The next morning brought clouds over Qingyun City, gray and heavy, mirroring the subtle shift in atmosphere. Whispers spread through the markets: the Wang family was preparing a grand banquet, inviting prominent clans—including the Lin—to "foster unity" after recent upheavals.
Lin Zhantian discussed it over breakfast with the elders. "It's a probe. Accept, and we show strength. Decline, and we appear fearful."
Lin Chen agreed. "We go. But cautiously."
Su Qingyao, serving spirit fruit at the table, added quietly, "Wang Teng will be watching me."
Lin Chen met her eyes. "Then he'll see that you're with me."
Preparations took the day: selecting gifts, choosing attire. Su Qingyao wore a pale blue dress embroidered with frost patterns, accentuating her Ice Spirit aura. Lin Chen in simple black robes, his presence understated yet commanding.
The Wang estate was larger than the Lin's, built on a hill overlooking the city. Banners fluttered, guards in serpent-emblazoned armor stood tall. Dozens of guests mingled in the grand courtyard—minor family heads, merchants, even a few wandering cultivators.
Wang Patriarch greeted them warmly at the entrance. "Patriarch Lin! Young Master Lin Chen! Miss Su! Your presence honors us."
Wang Teng stood beside his father, eyes immediately fixing on Su Qingyao. "Miss Su, you look ethereal today. Like a goddess descended to the mortal realm."
She nodded politely. "Young Master Wang is too kind."
The banquet unfolded with music, wine, and displays of martial prowess—Wang disciples demonstrating forms in the central arena. Toasts were raised to "city harmony."
But as the afternoon wore on, Wang Teng grew bolder. During a lull, he approached where Lin Chen and Su Qingyao sat with other young cultivators.
"Miss Su," he said with a charming smile, "the Wang gardens have a rare Ice Jade Lotus blooming. It resonates with ice constitutions. Would you honor me with a viewing?"
Before she could respond, Lin Chen said calmly, "Qingyao and I are enjoying the performances here."
Wang Teng's smile stiffened slightly. "Of course. But the lotus wilts quickly. A pity to miss."
Su Qingyao replied coolly. "Thank you, but I'm content here."
Undeterred, Wang Teng pressed. "Perhaps later, then. Or... if Young Master Lin permits a short walk? Purely for cultivation discussion."
Lin Chen's voice remained even. "No need. Qingyao's path is set."
Murmurs rippled among nearby guests. Wang Teng's face flushed faintly, but he laughed it off. "Young Master Lin is protective. Admirable. But in our city, beauties like Miss Su deserve the best opportunities."
The implication hung heavy. Lin Chen stood slowly. "And what, in Young Master Wang's view, is 'best'?"
Tension thickened. Wang Patriarch noticed from across the courtyard and approached swiftly. "Boys, no need for seriousness at a banquet! Come, a friendly spar in the arena to liven things!"
It was a diversion, but Wang Teng seized it. "Excellent idea, Father. Young Master Lin, care to exchange pointers? Winner... perhaps earns the right to escort Miss Su for that garden walk?"
Gasps echoed. It was a direct challenge—and wager on Su Qingyao.
Lin Zhantian frowned from his seat, but Lin Chen raised a hand to stay intervention. "If Young Master Wang insists."
Su Qingyao gripped Lin Chen's sleeve anxiously. "Lin Chen..."
He leaned close, whispering, "Trust me. This ends today."
The arena cleared. Guests formed a circle. Wang Teng entered confidently, true essence swirling—Early Innate peak, close to Mid.
Lin Chen stepped in opposite, hands clasped behind his back.
"No need for lethal moves," the referee elder announced. "Point until yield."
Wang Teng smirked. "I'll be gentle."
He struck first—serpent palm technique, essence forming coiling shadows.
Lin Chen sidestepped effortlessly, countering with a simple palm. No dragon manifestation yet—just pure force.
Boom! Wang Teng staggered back, arm numb.
The crowd murmured. "Young Master Lin holds back?"
Wang Teng's face darkened. He unleashed full power—serpent phantom roaring, claws raking.
Lin Chen finally moved seriously. Dragon soul qi subtle, he met the attack head-on.
Crack! The phantom shattered. Wang Teng flew back, coughing blood, crashing at the arena edge.
Silence.
Wang Teng struggled up, eyes wide with shock. "You... Mid-Innate already?"
Lin Chen withdrew. "Yield?"
Humiliated, Wang Teng spat, "This isn't over!"
But his father dragged him away, apologizing profusely. The banquet soured; guests departed early.
On the carriage home, Su Qingyao held Lin Chen's hand tightly. "He won't stop."
Lin Chen nodded. "I know. But neither will I."
That night, scouts reported: Wang Teng, enraged, gathered retainers. Whispers of "seizing the beauty" circulated in Wang halls.
The conflict was escalating.