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A deathly silence fell over the private room, broken only by the occasional clinking of silver chopsticks against porcelain plates.
Feng Xiao, however, seemed oblivious, continuing to elegantly and calmly enjoy the exquisite dishes before him.
His slender fingers picked up a celadon spoon, scooping a mouthful of clear soup, his movements flowing like water, as if he were not at a tense banquet, but rather enjoying a solitary drink in his own courtyard.
Every bite of food was savored, and even his chewing was maintained at a perfectly decorous volume.
The flickering candlelight from the gilded candelabra danced on his sharply defined profile, reflecting his composed expression.
In this oppressive silence, his dining posture became the most startling display of composure.
Ning Fengzhi lightly tapped the table with his fingertips, his voice as gentle as a breeze rustling through glazed tiles: "Little Feng, what you said today..."
He looked up, his gaze holding a rare solemnity, "Can it be kept within these walls?"
Feng Xiao elegantly picked up a snow-white napkin and lightly dabbed his lips: "Naturally."
His lips curved slightly, but his eyes were clear, "I never intended to get involved in disputes, no matter who the ultimate winner is."
He lightly tapped the table with his fingertip, "I don't care what choice the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School makes."
Sunlight spilled onto his handsome face: "Besides..."
He raised his cup and smiled faintly, "Wouldn't it be unwise to offend School Master Ning and the two seniors over such a trivial matter?"
Ning Fengzhi took a small sip of tea, a glint flashing in his eyes: "Little Feng, if it were you..."
He lightly tapped the table with his fingertip, "Would you be more optimistic about Spirit Hall unifying the continent, or about the combined resistance of the three upper Sects and the two Empires?"
Feng Xiao raised his cup and smiled faintly, the tea's aroma swirling as he slowly said: "Among Sects, even with alliances..."
A hint of mockery flashed in his eyes, "Everyone ultimately has their own agenda.
How can such a disunited alliance withstand the overwhelming might of Spirit Hall?"
He looked directly at Ning Fengzhi: "The quality of Spirit Masters is certainly important, but with the continuous increase in the number of Spirit Masters..."
He paused, then continued: "In the future, geniuses will emerge endlessly.
Relying solely on Spirit inheritance..."
His voice softened, "School Master Ning, do you truly believe you can maintain an eternal advantage?"
Ning Fengzhi's gaze shifted slightly, his fingertips unconsciously caressing the edge of the glazed cup: "It seems... Little Feng holds Spirit Hall in high regard."
Feng Xiao gently shook his head, his gaze as clear as a spring: "This junior is merely stating what he has observed."
He looked out the window, as if seeing through the afternoon sunlight to a distant mountain village, "From a remote small village to where I am today, I have seen with my own eyes—"
"The deacons of Spirit Hall travel year after year, over mountains and rivers, to awaken the Spirits of commoners."
His voice was soft, yet every word carried immense weight, "Perhaps a village may not produce a Spirit Master for several years, but the hopeful light in the eyes of those villagers..."
He turned his gaze directly to Ning Fengzhi, "Has long since shown where the hearts of the people lie."
Upon hearing this, a deep sense of emotion appeared on Ning Fengzhi's face.
He sighed softly, his fingertips unconsciously tracing the intricate patterns on the teacup: "Indeed... Spirit Hall now gathers the power of seventy percent of the continent's Spirit Masters."
His voice deepened, carrying a hint of solemnity, "Just in that competition, seven Titled Douluo appeared... And this, I fear, is only the tip of the iceberg."
Feng Xiao raised his cup and chuckled, a hint of sarcasm flashing in his eyes: "It's truly ironic that the citizens of an Empire have to rely on external forces to discover their talents."
He leaned slightly forward, lowering his voice a few degrees, a meaningful curve on his lips, "Even His Highness is powerless to change all the nobles."
Ning Fengzhi shook his head with a bitter smile, his helpless face reflected in the glazed cup: "Little Feng has keen insight.
Even the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School..."
He lightly tapped the table with his fingertip, "Finds it difficult to eliminate the inherent arrogance of being a Sect Spirit Master."
Feng Xiao's gaze turned slightly cold, his fingertips lightly tapping the table.
He understood the Empire's rules of operation too well—how could those high-and-mighty nobles allow 'mud-legged' commoners to shake their inherited privileges?
Ning Rongrong's pretty face suddenly flushed upon hearing this.
Her former spoiled and willful self flashed in her mind, causing her to unconsciously clench the hem of her skirt, as if ashamed of her past ignorance.
Ning Rongrong's slender fingers unconsciously twisted the hem of her clothes, her glazed eyes filled with worry: "Father..."
Her voice was as soft as a mosquito's hum, "Are we really going to cooperate with Spirit Hall?"
Ning Fengzhi did not answer immediately, but subtly cast a probing glance at Feng Xiao.
However, the young man remained calm, his slender fingers lightly caressing the rim of the teacup, as if, just as he had said, he truly didn't care about this choice concerning the Sect's survival.
Ning Fengzhi sighed softly, raising his hand to pour his daughter half a cup of clear tea: "The situation is unclear, and this matter still requires careful consideration."
