Three days had passed
since the White Lion ascended the Sword‑Star Tower
to speak with the trio in secret.
In those three days,
the rumors surrounding Liú Xū's death
had begun to ferment throughout the academy.
The already turbulent undercurrents
now carried a strange, suffocating tension.
On the surface, everything seemed calm—
but beneath it, waves surged.
Within White‑Mirror Hall,
whispers grew louder by the day.
Some claimed someone was deliberately hiding the truth.
The White Lion had not appeared publicly again,
but in private,
he had begun tracing every thread of suspicion.
That night,
he listened intently as one of his subordinates reported—
"…Dù Péng has been meeting with Cáo Jiànyú frequently.
Several disciples have seen them speaking in the shadows."
The White Lion's brows tightened,
a cold gleam flashing in his eyes.
"Are you certain?"
The subordinate bowed his head.
"I would not dare speak recklessly.
Multiple disciples witnessed it.
But none of them dare report openly—
they fear bringing disaster upon themselves."
A flicker of killing intent
surged through the White Lion's heart—
but he forced it down.
He knew his own reputation well.
He was known for protecting his own.
If he personally punished Dù Péng now,
it would appear to outsiders
as though he were lashing out violently.
And with the rumors of Liú Xū's death still unsettled,
any heavy‑handed action
would only draw suspicion.
"Dù Péng…
Cáo Jiànyú…"
The White Lion murmured the names under his breath,
his gaze sharp as a drawn blade.
His thoughts churned rapidly.
"Dù Péng is greedy—
but not foolish enough for this.
If he's fallen under Cáo Jiànyú's influence…
then this matter runs far deeper than it seems."
——
Late at night,
the White Lion summoned Dù Péng
to the White‑Mirror Hall's secret chamber.
The candlelight flickered,
casting long, wavering shadows across the stone walls.
The White Lion sat before the desk,
his gaze sharp as a blade,
locked onto the man kneeling before him.
His voice was cold.
"Dù Péng.
Three nights ago, at midnight,
you were assigned to patrol the rear courtyard.
Yet you disappeared for two hours.
Explain."
Dù Péng's face turned pale.
"I… I only stepped out for some air…"
With a flick of the White Lion's hand,
a jade slip clattered onto the floor—
recording traces of spiritual fluctuations.
"You think I wouldn't know?"
His voice sank even lower,
heavy enough to crush breath from the room.
"You've been meeting with Cáo Jiànyú far too often.
If there's nothing to hide,
why skulk around in the shadows?"
Cold sweat beaded on Dù Péng's forehead.
"M‑my lord, I only…
only passed along a few messages…"
The White Lion's eyes sharpened,
his tone slicing like a knife.
"Messages?
Or murder?
Liú Xū's last contact before his death—
was you.
Swear to me this has nothing to do
with you and Cáo Jiànyú."
Dù Péng trembled.
At last, he collapsed fully to his knees.
"Please forgive me, my lord…
It was Cáo Jiànyú…
He told me…
if I helped him,
he'd secure me a promotion in the outer courtyard…
I—I was foolish!"
A flash of disgust crossed the White Lion's eyes.
"Foolish?
Hmph.
You panicked because you feared I would purge you.
And in your panic,
you exposed yourself."
His voice dropped to a deadly whisper.
"Remember this—
if you hide even half a truth from me,
your life ends here."
He slammed a palm onto the table—
the sound thunderous.
"Speak!
Was Liú Xū's death connected to you?"
Cold sweat streamed down Dù Péng's face.
His body shook uncontrollably—
yet he clenched his jaw
and remained silent.
The White Lion let out a cold laugh
and tossed a slip of paper before Dù Péng.
On it were clear records
of Dù Péng's comings and goings—
every meeting with Cáo Jiànyú
over the past few days.
"You thought I wouldn't investigate?"
The White Lion's voice was icy.
"Three times that night,
you slipped in and out of the eastern wing of the outer courtyard.
Each time,
you crossed paths with Cáo Jiànyú.
If you call that coincidence—
do you believe it?"
Dù Péng's face turned ashen.
He opened his mouth,
but no explanation came.
The White Lion waved sharply.
"Guards!
Take Dù Péng to the water dungeon.
And tonight's matter—
not a word leaves this room.
Everyone else, dismissed."
The subordinates withdrew.
Silence returned to the chamber.
The White Lion stood with his hands behind his back,
thinking for a long time
before making his decision.
—He would need to speak with those three.
…
The next morning, Sword‑Star Tower.
Morning light filtered through the clouds,
casting a faint glow—
yet the air carried a subtle unease.
The trio had just finished their morning cultivation
and were discussing their training
when a deep roar echoed from below,
accompanied by a surge of qi
that shook the floor.
"White Lion."
Xiǎo Chén stiffened,
exchanging a glance with Xuán Chén and Shī Tóngbǎi.
They hurried downstairs.
