The waiter returned quickly.
A small jar of Cloud River White Wine was placed on the table, followed by a plate of steamed river fish, a bowl of spirit rice, and a dish of pickled bamboo shoots. The fragrance was simple, warm, and clean. After twenty days of cultivation, even ordinary food seemed to carry a rare charm.
Fang Lin picked up his chopsticks.
He did not eat quickly.
A person who had been in seclusion for twenty days might be hungry, but Chen Yuan was only a cautious Middle Qi Conjunction rogue cultivator. Such a person would not devour food like a starving beast, especially in a wine house filled with loose tongues and sharper eyes.
He took one bite of the fish.
Soft.
Fresh.
Slightly sweet.
His shoulders loosened a little.
For a brief moment, Fang Lin almost felt like a normal being eating dinner in a mortal city.
Then the rough voice from the nearby table spoke again.
"The rumors are true. Disciples from the major powers have entered Rivercloud City. Not just ordinary disciples either. Real geniuses."
The man who spoke was a broad-faced rogue cultivator wearing a sleeveless brown robe. His arms were thick, and a scar crossed his chin. His aura was at Late Qi Conjunction Realm, but his confidence was larger than his cultivation.
Across from him sat a thin man in blue robes, a young woman with a wine cup in hand, and an old cultivator whose beard was stained with sauce. Their table had clearly come for food, but rumors had already become the main dish.
The young woman leaned forward, her eyes bright. "Say the names properly. Last time you said a genius arrived, it turned out to be a merchant's nephew with a fancy belt."
The broad-faced man slapped the table lightly. "This time it is real."
The thin man snorted. "If your news is wrong again, you pay for the wine."
The broad-faced man's expression stiffened for half a breath.
Then he coughed. "Fine. Listen carefully."
Fang Lin lowered his eyes and picked up another piece of fish.
His expression remained dull.
But his attention sharpened.
The broad-faced man lowered his voice slightly, though not enough to hide it from the surrounding tables.
"From the Thousand Leaf Immortal Sect, Ye Qinglan has arrived."
The young woman's expression changed. "Ye Qinglan?"
Even the old cultivator stopped chewing.
The broad-faced man nodded, satisfied by their reaction. "Late Spirit Foundation Realm. Green-white robes, leaf patterns on her sleeves, pale green aura with white light. They say she cultivates wood, life, and wind branches. Calm as still water, but when she moves, her sword is like a leaf cutting through rain."
The thin man frowned. "Thousand Leaf Immortal Sect owns Rivercloud City. It makes sense they would send someone."
"They sent more than someone," the broad-faced man said. "Ye Qinglan came with several Spirit Foundation followers. Not weak ones either. One of them defeated a Crimson Flame Hall deacon yesterday with only three moves."
The young woman smiled slightly. "Good. Crimson Flame Hall has been too arrogant lately."
At another table, a red-robed cultivator glanced over with an ugly expression, but after hearing the name Thousand Leaf Immortal Sect, he quietly turned back to his drink.
Some names were heavy enough to press down anger.
Fang Lin's chopsticks paused for a breath.
Ye Qinglan.
Thousand Leaf Immortal Sect.
Green-white robes.
Wood, life, wind.
He quietly memorized the name.
The broad-faced man continued, "From Heavenly Sword Lake, Jian Wuchen has also arrived."
This time, several people nearby reacted.
A young swordsman sitting near the railing straightened instinctively, as if hearing the name alone made his back remember discipline.
"Jian Wuchen," the thin man repeated. "The one with the silver-blue sword aura?"
"That one," the broad-faced man said. "Late Spirit Foundation Realm. White-blue sword robes, silver lake emblem, long sword at his back. Proud enough to make other proud people seem humble."
The young woman laughed softly. "Sword cultivators."
The young swordsman near the railing turned his head and said coldly, "Pride is natural when the sword is pure."
The young woman looked at him, then smiled. "And yet you are listening to gossip in a wine house."
The swordsman's face reddened.
Several people chuckled.
Fang Lin lifted his wine cup and hid the faint curve at the corner of his mouth.
The broad-faced man grinned, enjoying the small commotion. "Jian Wuchen fought Chi Yao from Scarlet Sun Palace near the eastern market three days ago."
The thin man's eyes widened. "Chi Yao is here too?"
