The afternoon sun hung low over the Xuantian Sect, casting golden threads across the pavilion where Qin Ting lingered with Li Junning. His quiet confidence infused their shared moments, each gesture a subtle display of mastery. He wielded only the simplest arts—techniques so basic they might bore a lesser cultivator—yet in his hands, they shimmered with enigmatic grace.
To an untrained eye, even the mundane gleamed like a secret technique, veiling the depths of his true power. Li Junning, his Senior Sister, sensed the restraint behind his poise.
'He's holding back,' she mused, her sharp mind probing his performance. 'But how much?' The question danced in her thoughts, unanswered yet intoxicating, stoking her curiosity like embers catching flame.
Their conversation flowed like a spring river—effortless, fluid, alive with rhythm. Qin Ting's words wove a deft dance, each syllable laced with charm, his voice a low melody that resonated deeply. He spoke of the sect's history, fleeting philosophies, and the wind that carved the mountain's face, his eyes gleaming with knowing light.
Li Junning found herself captivated, her laughter brightening the air as the sun dipped toward the horizon, painting the sky in amber and rose. As twilight neared, they parted with a promise—a future meeting sealed in a quiet exchange of glances.
Qin Ting turned to her one last time, catching the flicker of admiration in her gaze. A faint smile curved his lips. Then, his form dissolved into a radiant beam of iridescent light—violet and gold, a streak of brilliance that cleaved the heavens.
He soared toward his spirit peak, his silhouette a comet against the fading day. Li Junning stood rooted, her breath caught as she traced his path across the sky. Her heart thudded with awe and something deeper, stirred by the enigma of Qin Ting.
'He's more than he seems,' she thought, her eyes fixed on the distant glow of his departure. The wind tugged at her robes, carrying the echo of his presence, and she knew—whatever secrets he guarded, they could shift the very tides of the sect.
When Qin Ting's boots touched the jade-stone courtyard of his private palace, the air rippled with his presence.
From the lengthening shadows, Nie You emerged—a lean, hawkish figure whose sharp silhouette cut through the amber glow. A smile stretched across his face as he dipped into a low bow, his voice ringing with fervor. "Congratulations to the Young Master on his boundless divine might, which has shaken the very heavens!"
Around them, the Death Guards—hulking sentinels in obsidian armor—stood like statues carved from night. Servants in flowing silver robes and maids with bowed heads mirrored Nie You's reverence, their movements synchronized. Their voices rose in unison, rich and resonant, filling the courtyard with awe. "Congratulations to the Young Master on his boundless divine might, which has shaken the very heavens!"
Qin Ting's lips curled into a faint, self-assured smile, amusement dancing in his sapphire eyes. With a careless flick of his hand, he brushed aside the praise, his tone smooth and unhurried. "They were nothing more than two insignificant ants—scarcely worth notice. Still, their little dance proved fruitful. I've unmasked the puppeteer pulling their strings."
Nie You's gaze sharpened, his eyes narrowing to glinting slits. "Could it be…?" he ventured, his voice a low murmur laced with suspicion.
Qin Ting tilted his head in a deliberate nod, precise as a blade's edge. "Indeed."
A chill hardened Nie You's tone, his words thick with contempt. "That wretch—cowering in the shadows, feigning submission—still dares to spin webs against you from the dark!"
Qin Ting's smile deepened, a soft chuckle slipping from his throat like a ribbon of silk. "How swiftly his iron grip on the Holy Son's mantle was pried loose," he mused, his voice a velvet caress woven with quiet glee.
"It was never a question of if he'd strike—just when his festering ambition would drag him into the open. And now that the fool has bared his fangs, stepping brashly into the light… crushing this insolent gnat will be child's play."
Nie You dipped his head, his loyalty unshaken. If his young master faced this treachery with such calm, he too would stand resolute. His devotion burned absolute, bordering on zealous.
Straightening, Nie You smoothed his expression, tension easing from his shoulders. His faith in Qin Ting was a fortress, impregnable and eternal. He pressed on, his voice steady. "There's another matter, Young Master. That person, Ye Qiu, has surfaced."
Qin Ting's brow arched, a spark of intrigue flaring in his gaze. "Oh?" he murmured, the syllable dripping with curiosity, like a predator catching the scent of prey.
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Tucked within the mist-wreathed slopes of a sacred mountain, a lone figure reclined in a rattan chair outside a thatched hut.
Clad in flowing white robes, the man rested with eyes gently shut, sunlight spilling over him like a golden shroud. His plain yet striking face held a quiet, magnetic charm. A soft breeze teased his dark hair, and he exuded unshakable ease, as if the world's chaos could never touch him. To an outsider, he might seem a mere hermit lost in repose.
Who could fathom that this tranquil soul was Jiang Zhongbai, the eldest True Disciple of the Xuantian Sect?
