As evening descended, the snow glowed under the soft radiance of crimson lanterns.
The air was alive with laughter, song, and the clinking of wine cups. Some people still lingered at the statue of the God of Mercy, their prayers rising with the incense smoke, while others retreated to their homes. A girl who had married an external disciple was treated as if she were no less than a princess, sitting among the women and boasting about her husband.
Meanwhile, in the grand hall of the Xiang family faction, banquets unfolded, where inner disciples and elders alike celebrated the turning of the year with feasts of roasted pheasant, steamed lotus root, and jars of wine that warmed the blood and loosened tongues.
Fu Yang, still wearing his black robe, stood within the grand hall of the Xiang family — a cavernous chamber steeped in history and power.
Every elder, master, and inner disciple was present.
Fu Yang stood at Master Wan's side, his posture erect, his expression one of quiet calm.
To be invited to such a banquet — a gathering reserved for the elite — was a mark of favor, a testament to the trust he had cultivated in Master Wan.
Master Wan, resplendent in an indigo robe, his presence commanding yet tempered by a quiet warmth.
He spoke little, his words measured, but his gaze carried the weight of authority. Fu Yang, positioned just behind him, felt the eyes of others upon him but ignored them.
Across the hall, other masters stood with their disciples too.
Master Shen stood flanked by Shi Tian and Sha Tian. Shi Tian, his features sharp and his eyes gleaming with defiance, held himself with arrogance.
Sha Tian, quieter but no less ambitious, mirrored his brother's posture.
Near the center of the hall, a female master of striking beauty drew attention, her robes pale blue.
This was Master Lian of the Mo faction. Behind her stood Mo Rian and Cin Yan!
Cin Yan and Mo Rian were both dressed beautifully.
The banquet continued...
---
But in another part of the Xiang residence, away from the sound of music and chatter, a separate chamber was lit by only a few lanterns.
There sat Bai Nian, Rion Yan, and four elders of high standing within the faction. Scrolls and maps lay open before them, weighed down by cups of untouched tea. The air in that room was heavy, not with celebration, but with the pressure of responsibility.
Bai Nian's expression remained calm, but his eyes were sharp. "Li Tian," he said at last, his voice steady. "Has there been any progress regarding the three spiritual frogs?"
Li Tian bowed his head slightly, the faint lines on his face deepening. "We have discovered traces, Leader Bai. A cave within the depths of the Beast Forest. We found some clues there, but due to the heavy snow, entry is nearly impossible. We can only wait, or we'll have to dig the snow out, which would take more time and manpower."
The others fell silent. The sound of wind brushing against the windows filled the room.
Bai Nian tapped his finger against the table. "A cave… mmm, I remember. It must be the old cave. Its foundation is too weak. We can't lose people right now, so let's wait until the snow melts a bit. We cannot risk sending men blindly."
All bowed their heads. The discussion turned to other affairs — internal matters, resources, and the rising tension between the factions. Yet, through it all, the name Three Spiritual Frogs lingered, heavy with promise and danger.
---
Meanwhile, in the grand hall of the Xiang faction, warmth and noise drowned the cold that swept outside. The banquet was in full motion — disciples laughing, elders drinking, the scent of roasted meat and spiced wine thick in the air.
Yet, at the corner of the long hall, one table remained quieter. There sat Master Wan and Fu Yang.
Master Wan's expression was composed, but the faint tightness at the corner of his mouth betrayed his thoughts. The crowd's attention was elsewhere — mostly gathered around Master Shen and Miss Lian, their laughter louder, their circle wider.
Fu Yang sat beside Master Wan, silent, occasionally reaching for food with calm, unbothered movements. He ate slowly, with little concern for the glances cast his way. His presence was still that of an inner disciple.
Master Wan noticed it but said nothing. For a moment, he wanted to tell Fu Yang to mind his manners — not to draw attention by acting too freely in front of elders. But then he stopped himself. The boy was just a child of eleven years old, and tonight was meant for celebration.
So instead, Master Wan looked at him with a small, restrained softness. "Eat, but don't eat too much, or your tummy will hurt," he said in a low voice.
Fu Yang nodded slightly, not lifting his head. "I won't, Master."
Their brief words were lost beneath the hall's chatter.
Across from them, laughter erupted near Miss Lian's side. She was surrounded by several elders and inner disciples. Her presence alone drew the eyes of many — her bearing graceful, her voice smooth but filled with authority. Behind her, Mo Rian and Cin Yan stood quietly.
Mo Rian occasionally glanced toward Fu Yang's table. Her expression was unreadable — a flicker of curiosity, maybe something else. But when Miss Lian turned her head slightly, Mo Rian quickly lowered her gaze again.
