers had gone stiff, and sweat gathered beneath the sleeves near her wrists while tears traced down a face that had been proud only moments earlier. Mu Cai watched her without haste and asked, “Do you still want to call Xuefeng a tribe of mud?” Zhao Hua’s lips moved, but no proper answer came, and her head shifted slightly as though her mind had not yet caught up with the danger in front of her. Chang Hong finally rose from his seat, yet he did not move like someone prepared to throw himself between Zhao Hua and death. His first glance went toward Guang Jiang before he took a