His gentle voice carried a rare solemnity, "Rongrong, this is not only your father's choice, but also a test for you."
He lightly tapped the table with his fingertip, "No matter what the future holds, I hope you can face it with composure."
Ning Rongrong lowered her head, her long eyelashes casting a shadow beneath her eyes, and softly hummed in affirmation.
"Fengzhi!" Gu Rong couldn't help but slam the table, making the teacups clatter.
"Rongrong is still young, why rush these matters?"
A complex emotion flashed in Ning Fengzhi's eyes as he looked at his daughter's slender shoulders, his heart aching like a tide.
But he knew better than anyone—only by letting Rongrong understand the cruelty of reality early on could she stand tall when the storm truly arrived.
Feng Xiao elegantly put down his silver chopsticks and lightly dabbed his lips with the napkin.
He stood up and bowed slightly to Ning Fengzhi: "Thank you, School Master Ning, for your kind hospitality."
His voice was like a clear spring hitting stone, "Although I have no edge to serve the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School, I hope to form a good relationship with your Sect.
I wonder if this junior is qualified to become friends with the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School."
Ning Fengzhi raised his cup and smiled faintly: "Of course, Little Feng, you are too polite.
Rongrong, this child, will still need you to look after her for a while."
His gaze was gentle yet profound, "Our conversation today has truly benefited me, as a Sect Master, greatly."
Feng Xiao bowed again, his robes fluttering like flowing clouds: "In that case, this junior shall take his leave."
Ning Fengzhi nodded, and when he turned to his daughter, his eyes were full of loving kindness: "Rongrong, go see Little Feng off."
Ning Rongrong stood up in a daze, her glazed eyes filled with countless thoughts, her steps even a little unsteady.
She silently followed behind Feng Xiao, her slender figure appearing particularly fragile in the candlelight.
After the two figures disappeared at the end of the corridor, Gu Rong and Chen Xin exchanged glances, both sighing softly, their rough hands unconsciously caressing the back of the chairs.
The two formidable Titled Douluo were now filled with mixed emotions.
Gu Rong slammed the table fiercely, making the teacups clatter: "That kid, he just picks at the sore spots!"
Chen Xin's sword-like brows furrowed slightly, his voice as cold as a deep pool: "Though the words are harsh, they are true.
Oscar's disappearance is likely Spirit Hall's warning to us."
Ning Fengzhi did not respond, but turned to Gu Rong: "Uncle Bone, that day during the investigation..."
He lightly tapped his temple, "Did you find any connection between Feng Xiao and this matter?"
Gu Rong's pupils constricted slightly, his rugged face suddenly tightening: "Fengzhi, you suspect...?"
The latter half of the sentence was caught in his throat.
Ning Fengzhi lightly tapped the scepter in his hand, his thoughts swirling in his eyes: "Titled Douluo... are not only found in Spirit Hall."
His voice deepened, "It's just that Oscar's disappearance and today's events are too coincidental."
Gu Rong stroked his chin, shaking his head: "The scene was cleaned up thoroughly, clearly meticulously arranged."
A sharp glint flashed in his eyes, "Besides, Rongrong was with Feng Xiao that day."
If it was the old poisoner...
He snorted coldly, "If it was the old poisoner, there wouldn't have been no trace at the scene.
That old fellow's attacks are the most distinctive, and I'm afraid no one's attacks are easier to recognize than his."
"Perhaps... it really is a coincidence."
Ning Fengzhi held his scepter, but his tone carried a hint of uncertainty.
Chen Xin looked at Ning Fengzhi and said softly: "Fengzhi, it's best to make a decision soon."
Ning Fengzhi raised his cup and sighed softly, a hint of self-mockery flashing in his eyes: "Uncle Gu, Uncle Sword, it seems I truly am old."
He lightly stroked the intricate patterns on the glazed cup, "Spending all my days only focusing on the future of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School, I'm not as clear-sighted as a young man."
Gu Rong frowned tightly: "Fengzhi, you are...?"
"Since that child can calmly wait for the situation to become clear..."
Ning Fengzhi's eyes gradually brightened, like the sun breaking through clouds, "Why can't my Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School remain still and await developments?"
He held the pot and poured tea, his voice steady amidst the swirling tea aroma: "Wealth is precisely our greatest advantage, but it is Spirit Hall's greatest disadvantage."
The glazed cup in his hand shimmered with seven-colored light, "As long as we can continuously provide financial support to Spirit Hall..."
"When war breaks out..."
Ning Fengzhi's lips curved slightly, "Their spears will naturally point at others first.
Once the war begins, the strength disparity between the two sides will become clear, and the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School will be able to make a more correct choice."
Although Spirit Hall possessed countless powerful individuals and controlled seventy percent of the continent's Spirit Masters, they were always financially strapped.
This could be seen from their tireless efforts to establish branch halls in every city—those magnificent halls were not only strongholds for Spirit Hall to recruit talent, but also tentacles to extract wealth from various regions.
Inside the carriage, Ning Rongrong leaned by the window, her glazed eyes reflecting the passing scenery outside, looking somewhat distracted.
"What's wrong?"