Master Shen, meanwhile, sat proudly with his disciples. Shi Tian, his face proud and his tone sharp, was laughing loudly with another elder, bragging about his training results. Sha Tian stood behind him, smiling faintly, though his eyes were on Cin Yan.
(She's really beautiful today.)
Master Shen himself was in good spirits, holding his wine cup with satisfaction. "This year," he said loudly, "the Tian faction has produced results worth noting. The younger generation shows promise, unlike the lazy ones who only hide behind their master's shadow."
Several laughed politely. But everyone knew where the words were directed.
Master Wan's hand stiffened on his cup, though his face showed no change. Fu Yang kept eating, as if he hadn't heard.
Miss Lian's lips curved faintly at the tension forming. She said lightly, "The Tian faction has always been strong in offense. But there are many forms of talent, Master Shen. Some bloom early, some take longer to ripen."
Master Shen chuckled, his eyes gleaming. "Indeed, indeed. Though some may never bloom at all."
The hall filled with muted laughter.
Fu Yang's chopsticks paused for a moment, then continued. His calm face did not shift, not even slightly.
Master Wan glanced at him from the corner of his eye — worried.
Moments passed. Dancers entered the hall, their robes fluttering as they moved with the rhythm of flutes and drums. The atmosphere lightened again. Wine flowed. The smell of incense and meat thickened.
But even in that noise, small groups whispered — disciples gossiping about who would be chosen for the upcoming expedition, who might be promoted, who might fall.
Fu Yang listened quietly.
He could sense that under the laughter, every word carried weight. This banquet wasn't just a celebration — it was a stage for power.
Master Wan finished his cup slowly. His gaze, once distant, softened as he looked at Fu Yang. Perhaps, among all the noise, this silent disciple was his only comfort tonight.
---
Not far away, Cin Yan leaned toward Mo Rian and whispered, "See, Mo Rian? This is true power. Feel it, and remember it, so you don't do any nonsense things!"
Mo Rian nodded. "Yes, yes, I understand."
But before they could continue, Miss Lian turned slightly, her sharp eyes catching their whisper. "Mo Rian. Cin Yan."
Both straightened immediately.
She smiled faintly. "A banquet is not for whispering. Watch, learn. You'll see what true composure is."
"Yes," both replied quickly.
---
Hours passed. The hall grew noisier as the night deepened. Some elders began to leave, escorted by disciples, while others lingered, unwilling to end the warmth of wine and company.
At one point, Master Shen rose, his cheeks flushed. "Master Wan," he called out suddenly. The hall quieted slightly. "You've been quiet all night. Why not share a toast?"
Master Wan raised his cup slowly, his tone steady. "A toast, then. To the new year."
They drank. The tension softened again.
But Fu Yang noticed the faint glance between Master Shen and one of his disciples — a flash of arrogance hidden behind politeness.
After the toast, Master Wan placed his cup down gently. "Enough for tonight. We've all had our share of celebration."
Fu Yang bowed slightly. "Should we take our leave, Master?"
Master Wan nodded. "In a moment."
As they stood, Miss Lian approached, her steps graceful, her smile polite. "Master Wan," she greeted. "It has been some time. Your disciple seems promising."
Master Wan returned the greeting calmly. "He's still young, still learning."
Her eyes moved to Fu Yang. "Even so, he has a steady presence. That's rare."
Fu Yang lowered his head slightly. "Thank you."
She smiled faintly, then turned away, her disciples following.
Master Wan let out a slow breath. "Let's go."
They walked out of the hall together, the noise fading behind them. The cold air outside struck gently, the moonlight bright against the snow.
For a while, neither spoke. Only the crunch of snow underfoot broke the silence.
Then Master Wan said quietly, "You did well tonight. When people look down on you, remember — you don't need to answer with words. Strength will speak for you in time."
Fu Yang looked ahead. "I understand."
Master Wan nodded. "Good. Keep that in mind. There will be more difficult days ahead."
As they walked toward the courtyard, Fu Yang glanced back once at the grand hall, where the laughter still echoed faintly. His eyes were calm.
Fu Yang actually didn't care about these useless banquets — what was respect, just a feeling of being not looked down upon. But he wanted others to look down on him so he could hide. As the saying goes, an unsheathed sword is the most dangerous.
---
Back in the secluded chamber, Bai Nian and the others finished their discussion. The snow had grown heavier outside.
"Once the storm ends, and after fifteen days," Bai Nian said, rolling up the map, "we move quickly. The spiritual frogs must not fall into other hands."
Li Tian and the others bowed. "Understood."
The elders began to disperse, their footsteps quiet. And the banquet ended.