Boom!
What a bold statement...
Coming from a person with an identity that no one knew.
But again, the strength must be on par with the words uttered, everyone here thought so...
Then came a brief silence under the weight that had just passed.
The mysterious expert didn't flinch. The eyes hidden under the hood lifted ever so slightly.
Despite being the center of everyone's gaze, none could see his face clearly, as if guarded by something invisible that covered it.
Then he peeked toward the private room above, not knowing what his next move should be.
The monks sitting close to him felt the danger, their backs soaked in sweat as a powerful killing intent locked onto their location.
Or no...
To be more accurate, it was the mysterious expert's seat that was locked under a powerful killing intent, not them.
Then, under everyone's surprised eyes,
He lifted one hand, slow and measured, palm outward, before letting it fall in a casual wave, as though brushing away dust.
A gust of wind visibly thumped aside in a circle, fluttering clothes, hands raised to shield, and gasps echoing...
What a show!
Is this the true demeanor of an expert?
Then he leaned back into his seat, posture loose, and spoke with a voice that carried cleanly through the hall.
"But a dog's bark is louder than its bite, it seems."
For a heartbeat, silence hung over the assembly.
The tall figure in the private room paused his hand as he was about to reach for the cup on the side. Turning his gaze back, the eyes behind the mask grew dangerous...
And all around him, the surrounding elders felt cold all over their backs.
Then the hall erupted.
Gasps, shouts, and indignant murmurs collided into a wave of noise.
"What did he just say?!"
"He—he called the Dustpetal Cult a dog?!"
"Has he lost his mind?! He's courting death right here in front of everyone!"
"Damn... Those maniacs probably won't spare us either if they want to attack, curse this... I shouldn't have come here today."
"You think too much. See if they would dare to do anything here under that Senior's presence. They are evil, not stupid."
The floor buzzed with commotion.
Cultivators glanced at each other, some with faces drained of color, others covering their mouths to hide nervous laughter, as though the words themselves might draw disaster upon them.
The female auctioneer on the stage looked around nervously, hesitating whether to proceed or not.
Then, remembering the Foundation Building guards they had, she breathed a sigh of relief...
The shock rolled from one corner of the hall to the next.
Some couldn't stop whispering, craning their necks to look at the man who had just thrown an insult at one of the most dangerous powers in the region.
In the Violet Needle Sect private room, the response was the exact opposite. A soft, rich laugh rang out.
Nie Baoyan giggled, lounging back in her chair, elbow resting on one knee, chin propped lazily on her hand.
Her lips curved into a grin that was entirely genuine.
"Oh, this is delightful," she said, her voice warm with amusement. "To think someone dares bite back at Dustpetal fools. Finally, someone with teeth." She chuckled again, the sound light.
Then again, looking toward the mysterious figure below, she paused in her thoughts...
Humming next, "Maybe instead of having more enemies, why not add one more friend instead?"
"Change of plan, Sect Master?" the elder on the side asked.
To which she simply smiled. "Having someone to bark back at those pigs? Of course, I will immediately change my mind."
At the same time.
Across the hall, the Windspike Caravan's room had none of that mirth. The fat old man shook his head, his expression tight.
"Reckless. Utterly reckless," he said under his breath, though the weight of his voice cut through the conversation around him. "Provoking them is one thing, but in public, before witnesses? He's chosen the date of his own death."
The thin old man seated beside him gave a sharp exhale, his expression a mix of disdain and resignation. "A reckless fool... Even if he is powerful, he shouldn't be acting like this."
"Another fool waiting to be crushed," he said.
High above them, Liam leaned forward slightly, his fingers tapping a slow rhythm against the carved wood of the armrest. His gaze was locked on the lone figure below.
"…Interesting," he murmured, almost to himself.
Unlike the others, there was no outrage, no laughter, no fear in his expression.
His lips curved, his eyes thoughtful, his red ruby eyes catching the light as if they were taking in every detail of the man's bearing.
"That calmness," Liam muttered, almost as if weighing the words. "That indifference, standing before three predators without so much as a twitch…"
"And this whole setup, as if fate itself was guiding him here..."
"Coupled with this sense of familiarity," Liam mused, there was no doubt about it...
His fingers stilled against the chair, and the corner of his mouth curved just a little higher.
"This one," he said softly, his tone carrying a quiet certainty, "he might be useful, my second dungeon diver."