CHAPTER 23

  It had been two weeks since Yang Feng first set foot upon the stone steps leading to the summit of One-Sword Peak.

  Today, the Council Hall of the Heavenly Sword Sect was sealed shut.

  Inside the grand chamber, a massive oval table of black stone, over twenty-five zhang in length, rested at the center, its surface polished smooth as a mirror and reflecting the glow of spirit lamps suspended high above, cold and sharp like a blade yet to be drawn from its sheath.

  Nine figures sat around it, and though no voice was raised, the atmosphere was solemn.

  To the left sat the Peak Masters.

  The Peak Master of Azure Cloud Peak, Mu Qingyun.

  The Peak Master of Blazing Flame Peak, Huang Lingzi.

  The Peak Master of Mystic Array Peak, Ou Wuji.

  The Peak Master of Spirit Herb Peak, Xie Lingdao.

  In the fifth seat sat the Peak Master of One-Sword Peak, Leng Wuqing, silent as snow upon a mountain summit.

  Opposite them were three elders.

  The Outer Sect Elder.

  The Healing Pavilion Elder.

  The Mission Hall Elder.

  At the central seat of the table, where all gazes naturally converged, sat Grand Elder Wu Zhixiang.

  He did not speak much. He merely looked down at the list before him.

  On the jade slip, five names emitted a faint glow.

  Originally there had been four.

  Now there were five.

  A new name had been added only days ago, the one that finalized this year’s list.

  Han Dengling.

  The one who had broken through to Heaven Foundation just days prior.

  Grand Elder Wu Zhixiang lightly tapped his fingers against the surface of the table.

  The sound was dry and heavy, echoing faintly through the vast hall.

  “This year’s list,” he said slowly, the corner of his lips lifting ever so slightly, “seems a little less dull than usual.”

  No one laughed, though a few gazes shifted. He had always been like this; even in solemn council, he would slip in a remark balanced somewhere between jest and observation, after which the Peak Masters’ eyes returned to the glowing jade slip at the center of the table.

  Mu Qingyun spoke first.

  “This year is indeed rare. Two Heaven Foundation cultivators.”

  He glanced toward Leng Wuqing.

  “I assume Peak Master Leng has already formed an intention. Last year, more than twenty Earth Foundation disciples advanced, yet none entered your sight.”

  Leng Wuqing replied evenly.

  “Last year, they all advanced with Foundation Elixirs according to sect schedule.”

  “There was nothing remarkable.”

  Her tone was neither raised nor cold.

  It was simply a statement.

  Huang Lingzi gave a soft chuckle.

  “If Peak Master Leng says so, then perhaps the one worth watching most is this Mortal Foundation cultivator.”

  He tapped lightly on the jade slip.

  “Advancing to Mortal Foundation on his own. No tribulation. No phenomenon.”

  “Quite interesting.”

  Leng Wuqing did not respond. She had no interest in idle talk, yet they were not entirely wrong. The one who had drawn her attention was not either of the Heaven Foundations, but the Mortal one.

  For the past two weeks, she had observed him every day.

  To be precise, the reason she attended today was simply to see whether any other name deserved notice.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Mu Qingyun shifted the direction.

  “I hear he is currently at One-Sword Peak?”

  All eyes turned toward Leng Wuqing.

  She remained silent for a brief moment.

  “He runs errands well.”

  “I will take him.”

  No explanation followed.

  Several expressions changed subtly.

  It was the first time in many years that Leng Wuqing had openly chosen someone who was not Heaven Foundation.

  No one who set foot upon One-Sword Peak was ever ordinary.

  Ou Wuji finally spoke.

  “Peak Master Leng… would that be considered taking a step ahead?”

  His tone was mild, but his gaze was direct.

  “I am interested in him as well.”

  The hall grew heavier.

  Ou Wuji continued calmly.

  “Ou Bakang has seen his sword.”

  “Yang Feng’s blade is straight. Clean. Precise.”

  “He simply lacks proper sword instruction.”

  He looked at Leng Wuqing.

  “I believe he would be a suitable seed for the Ouyang Clan’s Profound Line Sword Art.”

  Huang Lingzi laughed.

  “Peak Master Ou is behind on news.”

  “Two weeks ago, that Mortal brat was nearly crippled by a mere Qi Refinement disciple.”

  “That disciple,” he tapped the name above, “was Han Dengling. Heaven Foundation.”

  “A Mortal Foundation. Not worth your trouble.”

  Ou Wuji’s expression shifted slightly. He fell silent. A flicker of hesitation passed through his eyes, but he soon smiled faintly.

  “I do not find that strange.”

  “It was only one defeat.”

  “His sword remained straight. His heart remained steady.”

  “A crooked path may still be corrected.”

  As his words settled, the air in the hall grew heavier still.

