Morning light enveloped Verdant Peak Village, painting the cobbled streets in gold and stirring the air with the scent of roasting meat and steaming pastries. The festival still full of vigor and life; laughter and music continued to echo between the busy stalls, and the village buzzed with the energy of cultivators from across the region, gathered for the approaching showdown.
Emerging from the Lotus Pavilion Inn, the group continued their exploration of the village. Each wearing the gifts Mo Yanluo had personally given them, their faces were alight with joy and anticipation.
As the group rounded a corner near the central plaza, the crowd suddenly parted. A young man, in glittering robes of white and gold, strode forward as his entourage of guards cleared a path through the thick crowds. His face was handsome, his smile charming, and his eyes calculative.
It was Wei Lian.
Mo Yanluo's blood boiled. The man who had betrayed him in his previous life, the architect of his downfall, stood before him now, as arrogant and assertive as ever. Mo Yanluo's hand flew toward his sword, but he forced himself to remain calm.
To strike now would be suicide—they were deep in the heart of the Orthodox Sect's territory, surrounded by Wei Lian's allies. Worse, his disciples would suffer for his actions if he were to lash out.
Wei Lian's gaze swept over the group, lingering on each of Mo Yanluo's disciples before settling on Xiao Fengwu.
"What a delightful surprise," he said, his voice was calming, but there was a hidden malice within his words. "Mo Yanluo, and his… entourage. I didn't expect to you to accept our invitation to participate."
Mo Yanluo's eyes narrowed, but he kept his voice dignified, "Of course, it would be rude to not attend after being personally invited. Don't you agree?"
Wei Lian laughed, the sound light and mocking. "Always so direct. I admire that."
He turned his attention to the disciples, his smile widening.
"And who are these lovely young ladies? You must be Mo Yanluo's famous disciples. To think you were all jade beauties, I'm quite envious of your master."
Ming Yue stepped forward, her moon-shaped pendant gleaming. She bowed politely, but her eyes were cautious.
"We are honored to meet you, Young Master Wei."
Qing Mei, though usually bubbly, stayed close to Yan Ling, her expression wary. Yan Ling's clenched her fists, her fiery spirit subdued by the tension in the air. Xue Lan and Ying Tao exchanged nervous glances, their earlier excitement replaced by the sudden unease. Xiao Fengwu, standing slightly apart, watched Wei Lian with narrowed eyes, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her sword.
Wei Lian's smile never faltered.
"There's no need to be so formal and stiff. This is a time for celebration, after all. I'd be delighted to show you around the village. The Orthodox Sect will welcome you all with open arms."
Mo Yanluo's voice was cold, "That won't be necessary. We're quite capable of navigating this village by ourselves. No need to trouble yourself."
Wei Lian pretended to be hurt by their rejection.
"Come on, Mo Yanluo. There's no need to be so suspicious. We're all friends here, aren't we?"
Wei Lian's eyes suddenly flicked to Xiao Fengwu, his smile crumbling for just a moment.
"Ah, you must be the legendary Azure Blade. I've heard of your exploits. It's an honor to meet you in person."
Xiao Fengwu's expression remained unreadable, "The honor is mine. Though most of the stories are greatly exaggerated."
Wei Lian chuckled, but there was a sharpness in his gaze.
Mo Yanluo stepped between Wei Lian and his disciples, his voice still cold and unkind.
"We have business elsewhere. If you'll excuse us."
Wei Lian held up his hands in defeat, "Of course, of course. I wouldn't want to keep you. But do consider my offer. The Orthodox Sect is always eager to welcome talented cultivators. Until we meet again, Mo Yanluo and friends."
With that, Wei Lian and his escorts moved away, disappearing into the busy streets, leaving the group in uneasy silence.
The encounter with Wei Lian left a lingering tension among Mo Yanluo's group. As they left the central plaza, the festival's vibrant energy seemed muted, the laughter and music now distant and hollow.
Mo Yanluo kept his voice low and his expression neutral, but his eyes never stopped scanning the crowd for hidden threats. His disciples, sensing their master's unease, stayed close, their earlier excitement replaced by wary watchfulness.
Xiao Fengwu walked at the rear, her hand never far from the hilt of her sword. She exchanged glances with Ming Yue, who nodded subtly—both women understood the danger Wei Lian represented, even if his true intentions remained veiled behind his unsettling kindness.
As the day wore on, the group tried to recapture the joy of exploration, visiting stalls and sampling the village's delicacies. Qing Mei's laughter returned as she tried a new pastry, and Yan Ling found a game of strength to test her fiery spirit. Xue Lan and Ying Tao wandered among the flower stalls, their gentle hearts soothed by the fragrant and colorful flowers.
