I Become Sect master In Another World

The stone steps of the upper pavilion held the sharp chill of early dawn, the morning mist drifting lazily across the carved balustrades.

Lee Bie stood near the edge, his boots planted unevenly against the grey slate. His hands hovered near his waist, his fingers constantly adjusting the heavy cloth of his orange disciple robe, smoothing down folds that were already straight before tugging at the high collar again.

Shaurya stood two paces to his right, his hands buried deep inside the pockets of his black-and-gold coat, his eyes tracking the slow movement of the clouds below the peak. Without taking his hands from his coat, he stepped closer, his shoulder lightly brushing Lee Bie’s arm to force the younger cultivator to stop fidgeting.

"Leave the collar alone," Shaurya said, his tone flat, unhurried. "You’re going to tear the seam before you even reach the main gate."

Lee Bie’s hands froze, his fingers still hooked into the fabric near his throat. He let out a slow exhale, his shoulders rigid. "My hands won’t stay still. The moment I try to speak, my brain goes completely blank."

Shaurya didn’t offer a lecture, nor did he laugh. Instead, his hand slid out from his coat pocket, holding a heavy, dark-red spatial pouch bound with thick golden thread. He didn’t toss it; he simply pressed it firmly into Lee Bie’s palm, letting the solid, metallic weight of the contents pull Lee Bie’s arm downward.

Lee Bie blinked, his fingers curling around the thick leather as a distinct, heavy clink echoed between them. "Master...?"

"Five million gold coins," Shaurya said, his golden eyes resting calmly on Lee Bie’s face. "Take it."

Lee Bie’s arm sagged another inch under the sheer weight locked inside the space of the pouch. He stared at the dark-red leather, his throat moving as he swallowed dryly. "Five... five million? For a trip to the market?"

"You’re stepping off this mountain as a core disciple of the Sanatan Flame Sect," Shaurya said, his voice dropping into a quiet, unyielding rhythm. "When you walk into that shop, you don’t look at the price tags, and you don’t hesitate. If she shows you a spirit herb, you buy it. If she points to an entire display, you clear the shelf. You carry yourself with the absolute backing of this entire sect behind you."

Lee Bie nodded, his chin dipping in a single, sharp motion. He gripped the heavy leather pouch against his chest, turned on his heel, and took the pavilion steps three at a time, his boots kicking up small puffs of lingering mist as he vanished down the winding mountain path.

An hour later, the morning bustle of 22nd Street in the Azure Dragon Capital was in full swing.

The thoroughfare hummed with the clatter of wooden carriage wheels, the calls of tea vendors, and the steady rustle of silk robes as nobles and cultivators moved through the high-end commercial district. Positioned right near the center of the street stood the Pavilion of Heavenly Weaves, the premier tailor shop in the capital, its wide entrance framed by dark lacquered rosewood and sheer silver curtains.

The broad doors swung open.

Four young men stepped across the threshold together.

Leading the group were Xiao Rui, Sheng Lu, and Zong Bu, their bright orange-and-white disciple robes immediately drawing every eye in the spacious, incense-scented showroom. Right behind them walked Lee Bie, still wearing his standard sect outfit, his fingers fidgeting nervously with his sleeves as he looked around at the towering bolts of glowing spirit-silk lining the walls.

Behind the central counter, an elderly man in a dark purple silk gown stood reviewing a ledger. He was the master tailor—a thin, sharp-eyed cultivator who had spent ninety years dressing imperial nobles, clan lords, and high-ranking elders.

The moment his gaze landed on the Orange robes of the three leading youths’, his hand froze over the ledger.

His sharp eyes widened slightly.

Sanatan Flame Sect.

In the current capital, that single emblem carried more weight than an imperial seal. The tailor immediately set his brush down, rounded the counter with hurried, smooth steps, and bowed so low his forehead nearly brushed the polished wooden floor.

"Welcome to the Pavilion of Heavenly Weaves, Members of Mighty Sanatan Flame Sect!" the old tailor said, his voice trembling slightly with polite urgency. He didn’t waste a second; with a quick wave of his sleeve, he gestured to his junior assistants standing near the side rooms. "Clear the main hall! Close the outer curtains! Prepare the private fitting stage for our honored guests!"

The assistants scrambled immediately, drawing the heavy silver drapes across the front windows to block out the street, leaving the grand hall exclusively to the four disciples.

