Facing Zhu Yan's question, Yan Lan turned his gaze toward Qin Ye, who was practicing the Ten Thousand Armies Demon-Subduing Staff nearby. His tone was calm but faintly heavy as he said, "Since ancient times, whenever a great calamity is about to descend upon the mortal world, auspicious omens appear first—to warn mankind. The qilin showed itself recently in Dongling Prefecture, but it vanished soon after. Its tracks were lost. The noble clans and great sects of Zhongtian are seeking it now… for the treasure within its blood."
"The qilin is one of the ancient divine beasts, among the few auspicious creatures ever hunted by man. Its flesh and blood can strengthen a warrior's qi and blood severalfold, transforming their body completely. Its hide can be made into divine armor or weapons, and they say its body holds a core—a spiritual inner pellet that is the greatest treasure a sorcerer could ever hope to obtain."
Zhu Yan showed little interest in the qilin's blood treasure. She asked softly, "Your Highness said the qilin appears before great disasters, but haven't the rebel armies across the realm already been suppressed?"
Yan Lan's expression darkened. His eyes grew deep and shadowed, like a still, bottomless well. In a quiet, almost unreadable tone, he said, "That only means the true calamity has yet to begin."
Zhu Yan fell silent. She loved music, calligraphy, and painting, never caring for worldly strife. From Yan Lan's words, she understood—the coming disaster was no natural one. It was man-made.
Anyone capable of bringing chaos to the world must hold great power and authority. She had no wish to pry further.
Neither of them spoke again. Each kept their own thoughts buried deep.
Elsewhere, Li Qingqiu walked into the highest courtyard—Lingxiao Pavilion. He had come looking for Li Sijin but instead found Zhang Yuchun and her sitting across from each other at a small table, clearly in the middle of a discussion. They were the only two in the courtyard.
When he approached, Zhang Yuchun looked up first and said, "Senior brother, you came at the perfect time. There's something I need to discuss with you."
Li Qingqiu sat down, noticing that Li Sijin seemed rather displeased. He smiled lightly. "What's wrong? You two quarreled again?"
Li Sijin glared at him and said, "Senior brother, you've got to talk to Second Brother! I want my disciple to be made a true disciple, but he's dead set against it."
She had taken in seven disciples, most focused on talismans and planting techniques. Later, she'd chosen one young girl as her personal disciple—with Li Qingqiu's approval—and even taught her the first layer of the Supreme Purity and Primordial Harmony Sutra.
Li Qingqiu asked, "Has she reached the first layer of the Nurturing Essence Realm?"
The Dao Lineage panel could show a disciple's cultivation aptitude, comprehension, fate, and loyalty, but it couldn't reveal their exact realm. Li Qingqiu didn't mind this—he preferred the uncertainty. It made each disciple's progress a pleasant surprise.
"She has!" Li Sijin said loudly, throwing a sharp look at Zhang Yuchun.
Zhang Yuchun gave a helpless smile. Turning to Li Qingqiu, he explained, "Senior brother, I just think the threshold for true disciples should be raised. The first layer of Nurturing Essence is difficult, yes—but with effort, most can reach it within a year or two. The title of true disciple carries great weight and responsibility. It shouldn't be granted too easily."
"Why raise the bar only when it's my turn?" Li Sijin snapped back.
Qingxiao Sect had yet to set strict privileges among disciples, but everyone knew that true disciples would gain access to the Thousand Spirits Blessed Land for cultivation in the future. Li Sijin naturally wanted her own disciple to have that chance.
Zhang Yuchun had the Seven Sons of Qingxiao. Jiang Zhaoxia had the Thirteen Swords of Qingxiao's Might. Li Dongyue had Liu Yan under her wing. Li Sifeng often led disciples on trips down the mountain. Naturally, Li Sijin didn't want to lag behind—she wanted a disciple who could truly contribute to the sect's future.
