The Inner Garden Banquet, with its lingering scent of blood and perfume, was still a fresh stain on Jianyu's psyche when the Moonbone Empress arrived. Her procession was a stark contrast to Qianci Yuan's sensual opulence. It was a tableau of bone-white and shadow-thread, silent and chilling. Nie Yuelian, Empress of Yuegu Zong, descended from a chariot crafted from polished, ancient bones, pulled by silent corpse maidens whose eyes glowed with a faint, internal luminescence. Her ritual robes, stark white against the crimson backdrop of Qianci Yuan, seemed to absorb all light, leaving only a silhouette of power.
Her presence was a cold wind through the heated air of the garden. She moved with a slow, deliberate grace, her expression one of profound, almost religious melancholia. Her eyes, deep and shadowed, scanned the crowd, dismissing the lesser disciples, until they landed on Niánmei. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor passed through Yuelian's frame.
"I have dreamed of her return," Yuelian's voice was a low, resonant hum, like a distant funeral bell. It carried an ancient sorrow, yet also an unshakeable conviction. "My lost wife. The Moonlotus Saint. The vessel calls to me." Her gaze was fixed solely on Niánmei, intense and possessive. "I demand access to the vessel. The spirit-aura reading must be performed now."
A ripple of unease passed through the assembled cultivators. Gong Xuelan, still veiled, shifted imperceptibly, her qi flaring with barely contained fury. Politically, she was bound to honor the test, but her possessiveness over Niánmei was palpable. Mistress Hansu, ever the opportunist, merely smiled, a thin, knowing curve of her lips.
Jianyu, as Niánmei, was forced into the center of the pavilion. The air grew heavy, charged with spiritual energy. Moonbone elders, their faces severe and adorned with bone-shard piercings, began the ceremony. Chanting, low and guttural, filled the space. A swirling vortex of pale qi formed around Niánmei, probing, assessing, attempting to read the very essence of his spirit.
Jianyu allowed the probing, his system absorbing the data, analyzing the Moonbone sect's unique methods of soul-reading. He maintained his perfect facade, his aura radiating the exact spiritual signature of the Moonlotus Saint, a carefully constructed mimicry. He felt the tension in the air, the desperate hope from Yuelian, the simmering resentment from Xuelan.
The vortex dissipated. The Moonbone elders, usually stoic, gasped. One, an ancient woman whose face was a roadmap of wrinkles, dropped her ceremonial staff. "Her aura… it matches! Ninety-four percent! The Moonlotus Saint has returned!"
Yuelian's melancholic expression transformed. A slow, beatific smile spread across her face, chilling in its intensity. She approached Niánmei, her eyes shining with a possessive, almost insane devotion. "My consort," she whispered, her hand reaching out, not to touch, but to hover inches from Niánmei's cheek. "You have returned. Our union will proceed as prophesied."
She turned to the assembled crowd, her voice ringing with absolute authority. "Disciple Niánmei is the reincarnation of the Moonlotus Saint. She belongs to Yuegu Zong. Our wedding ceremony will be held in seven days."
Gong Xuelan's qi flared, a cold, sharp spike of anger. She was furious, but politically bound to honor the test's outcome. Her veiled gaze, however, promised a reckoning.
Jianyu, as Niánmei, maintained his serene, polite smile. He bowed gracefully, accepting the declaration. But deep inside, a cold, calculating rage began to bloom. He had endured the humiliation, the probing, the forced identity. Now, he would plot. He would plot the escape, the destruction, the agonizing demise of everyone who had a hand in creating him, in binding him, in claiming him. The wedding would proceed, yes. But it would be a wedding of blood and vengeance.