"Junior Brother Qin!"
The call pierced the stillness of Taixu Peak, a clear note carried by the wind. Qin Ting turned with the smooth grace of someone accustomed to such summons, his blue eyes narrowing with quiet focus.
They settled on Zhou Pingyue, who approached with a light, purposeful stride—a predator's elegance masked by refinement. She had been waiting, he sensed, just beyond his awareness, poised to step forward when the moment was right.
Her silken robes rustled softly in the breeze, their subtle luxury blending with the crisp mountain air. Her presence disturbed the peak's serenity, faint but undeniable, like a pebble rippling a still pond.
Elder Zhou's stern figure had just vanished into the hazy horizon, leaving the stage clear. Zhou Pingyue, ever opportunistic, had seized the moment without hesitation.
She stopped before him, her bow a practiced gesture of respect, though the sly, fox-like curve of her lips hinted at her true intent. "Junior Brother won't mind my unexpected visit, will he?" Her voice held a teasing lilt, and her almond-shaped eyes gleamed with unspoken promises.
Qin Ting regarded her calmly, his face a mask of warm composure. Her playful deference was a familiar game. Within the Xuantian Sect's intricate hierarchy, he was no junior—not to her, nor to any disciple. His rise to Holy Son was all but certain, as inevitable as the sun climbing the sect's timeless peaks.
Yet he carried his authority with quiet grace, using courtesy to ease others' pride. Allowing her to call him "Junior Brother" was a small concession, a thread of harmony in their rapport.
"Senior Sister, what are you saying?" he replied, his voice warm with gentle mirth, softening his chiseled features. A faint smile curved his lips, disarmingly sincere. "Your company is always a delight—I'd be honored to welcome you." With a polished, inviting gesture, he added, "Senior Sister Zhou, please, this way."
At his words, Nie You, who had lingered at Qin Ting's side like a shadow, offered a silent bow. Without a sound, he melted into the garden's dappled shade, as if he'd been merely a wisp of smoke.
Taixu Peak, Qin Ting's sanctum, stretched across the Xuantian Sect like a fragment of heaven. Jade-veined stone walls curved gracefully, glowing faintly with spiritual essence. Ebony and ivory pavilions crowned rolling hills, their rooftops curling like phoenix wings ready to soar. At the center stood Qin Ting's palace, its golden spires piercing the clouds, a testament to his unmatched rank among True Disciples.
The grounds thrummed with life—rare spirit beasts prowled the underbrush, their luminous eyes glinting with ancient wisdom, while immortal herbs swayed, their petals releasing a fragrance that hinted at enlightenment. The air pulsed with spiritual energy, weaving stone, sky, and soul into quiet harmony.
By a jade-green lake in the palace gardens, a stone table stood, flanked by weathered chairs smoothed by centuries of wind and rain. Maids had prepared a pot of fine tea, its steam curling upward, carrying the scent of lotus blossoms and alpine frost. Qin Ting and Zhou Pingyue settled into the chairs, the soft clink of porcelain cups punctuating their courtesies.
"I've long heard that Junior Brother's Taixu Peak is a paradise for immortals," Zhou Pingyue said, her gaze drifting across the lake's glassy surface to the vibrant flora beyond. Her smile widened, though a subtle edge tinged her voice—envy, perhaps, or something sharper. "Now I see the tales were mere shadows of the truth. No wonder the other disciples burn with jealousy."
Her words held no empty flattery. Taixu Peak's spiritual vigor surpassed even the elders' sacred mountains, its energy sinking into the bones. The spirit beasts roaming its wilds were marvels, their presence proof of the peak's boundless life. The immortal herbs thriving here were treasures of the Dao, each leaf a prize coveted by cultivators across the realm.
"I'd wager Senior Sister Li has already slipped in for a visit or two…" Zhou Pingyue murmured, her tone sly and probing.
Qin Ting tilted his head, studying her with faint curiosity. Was it true rivalry sharpening her words, or just another thread in her intricate web? Zhou Pingyue was an enigma—a fox among wolves, her intellect sharper than Li Junning's raw talent. What she lacked in power, she made up for with a mind that outwitted her peers.
He sidestepped her bait, offering a faint smile. "I haven't yet thanked Senior Sister Zhou for her efforts that day," he said, his voice smooth as river-worn stone, warm enough to shift their exchange.
She knew what he meant—no clarification needed. Days earlier, at the Battle Stage, Zhou Pingyue had dismantled Feng Qianhan's overconfidence with precision, exposing his folly before the disciples. His face had burned with shame, his pride shattered, and Qin Ting had watched with quiet approval.