"My lords," the tailor said, straightening up with a deeply respectful expression as he looked at Lee Bie. "How may this humble shop serve the grand sect today?"

Xiao Rui stepped forward, placing a hand on Lee Bie’s shoulder and pushing him slightly toward the fitting platform. "Old Master, spare no effort. Dress our brother in the finest civilian attire you have. He has an important meeting today."

"Understood! Understood!" The master tailor’s eyes gleamed. He gestured to two senior assistants, who immediately brought out a massive, dark navy robe draped over a stand of pale white jade.

The fabric was exquisite—woven smoothly with subtle silver borders running along the lapels and cuffs, catching the soft light of the spirit lamps like liquid starlight.

"This is crafted from deep-sea spirit-spider silk," the old tailor explained proudly, guiding Lee Bie onto the platform as the assistants carefully stripped off his outer disciple robe. "It is weightless, completely resistant to dust and moisture, and carries a subtle cooling formation within the weave. It holds the dignity of a noble without looking ostentatious."

Lee Bie stood stiffly on the wooden platform while the three assistants worked around him with silver-tipped needles and measuring tapes, smoothing out the folds and tucking the waist belt tight.

Sheng Lu sat casually on a nearby carved chair, pulling a fresh, steaming spirit-fruit bun from a paper wrapper he had brought along, taking a large bite while watching Lee Bie get measured. "Stand straight, Lee Bie. You’re slouching again."

"I am standing straight," Lee Bie muttered through his teeth, trying not to move his arms as an assistant pinned the right sleeve.

Zong Bu stood near the display racks, examining the finish of the fabric with an approving nod. "The cut is clean. The navy tone tempers his usual nervous energy and makes him look grounded."

Xiao Rui, meanwhile, leaned against a wooden pillar, unfolding a small piece of stiff parchment. He pulled a thin charcoal brush from his pocket and carefully wrote out several lines of neat, elegant script, blowing on the ink to let it dry quickly.

Ten minutes later, the fitting was complete.

The master tailor stepped back, clapping his hands together in genuine admiration. "Flawless. Young lord, you look exceptional."

Lee Bie stepped down from the platform, turning to look at his reflection in the large obsidian mirror near the wall. The navy spirit-silk fell smoothly around his frame, the silver-bordered lapels giving his posture a sharp, refined edge that completely transformed his appearance. He reached for his waist, where the dark-red spatial pouch Shaurya had given him hung securely against the navy silk.

Lee Bie pulled twenty high-grade gold coins from the pouch and set them directly onto the counter. "For your speed and work, Master Tailor."

The old tailor’s jaw dropped slightly at the generous tip, and he bowed deeply once more. "May the young lord’s meeting go with absolute success! Please come again!"

The four of them pushed past the heavy silver curtains and stepped back out onto the sunlit cobblestone street of 22nd Street.

Xiao Rui immediately grabbed Lee Bie’s right arm, carefully folding the stiff piece of parchment into a small, tight square before pressing it directly into Lee Bie’s palm.

"Listen to me carefully," Xiao Rui whispered, his face completely serious as he closed Lee Bie’s fingers over the paper. "This cheat-sheet contains five pre-written opening lines drafted through the collective intellect of the Single Mingle Gang. If your mind goes completely blank when you see her, do not panic. Take a subtle look at the paper in your fist and read the next line."

Lee Bie stared down at his closed hand, his heart beginning to hammer against his ribs all over again. "Is this really going to work?"

"Work?" Sheng Lu said, swallowing the rest of his spirit-fruit bun and wiping his fingers on a cloth. "Zong Bu spent two full hours refining those sentences. You’ll sound like a scholar presenting a thesis to the Emperor."

"Just make sure you hold the paper right side up," Zong Bu added calmly, smoothing his sleeves. "And do not read the marginal notes aloud. Sheng Lu accidentally wrote a note about spirit-herb tea prices in the bottom corner."

Lee Bie took a long, deep breath, letting the cool morning air fill his lungs. He tightened his fist around the folded paper, adjusted the silver-bordered lapel of his dark navy robe, and turned his gaze down the bustling, store-lined avenue of 22nd Street.

The wooden sign hanging above the medicine shop swayed gently in the afternoon breeze: Herbal Pavilion.