Feng Xiao lightly tapped the window frame, "Afraid of meeting former classmates on the battlefield in the future?"
Ning Rongrong suddenly turned to glare at him, her red lips slightly parted but ultimately speechless.
"Don't look at me like that."
Feng Xiao leaned lazily back on the cushion, "I've helped the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School a great deal."
His lips curved slightly, "If you don't keep your distance from the three upper Sects, Spirit Hall's butcher knife..."
His voice grew colder, "Will sooner or later be at your throats."
Ning Rongrong's slender fingers tightened on the hem of her skirt, her voice a soft sigh: "I understand, I just don't know how to face them..."
"Them?"
Feng Xiao chuckled, "You should know which is more important: the friendship of classmates or the survival of your Sect."
"You make it sound easy!" Ning Rongrong turned her face away.
Feng Xiao shook his head indifferently: "Your father's methods..."
A hint of admiration flashed in his eyes, "Are far more thorough than you imagine.
Even if he chooses Spirit Hall, he will certainly use the most stable method to gain the greatest benefit.
A support system Spirit Master should do her part.
Your unnecessary worries... are merely self-inflicted."
Ning Rongrong stared at him blankly, her tense shoulders gradually relaxing.
The sunlight from outside the window filtered through the gauze curtain, casting dappled light and shadow on her delicate face.
On the other side, in front of an unnamed waterfall, the rushing water roared down like a silver dragon.
Tang Hao leaned against the mountain rock, his occasionally opened eyes reflecting Tang San's figure being repeatedly swept down by the torrent and then stubbornly climbing back up.
Satisfaction and disappointment, these two contradictory emotions intertwined in his weathered eyes.
He was pleased with his son's tenacious character, yet he secretly sighed over Tang San's constant inability to grasp the essence of his Spirit as well as Feng Xiao.
"Little San's dexterity with the hammer is quite similar to my elder brother's..."
Tang Hao stroked the wine gourd in his hand, thinking to himself, "But his twin spirits talent dictates that he should follow my path."
Looking at Tang San, who frequently resorted to shortcuts in the waterfall, a hint of regret welled up in Tang Hao's heart.
Although the Clear Sky Nine Absolutes were exquisitely profound, with each stance embodying the painstaking efforts of generations of Clear Sky Douluo, truly mastering them required years of arduous cultivation, like Tang Xiao.
As for Tang Hao's own path—pure power bursts combined with the Ring Explosion technique, the Clear Sky Nine Absolutes were merely icing on the cake, a technique for exerting force, which was an even better match for Tang San, who possessed twin spirits talent.
"Stop."
Tang Hao's low voice pierced through the roar of the waterfall.
Tang San, who was immersed in his training, froze, and in an instant, he was swept down into the deep pool by the rushing water.
A moment later, Tang San, dripping wet, stood before Tang Hao, water droplets constantly sliding down his hair: "Father, what's wrong?"
Tang Hao's deep gaze was like a torch: "From today onwards, forget your footwork."
His rough finger pointed at the joint of Tang San's wrist, "Forget your force-dissipating techniques, and you are not allowed to use the Clear Sky Nine Absolutes."
"Then I need to..."
A hint of confusion flashed in Tang San's eyes.
"Feel it."
Tang Hao suddenly gripped his son's wrist, with such force that Tang San frowned, "Treat the Clear Sky Hammer as an extension of your arm."
He released his hand, his voice like iron, "Let every swing become an instinct, as natural as breathing."
Tang San stared blankly at Tang Hao's rough palm, which was covered with calluses from years of holding the hammer.
He suddenly understood his father's deeper meaning—too many techniques had masked his errors.
"Yes, Father."
Tang San took a deep breath, slowly retracting the internal energy of Mysterious Heaven Skill.
He turned to face the waterfall, this time, he no longer thought about how to dissipate force, no longer calculated the optimal landing point, but simply raised the Clear Sky Hammer, allowing the heavy flow of water to impact every inch of his muscles.
With the first swing, his arm was almost numb from the recoil.
With the second swing, blood began to seep from his tiger's mouth.
But Tang San's eyes grew brighter and brighter—he felt it, that primal sense of power surging through his veins, the feeling of becoming one with his Spirit.
Tang Hao tilted his head back and took a gulp of ale, the turbid liquid reflecting his son's stubborn back.
Amidst the roar of the waterfall, the faint crisp sound of bones bearing heavy pressure could be heard, but Tang Hao knew that this was true cultivation.
In the distance, on a tree branch, a fallen leaf spiraled down into the pool.
The moment it touched the water, it was shattered by an invisible force of vibration.
"Continue."
Tang Hao's hoarse voice held a rare hint of approval, "Remember this feeling."
Every swing of Tang San's hammer became purer.
The water flow around him formed an eerie vacuum, as if even the waterfall feared this primal power.
His skin began to redden, capillaries ruptured under the immense pressure, but his swinging motion became smoother and more natural.
As night fell, Tang San finally collapsed from exhaustion.
Tang Hao slowly walked forward, his rough hand pressing on his son's bruised and bloody back, as his profound spirit power slowly flowed into him.