The White Lion already stood in the hall,
a towering presence,
his gaze sharp as steel.
He spoke without preamble.
"What I said three days ago still stands.
But now—
I've discovered a new problem."
Xuán Chén's eyes narrowed slightly.
"And what does President Bái mean?"
The White Lion's voice dropped,
heavy and grim.
"Dù Péng…
has been meeting with Cáo Jiànyú far too often.
And the places they've been appearing
are all near where you three have been active.
I suspect their movements
aren't just tied to Liú Xū's death—
they may be aimed at you."
Xiǎo Chén raised a brow.
"So President Bái is here to warn us?"
The White Lion's gaze swept across them
like the edge of a blade.
"A warning, yes.
A test, also yes.
I promised no one would trouble you during this period.
If someone dares act in the shadows—
that is a direct challenge to my authority."
He paused,
his tone turning iron‑hard.
"If you intend to move against Cáo Jiànyú—
I will not interfere.
I'm occupied with investigating Liú Xū's death
and have no time to deal with anything else."
Xuán Chén held the White Lion's gaze,
his voice steady and deep.
"If that's the case,
then we understand."
The White Lion was silent for a moment,
then turned with a sweep of his sleeve,
leaving behind a pressure so heavy
it seemed to linger in the air long after he was gone.
The three exchanged glances.
The atmosphere felt dense enough
to crack the stone beneath their feet.
Shī Tóngbǎi muttered under his breath,
"Looks like… trouble is coming faster than we thought."
Xiǎo Chén let out a cold laugh.
"Then let them come."
Xuán Chén's eyes narrowed,
dark as a starless night.
"In that case…
it's time we discuss
how to deal with Cáo Jiànyú."
—
Outside the tower,
night pressed down heavily,
the sword aura still coiling in the air like mist.
The trio were still discussing
the White Lion's warning from that morning
when a burst of noise erupted from below.
A crowd of outer‑courtyard disciples
had gathered at the entrance.
The leader's voice rang out,
sharp and provocative.
"Shī Tóngbǎi!
You've spent three years running errands like a dog—
and suddenly you get into the inner courtyard?
Did you cling to someone powerful?
Today, we want to see
if you actually have the skill!"
Shī Tóngbǎi's face stiffened.
He cursed inwardly.
So they've finally come.
He leaned out to look—
and sure enough,
a group of outer‑courtyard disciples
were pushing toward the tower.
His heart sank.
"They're here for me."
Xiǎo Chén blinked.
"You?"
Shī Tóngbǎi gave a bitter smile,
voice lowered.
"For three years I've been running errands.
Then suddenly I leap into the inner courtyard,
enter a forbidden tower,
and stand beside you two…
How could the outer courtyard possibly accept that?
They're here to pick a fight."
Before he finished,
shouts erupted from outside.
"Shī Tóngbǎi!
If you've got guts, come out!
Stop hiding and eating off others!"
Several outer‑courtyard disciples
leapt into the courtyard.
The leader glared coldly,
iron ruler in hand.
Xiǎo Chén snorted.
"What a pathetic excuse.
They're pinning this on us now?
Calling out Shī Tóngbǎi by name—
that's already stepping on our heads.
If we back down,
the entire outer courtyard will think we're afraid."
Xuán Chén stopped Xiǎo Chén with a hand,
shaking his head.
"This isn't aimed at us.
It's aimed at Shī Tóngbǎi.
But… if they're pushing this far,
it's more than simple provocation."
Xiǎo Chén stepped out of the tower,
his spear flicking lightly in his hand.
"Choose your battleground.
We'll follow."
Xuán Chén walked out beside him,
adding in a cold, steady voice,
"As long as it's a fair match,
we won't refuse."
The outer‑courtyard disciple raised his iron ruler,
pointing straight at Shī Tóngbǎi.
"Shī Tóngbǎi!
Today—
you'll spar with us right here!
Let's see if you've really improved
or if you're just riding someone else's coattails!"
The crowd roared,
their jeers crashing like waves.
Shī Tóngbǎi's face darkened.
He clenched his teeth—
and finally stepped forward.
Outside the tower,
blades flashed and qi clashed.
Though Shī Tóngbǎi struggled at first,
his recent training and experience
allowed him to suppress his opponent
and claim victory.
The defeated disciple's face turned ashen.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Then—
the crowd suddenly parted.
A bulky figure emerged from the back,
flesh quivering with each step,
eyes cold and predatory.
Cáo Jiànyú.
He walked forward with heavy steps,
a twisted smile curling at his lips.
"Heh…
so you are here.
With all this noise from the outer courtyard,
how could I, Cáo Jiànyú, not respond?"
His laugh was low and chilling,
his tone dripping with condescension.
"Well, well… Shī Tóngbǎi.
Three years fetching errands like a dog,
and today you actually look the part of a cultivator?
Heh… seems someone needs to vent the outer courtyard's frustration.
