The Liu Clan's lush floral garden bloomed in colors and scents that seemed almost too perfect, as though the air itself had been steeped in careful preparation. Guests moved among the blossoms, greeted warmly by Liu Xiaobei and his wife, Mu Lan. But the tranquil atmosphere fractured with the sudden roar that split the air, turning every head toward the sky.
Liu Xiaobei's gaze hardened as an azure Flood Dragon appeared over the horizon, its enormous wings cutting through the sunlight like blades. It approached the clan grounds without slowing—a direct violation of protocol. Spirit beasts were to be left outside the gates, a rule unbroken for generations.
The dragon descended with a resounding thud, the ground trembling beneath its bulk. It fixed its sharp, predatory eyes on the gathering, an aura of dominance radiating from its massive form. A ripple of unease passed through the guests.
"Enough, we are here as guests. Behave yourself," a commanding voice rang out, calm yet heavy with authority. The dragon snorted, lowering its gaze in submission before turning away, curling its long body into an obedient coil.
From its back, a man in azure robes descended gracefully, his stature as sturdy as a mountain. Behind him followed a veiled young woman and a confident young man, both wearing the same regal blue. The veiled woman moved with such elegance that her very presence silenced the murmurs. Even her eyes, the only part of her face visible, seemed to hold a magnetic pull.
The clan leaders exchanged glances, their carefully laid plans unraveling in an instant. No schemes could survive the presence of a woman like her—her beauty transcended description, each glimpse drawing envy and despair in equal measure.
"Zhen Shang," Liu Xiaobei said, stepping forward to greet the Emperor with a smile that barely masked his unease. "I didn't expect you would come personally. Your Flood Dragon is as majestic as I remember."
The Emperor of the Zhen Kingdom responded with a broad grin, the kind that hinted at a pride far deeper than the surface flattery. "How could I miss such a gathering? It's rare to meet all you geezers in one place." His tone was light, but his presence left no doubt about the power he wielded. Everyone knew the Flood Dragon was his pride and joy.
"And these must be your son and daughter, Zhen Ping and Zhen Shan," Liu Xiaobei continued, bowing slightly in acknowledgment. "To reach the peak Grandmaster Stage at such a young age… truly prodigies."
The young prince straightened at the praise, his confident aura only heightened by the admiring glances of several young women in the garden. His sister remained silent, her veil shielding her expression, though her every movement exuded an untouchable grace.
"Shall we proceed with the ceremony?" the Emperor suggested, casting a glance at the skies. "I doubt any further guests will arrive."
"Then let us move to the Spirit Awakening Hall," Liu Xiaobei agreed. "Tables are prepared, and a feast awaits."
As the group made their way through the gardens, the Emperor acknowledged the crowd with polite nods, his interactions noticeably warmer with Liu Xiaobei than with the other clan leaders. The disparity was as clear as the noon sun.
Inside the Spirit Awakening Hall, the atmosphere was lighter, almost playful. Fifty children, barely ten years old, clustered around Xuefeng like chicks around a shepherd. His height made him an easy focal point, towering over the group with an air of gentle authority.
Among the onlookers, parents murmured with a mix of admiration and apprehension. "Young Master Xuefeng has become a true big brother figure," one mother remarked, watching her son cling to the older boy's side. "He's comforting them so well."
"Yes, but what if his talent doesn't match expectations?" another parent countered nervously. "With so many guests, a poor showing would embarrass the entire clan."
Meanwhile, Xuefeng patiently fielded a barrage of questions from the children around him.
"Big brother, why are you so much older than us?" one boy asked, his voice carrying the blunt curiosity only a child could manage.
Xuefeng smiled warmly. "I was ill when I was your age and couldn't participate back then. Now that I'm better, I thought I'd join you. Are you happy to have me here?"
"Yes!" a little girl chimed in, gripping his hand tightly. "We feel safer with you here."
Xuefeng patted her head. "There's nothing to fear. Today is the start of an incredible journey for all of us."
"Big brother, is it true we can fly in the sky when we're strong enough?" the girl asked, her eyes wide with wonder.
"Yes," Xuefeng replied, his tone soft but firm. "But it takes hard work and dedication. What's your name?"
"Liu Mei."
"A beautiful name for a beautiful flower," he said, smiling. "Let's make a deal. When I'm strong enough to fly, I'll come back and take you soaring through the sky, okay?"
"Pinky promise?" she asked, holding up her tiny pinky.
"Pinky promise," he said, intertwining their fingers. "But only if you promise to work hard until then."
"I will!" she squealed, her enthusiasm infectious.
The lighthearted scene was interrupted by a sudden shift in the room's energy. Silence fell as new guests entered, led by Xuefeng's parents and Manager Wu. But it was the group behind them that truly captured attention—a dazzling array of beauties, accompanied by a young man basking in their adoration.
Xuefeng raised an eyebrow at the sight. Where did they find so many stunning women? he wondered, half in awe, half in disbelief. Cultivation clearly worked miracles, but this gathering seemed excessive even by those standards.
As the Emperor and clan leaders took their seats at the main table, a palpable sense of anticipation filled the hall. The Spirit Awakening Ceremony, usually a solemn affair, had become a grand spectacle—a convergence of power, beauty, and ambition.
With a clap of his hands, Liu Xiaobei summoned maids bearing trays of exquisite dishes and wine. As the food was served, shadows stirred in the corners of the hall. In an instant, a hundred black-masked cultivators appeared, stationed at every corner like silent sentinels.
The Emperor's expression tightened briefly before his genial mask returned. Others murmured quietly, some impressed, others uneasy. The display of strength was undeniable—a reminder of the Liu Clan's reach.
Standing on the stage, Elder Ming cleared his throat, his voice cutting through the tension. "Let us begin."