The Hall of Feathers had become a furnace of laughter.
Not the warm laughter of celebration.
Not the relieved laughter of old comrades sharing stories after battle.
No.
This was something colder.
Sharper.
It rolled across the enormous chamber like shards of broken glass scattering across stone.
Some elders leaned back in their carved seats, their shoulders shaking as they laughed openly. Others covered their mouths with sleeves while their eyes glimmered with cruel amusement. A few did not bother hiding their disdain at all—fingers pointed directly toward the center of the hall.
Even some of the disciples standing along the edges whispered and snickered among themselves.
The sound echoed upward into the vaulted ceiling where golden carvings of wings and feathers caught the flickering torchlight.
And in the middle of it all—
Li Xian stood alone.
Silver hair flowed down her back like strands of moonlight.
Her posture was perfectly straight.
Her chin slightly lifted.
Her robes of pale silver hung around her like quiet snowfall, untouched by the chaos around her.
She did not flinch.
She did not argue.
She did not lower her gaze.
She simply stood there.
Unaffected.
At least… to the outside world.
But through Lu Mao's eyes, the moment felt very different.
While the world laughed, she remained still.
And somehow that silence felt heavier than all the voices combined.
Behind Lu Mao, Yan Mei, Bao Fu, Chen Yuan, and Marco stood rigidly.
Their faces carried the same mixture of confusion and disbelief.
They had only arrived at the guild yesterday.
Yet even they could feel it.
The atmosphere in the hall was wrong.
Insults between cultivators were common.
Men cursed each other all the time.
In taverns.
In markets.
Even on the battlefield.
But those were just words thrown in passing.
This…
This was something else.
This was deliberate humiliation.
And it was happening in the most prestigious hall of the entire guild.
Lu Mao felt his jaw tighten.
He rarely allowed anger to take root.
Anger clouded judgment.
Anger made people careless.
And careless people died early.
Yet as he watched the scene unfolding in front of him, he felt something stir in his chest.
His blood warmed.
Just a little.
And as the laughter continued to echo between the towering pillars of the hall, his thoughts drifted backward.
To the night before.
To how this entire morning had begun.
The night before had been… far less glorious.
After guiding them through the outer courtyards of the guild city, Li Xian had finally stopped in front of a narrow building tucked between two taller stone structures.
"This is where you will stay," she had said simply.
No explanation.
No ceremony.
She pushed open the door and stepped aside.
Lu Mao peered inside.
Dust.
That was the first thing he noticed.
Dust coated everything.
It lay thick across the floorboards like pale grey snow. Cobwebs hung from the wooden beams above, swaying gently whenever the wind slipped through the broken window.
One of the doors hung crooked on its hinges.
Another had no handle at all.
The air smelled faintly of damp wood and old stone.
Lu Mao blinked.
"…this place hasn't been opened in years."
Li Xian didn't respond.
She merely looked at them with those quiet silver eyes.
"You will clean it yourselves."
That was the entire explanation.
Then she turned and left.
For several seconds no one moved.
Bao Fu stared at the room with an expression of pure despair.
Marco scratched the back of his head.
Yan Mei sighed and rolled up her sleeves.
"Well," she muttered, "we're not sleeping outside."
So the cleaning began.
Chen Yuan approached the task with calm efficiency, organizing broken furniture and sweeping dust into piles.
Marco lifted heavy objects like they weighed nothing, hauling cracked tables and rotten beams out into the alley.
Yan Mei scrubbed the floors with a determination that made the wooden boards squeal.
Lu Mao… did what thieves did best.
He explored.
While the others focused on cleaning the visible mess, Lu Mao quietly checked corners and wall panels.
Hidden compartments.
Loose bricks.
Secret storage spaces.
A place abandoned for years was exactly the kind of location where someone might have left things behind.
And sure enough—
Behind a half-rotten cabinet he found a small hollow space in the wall.
Inside lay a stack of relatively clean bedding.
"See?" he said with a grin. "Fortune favors clever people."
Bao Fu, who had been leaning against a wall looking half dead, groaned.
"You're lucky you found that… because I'm about to die."
He slid down the wall and nearly fell asleep right there.
By the time the room was finally somewhat livable, the moon had already climbed high above the rooftops.
They slept.
But not for long.
Because just before dawn—
The bell rang.
The sound rolled across the city like distant thunder.
Deep.
Resonant.
Impossible to ignore.
Morning had arrived.
And with it the beginning of their new lives.
They dressed quickly and stepped outside.
