Tian Shou, his face etched with a practiced serenity that masked the underlying tension, rose from his seat at the head table, performing a formal hand gesture—a respectful zuoyi bow with his left hand covering his right fist—before addressing the gathered guests. He lifted a delicate porcelain cup filled with shimmering, amber wine, his movements slow and deliberate, each motion part of a sacred ritual. His fingers curled gracefully around the cup, and as he raised it, he paused briefly, his eyes closing in silent reflection before continuing the motion. The amber liquid shimmered, catching the lantern light, as if it held within it a piece of the evening's spirit.
His voice, amplified by a subtle cultivation technique, resonated clearly across the assembled guests.
"Honored elders, esteemed disciples, welcome to the Skyward Lotus Sect," he began, his tone warm and welcoming. "We are deeply grateful for your presence at this humble gathering. May this feast be a symbol of unity, a testament to our shared pursuit of cultivation, and a foundation for prosperous relations between our sects."
He paused, his gaze sweeping across the courtyard, meeting the eyes of each elder in turn, before raising his cup higher. "To unity, growth, and enduring prosperity!"
A chorus of greetings and well wishes echoed through the courtyard as the guests raised their own cups in response, the clinking of porcelain a delicate counterpoint to the murmur of conversation. Elder Jin, however, his eyes gleaming with a predatory sharpness, rose from his seat, his booming voice cutting through the pleasantries. "Sect Leader Tian Shou," he began, bowing slightly, "we are honored by your hospitality and grateful for your invitation to this grand gathering."
"Indeed, Sect Leader Tian," he continued, his words carrying a weight of unspoken challenge, "unity and prosperity are noble goals. But words are but fleeting whispers in the wind. True strength lies in action, in the tangible display of one's cultivation, in the unwavering pursuit of power." He paused, his gaze lingering on Tian Shou for a moment longer than necessary, a subtle but unmistakable jab at the Skyward Lotus Sect's perceived weakness. "Let us hope that tonight, the Skyward Lotus Sect proves that its strength matches its hospitality."
He raised his cup, his smile tight, his eyes glinting with an unspoken dare. "To action, and the unwavering pursuit of power!"
A ripple of tension spread through the courtyard. Disciples from the Blazing Sun and Golden Feather Sects exchanged knowing smirks, their eyes gleaming with amusement at the veiled insult.
Tian Hao, seated at his lower-status table, felt a knot tighten in his stomach as he caught the barely concealed tension.
At the head table, Elder Hua's face hardened, her jaw clenching as she met Elder Jin's gaze, her eyes blazing with barely suppressed anger. Tian Hao could practically feel the heat radiating from her, the tension in her posture speaking volumes.
With the formalities concluded, the feast began, not with food, but with a cultural showcase carefully orchestrated to impress the visiting sects.
A hush fell over the courtyard as Elder Li, a wizened scholar with a long, flowing white beard, stepped onto the raised platform. Before beginning, he bowed deeply to the four cardinal directions, a gesture of respect to the heavens, the earth, and the gathered guests. He cleared his throat, his voice carrying clearly across the assembled guests, and began to recite a poem—an ancient ode to the virtues of cultivation, the words flowing like water, each phrase imbued with centuries of tradition.
心如静水,志如巍山,
道法无边,恒心不渝.
苦海无涯,勇者当渡,
苍天在上,愿化仙骨.
Heart as still as water, will as steadfast as a towering mountain,
The way is boundless, with perseverance unwavering.
The sea of suffering has no shore, yet the brave must cross,
Heaven above, may we ascend to immortality.
As the last syllable of the poem faded into the evening air, a group of disciples, clad in flowing white robes, took their places in the center of the courtyard. They moved with graceful precision, their bodies flowing seamlessly from one pose to the next, a mesmerizing display of synchronized movements. Their fans, painted with intricate landscapes, snapped open and closed in perfect unison, creating a rhythmic whooshing sound that echoed the steady beat of a hidden drum. With each movement, they seemed to weave a story—a tale of battles fought, of challenges overcome, of the arduous journey towards enlightenment.
Next, a young disciple, her fingers nimble and precise, began to play the guqin, a seven-stringed zither. The music, soft and melancholic at first, gradually built in intensity, weaving a complex interplay of sound that seemed to resonate with the very essence of the courtyard. The melody shifted, echoing the rise and fall of emotions, the struggle and triumph of cultivation, each note carrying a weight of unspoken meaning, of deep yearning and the strength that rose within to meet the challenge.