Li Qingqiu chuckled. "Second Brother, you're overthinking it. The bar for true disciples will indeed rise over time, but not arbitrarily—it has to follow a proper schedule. Even if our current true disciples are surpassed later, their positions will still reflect the sect's values. Qingxiao Sect remembers loyalty, not just talent. Besides, true disciples won't always be the highest rank."
He had already planned the hierarchy long ago. Disciples' ranks would expand both downward and upward, forming a complete system.
Zhang Yuchun, however, had underestimated his own aptitude. He thought himself mediocre, believing that if he could reach the second layer of Nurturing Essence, anyone could. He didn't realize that compared to most cultivators, his talent was already remarkable—just slightly overshadowed by his fellow disciples.
"In that case," Zhang Yuchun said with a nod, "let San Feng become a true disciple. I'll have her name added to the True Disciple Record."
Li Sijin's eyes sparkled. She cheered aloud, circling the table and throwing herself into Li Qingqiu's arms.
Zhang Yuchun laughed quietly at the sight. He wasn't upset at her outburst. The growth of the sect mattered deeply, but their bond as senior brother and sister mattered even more.
Not lingering another moment, Li Sijin rushed off—impatient to tell her disciple the news.
After she left, Li Qingqiu explained his plan for distributing spirit stones.
Hearing this, Zhang Yuchun's expression turned serious. "The spirit stones in the Underground Spiritual Lake may look plentiful, but once we start allocating them to disciples, the consumption rate will skyrocket beyond expectation. We'll need a strict standard. We should cut each stone into fixed sizes—fairly and efficiently, so none go to waste."
Li Qingqiu nodded. Together, they began discussing how large each cut should be.
As they spoke, a faint golden shimmer appeared before Li Qingqiu's eyes—a system prompt.
[ Because Qingxiao Sect has received its first auspicious omen, the sect's fortune rises. You have gained 1 Dao Lineage Inheritance Reward. ]
Auspicious omen?
Could it be the qilin Yan Lan mentioned?
Li Qingqiu frowned slightly, intrigued. Who in the sect had encountered such a blessing? A disciple out on assignment—or someone within the mountain?
His thoughts kept circling the word auspicious, his curiosity piqued. He quickly wrapped up the discussion with Zhang Yuchun, then stood and left the courtyard.
Snow blanketed the land, vast and unbroken, swallowing every color in white. Between two mountain ridges stretched a wide road of snow. Along it, a massive procession of martial wanderers advanced—at least ten thousand people by rough count.
At the very front, several riders carried tall banners, each embroidered with the names of three great sects leading the march.
Seven Peaks, Iron Peak, and Qing Sect.
Each of the three great factions had brought four to five hundred members. Behind them followed smaller gangs and wandering sects, forming more than ten separate columns. Carriages rolled among the ranks while the majority advanced on foot, weapons in hand, pressing through the swirling snow with the grandeur of an army on campaign.
At the head of the Seven Peaks Alliance rode its new leader, Guang Lantian. Ever since Lü Taidou's death, months of internal struggle had followed, and Guang Lantian had climbed from the position of Second Alliance Master to take the seat of First. His purpose in coming today was simple—the divine art of the martial legend.
He stared forward, his mind turning over how to seize it.
With so many sects joining hands, even if Jiang Zhaoxia himself were still within Qingxiao Sect, he would be unable to withstand them. For the Seven Peaks Alliance, the real rivals weren't the small sects—they were the Qing Sect and Iron Peak Sect.
Leading the Qing Sect's force was its Deputy Leader, Bai He. He wore a black robe and carried a longsword at his waist. His swordlike brows and hawk-sharp eyes gave him an air of deep calculation.
At the front of Iron Peak Sect was one of its Peak Masters, Zhang Songjing, a tall, broad man whose body, though aged and silver-haired, was still fierce and upright like a tiger. The blue robe on his back strained against his frame with every breath.
All three were famous masters of the Guzhou martial world and had attended the last Martial Gathering. Each knew something of Jiang Zhaoxia's strength.
Now, however, none of the three spoke. Each harbored his own schemes.