For the first time since entering the guild grounds, Lu Mao was able to truly see the inner city.
And what he saw made him slow his steps.
The city stretched far wider than he had imagined.
Stone streets twisted through clusters of tall buildings built from crimson brick and polished white stone. Balconies jutted outward from upper floors, draped with banners embroidered with symbols and sigils.
Every banner marked a different faction within the guild.
Some carried the image of crossed swords.
Others showed spiraling patterns representing qi.
One banner displayed a black beast surrounded by chains.
The streets were alive.
Merchants called out from stalls packed with weapons, herbs, talismans, and artifacts.
Food vendors stirred steaming pots that released fragrant clouds into the morning air.
Metalworkers hammered glowing steel on anvils while sparks danced like fireflies.
But the most fascinating sight for Lu Mao was the people.
Disciples moved everywhere.
And no two looked alike.
Some wore tight dark clothing designed for speed and stealth—the unmistakable attire of thieves and scouts.
Others walked with massive weapons strapped to their backs.
Axes.
Spears.
War hammers as large as millstones.
Lu Mao spotted sword cultivators whose blades rested calmly at their waists, their expressions serene and distant.
Further ahead, a strange group carried floating metal spheres that hovered beside them like obedient spirits.
"Sphere cultivators," Chen Yuan murmured quietly.
Marco's eyes lit up when he noticed several warriors wearing tribal armor decorated with bone and leather patterns similar to those from his homeland.
Some cultivators carried weapons Lu Mao couldn't even name.
Curved hook blades.
Chain weapons that rattled softly with each step.
Twin daggers that glimmered with strange inscriptions.
Each disciple wore robes marked with the insignia of their faction.
Different colors.
Different crests.
Different traditions.
It felt as though pieces of dozens of worlds had been gathered together and compressed into one bustling city.
And as the recruits marched deeper into the heart of the guild, the streets grew wider.
Along the central road elegant royal carts rolled past pulled by massive beasts.
One carriage was drawn by horses whose manes shimmered faintly with blue light.
Another passed behind a creature resembling a tiger—except its fur was midnight black and frost formed beneath its paws with every step.
High above, a rider soared across the sky on the back of a giant feathered bird whose wings cast enormous shadows across the street.
"Beast tamers," Chen Yuan said again.
Lu Mao tilted his head slightly.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Despite the vastness of the city, there was an energy here that made everything feel alive.
And as their group continued marching toward the center, other factions joined them.
Groups of new disciples emerged from side streets and smaller plazas.
Soon dozens—then hundreds—of candidates walked together along the central road.
Citizens lined both sides of the street.
Some waved enthusiastically.
Others bowed respectfully.
A few elderly men and women simply watched them pass with hopeful expressions.
Lu Mao caught fragments of conversation drifting through the crowd.
"The new candidates…"
"This year's trials were brutal…"
"I heard one of them survived the Crimson Ravine…"
"They will fight the nightmares one day…"
Respect filled the air.
These recruits were not merely students.
They were the future protectors of the guild.
The warriors who would eventually face the horrors lurking beyond civilization's borders.
For a brief moment, the young candidates walked through the city basking in that admiration.
Then—
They reached the heart of the city.
And Lu Mao stopped.
Because towering above everything else stood a structure so massive it seemed to pierce the sky.
The Spire of the Golden Sparrow.
Even Lu Mao's normally calm eyes widened slightly.
The palace rose like a mountain of stone and gold.
Its walls were painted in deep crimson and polished white marble. Dozens—no, hundreds—of golden spires erupted from its rooftops, each one catching the sunlight and scattering brilliant reflections across the surrounding district.
The structure looked both elegant and dangerous.
Beautiful… yet sharp.
Like a crown forged from blades.
Around the palace stretched a district of wide courtyards, gardens, and elegant buildings where high-ranking disciples and elders likely resided.
Everything here radiated wealth and power.
Bao Fu whispered behind him.
"…we're actually joining this place?"
No one answered.
They were too busy staring.
At the gates stood several guards wearing dark hooded cloaks.
Their faces were hidden.
Only their eyes were visible.
Cold.
Unmoving.
When Li Xian approached, the guards silently stepped aside.
The massive gates opened with a low grinding sound.
The candidates entered the palace grounds.
They crossed wide courtyards and long corridors before finally reaching a towering staircase.
Step after step they climbed.
The higher they went, the quieter the palace became.
Until finally—
They entered the Hall of Feathers.
The chamber was enormous.