  Ou Wuji turned toward Leng Wuqing.

  “If Peak Master Leng has not yet decided… I would like to assess him.”

  Leng Wuqing finally raised her eyes, her gaze steady and unmoving.

  “Assess?”

  She repeated the word.

  “When Ou Bakang steps into Foundation…”

  “I will assess him as well.”

  Her voice was calm, neither raised nor sharpened, yet the entire hall fell silent.

  An unspoken boundary had just been touched.

  The bloodlines of each Peak were never openly discussed.

  Ou Bakang was not merely Ou Wuji’s nephew.

  He was the foremost talent cultivated by the Ouyang Clan.

  Spiritual power stirred around Ou Wuji, flaring briefly before being forcefully suppressed.

  He met Leng Wuqing’s gaze. There was no visible anger, yet his eyes had grown colder.

  “Peak Master Leng… words should be chosen with care.”

  Leng Wuqing offered no explanation.

  Her voice was even and cold as winter water beneath ice.

  “I said I would assess.”

  “I did not say I would take him.”

  Their gazes locked, and though no sound clashed between them, the air felt like two blades aligned edge to edge, where a deviation of a single inch would draw blood.

  Grand Elder Wu Zhixiang let out a soft breath, as though watching juniors take matters far more seriously than necessary, and placed his hand upon the table.

  The sound was not loud, yet it severed the tension between the two Peaks.

  “You have not even conducted the assessment,” he said slowly, “yet you have already begun contesting over someone else’s nephew.”

  The corner of his mouth curved faintly.

  “It seems I truly have grown old.”

  No one dared respond.

  His expression smoothed, the hint of amusement fading.

  “The Heavenly Sword Sect does not contend over bloodlines.”

  “However, each Peak has the right to assess.”

  He paused, his gaze sweeping across them.

  “For now, no one is permitted to overstep the rules.”

  “But neither may we disregard talent.”

  “Next week, all disciples on this list will undergo a public assessment.”

  “By then, each Peak Master will have a clear view.”

  His tone was calm, as though stating something long settled.

  “At that time, it will not be too late to decide.”

  No one objected.

  The tension in the hall settled like water after a passing gust.

  Ou Wuji withdrew his gaze first.

  “Hah…”

  “Let us pretend I said nothing.”

  He glanced once more at Leng Wuqing.

  “If Peak Master Leng has already set her sights on that Mortal Foundation youth…”

  “I will not contest it.”

  Huang Lingzi gave a faint, unreadable smile.

  Mu Qingyun remained silent.

  Leng Wuqing did not speak again.

  Grand Elder Wu Zhixiang tapped the table once more, as if formally closing the council.

  By the end of the day, after a prolonged period of deliberation and careful calculation, the Peak Masters departed the Council Hall one after another.

  No one spoke further, yet each of them carried certain names in mind—five disciples, five different paths.

  Now, all that remained was to wait one more week, when their abilities would be brought into the open.

  When that time came, the list set today might not remain the final one.

  Grand Elder Wu Zhixiang had just stepped out of the Council Hall.

  The evening light had begun to fade, stretching the shadow of the great hall across the cold gray stone.

  A voice called from behind him.

  “Grand Elder.”

  He paused and turned.

  Beneath an ancient tree not far away stood Leng Wuqing. It was unclear how long she had been waiting there. The hem of her white robe stirred gently in the wind, her expression as composed as it had been within the hall.

  She stepped forward and extended a sealed letter, secured by a thin spiritual imprint.

  The Grand Elder took it without a word and broke the seal, the talisman paper unfolding as lines of text emerged beneath a faint spiritual glow.

  His eyes moved quickly across the contents.

  The more he read, the more his expression darkened.

  In a single instant, he lifted his gaze and looked directly at Leng Wuqing.

  “How long?”

  “This morning.”

  Her reply was concise.

  “Xiaodao and Lingling just brought it back.”

  There was no need to say more.

  Both of them understood that the contents of the letter were no trivial matter.

  The Grand Elder tightened his grip slightly. A threadlike surge of spiritual power flickered around the letter before settling once more.

  He did not speak aloud again.

  Instead, he transmitted his voice directly.

  He switched to voice transmission, addressing his martial niece.

  “Wuqing. You and I will go see Senior Brother at once.”

  “This matter is not something we can decide on our own.”

  A brief pause.

  “We move separately. Do not draw attention.”

  Leng Wuqing gave a small nod. She asked no further questions and revealed not even the faintest ripple of emotion upon her already cold features.

  She turned, her figure dissolving into a streak of white light as she headed straight toward the main hall.

  The Grand Elder took another path, his aura completely concealed.

  The two figures vanished among the pine forest.

  Only the letter remained in his hand.

  Heavier than a mountain.