Inside, the air was thick with the bitter, earthy scent of dried spirit roots, crushed lotus leaves, and refined ginseng. Sunlight filtered through the paper-screen windows, casting warm geometric patches across the polished wooden counters.

Behind the counter stood Meng Jia.

Her dark, long hair was tied cleanly behind her back with a simple black ribbon, a few loose strands framing her face. She wore simple, fitted crimson-and-black work robes, her sleeves rolled neatly up to her elbows as she carefully weighed dried snow-lingzhi mushrooms on a small brass scale.

The threshold of the Lingwood Herbal Pavilion held the heavy, aromatic scent of crushed spirit-lotus and dried mountain roots. Sunlight poured through the wide paper-screen entrance, washing over the dark navy spirit-silk of Lee Bie’s new robe as he stepped across the wooden sill.

His posture was stiff as an iron pike. His left hand remained tucked rigidly behind his waist, while his right fist was clamped shut against his thigh, squeezing the folded parchment so hard the knuckles were stark white.

Behind the long rosewood counter, Meng Jia set down a brass weighing scale.

She didn’t look up immediately, her slender fingers carefully sorting dried snow-lingzhi slices into a small paper wrapper. Hearing the heavy thud of Lee Bie’s boots on the floorboards, she brushed a stray strand of dark hair behind her ear and offered the standard, polite greeting she gave every customer who walked through the door.

"Welcome to Lingwood Pavilion," Meng Jia said, her tone smooth, professional, and entirely neutral as her gaze lifted to the visitor. "Are you seeking refined herbs or raw cultivation roots today—"

She stopped mid-sentence.

Her dark eyes rested on Lee Bie’s face, then swept briefly over the rich, dark navy silk draping his shoulders and the crisp silver trim along his collar. He didn’t look like the usual alchemy assistants or carriage drivers who frequented 22nd Street; he carried the sharp, rigid posture of a cultivator, yet his face was tense, his jaw locked so tight the muscle near his cheek twitched.

"Is... everything alright, young master?" Meng Jia asked, her brows knitting slightly in mild confusion as she observed his complete stillness.

Lee Bie’s heart slammed against his ribs like an iron drum.

Her voice, spoken directly to him from three paces away, wiped his mind as clean as freshly fallen snow. Every line he had rehearsed on the mountain path vanished instantly. The store, the counter, the smell of herbs—everything turned into a blur.

The paper!

With a subtle, desperate jerk of his wrist, Lee Bie tilted his right fist inward. He unrolled his thumb just a fraction of an inch, his eyes darting frantically down to the cramped charcoal characters Zong Bu had written on the parchment.

He didn’t read it in his head first. His mouth simply opened, and the words burst out in a rigid, booming roar that rattled the small glass jars on the counter:

"The autumn sky is clear today! Yet its beauty pales in comparison to the spiritual radiance of your presence!"

The booming declaration echoed off the wooden beams of the shop before dying into absolute, suffocating silence.

Meng Jia froze. Her hand, still holding the paper wrapper of snow-lingzhi, stayed suspended mid-air. Her dark eyes widened in sheer, stunned disbelief as she stared at the dark navy-clad youth who had just shouted a poetic declaration at her from five feet away.

Two secondary assistants working near the back shelves stopped their grinding pestles, turning their heads so fast their necks nearly cracked.

Lee Bie’s face exploded into a burning crimson that rushed straight to the tips of his ears. He instantly snapped his thumb back over the parchment, his right arm locking against his side like a wooden plank, his boots shifting half an inch on the floorboards as he stared directly at the wall behind her head.

Meng Jia stared at him for two full seconds before a soft, breathless laugh escaped her lips. She covered her mouth with her sleeve, her shoulders shaking gently. "Did you write that down before coming here?"

Lee Bie’s face exploded into a vivid, burning red. He frantically tried to crush the paper deeper into his fist, his boots shifting awkwardly on the floorboards. "I... that is... the weather is indeed... very pleasant..."

"It is," Meng Jia smiled, her dark eyes curving into soft crescents as she stepped out from behind the counter. She didn’t press him, nor did she make him feel small. Instead, she gestured toward the long, organized rows of wooden medicine shelves lining the walls. "Since you’re here, are you looking for specific herbs today?"

"Yes!" Lee Bie blurted out immediately. "Herbs! Lots of herbs!"

"What kind of herbs do you need?" she asked, walking toward the high-tier display cases near the back. "For meridian cultivation, physical tempering, or spirit recovery?"