"Of course she is here. Late Spirit Foundation Realm. Red-gold palace robes, sun-thread embroidery, golden-red aura. Beautiful enough to make men forget caution and fierce enough to burn them for staring too long."
The old cultivator finally swallowed his food. "Who won?"
The table became quiet.
The broad-faced man leaned back and raised one finger.
"No one."
The young woman frowned. "No one?"
"They fought thirty moves. Jian Wuchen's sword Qi was like moonlight on a cold lake. Chi Yao's flame ribbon burned through three street formations. Half the eastern market nearly collapsed before Thousand Leaf patrols interfered."
The thin man looked disappointed. "So it was a draw?"
The broad-faced man shook his head. "Not exactly. Jian Wuchen cut through her flame ribbon once. Chi Yao burned the sleeve of his sword robe. Both claimed they were only testing."
The young woman rolled her eyes. "Of course. They were only testing each other."
That earned real laughter from nearby tables.
Even the old cultivator smiled, sauce still on his beard.
Fang Lin took a slow sip of wine.
The wine was mild, slightly sweet, and carried a faint warmth as it entered the stomach. It was not strong enough to affect his mind, but it softened the edge of fatigue left by twenty days of cultivation.
He kept listening.
The broad-faced man lowered his voice again.
"From Black Tortoise Mountain, Xuan Beihai arrived."
The atmosphere changed slightly.
Black Tortoise Mountain.
Fang Lin's eyes remained lowered.
This was the name connected to Venerated Black Tortoise Mountain's wider influence. Black Mountain Gate stood beneath its shadow, and the old vitality leaves had come from that direction.
The broad-faced man's expression became more serious.
"Peak Spirit Foundation Realm."
The thin man inhaled lightly. "Peak?"
"Yes. Black and deep green armor-robes. Dark green aura mixed with black-brown. Uses a heavy shield and fist techniques. They say his defense is terrifying."
The old cultivator nodded slowly. "Black Tortoise Mountain disciples are famous for defense. If Xuan Beihai came, then Black Mountain Gate's position will become stronger."
The young woman's smile faded. "That means the city will become more troublesome."
The broad-faced man grunted. "It already has. Xuan Beihai fought Gu Man from Ancient Beast Hall outside the northern arena."
"Gu Man?" the thin man asked.
"Late Spirit Foundation Realm. Dark green and bronze beast-hide armor. Wild Qi, beast blood, body combat. Loud voice, loud laugh, and apparently a loud fist."
The young woman raised her cup. "Sounds charming."
The thin man gave her a strange look.
She shrugged. "I said sounds. I did not say safe."
The broad-faced man laughed. "Gu Man tried to break Xuan Beihai's defense for half an incense stick. Claws, fists, beast-blood aura, even summoned a low-level spirit beast. Nothing worked. Xuan Beihai stood there with his shield and did not move more than three steps."
The old cultivator's eyes narrowed. "So Xuan Beihai won?"
"He won by not falling," the broad-faced man said. "Gu Man admitted defeat first, then dragged him to drink."
The young woman blinked. "After losing?"
"He said any man who could take his fists without cursing deserved wine."
The thin man sighed. "Ancient Beast Hall people are all strange."
"Strange, yes," the old cultivator said. "But not necessarily evil. They fight openly. That is already better than many."
Fang Lin's gaze moved faintly.
That sentence carried some weight.
In the cultivation world, open violence was sometimes cleaner than smiling kindness.
The broad-faced man continued, "Then there is Yue Qingning from Moon Reflection Valley."
The noisy table became quieter.
Even those at the surrounding tables listened more carefully.
Moon Reflection Valley disciples were always spoken of with a different tone. Not fear exactly. Not admiration either. More like people discussing moonlight reflected on deep water. Beautiful, but impossible to grasp.
"Middle Spirit Foundation Realm," the broad-faced man said. "Pale blue and silver robes, moon patterns, silver-white aura with blue mist. They say her voice is gentle, but if you hear her singing in battle, you are probably already inside an illusion."
The young woman's eyes brightened. "She fought?"
"She did. Three Spirit Foundation followers from Scarlet Sun Palace tried to block her group near the lotus bridge. She did not injure them. She only looked at them and said one sentence."
"What sentence?" the thin man asked.
The broad-faced man spread his hands. "No one knows. But after that, the three followers attacked empty air for half an incense stick while Yue Qingning walked past them."
A strange silence followed.