So—
I'll deliver justice on their behalf."
Xiǎo Chén's gaze turned icy,
his voice sharp as a blade.
"Justice?
With that face of yours,
it looks more like you're desperate for attention.
The inner‑courtyard ban was just announced,
and you're already rushing over to make trouble?"
Xiǎo Chén's gaze sharpened like a blade,
his voice dropping to a cold, heavy tone.
"Cáo Jiànyú, you really think you can exploit a loophole in the rules?
Others might not see it—
but we see it perfectly clearly."
A ripple of shock swept through the crowd.
Several outer‑courtyard disciples snickered quietly,
recognizing how precisely the words struck home.
Cáo Jiànyú's eyes narrowed,
his voice stretching into a dangerous drawl.
"Rules?
Those are inner‑courtyard rules.
Who governs the outer courtyard?
You think hiding in the Sword‑Star Tower
makes you untouchable?"
His tone suddenly rose,
accusing finger stabbing toward the trio.
"They're nothing but cowards hiding behind the tower's prestige!
Let's see how capable they are
once they step outside!"
Shī Tóngbǎi retreated to Xiǎo Chén's side,
a mocking edge in his voice.
"Heh.
Speaking of capability—
I've heard plenty of stories about someone
who's very capable.
If half the things you've done under White‑Mirror Hall's name
were dragged into the light,
the whole academy would laugh itself sick."
He didn't elaborate—
and that made the blow land even harder.
Xuán Chén added quietly,
his tone soft but cutting like a blade.
"Take the Xiàng Yuán incident, for example.
You lost—
and still tried to deny it.
Everyone in the outer courtyard knows.
If Shī Tóngbǎi hadn't exposed your schemes
and your abuse of White‑Mirror Hall's name,
you'd have been chased out long ago."
The crowd erupted.
Whispers surged like wildfire.
"So he really did that?"
"No wonder…"
Faces twisted with disdain.
The outer‑courtyard disciples had long held resentment toward Cáo Jiànyú—
and now the embers burst into flame.
Shouts rose,
a tide of voices crashing forward.
Cáo Jiànyú's chest heaved,
his face shifting between pale and livid.
At last, unable to contain the fury boiling inside him,
he roared—
"You all look down on the outer courtyard!"
Xuán Chén let out a cold snort,
his gaze sharp as lightning.
"If we truly looked down on the outer courtyard,
why would we help Shī Tóngbǎi?
If you want to talk about disgracing the outer courtyard—
no one has done more than you, Cáo Jiànyú.
Among everyone out there,
the only person we look down on
is you."
A shockwave rippled through the crowd.
Dozens of eyes snapped toward Cáo Jiànyú.
His face twisted—green, white, then red.
Humiliated in front of everyone,
he finally snapped.
"Fine… fine!
Then let's settle this on the life‑and‑death stage!
I, Cáo Jiànyú, challenge you, Xuán Chén!"
The courtyard fell dead silent.
Only the sword aura hummed faintly in the night.
Xuán Chén stepped forward,
his voice cold as steel.
"Very well.
I accept."
…
The news spread like wildfire.
The entire outer courtyard erupted—
some thrilled, some terrified.
Dù Jīnzá stormed over,
face dark as thunderclouds.
"You three—
is it impossible for you to go a single day without causing trouble?
Just one day?
The inner courtyard forbids duels for three months,
and you run off to stir up chaos in the outer courtyard?"
Xiǎo Chén only smiled faintly.
"We didn't seek trouble.
Trouble came to us.
And if someone steps on our heads,
are we supposed to bow and retreat?
Is that what you expect?"
Dù Jīnzá had no answer.
At last, he sighed heavily.
"Enough…
Since a life‑and‑death oath has been made,
the Steward Office cannot interfere.
Live or die—
you bear the consequences yourselves.
And remember—
you'll pay for this sooner or later."
He left without looking back,
his silhouette weighed down by pressure.
—
The next morning.
The trio pushed open the stone gate of Xuán‑Star Cavern—
and froze.
Someone was already waiting outside.
A young woman stood beneath the shifting shadows of the trees,
dressed in light blue training garb,
a slim leather belt at her waist.
Her black hair was half‑bound with a jade pin,
the rest drifting with the morning breeze.
A long sword rested across her back.
She didn't look at the three of them.
Her gaze was fixed solely on Xuán Chén—
brows slightly drawn,
as though weighing something silently.
Her fingers tapped the sword sheath,
barely noticeable,
before she finally spoke.
"Some people…
are not as simple as they appear.
Be careful."
Her voice was calm,
but carried a restrained force beneath it.
Xuán Chén met her eyes for a moment,
a heaviness settling in his chest.
He cupped his hands.
"Thank you for the warning."
Without another word,
she turned and walked away—
leaving only the morning wind
and the quiet turbulence stirring in Xuán Chén's heart.