"All of them," Lee Bie said, following her two steps behind. He didn’t even look at the shelves. His eyes were fixed entirely on her face, watching the way her hair shifted when she moved, the light catching the side of her profile. "Whatever you recommend, Miss Meng. I’ll take it."

Meng Jia reached for a glass case, pointing toward a pale, silver-leafed root resting on red velvet. "This is a Hundred-Year Silver Moon Root. It’s very effective for stabilizing qi, but the price is a bit high—five thousand gold coins..."

"Wrap it," Lee Bie said instantly, without even glancing at the price tag. He casually pulled the dark-red spatial pouch from his robe, letting the heavy clink of gold echo through the quiet shop.

Meng Jia froze, her hand hovering near the glass. She looked at the pouch, then at his calm, completely unbothered expression. "Are you sure? Five thousand gold is—"

"Wrap three of them," Lee Bie added smoothly, his confidence suddenly surging as he realized he didn’t need to read from the paper to keep her talking to him. "And those golden lotus seeds beside it. Wrap those too."

Meng Jia stared at him, genuine shock flickering in her eyes. "Young Mater... do you even know what golden lotus seeds are used for."

"They’re used for keeping you in front of me for another five minutes," Lee Bie said before his brain could filter his words.

The moment the sentence left his mouth, he froze, his face flushing crimson once again.

Meng Jia paused. A soft, rosy tint touched her own cheeks, her gaze dropping to the wooden display case as a shy, quiet smile spread across her face. "You... you say very strange things."

Before Lee Bie could attempt to recover his dignity, the front doors of the shop were slammed open with a loud, violent bang.

CRACK!

The wooden door crashed against the inner wall with a heavy thud, the violent vibration rattling the glass display jars along the front counter.

A young man strutted into the shop, flanked by six armored guards wearing iron-plated leather. Behind them walked a tall, lean man in plain grey robes, his hands tucked loosely into his sleeves, his face holding the cold, indifferent stillness of a cultivator who had long crossed into the Golden Vein stage.

The young man leading them wore bright purple silk robes heavily embroidered with silver thread. A thick jade pendant swung from his belt, and his face was twisted into an impatient, sneering pout.

Zhou Yan—a notorious young master from the neighboring Silver Cloud City.

"Shopkeeper!" Zhou Yan barked, his voice echoing off the timber rafters as he kicked a small wooden display stool out of his path, sending it skidding across the floor. "Who runs this place?"

The faint, amused smile that had briefly touched Meng Jia’s lips vanished. Her face turned cool and guarded as she stepped out from behind the counter, placing herself firmly between the loud intruders and the rest of the shop.

"I am managing the counter today," Meng Jia said, her voice even, unhurried, and entirely professional. "My master is currently away gathering herbs in the mountains. If you require medicinal materials, state your order. If not, please do not disturb our business."

Zhou Yan’s eyes swept over her, his gaze lingering on her face before turning into a slow, arrogant smirk. He took two steps closer, leaning his forearms on the counter without the slightest regard for personal space.

"Order herbs?" Zhou Yan scoffed, leaning in. "Why would I waste gold on dried roots? I came in here for a fresh view, and I just found it. State your price, girl. Pack your bags and come back to my manor as my new attendant."

Meng Jia’s eyes flashed with sharp disgust. She lifted the heavy wooden measuring ruler off the counter and slammed the flat of it against his reaching wrist, forcing his hand back.

"Mind your manners," Meng Jia said, her voice dropping into a cold, dangerous quiet. "This is the capital thoroughfare. Keep your hands to yourself."

Behind her, Lee Bie’s posture shifted.

The nervous, tongue-tied youth who had been sweating over a piece of paper five seconds ago vanished. The air inside the shop grew distinctly cold. Lee Bie took a single step forward, his boots striking the floorboards with a heavy, deliberate thud that drew every guard’s eyes straight to him.

Directly above the shop, three figures were crouching beneath the shade of the clay roof tiles, peeking through a small gap in the wooden eaves.

Sheng Lu’s fingers tightened over his spear haft. "I’m dropping down. I’ll break his legs."

"Wait!" Xiao Rui caught Sheng Lu’s shoulder, his eyes wide with absolute excitement as he peeked through the gap. "Look at Lee Bie’s eyes. Look at his stance! Nobody move. Like Master always says... this is Lee Bie’s Main Character moment!"