At just over forty, Jiang Zhongbai was a youthful titan among cultivators, his vigor contrasting the sect's weathered masters. He had conquered the Divine Platform Realm, a feat marking him as a power beyond reckoning.
His cultivation surged with relentless grace, but his true brilliance lay in his mastery of the Dao. Divine arts, arcane to others, unfolded before him like a scroll laid bare; he grasped their essence instantly and wielded them with heavenly precision.
Long ago, an ancient expert had whispered in awe: "Jiang Zhongbai is a prodigy of the ages—unrivaled in his time, all but anointed as the Holy Son." His name had once shimmered with promise, a beacon poised to illuminate the sect's future.
Then Qin Ting emerged, a supernova igniting the sky.
In a mere blink, Qin Ting soared to unimaginable heights: the Divine Wheel Realm at sixteen, its pinnacle by eighteen. His brilliance burned so fiercely that it eclipsed Jiang Zhongbai's light. Wisely, Jiang Zhongbai withdrew, avoiding a contest with the younger prodigy's radiance.
Now, among the sect's newest disciples, Qin Ting's name echoed like a sacred chant, while Jiang Zhongbai's had faded into obscurity—a relic buried beneath a brighter star.
A faint twitch broke Jiang Zhongbai's serene mask. With a graceful sweep of his hand, a jade talisman shimmered into existence, its polished surface glinting like starlight. His dark eyes, sharp and unyielding, followed the glowing script igniting upon it, each character a silent barb piercing his calm.
"Qin Ting has ascended to the Divine Spirit Realm. Song Changge's cultivation lies shattered beyond repair, and Elder Zhang teeters on the brink of death—felled by a single, ruthless strike."
Jiang Zhongbai absorbed the words with an impassive stare, though a shadow crept into his face, etching faint lines of strain. 'I acted too hastily,' he mused, his fingers tightening around the talisman's cool edges.
He had slipped a sacred weapon to Song Changge—a veiled dagger aimed at Qin Ting's rise. Yet the gambit had crumbled, exposing his intent too soon.
Qin Ting's ascent clawed at him, a relentless tide he could scarcely fathom. Sixteen to the Divine Wheel Realm, eighteen to the Divine Spirit Realm—the speed defied reason. 'How does one soar so fast?' he wondered, unease coiling through his chest. With every boundary Qin Ting shattered, the shadow in Jiang Zhongbai's heart grew sharper, colder.
He held no delusions about his own prowess. Qin Ting burned like wildfire, near-blinding, yet Jiang Zhongbai clung to a quiet certainty: he could face the younger prodigy on even footing—perhaps even triumph. But it wasn't Qin Ting alone who stirred the dread pooling in his gut.
Beyond the boy loomed a greater specter: Qin Ting's father, Emperor Qin. His name thundered across the heavens, a force shaking the Xuantian Sect's foundations. A great immortal shrouded in boundless power, he towered over the Eastern Wilderness—resourceful, cunning, ruthlessly precise, the archetype of a hero born to define an era.
Over the years, his influence had seeped into the sect like ink into water. Elders, once steadfast, now bent to his will—some in whispered allegiance, others openly. The Xuantian Sect teetered on bearing the Qin name, its ancient legacy entwined with the patriarch's iron grip. Jiang Zhongbai felt the ground shifting beneath him, his once-solid standing crumbling.
And where did that leave Jiang Zhongbai?
There had been a time when he stood taller, his footing secure. While his master, Grandmaster Xuan Dao, lived, the balance held firm. Xuan Dao, a formidable immortal, had rivaled the Qin Family's might—a beacon whose disciples and retainers wielded great influence.
Under that aegis, Jiang Zhongbai had flourished, his name whispered as a contender for Holy Son, his future ablaze with promise. But time turned its cruel blade. As Xuan Dao's life flickered out, he staked everything on a final gambit—to shield his disciple and carve a path to ascension.
In a desperate bid to breach the Manifest God Realm, he poured his soul into the attempt—and failed. His death struck like a collapsing mountain, its echoes rippling through the sect. With it, Jiang Zhongbai's power eroded, Xuan Dao's legacy dimming daily.
Once, he had swayed the Law Enforcement Court through Elder Zhang, a steadfast ally whose influence bent the court to Jiang Zhongbai's will. But that too had crumbled. Qin Ting's strike had left Elder Zhang broken, and Jiang Zhongbai knew what followed. The new head of the court would retreat to neutrality, severing the last threads of favor owed to the Xuan Dao faction.
'All debts are settled now,' he thought bitterly. 'Heh, it won't be long before they cast poor Elder Zhang out like trash, will it?'
Jiang Zhongbai exhaled, the sound heavy with resignation. The air felt thick, pressing against his chest as he murmured, "It seems I must prepare sooner than I'd hoped…"