As Tian Hao let the haunting melody of the guqin wash over him, he found himself sinking deeper into the music, his usually wandering mind focused entirely on the rising and falling notes. The vibrations of the strings seemed to resonate not only in the air but within his own body, each note subtly aligning with his breath and pulse. He felt a warmth spread through his core, an almost imperceptible hum of energy that began to stir deep within him.
It was then that he realized, much to his surprise, that the pleasure of the music was also activating his cultivation method. The energy flow within him seemed to quicken, responding to the beauty of the sound, enhancing his cultivation without conscious effort. It was as if the melody itself was a catalyst, urging his spiritual energy to dance in harmony with it. He blinked, a small smile tugging at his lips as he closed his eyes, letting the cultivation flow naturally, allowing himself to be both a spectator and a participant in the unfolding magic of the music.
Following the musical performance, a group of disciples demonstrated their mastery of mystic formations, their movements precise and coordinated as they manipulated multicolored streams of energy, creating shimmering patterns of light that danced across the courtyard. They moved as celestial dancers, weaving a spell of energy that seemed to hold the audience captive. With a final, synchronized flourish, they brought the streams of energy together, creating a brilliant burst of light that momentarily illuminated the entire courtyard, the sudden brightness drawing gasps of awe from the assembled guests.
The highlight of the showcase was Liang Chen's martial arts demonstration. He moved with a fluidity that was mesmerizing, his body a blur of motion as he executed a series of complex forms. His sword, a gleaming silver blade, flashed in the lantern light, each strike precise and powerful, the air whistling as it cut through the space around him. His movements were like flowing water, each one more graceful and powerful than the last, a testament to years of dedicated training.
The other disciples watched in rapt attention, their eyes following his every move, their expressions a mixture of admiration and envy. Even Elder Jin, his usual stern demeanor softened slightly, seemed genuinely impressed, a small nod of approval escaping him. A ripple of approving nods and murmurs of admiration spread through the courtyard as Liang Chen finished his demonstration, bowing deeply before stepping back, his face impassive despite the evident pride in his eyes.
Tian Hao, meanwhile, kept a low profile, observing the performances from his less-than-prestigious table, sipping his wine in slow measured sips, outwardly calm but inwardly churning with a mix of anxiety and boredom.
He felt the weight of expectation, the pressure to perform, the unspoken judgment of the visiting sects, and the burning desire to simply disappear back into the quiet solitude of his garden. He glanced towards Zhao Fei, noticing her intense focus on the platform, her eyes fixed on Liang Chen's graceful movements, a hint of awe momentarily softening her normally stern expression.
It was then that Big Sister System's voice echoed in his mind, her tone playful but persistent. "Little Hao, don't forget, quests are the quickest way to power. Besides, who wouldn't want to impress a lovely cultivator?"
Tian Hao took a deep breath, forcing a casual smile as he considered his options. He knew he couldn't just blurt out the quest objective—that would be disastrous. He needed a more… subtle approach. An idea sparked in his mind, a plan forming as he watched Zhao Fei's evident appreciation of Liang Chen's martial prowess.
He caught the attention of a passing servant and, projecting an air of casual authority, requested two glasses of the finest wine being served tonight—a vintage reserved for the high-ranking guests, a subtle display of privilege that he hoped would impress Zhao Fei.
Moments later, the servant returned, bearing a silver tray laden with two crystal glasses filled with shimmering, ruby-red wine, the aroma a tantalizing blend of dark berries and aged oak. The servant placed the tray carefully on the table before bowing discreetly and retreating.
Tian Hao turned to Zhao Fei, offering Zhao Fei a slight bow, and raising his cup in a subtle salute, a gesture to acknowledge the continued formality of the feast, and then offered her one of the glasses with an easygoing smile. "The food's not bad," he said, his tone casual, almost conspiratorial, as if sharing a secret, "but the wine's even better. Care to join me?"
Zhao Fei eyed the glass, then looked at him with a hint of suspicion in her gaze. Clearly, she wasn't entirely convinced of his sincerity. After a moment of hesitation, however, she took the offered glass, her fingers brushing lightly against his. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt," she replied, her tone still guarded, but her expression slightly less severe.
Tian Hao took a sip of his own wine, savoring the rich, complex flavors as he searched for a way to steer the conversation towards the delicate… topic of his quest.