Zong Bu adjusted his position on the tiles, his breathing steady. "Let the pioneer handle it."

Inside the shop, the grey-robed Caretaker stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at Lee Bie’s plain navy robes.

"Boy, step aside if you wish to keep your limbs," the Caretaker said, his voice flat and patronizing. "You are looking at Young Master Zhou of the Zhou Clan. In three days, when the Sanatan Flame Sect opens its mountain gates for grand recruitment, my Young Master will officially become a disciple of the grandest sect in the kingdom. You cannot afford to cross him."

Lee Bie looked at Zhou Yan, then shifted his gaze to the grey-robed man. A short, quiet laugh escaped his chest.

"The Sanatan Flame Sect?" Lee Bie’s voice was smooth, carrying an odd, heavy weight that filled the room. "A piece of trash like him won’t even cross the outer threshold of those gates. A stray dog resting at the mountain entrance has more discipline than this garbage."

Zhou Yan’s face turned an ugly, mottled red. "What did you just say, you beggar?! You dare question my talent?!" He pointed a finger adorned with heavy rings directly at Lee Bie’s chest. "Look at you! Dressed up in fresh silk to pretend you’re someone important! You probably spent your life savings just to stand in a capital medicine shop!"

Lee Bie didn’t raise his voice. Instead, he reached to his belt, unclipped the dark-red spatial pouch Shaurya had handed him, and casually tossed it an inch into the air, catching it in his palm with a heavy, metallic clink.

"Spent my savings?" Lee Bie asked softly. "There are five million gold coins locked inside this pouch. I can buy this entire shop, the street outside, and buy your life as a useless thrown-in extra—because five copper coins is more than you’re worth."

Zhou Yan’s breath caught in rage. "GUARDS! KILL HIM! TEAR HIS TONGUE OUT!"

The six armored guards drew their broadswords in unison, the cold ring of steel cutting through the room.

"Wait," Lee Bie said, his voice quiet, yet sharp enough to freeze the guards in their tracks.

Zhou Yan sneered, thinking the youth had finally realized his situation. "Grown quiet now, beggar?"

Lee Bie looked past the drawn blades, glancing briefly at the clean, organized wooden counters around them before looking back at Zhou Yan. "If you intend to fight, step out onto the cobblestones. I won’t have Miss Meng’s shop wrecked over trash like you."

Zhou Yan spat on the floorboards. "Outside then! Let the whole street watch you bleed!"

As Zhou Yan and his men turned toward the doorway, Lee Bie turned back toward the counter. The cold, dangerous stillness in his eyes softened for a fraction of a second as he met Meng Jia’s startled gaze. He offered her a calm, steady nod.

"Do not worry, Miss Meng," Lee Bie said, his tone entirely even. "As long as I am standing here, even death itself cannot touch you."

Up on the rooftop, all three gang members peeking through the eaves stared wide-eyed at Lee Bie’s back.

Simultaneously, their eyes widened, and they whispered in unison:

"So cool..."

The cobblestone street outside the Lingwood Herbal Pavilion was broad and open. Within moments of the confrontation spilling outside, a dense crowd of passing pedestrians, merchants, and wandering cultivators gathered in a wide circle, eager for entertainment.

Zhou Yan stood near the center of the thoroughfare, his arms crossed, his face ugly with malice. "Guards! End him!"

All six iron-armored guards charged simultaneously. Their broadswords swung in coordinated, lethal arcs, cold blade-qi tearing through the air as they aimed for Lee Bie’s neck, ribs, and legs.

Lee Bie didn’t draw a weapon. He didn’t even drop his spatial pouch.

He simply stood there, his navy robes fluttering in the wind.

SWISH! SWISH! SWISH!

Lee Bie’s body moved like a ghost. With minimal, effortless shifts of his feet, he casually sidestepped the first blade by half an inch. The second sword whistled past his ear, cutting only empty air. The third and fourth strikes came in a cross-pattern—Lee Bie bent his spine backward smoothly, the steel gleaming directly above his eyes, before snapping back upright with absolute grace.

He didn’t counterattack immediately. He just dodged.

He tilted his head left—miss!

He stepped back half an inch—miss!

He crossed his arms behind his back while pivoting on one heel—miss!

