The morning sun had barely crested the eastern ridge of Immortal Table Mountain when Li Qingmu and Wen Qingwan arrived at the grand Dining Pavilion.
The pavilion itself was enormous—long open-sided halls of polished cedar and white stone, rows upon rows of low blackwood tables arranged in perfect order, each with a simple woven mat and a single bowl, one pair of plain wooden chopsticks, and a small porcelain spoon.
No excess, no variation.
Every disciple received the exact same meal.
A portion of steamed millet congee thinned with vegetable broth, a handful of blanched greens, a few slices of steamed yam, and a small dish of fermented soybean paste for flavor.
Moderation in all things!
That was the Exalted Sage School's way.
Li Qingmu stood at the entrance and slowly swept his gaze across the silent, orderly rows.
A wide grin split his face in half.
"Finally!"