Stone pillars rose like forest trunks toward a vaulted ceiling carved with intricate patterns of wings and clouds.
Golden feathers decorated the arches.
Torchlight flickered across polished marble floors.
Rows of seats lined both sides of the hall.
And upon those seats sat the elders of the guild.
Dozens of them.
Each radiating immense power.
Some looked like noble scholars dressed in elegant robes.
Others resembled seasoned warriors whose bodies carried the scars of countless battles.
A few sat in silence with expressions so calm they almost seemed detached from reality.
Lu Mao felt his instincts stir.
Danger.
Power.
Mystery.
At the very center of the hall sat a woman dressed in crimson.
Madam Yan.
Her presence alone made the entire room feel heavier.
Like standing near a sleeping volcano.
Lu Mao had never seen so many powerful individuals gathered in one place.
It reminded him faintly of his father.
That same mysterious aura.
That same feeling that something far deeper lay beneath the surface.
Then one of the elders stood.
A tall man in dark robes.
His smile was thin.
Sharp.
He stepped forward slowly.
"All those present here," he announced, his voice echoing easily through the chamber, "I welcome you on behalf of the elders of this hall… and our leader, Madam Yan."
He paused slightly.
"With my iron merits, my strength, and my power, I have earned the privilege of standing before you today."
A few elders exchanged glances.
Some frowned faintly.
"As long as you lack strength," the man continued, "you will serve as mine… and of course Madam Yan's."
His gaze flicked briefly toward the crimson throne.
"And I—Al Scar—will grant you the opportunity to choose your cultivation path."
He gestured toward a glowing stone slab placed in the center of the hall.
Four names shimmered across its surface.
Iron Vein Harmonisation
Eight Gate Circulation
Dantian Spiral Condensation
Heaven–Earth Circulation
"Place your hand upon the technique you desire," Al Scar said.
"Speak its name… and the method will enter your mind."
Golden light pulsed softly from the slab.
"The path you choose today," he added with a faint smile, "will shape the rest of your cultivation life."
Then he began calling the faction names.
One by one, groups stepped forward.
Hands touched the slab.
Golden light flared.
Some disciples chose Iron Vein Harmonisation, their bodies soon radiating sturdy physical strength.
Others selected Dantian Spiral Condensation, chasing raw destructive power.
The process continued.
Faction after faction.
Lu Mao watched quietly.
But something began to bother him.
Eyes.
Too many eyes.
Watching them.
He caught a smirk from one elder.
Another whisper between two disciples.
He leaned slightly toward Yan Mei.
"Something feels off."
"What?" she whispered.
Lu Mao shrugged lightly.
"…maybe it's my imagination."
Time passed.
Then suddenly—
Only one faction remained.
Al Scar looked down slowly.
"Oh…"
His smile widened.
"Look who we have here."
"The Black Dragon faction."
"The waste of the guild."
Laughter erupted across the hall.
One elder leaned forward.
"Such a shame," he sneered. "Who would dare betray the guild like that?"
His eyes drifted toward Li Xian.
"Such a beautiful girl… wasted in that faction."
He smirked.
"If you abandon them, I could offer you a place in mine."
His voice softened.
"Perhaps… something more."
Another elder laughed loudly.
"Maybe she's already getting something from that old man!"
"That must be why she stays!"
More laughter.
Lu Mao's gaze snapped toward Li Xian.
And that was when he saw it.
For the briefest moment—
Her shoulders trembled.
Just once.
Then they became still again.
Before the laughter could grow louder—
BOOM.
Crimson qi exploded from the central throne.
Madam Yan slammed her hand down.
"Shut up."
Her voice cracked through the hall like thunder.
"One more word of disrespect," she said coldly, "and I will tear the neck from whoever speaks it."
Silence fell instantly.
Al Scar coughed lightly.
"My, my… I meant no offense."
He gestured lazily.
"Black Dragon faction… please step forward."
Li Xian turned toward Lu Mao.
Their eyes met.
And in that moment—
Lu Mao felt something unsettling.
Her gaze was dark.
Empty.
Like someone whose spirit had been buried somewhere far beneath the surface.
Lu Mao stepped forward.
He threw an arm around Marco and Bao Fu.
"Come on."
"Let's take what we came here for."
Then he raised his voice slightly.
Just enough for it to echo across the hall.
"If this is the condition of such a glorious guild…"
he said casually,
"…then defeating a couple elders and taking their seats might actually be worth it."
Bao Fu burst into laughter.
And the entire Hall of Feathers froze.