"Someone ahead!"
A Qing Sect disciple on horseback shouted suddenly, drawing all eyes forward.
The wind howled, driving snowflakes into their faces. Through the white mist, they could just barely see a lone figure standing in the middle of the road—motionless, as if waiting for them.
Guang Lantian narrowed his eyes. The snow was too thick to make out the man's face. With a sharp crack of his whip, he spurred his horse forward. Bai He and Zhang Songjing did the same, speeding up together.
Even if the one ahead was Jiang Zhaoxia, the three of them had no fear of engaging him.
Seeing their leaders advance, the disciples of all factions followed suit. No one hesitated. The path ahead held only one man—it stirred excitement, not dread.
Qingxiao Sect was close. The divine art of legend seemed almost within reach.
As Guang Lantian and the others drew near, the shape before them became clear at last.
"Yang Jueding—you really are with Qingxiao Sect!"
Guang Lantian recognized him instantly, his eyes narrowing as he spoke in a low, deliberate tone. Yet inwardly, his heart leapt.
So the rumors were true!
He had half-doubted them before, thinking that even if no divine art was found, destroying Qingxiao Sect would still count as victory. After all, the sect had slain many of the Seven Peaks Alliance's disciples, though they'd never had the time to seek revenge—until now.
Yang Jueding stood firm in Qingxiao Sect's blue robes, sleeves and trouser hems fluttering like flames in the icy wind. His posture was steady, his presence unshakable.
Facing the vast host of martial sects before him, Yang Jueding felt a jolt of awe.
He'd known trouble was coming, but seeing this many sects banded together was still shocking.
Fortunately, he had already sent a disciple ahead to warn the sect.
Though still only at the first layer of the Nurturing Essence Realm, he was close to reaching the second, and his martial strength had never dulled. Even before thousands, he did not flinch.
"Qingxiao Sect is but a small sect of the martial world," he called out, his voice booming like thunder across the snow, "Why gather so many people? What's your purpose?"
Guang Lantian, who had once known Yang Jueding well, replied, "Yang Jueding, you're an old hand in the martial world. You can't protect that divine art. Hand it over, and perhaps Qingxiao Sect can still be spared."
Yang Jueding sneered. "The Qing Sect says I hold the divine art, and you believe them? So many went down to Fuyang Lake that day—how are you sure I was the one who obtained it?"
Bai He's face twisted with cold fury. "Enough talk," he snapped. "Seize him. Torture will make him confess soon enough."
Zhang Songjing of Iron Peak said nothing. Instead, he drew the saber from his waist in one fluid motion. The sound of steel echoed sharply, and behind him, weapons flashed from scabbards one after another. Murderous intent flooded the snowy plain.
Yang Jueding stepped forward, laughter rolling through the storm. "Bai He of Qing Sect—I've long wanted to test your skill! A wretch like you becoming Deputy Leader? At this rate, Qing Sect won't last much longer!"
Rage flickered in Bai He's eyes. He leapt from his horse like a hunting falcon, drawing his sword midair as he dove toward Yang Jueding.
Yang Jueding didn't retreat—he surged forward, charging straight into the massed ranks without hesitation.
At the same moment—
More than ten li away, two riders were galloping hard through the snow. The wind lashed their faces raw, but they pressed on. The man in front carried a long spear across his back—it was the current Martial Champion, Li Yang. Behind him rode his cousin, Zhao Linglong.
Zhao Linglong held the reins tightly, her cheeks flushed red from the cold. "Cousin, must we rush this fast?" she shouted.
Li Yang didn't look back. "The trail marks grow thicker with every mile," he called over the wind. "That means the sects are just ahead. Linglong, you don't have to keep up. I'll ride ahead and scout first."
"Hyah!"
With a sharp cry, he lashed his horse, speeding ahead and widening the gap between them.
"Cousin! Don't be reckless!" Zhao Linglong shouted after him.
But the snow swallowed her voice. Li Yang was already gone, vanishing into the storm beyond her sight.