"A born villain," I thought, the bitter taste of bile clawing up my throat. He wielded manipulation as effortlessly as he drew breath. Yang Wei, a prodigy brimming with promise, was his latest quarry—destined to be shattered and tossed aside like refuse in Ming's tangled web of schemes. And the black-haired boy, Wei's brother, had tumbled into ruin with him, all because the fiancée Ming craved belonged to him. "He thinks he's untouchable."
Women fawned over him, spellbound. His elder sisters, even Tang Mei, watched him with a pride that blazed fiercely. He smirked, arrogance radiating from him as though the world already lay prostrate at his feet. "In cunning, he's got me beat," I confessed to myself, a flicker of envy smoldering in my chest. He had the entire peak wrapped around him, warming his bed, while I scratched and clawed for every sliver of power within my reach.
Yet I knew something he seemed blind to: every king has a weakness, a chink in the armor. "Eventually, even the shrewdest manipulator meets an opponent he can't control," I swore silently, my eyes boring into him. And when that day came, I'd be there to watch it unfold.
The hall glowed with the soft light of lanterns and the shimmer of silks, but I was adrift in my own thoughts. Mei Xiu stood beside me, her scent—a delicate weave of jasmine tinged with something metallic—anchoring me back to reality.
"You're too quiet," she said, her voice a hushed murmur meant solely for me.
"Just watching," I murmured, my gaze still locked on Yang Ming.
She turned to me, a faint smirk tugging at one corner of her mouth.
"He gets under your skin, doesn't he?"
"He's dangerous," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. "But not invincible."
Her laugh was sharp and brief, slicing through the air like a blade.
"You're dangerous too, Kaelan. Don't forget that."
I managed a smile, but the heaviness in my chest lingered. The world was a chessboard, and I was a player caught in its center, shifting pieces I didn't fully comprehend. Tang Mei with her hollow smiles, Yang Ming with his saccharine poison—they were threats, each carving their own path. But Mei Xiu… she was my rock, my guiding star.
And I'd be damned if I let anyone rip that away from me—not him, not her, not even the whims of fate.
The hall seemed to devour the very air, thick with a tension that pressed against the skin. Lanterns flickered along the walls, casting shadows that swayed like restless ghosts. Xu Lin, master of the Eternal Hope Peak, stepped forward. In her hand pulsed a flower, its light soft yet alive—the Flower of Eternal Hope. My heart—Kaelan's heart—staggered, as though she'd draped an unseen burden across my shoulders.
"I offer a Flower of Eternal Hope," Xu Lin said, her tranquil voice cutting through the stillness like a silver thread.
The hall erupted. Gasps pierced the silence, eyes widened in disbelief, mouths gaped in awe. It was as if a spark had ignited a parched field. The Flower of Eternal Hope wasn't merely an object—it was a legend whispered in hushed tones, a miracle that defied death's grip. Disciples traded stunned glances, masters dipped their heads in respect, and I… I struggled to draw breath.
"This isn't just a gift," I thought, my fingers tightening around the hem of my robe. Xu Lin never made a move without purpose. Always composed, always ahead of the game, she was a puzzle I'd been trying to solve since the beginning. And now, this.
Mei Xiu, my master and my wife, stood at my side. She lifted her chin, her eyes fastened on the flower.
"Thank you, Master Xu Lin. A… unique gift," she said, her tone even, though I caught the spark in her eyes—a rare slip of something she kept tightly reined.
Xu Lin tilted her head, a subtle smile playing on her lips.
"For a rare victory, something equally rare," she replied, her voice light yet resonant, lingering like the toll of a distant bell.
I stared at her, my chest constricting. There was more beneath the surface. "What's she playing at?" A thread of suspicion coiled up my spine. The way she looked at Mei Xiu wasn't mere politeness—it was a challenge cloaked in grace, a gauntlet quietly thrown. I wanted to step between them, but I stood frozen, fists balled at my sides.
Xu Lin's disciples stood like proud shadows, their eyes alight with zeal. In the hall, women's voices rose in admiration, young cultivators seeing in her a reflection of their own aspirations. Within moments, the feast's spotlight swiveled—from Yang Ming's razor-edged charm to Xu Lin's piercing poise.
"Women like them know how to twist the game," I mused, a half-smile tugging at my lips. But what seared into me was the fleeting glance between Xu Lin and Yang Ming—swift, nearly invisible, yet I caught it. A wordless clash. "And here I stand, caught in the fray."
The air thickened, heavy as the calm before a tempest. Han Xue, master of the Infinite Wisdom Peak, glided forward. Her presence was a serene lake, but her words struck like stones breaking its surface.
"I offer a day for you to access and study my personal techniques," she declared, her calm voice ringing with understated strength.
The hall quaked. Murmurs swelled into a rumbling chorus, astonishment weaving through the crowd.
"That's… impossible!" someone stammered, voice trembling.
"Her techniques are sacred!" another cried, nearly shouting.
They weren't wrong. The Infinite Wisdom Peak hoarded secrets that cultivators would spill blood to glimpse. Han Xue held the key to that trove, and now she was prying it open—just a crack, but enough to rattle the foundations. My pulse raced.
"She doesn't mess around," I thought, my eyes riveted on her. Mei Xiu stood still beside me, but the glint in her gaze betrayed her hunger. She wanted this—craved it fiercely.