Her laughter rang like silver bells, bright and brief. "Senior Brother Feng Qianhan's arrogance has always been his greatest flaw. I merely gave him a gentle nudge to remind him where he stands."
Her eyes settled on Qin Ting, lingering with a spark of curiosity—or perhaps awe. Before the Battle Stage, she'd seen him as a prodigy, a rival within reach. But watching him crush Song Changge with a single strike, then fell Elder Zhang effortlessly, had reshaped her view.
At eighteen, he'd reached the Divine Spirit Realm, his aura a storm of majesty rivaling legendary immortals. Only then had she glimpsed the chasm between them, stirring both reverence and intrigue in her heart.
The Qin Ting before her was no mere disciple. He was a vision of power and grace, his purple robes rippling like liquid amethyst, their wide sleeves billowing with divine elegance. Every gesture held a magnetic calm, as if he held destiny's reins. His presence resonated with the Dao, entwined with the world's natural order.
'A grandmaster in the making…' The thought slipped through Zhou Pingyue's mind, unbidden yet certain.
She was no ordinary disciple. A prodigy forged by talent and will, she'd once stood atop her own achievements. But beside Qin Ting, those triumphs dimmed to embers. Days ago, his Divine Spirit Realm breakthrough had erupted like a sovereign's decree—dense, unrelenting, a blade of light cleaving the mundane.
Now, that power lay coiled beneath his calm, a sheathed sword deadlier than one drawn.
His voice broke her thoughts, its blunt edge startling her. "What brings Senior Sister here today? I know you're not like Li Junning, sniffing around to unravel my techniques. And I doubt you've come just to bask in my charming company. So, let's have it—speak plainly."
Zhou Pingyue blinked, caught by his candor, but a wry smile formed. She admired this raw, direct side of him. "I've heard Junior Brother is gearing up to lead an expedition to the Lian Yun Mountain Range… tomorrow, isn't it?"
The rumor had surfaced two days ago. Qin Ting had visited the Pavilion of Delicacy to trade insights with Li Junning, but she'd been whisked away by her master to train in the Illusory Plane. A maid relayed her apologies, promising a visit after her seclusion—only for Qin Ting to say he'd be unavailable. Zhou Pingyue, with her sharp mind, pieced together the truth.
He nodded, his expression calm. "Indeed, I'm preparing for a journey."
Her eyes gleamed with ambition and energy. "The sect feels like a gilded cage after a while, doesn't it? Especially for someone like Junior Brother Qin. I've been craving adventure myself. Why not let me join you?"
Qin Ting's lips curled into a sly smirk, his gaze meeting hers in a silent challenge. "Since you've gone so far as to come begging at my doorstep, I suppose I've no reason to turn you away…"
The words hung in the air, laced with intrigue, as the jade-green lake reflected the amber glow of twilight settling over Taixu Peak.
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Beneath the Xuantian Sect's towering mountain gate, the holy land rose like a divine sentinel, its highest peak piercing the heavens.
Shrouded in mist and touched by clouds, the summit loomed thousands of feet above the mortal world, a monument to power and mystery. Carved into the cliff face, two immense characters glowed ethereally: 'Xuantian Sect'. Crafted by Saint Xuantian himself, their bold strokes pulsed with latent energy, a testament to the sect's enduring legacy.
At the mountain's base, a vast square gleamed under the morning sun. Young disciples gathered, their faces alight with restless excitement, buzzing like static before a storm. Chosen for a perilous expedition to the Lian Yun Mountain Range, most were Primordial Pill Realm cultivators, their spiritual energies vibrant with potential. Leading them stood Xu Hao, his broad-shouldered frame radiating the refined strength of the Divine Wheel Realm.
Despite their training, the disciples were teenagers, and the square soon hummed with eager voices. Laughter rang as they shared dreams of battles with spirit beasts, hidden treasures, and glory beyond the sect's walls.
Xu Hao's deep voice cut through the chatter. "Junior brothers and sisters," he said, steady yet commanding, "are you aware that this journey to the Lian Yun Mountain Range will not be ours alone? Disciples from Yuanshi Gate Sect and other holy lands will join us."
The mood shifted, unease rippling through the group. Faces tightened with solemnity. Yuanshi Gate Sect carried weight in the Eastern Wilderness, its influence growing by absorbing lesser factions. Its disciples, emboldened, were known for their arrogance. Though no blood feud divided the sects, a quiet rivalry simmered among the young, sparking words or blows when paths crossed.