Then the old cultivator sighed.
"Illusion cultivators are the reason I distrust pretty scenery."
The young woman looked at him. "Senior, that sounds like a personal story."
"It is a painful story."
"Was she beautiful?"
"Very."
"Then you deserved it."
The old cultivator stared at her.
The broad-faced man laughed so hard his wine nearly spilled.
Fang Lin lowered his cup.
A faint smile flickered across his face, then vanished.
Yue Qingning.
Moon Reflection Valley.
Illusion, water, moonlight, soul.
Neutral on the surface, perhaps closer to no side than any side. Still, Fang Lin remembered the earlier rumors: some people placed Moon Reflection Valley near Thousand Leaf Immortal Sect and Silent Night Pavilion. Others called them neutral. That meant their position was either unclear, or deliberately hidden.
Both possibilities were worth remembering.
The thin man at the table leaned forward.
"What about Silent Night Pavilion?"
This time, the broad-faced man did not answer immediately.
His earlier excitement faded. His fingers tightened around his wine cup, and he glanced around instinctively.
The young woman's smile also faded.
No one spoke loudly when mentioning Silent Night Pavilion.
After a moment, the broad-faced man said, "Ning Shuang."
The name was quiet.
Almost swallowed by the wine house noise.
"Late Spirit Foundation Realm. Black-grey robes with dark violet lining. Smoky black aura. Daggers and needles. Assassination arts."
The thin man frowned. "Did she fight?"
"She tested Xuan Beihai."
The old cultivator's brows rose. "And?"
"She failed to break his defense fully, but she left a cut on his wrist."
The table fell silent.
Xuan Beihai, who had withstood Gu Man's full assault, had been cut by Ning Shuang.
Only the wrist.
Only a cut.
But sometimes a small wound said more than a large battle.
The young woman whispered, "Was she injured?"
The broad-faced man shook his head. "No one knows. Some say she appeared behind him and vanished before he turned. Some say she never appeared at all, and the cut simply opened."
The thin man swallowed. "Then how do they know it was her?"
The broad-faced man gave him a flat look.
"Because Xuan Beihai said her name afterward."
No one laughed this time.
Fang Lin's eyes lowered slightly.
Silent Night Pavilion.
Shadow.
Assassination.
Concealment.
That sect was dangerous.
Not because they were stronger than everyone else.
Because they understood the value of not being seen.
Fang Lin knew very well how terrifying that could be.
The rough man drank a mouthful of wine and seemed eager to escape the discomfort of that topic. "There is also Luo Qianji from Hundred Formation Tower."
The mood eased slightly.
The thin man immediately groaned. "Formation masters. Worse than sword cultivators."
The young swordsman near the railing turned again.
The thin man quickly added, "In a completely different and equally respectable way."
The young swordsman stared at him for a moment, then looked away.
The young woman laughed behind her cup.
The broad-faced man said, "Luo Qianji is Middle Spirit Foundation Realm. Blue-grey robes, golden formation sparks around his aura, always smiling. He trapped two Scarlet Sun Palace followers inside a street formation and made them pay compensation before releasing them."
The young woman raised her brows. "Did they pay?"
"They paid."
"How much?"
"Three hundred low-grade spirit stones each."
The old cultivator sighed with admiration. "That is not a battle. That is business."
"Formation masters call it both," the broad-faced man said.
Fang Lin quietly memorized the name.
A man who could trap Spirit Foundation cultivators in the middle of a city and ask for payment afterward was either confident, shameless, or both.
Usually both.
The waiter returned to Fang Lin's table and asked softly, "Guest, would you like more wine?"
Fang Lin glanced at the small jar.
Half remained.
"No."
The waiter nodded and left.
At the nearby table, the broad-faced man began naming the remaining arrivals.
"Pill Dawn Sect sent Su Lianxue."
The young woman's expression changed at once. "The alchemist?"
"Yes. Middle Spirit Foundation Realm. White-gold robes with pale red pill-cloud embroidery. Warm gold and soft green aura. They say she did not fight at all."
The thin man frowned. "Then why mention her?"
The broad-faced man looked at him like he had asked why water was wet.
"Because after everyone fought, she sold pills to all of them."
The old cultivator chuckled. "Smart girl."
"She made more than the fighters," the broad-faced man said. "Healing pills, Qi recovery pills, burn salves, sword wound powder, illusion-clearing pills. By sunset, half the geniuses had lost face and she had gained a mountain of spirit stones."
