The silence that followed was thick with tension.
The five cultivators, clad in dark robes embroidered with silver sigils, sat atop their horses like predators scanning for prey. Their leader, the man with the jagged scar along his jaw, exuded the quiet confidence of someone who had hunted before and never failed.
His gaze locked onto Xiao Yue.
"You've run far, little princess," he sneered. "But you should know by now—there's nowhere to hide from the Iron Fang Sect."
Xiao Yue's fingers tightened around the hilt of the dagger hidden in her sleeve. Though she kept her expression calm, Jiang Chen could see the minute shifts in her posture. She was prepared to fight.
The villagers, sensing the danger, began backing away. Some rushed to their homes, peeking through wooden shutters. Others murmured anxiously among themselves, unsure whether they should flee or stand their ground.
Jiang Chen, meanwhile, remained seated, taking another sip of tea.
The leader of the Iron Fang Sect finally turned his attention toward him. He squinted, as if only just noticing the man under the Ancient Willow Tree.
"And you are?" the leader asked, uninterested.
Jiang Chen took his time setting his teacup down before answering.
"A simple tea shop owner," he said.
The scarred man scoffed. "Good. Stay out of this, then. This has nothing to do with you."
Jiang Chen simply inclined his head, as if conceding the point.
Xiao Yue, however, took a step forward. "You should leave," she said, her voice level. "You have no authority here."
The scarred cultivator chuckled, dismounting from his horse. "Authority? Princess, the only authority that matters in this world is strength."
He gestured at his men. "Take her alive. Kill the rest if they get in the way."
The four other cultivators leaped from their horses, unsheathing curved blades. Their movements were smooth—disciplined killers, not mere thugs.
The villagers gasped in horror.
Xiao Yue narrowed her eyes and moved.
In a blur, she unsheathed her dagger and lunged at the nearest attacker, her blade catching the sunlight for the briefest moment before slashing downward.
The Iron Fang disciple barely managed to parry the attack, stumbling back as sparks flew from the clash of metal.
Jiang Chen, watching from his seat, lifted an eyebrow. She's not just nobility. She's trained.
But training wasn't enough against seasoned killers.
The second attacker moved to flank her, slashing toward her exposed back—only to have his blade deflected at the last moment by another.
A sword flashed.
The attacker staggered back, his blade now missing a chunk of its steel edge.
Standing between him and Xiao Yue was Bai Qi, the wandering swordsman.
His sword was drawn, his stance calm, but his eyes burned with quiet fury.
"Attacking a village of innocents," Bai Qi said coldly. "You don't deserve the title of cultivators."
The scarred leader frowned, finally taking them seriously.
"Two nuisances, then," he muttered.
Xiao Yue and Bai Qi braced themselves, ready for the next exchange. The villagers held their breath.
And Jiang Chen, still seated under the willow tree, sighed and picked up his teacup again.
"That's enough."
His voice was soft, almost lazy, but the entire village seemed to hear it.
And for some reason, the cultivators hesitated.
The scarred leader frowned, turning toward Jiang Chen. "What did you—"
His words died in his throat.
Because Jiang Chen was looking at him now.
His gaze was calm, unreadable, but there was something behind his eyes—something deep and endless, like the vast cosmos staring back at him.
It was just for an instant.
But the leader's knees buckled.
He staggered, his breathing suddenly shallow, his instincts screaming at him. His body was reacting before his mind could understand why. Why did this mortal's gaze feel more oppressive than standing before an elder of his own sect?
The other Iron Fang disciples hesitated, glancing at their leader in confusion.
Jiang Chen exhaled softly, shaking his head. "You lot came here expecting an easy hunt. But you never considered that prey might not always be as weak as it seems."
He placed his teacup down on the stone table. "Leave."
The scarred leader swallowed, his pride warring with his instincts. He glanced at his men, at the villagers watching with wide eyes, at Xiao Yue and Bai Qi, still ready for battle.
Then, finally, he made his decision.
"Fall back," he muttered.
The other disciples hesitated. "But—"
"NOW!" he snapped.
They immediately obeyed, retreating to their horses. Within moments, the Iron Fang Sect was galloping away, disappearing beyond the hills.
The village remained silent for several moments.
Then, a collective exhale.
"They're… gone," a villager whispered.
"We're safe?"
"How… how did they just leave?"
Xiao Yue, still gripping her dagger, turned toward Jiang Chen, her expression unreadable.
"You did something," she said.
Jiang Chen smiled faintly. "I did nothing."
Bai Qi exhaled, lowering his sword. "Sometimes, nothing is more terrifying than action."
Jiang Chen simply picked up his tea again.
"Perhaps.