A slender girl with delicate features stepped forward, her brow creased. "I've only just broken through to the Primordial Pill Realm," she said, her voice trembling. "If we cross paths with Yuanshi Gate's disciples, I fear I'll drag everyone down."
Her peers rallied with reassurance. "Don't fret, Junior Sister Zhang," one said. "With Senior Brother Xu at the Divine Wheel Realm, we're in good hands."
"Exactly!" another added, clapping her shoulder. "Senior Brother Xu will protect us!"
Xu Hao gave a wry smile, though doubt lingered in his eyes. 'They're not wrong—I'm strong,' he thought. 'But the Lian Yun Mountain Range holds dangers even I might not withstand…'
He raised a hand to quiet their praise. "Rest easy, all of you. I won't be leading this expedition. The sect has appointed a senior brother to guide us. As for who… they haven't told me yet."
Before speculation could grow, a cerulean light streaked across the sky, landing gracefully in the square's center. An Inner Sect elder, Zhou Qianji, emerged, his robes rippling with spiritual power, his sharp gaze sweeping the disciples. They straightened, bowing in unison. "Greetings, Elder Zhou!"
Zhou Qianji nodded curtly, his face unreadable. "Is everyone assembled?" he asked, his voice cool.
Xu Hao stepped forward, bowing deeply. "I can report to Elder Zhou that all disciples are present and accounted for."
"Good," the elder said, his tone softening slightly. "Your team leader will arrive shortly. Remain here."
Xu Hao hesitated, curiosity stirring. As the group's strongest, he felt compelled to ask, "Elder, if I may—with your permission—who will be leading us?"
Zhou Qianji's brow furrowed, irritation flickering. "You'll know soon enough," he said brusquely. "No need to pester me."
Before Xu Hao could reply, the sky blazed again. Two figures descended in streams of light—one vivid purple, regal and intense, the other a softer blue, elegant but dimmer. They landed with poise, and as the glow faded, the disciples' breaths caught.
The man stood tall, his purple robe shimmering with gold embroidery, a jeweled hairpin glinting like a crown. Golden ornaments studded with gems adorned him, catching the light with subtle opulence. Beside him, the woman radiated allure—her crimson gown hugged her lithe frame, her eyes sparkling like distant stars. Qin Ting and Zhou Pingyue had arrived.
Silence gripped the square, broken only by the wind's faint rustle. Qin Ting was promoted to lead them? With Zhou Pingyue, a True Disciple of equal renown, at his side? Two of the sect's brightest stars would guide their expedition.
Even Elder Zhou's stern demeanor softened at Qin Ting's sight, his face blooming into a warm smile. "Nephew Qin!" he exclaimed, his voice rich with delight. "Haha, these fledglings are in your capable hands." His gaze shifted to Zhou Pingyue, curiosity sparking. "And Niece Zhou—will you be joining as well?"
Zhou Pingyue inclined her head gracefully, her smile serene. "I've been cloistered in the sect too long," she replied, her voice melodic. "I grew restless. Since Junior Brother Qin is leading, I thought I'd accompany him and stretch my legs beyond these walls."
The male disciples couldn't look away from her, their gazes tracing her silhouette as if she were a living painting. To them, Zhou Pingyue was a vision—a goddess gracing the sect's dusty courtyards. Her beauty radiated warmth, softening the world's edges. Some whispered that Li Junning's icy elegance might rival her, but Zhou Pingyue's charm was a gentle flame, drawing admirers like moths to a lantern.
Yet Qin Ting commanded a different attention, his presence cutting through the crowd like sunlight through storm clouds. His regal bearing proclaimed his worth. With chiseled features and an aura of effortless power, he inspired awe—and quiet envy.
'Too perfect,' the disciples thought, bitterness tinging their inner voices as he strode past, beyond their reach or rivalry.
To the female disciples, Qin Ting was a living fantasy. Their eyes followed him, soft and longing, tracing his broad shoulders and dark hair. Each glance carried a whisper of desire, snared by his impossible allure. If Zhou Pingyue was the idol of the sect's young men, Qin Ting was their prince—a distant, untarnished star, the embodiment of every secret daydream.
His lineage deepened his mystique. Qin Ting, young master of the Qin Family, was no ordinary disciple. At eighteen, he'd reached the Divine Spirit Realm, a feat that sent ripples through the Eastern Wilderness. Even his father, a legend in the sect's chronicles, hadn't achieved such heights so young.
The air around Qin Ting hummed with his boundless potential. To stand in his shadow was to feel the chasm between mortal ambition and divine inheritance—a gap none dared cross, yet all dreamed of glimpsing.