The crowd gasped in awe. "Look at his footwork! He isn’t even using spiritual energy!"

"Pure physical evasion! He’s playing with them!"

After dodging twenty consecutive strikes without a single speck of dust touching his navy robes, Lee Bie casually tapped the hilt of the nearest guard’s sword with two fingers. A burst of raw kinetic force traveled up the steel, shattering the guard’s grip and sending the man spinning across the cobblestones. Within three seconds, Lee Bie delivered six precise, lightning-fast palm strikes to their chests, sending all six guards crashing into the dirt, unconscious.

Zhou Yan’s jaw dropped.

The grey-robed Caretaker’s eyes narrowed sharply. Realizing this was no ordinary youth, the Caretaker stepped forward, his Golden Vein Level 5 cultivation erupting completely. A heavy, golden aura surged around his body, compressing the air around the street.

"Arrogant brat!" the Caretaker roared, his hands blurring into a blinding storm of strikes. "1000 Serpent Fists!"

A thousand golden fist-phantoms erupted through the air like a horde of striking vipers, tearing up the cobblestones beneath his feet as the attack surged toward Lee Bie.

Lee Bie didn’t retreat.

He casually tucked his left hand into his robe pocket. With his right hand, he extended a single index finger.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

A series of sharp, metallic impacts echoed across 22nd Street. Lee Bie’s single finger moved at impossible speed, intercepting every single one of the thousand fist-phantoms in mid-air with absolute precision. The golden energy shattered into harmless sparks upon touching his fingertips.

The Caretaker’s eyes widened in sheer horror. "WHAT?!"

Lee Bie didn’t give him time to recover. He spun on his heel, his navy robe fanning out like a dark sail, and drove a brutal back-kick directly into the Caretaker’s abdomen.

BOOM!

The Golden Vein Level 5 Caretaker let out a strangled gasp, his body folding in half like a piece of paper as he flew sixty feet backward across the street, slamming through a wooden fruit cart before passing out in the rubble.

The entire street went dead silent.

Zhou Yan was trembling violently, his face pale as chalk. His own Golden Vein Level 2 cultivation flared weakly, his hands shaking as he drew a decorative short sword. "Stay... stay back! I am Zhou Yan of the Zhou Clan!"

Lee Bie casually walked toward him using Aerial Steps.

FLASH!

Lee Bie vanished.

The next instant, he appeared directly behind Zhou Yan, standing on one foot.

"Peek-a-boo," Lee Bie whispered in his ear.

Zhou Yan screamed, spinning around and swinging his sword wildly.

FLASH!

Lee Bie vanished again, reappearing on Zhou Yan’s left, casually taking a small bamboo water flask from his belt and taking a slow sip while dodging another frantic sword strike by an inch.

"Your balance is terrible," Lee Bie remarked, taking another sip.

Zhou Yan swung again, crying out in pure panic.

Lee Bie appeared directly in front of him, his face inches from Zhou Yan’s. The playful mockery vanished from Lee Bie’s expression, replaced by a cold, absolute pressure. His right fist turned a deep, radiant silver as condensed physical qi locked onto Zhou Yan’s dantian.

"Mountain Breaking Fist!"

BOOOOM!

Lee Bie’s fist slammed squarely into Zhou Yan’s abdomen.

Zhou Yan’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. Blood erupted from his mouth as the force shattered his left kidney, severely damaged his lungs, and blasted him backward like a cannonball. His body flew seventy feet through the air, crashing squarely into the recovering Caretaker who had just tried to sit up.

Both of them slammed into the stone wall of a far alley, completely, utterly knocked out.

Lee Bie stood at the center of the thoroughfare, his navy robes settling softly in the wind. The surrounding crowd stared at him in breathless, terrified awe.

Lee Bie turned around, his gaze locking onto Meng Jia, who was standing near the shop entrance, her hands pressed against her lips, her eyes wide with pure, unadulterated shock.

Lee Bie straightened his collar, his voice echoing across the entire street with cold, unquestionable authority.

"Meng Jia is mine. Anyone who dares look at her with bad intentions will have to go through me first."

Meng Jia’s breath caught in her throat, her heart hammering against her ribs as she stared at the figure standing in the middle of the street.

High up on the roof, Xiao Rui wiped his brow. "He did it. He actually pulled off the declaration."

Suddenly, the dense crowd at the end of the street parted respectfully.

