Xuanwu Sect.
Yao Ling'er harbored a deep unease as she attempted to meditate, sensing an impending calamity lurking on the horizon.
Approaching Ning Xuanwu with deference, she voiced her concerns, "Master, I fear we've acted too hastily."
Ning Xuanwu, immersed in meditation, fixed his gaze upon Yao Ling'er as she spoke.
"Speak your mind," he commanded.
"Master," Yao Ling'er began tentatively, "our assumptions regarding the expert in Pingjiang City may have been premature."
Ning Xuanwu's eyes bore into Yao Ling'er, prompting her to continue.
"Our initial conjecture implicated the Qingshan Sect, prompting us to dispatch Senior Wuchen and Senior Wufeng for investigation," she explained, her brow furrowed in worry.
"But their direct approach may lead to confrontation. Should the expert not be affiliated with the Qingshan Sect, the repercussions could be dire," she reasoned.
Ning Xuanwu's expression darkened, grasping the gravity of the situation. If Yu Wujie's claims held merit and the culprit was not a mere illusion conjured by the Qingshan Sect, Wuchen and Wufeng might have met their demise.
"Thus, I propose caution," Yao Ling'er concluded.
Ning Xuanwu mulled over her words, realizing the peril of their predicament.
"Did you establish contact with the adversary?" Ning Xuanwu queried, his tone grave.
Yao Ling'er nodded, her countenance somber. "His strength eludes detection," she confessed. "I cannot fathom his true power."
"Unseen and unfelt?" Ning Xuanwu's brow furrowed deeper.
"Yes, Master," Yao Ling'er affirmed. "His actions defy comprehension."
Ning Xuanwu's thoughts churned, contemplating their adversary's inscrutable capabilities. If their enemies wielded such power, their planned reprisal could spell disaster.
"Send a scout," Ning Xuanwu decreed, his resolve firm. "We must ascertain our enemy's strength before proceeding further."
...
Meanwhile, Yi Feng lounged in the courtyard, enjoying the warmth of the sun's embrace.
"Master, the hall has been cleaned as per your instructions. Is there aught else you require?" Zhong Qing inquired dutifully.
Yi Feng nodded approvingly, noting Zhong Qing's diligence.
"That rag seems serviceable. Let it dry for future use," Yi Feng suggested, gesturing towards the cloth.
"Yes, Master."
"Also, the paintings in the front hall could use some airing. Hang them in the courtyard to dry, lest they succumb to dampness," Yi Feng instructed, mindful of their preservation.
As Zhong Qing carried out his tasks, figures descended nearby, accompanied by a pallid-faced young man, designated as the scout to investigate the martial hall.
"Return safely, and you shall be rewarded handsomely. Fail not, and you shall be honored as a direct disciple," Ning Xuanwu assured the scout before him.
"Master, look," Yao Ling'er interjected, drawing Ning Xuanwu's attention towards the martial hall's entrance. What they beheld incited fury—a tattered cloth, unmistakably the Swift Cloak, dangled disdainfully.
"You bastard, I swear I won't be a human unless I kill you."
Enraged, Ning Xuanwu's resolve hardened. This affront demanded retribution.