Yet, the unease of Wei Lian's presence lingered, a silent reminder that not all was as it seemed in Verdant Peak Village.
Time passed quickly, the sun arcing across the sky. The festival's colors deepened as evening approached, lanterns glowing like tiny stars in the approaching dusk. The group returned to the Lotus Pavilion Inn, their spirits somewhat restored, but their minds still troubled by their encounter.
As night settled over the village, Mo Yanluo waited until his disciples and Xiao Fengwu had retired to their rooms. He moved silently through the inn, slipping out into the darkened streets. The festival's revelry had quieted, but the village was far from asleep—voices murmured in taverns, and the occasional burst of laughter echoed through the alleys.
Mo Yanluo made his way to a nondescript tavern tucked away in a quiet corner of the village. The sign above the door bore no name, only the image of a coiled serpent. He pushed open the door, stepping into the dimly lit interior. The air was thick with the scent of rice wine and roasted meat, the murmur of conversation low and secretive.
He approached the counter, where a grizzled bartender polished a glass with a worn cloth. Mo Yanluo leaned in and recited a phrase, his voice barely above a whisper:
"When the serpent sheds its skin, secrets are revealed. "
The bartender's eyes flicked to him, then away. Without a word, he gestured to a door at the back of the room.
Mo Yanluo nodded and made his way through the tavern, slipping through the door and down a narrow corridor. At the end, a heavy curtain concealed a private chamber. He pushed it aside and stepped inside.
The room was small and dimly lit, a single oil lamp casting flickering shadows on the walls. Five figures sat around a low wooden table, their faces obscured by hoods and masks. As Mo Yanluo entered, they rose and bowed deeply.
"Master," one of them murmured.
Mo Yanluo nodded, taking a seat at the head of the table.
"Report the status of your investigation."
One by one, the spies began to speak. They had infiltrated the Orthodox Sect's ranks under Mo Yanluo's command, gathering information on its inner workings, its alliances, and its secrets. Their words painted a picture of intrigue and betrayal, of power struggles and hidden agendas.
The first spy, a wiry man with sharp eyes, spoke of the sect's preparations for the tournament, of the arrival of powerful guests and the tightening of security.
The second, a woman with an alluring voice, revealed rumors of a plot to discredit Mo Yanluo and his disciples, to turn the other sects against them.
The third, a burly man with scars on his muscular arms, detailed the movements of Wei Lian's personal guard, their secret meetings and coded messages.
The fourth, a young man with a scholar's bearing, spoke of ancient texts and forbidden techniques being sought by the Orthodox Sect's elders. However, the reason wasn't revealed.
Finally, the fifth spy stepped forward. She was tall and graceful, her features hidden beneath a veil of shifting shadows. She removed her hood, revealing a face that was both beautiful and unreadable.
"Master," she said, her voice soft but firm. "I believe I have uncovered the most crucial information of all."
Mo Yanluo leaned forward, curious, "Go on, Ling Xiaoyin."
Ling Xiaoyin, an unrivalled master of disguise and illusion, once saved by Mo Yanluo as a child when she was captured by a group of cannibalistic bandits. Furthermore, she's the leader of the Slithering Fang, a renowned organization specializing in espionage and intel gathering.
"Wei Lian is the true mastermind behind the assassination attempts on you and Xiao Fengwu. He has been plotting your downfall for months, gathering allies and resources. He sees the both of you as threats to his ambitions—and to the Orthodox Sect's dominance."
Mo Yanluo's expression darkened, something clicking in his mind. "I suspected as much. But to have confirmation…"
Ling Xiaoyin continued, "He has spies of his own, since you've entered the village, he's been watching your every move. He plans to use the tournament as a stage for his schemes, to humiliate you and your disciples before the entire martial world."
The other spies murmured in agreement, their faces grim. Mo Yanluo sat back, his mind racing. The pieces were falling into place. Wei Lian's charm, his false friendliness—it was all a mask, a carefully crafted illusion to conceal his true nature.
"Thank you, all of you," Mo Yanluo said at last. "Your work has been invaluable. Stay hidden, stay safe. We will act when the time is right."
The spies bowed, their loyalty unwavering. Ling Xiaoyin lingered for a moment, her eyes meeting Mo Yanluo's.
"Be careful, Master. Wei Lian is more dangerous than he appears."
Mo Yanluo nodded, "I know. And I will not let him harm my family."
With that, he rose and slipped out of the room, leaving the spies to their shadows. The night air was cool on his skin as he carefully made his way back to the inn, his mind sharp with newfound resolve.