The whispers surged, a tide of voices:
"Is she serious?"
"No one's ever seen those techniques!"
"If Mei Xiu takes this, the scales tip…"
Han Xue's disciples flanked her, their smiles serene yet weighted with knowing. They understood their master never moved without mapping every shadow.
"This is a power play," I reflected, brow creasing. It wasn't mere kindness—it was a blade, wielded with finesse.
Mei Xiu tilted her head, her silence louder than any proclamation. I knew her—beneath that calm exterior, a storm churned.
"An unexpected gift, Master Han Xue," she said, her voice measured. "I thank you."
Han Xue's smile was warm yet enigmatic, stirring both comfort and confusion.
"Knowledge is power, Mei Xiu. And you wield it like no other."
The hall buzzed anew, but I held my tongue, my gaze darting between them. The dance of the peak masters was a tightrope stretched to breaking. "And here I am, watching the pieces scatter," I thought, my blood thrumming. Every move told a tale, every word doubled as a weapon.
The hall shimmered, but I was sinking inward. Mei Xiu was near, her scent—jasmine laced with iron—tugging me back.
"You're too quiet," she said, her voice soft, just for me.
"Just watching," I murmured, eyes still on Han Xue.
She faced me, a keen smile curving her lips.
"They scare you, don't they?"
"They're dangerous," I replied, nearly whispering. "But I'm more."
Her laugh cut through, sharp as shattered glass.
"You are, Kaelan. Never forget that."
I smiled back, but the weight in my chest refused to budge. The hall was a theater, and I was a player half-blind to the deck. Xu Lin with her fabled flower, Han Xue with her guarded secrets—they were forces I couldn't dismiss. But Mei Xiu… she was my anchor, my edge.
And I'd fight tooth and nail to keep that from slipping away—not from them, not from Yang Ming, not from the fate lurking in the dark.
The hall fell so silent I could hear my own blood roaring in my ears—a heavy, expectant hush, as if the world itself paused. Then he emerged—the young disciple, heir of the Sword Peak. His steps rang out against the stone floor, his plain robe rippling behind him like a shadowed tide. But it wasn't the cloth that seized every gaze. It was the sword intent he bore—raw and keen as an unsheathed blade, carving through the air. I, Kaelan, felt a chill snake up my spine, my muscles coiling, senses ignited.
"The Sword Peak offers a chance to enter the Sword Hall and comprehend the Sword Intent," he said, his voice steady, each word striking like steel on steel.
The silence deepened, almost impossibly so. Eyes flared wide, breaths caught in throats. The Sword Hall wasn't just a chamber—it was a living myth, a sanctum reserved for the untouchable. And now, to extend this to Mei Xiu, the master who'd clashed with the Sword Peak in blood? It was insanity—a match struck in a sea of oil.
"Trap or truce?" I wondered, my chest tightening. The air grew dense, hard to breathe.
Mei Xiu stood motionless, her eyes piercing the disciple. For a heartbeat, I saw a flicker in them—a jolt, almost surprise—but it vanished, swallowed by the icy mask I knew so well.
"I accept the reward," she said, her voice ringing out like a chime of frost.
Then, pandemonium. Whispers burst from every corner, a rising and falling hum like a swarm unleashed.
"She really accepted?"
"What does this mean?"
"Peace or a snare?"
My mind reeled, grasping for clarity. The Sword Peak heir gave a stiff, clipped bow and stepped back. But I wasn't fooled—this was no simple offering. It was a gambit in a deadly game, and I was smack in the middle.
"This feast is turning into a viper's nest," I thought, my eyes glued to Mei Xiu. She looked unruffled, but I knew her—inside, she was already miles ahead.
A sudden boom shattered the tension. The door crashed against the wall, and a figure strode from the gloom. Hair black as midnight, eyes glowing red like smoldering coals—Hei Tian. His name hit me like a thunderclap. A lone wolf, a cultivator who roamed the shadows, neither ally nor enemy—until this moment.
"Apologies for the interruption," he said, his voice edged with a cloying venom.
The hall stilled. Masters tensed in their seats, disciples shrank back instinctively. The air thickened, clinging like damp cloth. A shiver crept up my neck, my hand twitching toward a sword I hadn't yet drawn.
Mei Xiu advanced, her gaze hard as granite.
"If you've come to bring trouble, Hei Tian, this isn't the place," she said, her voice an unyielding barrier.
He chuckled—a curt, dry sound that twisted my insides.
"Trouble? No, Master Mei Xiu. I've come to offer my congratulations."
What? Congratulations? From Hei Tian? It was as absurd as a vulture bearing roses. The skepticism hung palpable in the air.
He stepped closer, his eyes sweeping the room. They paused on me for a fleeting second, a crooked grin flashing before returning to her.
"I brought a gift," he declared, drawing something from his robe. He unfurled his hand, and the hall collectively held its breath.
A Celestial Origin Crystal. A gem that gleamed as if it had swallowed the cosmos, throbbing with a power I could almost feel. It wasn't just rare—it was a fragment of the impossible.
"For you, Master Mei Xiu," he said, his tone softening, though a dark undercurrent laced it. "I know you'll use it well."
The murmurs flared again, louder, frantic. Masters exchanged looks—some blanched, others clenched their fists. A treasure like that didn't surface lightly. But I saw through the gesture.