The young woman smiled. "That is my favorite victory so far."
Fang Lin agreed silently.
A cultivator who profited from other people's pride was worth watching.
Finally, the broad-faced man's voice became lower again.
"And from Demon Suppression Temple, Kong Mingyuan has arrived."
The old cultivator's expression turned serious.
The young woman stopped playing with her cup.
The thin man frowned. "Demon Suppression Temple always appears when ruins are involved."
"Of course," the broad-faced man said. "White-black-gold temple robes. Late Spirit Foundation Realm. Staff, sealing talismans, white-gold aura with black sealing marks. Severe face. Looks like he was born disappointed."
The young woman whispered, "Some people cultivate for immortality. Some cultivate to become everyone's uncle."
The old cultivator nearly choked on his wine.
The broad-faced man grinned, then quickly looked around to make sure no temple disciple had heard.
"Kong Mingyuan declared that the Demon Sealing Ruins inheritance may be dangerous and contaminated by demonic Qi. He nearly fought Ning Shuang from Silent Night Pavilion after saying shadow techniques walk too close to forbidden arts."
The thin man's face changed. "Nearly fought Silent Night Pavilion?"
"Yes. But Ye Qinglan from Thousand Leaf Immortal Sect appeared and stopped it."
The young woman's eyes narrowed. "So Thousand Leaf Immortal Sect and Silent Night Pavilion are standing together?"
"Maybe," the broad-faced man said. "Maybe not. Some say Ye Qinglan only stopped a fight in her city. Others say Thousand Leaf Immortal Sect, Moon Reflection Valley, and Silent Night Pavilion have some silent understanding this time."
The old cultivator shook his head. "Moon Reflection Valley is neutral."
"Neutral on paper," the broad-faced man replied. "But neutral people also choose where to stand when knives are drawn."
The table grew quiet.
Fang Lin's eyes deepened.
Now the shape was clearer.
Thousand Leaf Immortal Sect.
Moon Reflection Valley.
Silent Night Pavilion.
At least rumored to be aligned, or close enough that people were watching them together.
On the other side stood Heavenly Sword Lake, Scarlet Sun Palace, and Black Tortoise Mountain, each connected to one of the Rivercloud sects.
River Sword Sect.
Crimson Flame Hall.
Black Mountain Gate.
The local sects were not merely local.
They were shadows cast by larger powers.
Ancient Beast Hall, Hundred Formation Tower, and Pill Dawn Sect remained neutral for now.
Demon Suppression Temple claimed neutrality on the surface, but its appearance carried a different smell. Fang Lin did not know its deeper background, but something about the way people lowered their voices when speaking of it made him cautious.
Demonic contamination.
Again that phrase.
Again that convenient knife.
Fang Lin picked up his wine cup and drank slowly.
His expression remained ordinary, but his fingers tightened around the cup for half a breath before loosening.
The Demon Sealing Ruins had already drawn the eyes of major sect disciples.
That meant Rivercloud City would become more dangerous every day.
It also meant more information would gather here.
Danger and opportunity had arrived together.
As always, neither had knocked politely.
At the nearby table, the young woman leaned back and sighed. "So many geniuses in one city. Someone is going to die soon."
The old cultivator nodded. "Someone always dies when young geniuses gather."
The thin man looked uneasy. "Then should we leave Rivercloud City?"
The broad-faced man raised his wine cup. "Leave? And miss the news?"
The young woman looked at him coldly. "You value gossip more than life?"
He thought seriously for a moment.
Then said, "Depends on the gossip."
This time, even Fang Lin almost smiled.
Almost.
Then a new voice came from the stairway.
Clear.
Young.
Cold.
"Then perhaps you should hear it properly."
The second floor quieted slightly.
Fang Lin did not turn immediately.
He only lowered his cup.
A young woman in green-white robes stepped onto the second floor, her sleeves embroidered with layered leaf patterns. Her aura was restrained, but even so, the air around her carried a faint pale green light.
Behind her stood two followers at the Spirit Foundation Realm.
The broad-faced man's face went stiff.
The young woman at his table slowly lowered her wine cup.
Someone whispered the name first.
"Ye Qinglan…"
Fang Lin's eyes remained calm.
The first major sect disciple had appeared before him sooner than expected.
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