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Li You Ran turned and walked out, but the moment he passed through the archway. He sprinted back in, his expression uncharacteristically wild!
"THE QI—!" He gasped. "The Xuan Core's Qi has been sensed! Western district! High-level fluctuations! Multiple experts are already gathering!"
For five years, none of them had ever seen Li You Ran, the elegant, composed, calculating Li You Ran, speak in such a frantic tone.
The ten white-robed warriors jumped to their feet in unison.
The middle-aged man's voice rang like a battle horn. "All out — to the west!"
A sudden gust of wind followed his command.
WHOOSH!
Ten figures became streaks of blue and brown light as they exploded into motion, their powerful Xuan Qi blazing through the rain. Water rippled violently where they stepped, and rooftops shuddered beneath their speed.
Their silhouettes disappeared into the night, as if the storm itself had swallowed them.
Li You Ran stood frozen at the edge of the courtyard.
His masked face lifted toward the heavens, where thunder echoed like a prophecy.
"…Why does this dread not leave me?" He whispered.
The rain did not answer, but the sky seemed heavier than before.
------
Western Tian Xiang City
The rain was relentless, like cold needles of water lashed down from the stormy heavens, as if the skies themselves were preparing for a reckoning.
Inside a broken, battered little house hidden in the twisting alleys of the western district, a single oil lamp flickered.
Its flame swayed weakly, fighting the wind sneaking through broken windowpanes. The wooden walls were old and cracked. The thatched roof threatened to give way under the pressure of the rain.
Yet, within this miserable structure, a tempest far greater than the storm outside was about to be born.
Jun Mo Xie sat cross-legged on the rough floor, an oni mask concealing his face. His eyes were half-lidded in thought as he stared at the object on the table before him.
It was round, almost glassy, dark in color, like a black pearl on the verge of devouring light itself. And yet, beneath that darkness, faint pulses of energy beat like a sleeping dragon's breath.
This was a level six Xuan Core. I might not be the legendary level nine that would incite madness, but still rare and potent enough to drown a hundred lesser cultivators in envy. One such core could buy a noble title, and ten might buy a small kingdom.
Jun Mo Xie reached out slowly.
Crack...
The wood beneath his knee creaked in protest, but he did not move.
This storm of greed was inevitable.
So many Xuan experts had slithered into Tian Xiang in recent days that it felt like the city was choking on power. Not even the nobility could keep count. At least two of the Eight Great Masters were rumored to be hiding somewhere inside the capital.
Maybe dozens, no, possibly hundreds, of Spirit and Sky Xuan warriors lurked under false identities.
A dormant beast... waiting for the scent of prey.
And the bait was in his hand.
Jun Mo Xie closed his eyes and exhaled.
"This chaos… I'll use it," He whispered to himself, fingers curling slightly. "While they tear each other apart for smoke, I'll carve my blades."
He extended his palm.
Hummmmmmmmm.
His Aura surged. It burst forth from his core, rushing through his meridians like a tidal wave, and then funneled through his outstretched fingers, straight into the Xuan Core.
BOOM!
A violent golden-black light exploded out from the orb, flooding the tiny shack in a storm of power. The old structure shook violently, walls groaned, dust burst from the ceiling, and windows shattered outward as the wave of energy rippled into the sky like a beacon.
Outside, the very air distorted.
The Aura was terrifying and chaotic.
It was far, far too noticeable.
------
Magnificent Jewel Hall
At the topmost floor of a lavish pagoda deep in the eastern district, three white-haired men sat in meditation. The chamber was silent, save for the rhythmic tapping of water droplets against the glass windows.
Then suddenly, their eyes shot open at once.
CRACK—!
"What is that Aura?!" The man seated in the center shouted.
"It's—!" The second elder's voice cracked in shock.
"…The peak level nine Xuan Core!" The Eighth Elder spoke excitedly.
A pulse of fear, greed, and awe flashed in their gazes. Each one was a Spirit Xuan master, and even they trembled at the idea of such a treasure being so suddenly awakened.
"Let's go!" The three flanking elders barked.
BOOM!
They smashed through the roof, their bodies blurring as they shot into the sky, trailing auras of icy blue and fiery red.
...
Swish—!!
Just moments after the elders vanished, four new figures leapt into the broken chamber, their robes billowing with the wind. Three men and one woman, all of them brimming with powerful Auras.
The woman stepped forward, licking her lips in excitement.
"Hehe… A level nine Xuan Core? How delightful," She purred, her eyes gleaming beneath the rain-dampened veil. "It'd be such a shame to miss out on a party like this."
Without waiting for a reply, she darted upward, trailing violet energy.
The three men exchanged glances.
The first two followed the woman, flying close in formation, but the third man, a quiet figure with sharp eyes, intentionally drifted back.
He kept his distance.
------
Southern Tian Xiang, Foreign Embassy
The rain drenched the pavilion, running down marble columns and onto the armored shoulders of six Sky Xuan warriors standing at attention. They were silent, unmoving, like statues rather than men.
Tap... Tap... Tap...
A tall, thin figure emerged from the shadows of the stone doorway. His face was wrinkled, thin like paper stretched over bone, but his eyes burned like twin suns.
The six men immediately stood straighter.
He said nothing at first, only lifted his chin and let the wind wash over him.
And finally, in a voice so soft it almost vanished under the rain, he spoke.
"Let's go."
That was all.
The men responded like clockwork, spreading out with military precision, their eyes sharpening with focus.
Each of them was a deadly force in his own right. And yet they obeyed this man like disciples before a god.
His Xuan Qi level was unknown. He had never shown it.
But the fear in their eyes told more than words ever could.
------
Inside the Western Wing of the Guest Pavilion
CRREEAAAK!
The ancient wooden door opened with an agonizing moan.
The rain outside whispered and hissed, tapping like a million curious fingers on the rooftop and windows, as if it too wanted to know what was being said behind these walls.
Inside, the scent of ink, sandalwood, and faintly aged scrolls hung in the air.
A voice, soft yet sonorous, slipped into the room like the glide of silk over porcelain.
"Brother Shi…" The man began with a teasing smile, "…isn't this what you've been waiting for all along? Are you not itching to go and… capture it?"
The speaker was a tall man in flowing white robes, his figure slender but upright like a bamboo reed in a gentle breeze.
Despite the pouring rain outside, his robe was almost dry, stained only slightly at the edges as if the water itself dared not linger on him.
Each step he took as he entered was slow, deliberate, yet elegant.
This man was none other than the Yu Tang Empire's imperial teacher, the fabled Scholar Saint, Fei Meng Chen.
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