Two figures dressed in immaculate, glowing red robes walked through the gap. Their air was refined, their spiritual fluctuations radiating deep Golden Vein aura.

Muo Qian and Su Quan.

Muo Qian looked around at the shattered fruit cart and the unconscious guards, her brows drawing together. "What is going on here?"

The surrounding crowd immediately recognized the distinct crimson-and-gold embroidery along the sleeves of the two approaching robes. Waves of murmurs rippled through the street as merchants, wandering cultivators, and pedestrians bowed their heads in instinctive deference.

A nearby shopkeeper stepped forward from the edge of the thoroughfare, his hands trembling as he pointed toward the scene. "Exalted Seniors! A fight broke out between these two sides!"

Su Quan didn’t look at the shopkeeper. Her gaze drifted across the cracked cobblestones, past the unconscious guards, and locked directly onto the youth in the navy silk robe.

Lee Bie’s cool, majestic, main-character posture collapsed in a single heartbeat. His shoulders slumped, the sharp glint in his eyes vanishing as his face drained of color. He took three cautious steps backward, his boots scraping awkwardly against the stone.

"Muo Qian... Su Quan..." he stammered, his voice dropping an octave.

Up on the edge of the roof, the Single Mingle Gang went completely rigid.

Sheng Lu buried his face in his palms, his shoulders trembling. "Oh no... what are they doing here?"

Zong Bu’s jaw twitched, his eyes remaining fixed below. "How the hell should I know?"

Xiao Rui pressed his index finger flat against his lips, his voice barely a quiet rustle over the wind. "Stay quiet... if they catch us out here, Elder Jian Fan will double our punishment..."

Down on the street, the grey-robed Caretaker—who had barely forced his eyes open through his swollen face—saw the two official Sanatan Flame Sect members. A desperate flare of hope ignited in his chest. Dragging his broken body forward, he crawled across the dust, his bloodstained hands reaching toward the hems of Muo Qian and Su Quan’s robes.

"EXALTED ONES OF THE GREATEST SECT!" the Caretaker wept, slamming his forehead repeatedly against the hard cobblestones. "Please do justice for my Young Master! That wild, lawless brat over there brutally beat us, shattered my Young Master’s organs, and completely disregarded the laws of the capital! He treats your prestigious sect like a joke!"

Lee Bie’s jaw dropped, his hand snapping toward the old man. "You old hag! Who are you calling a wild brat?!"

The Caretaker bowed even lower, his tears mixing with the dust on his face. "Look at him! He is still threatening us right before your eyes! Save us!"

Muo Qian tilted her head slightly, her gaze passing over the weeping old man without a trace of pity. She looked straight at Lee Bie, a slow, quiet sigh escaping her lips. "What did you do this time, Lee Bie?"

The Caretaker’s weeping cut off instantly. He froze, his mouth staying half-open as his eyes darted between Muo Qian and Lee Bie in sheer confusion. "...Eh?"

Su Quan folded her arms across her chest, her eyes narrowing as she looked at Lee Bie. "Lee Bie, is he telling the truth? Are you really out here causing trouble and making a mess of things?"

Lee Bie frantically waved both hands in the air, cold sweat breaking out across his forehead. "ABSOLUTELY NOT! He is clearly framing me! He harassed Meng Jia first!"

The Caretaker’s pupils shrank. He looked at Lee Bie, then looked up at Muo Qian, his throat working dryly. "U-Um... why are you talking to him so casually? Please... do justice for us!"

Muo Qian and Su Quan exchanged a brief glance. A moment later, bright, musical laughter broke from both of them, ringing clearly over the silent street.

Su Quan looked down at the sprawling Caretaker as if looking at a complete fool. "Why would we punish him?"

Muo Qian stepped past the kneeling old man, a faint smirk touching her lips. "If Lee Bie beat you all up, it means there’s a good reason for it, and you’re the ones in the wrong here."

The Caretaker’s chest stopped moving entirely. "Wha... What..?"

Lee Bie’s figure blurred, reappearing right beside the kneeling Caretaker. He bent down, a cold, sharp smirk cutting across his face as his voice dropped into the old man’s ear. "Plan failed? I forgot to introduce myself properly."

Lee Bie straightened his spine, his hand coming up to flick a speck of dust from his dark navy sleeve with slow, deliberate flair. "I am Lee Bie. Core disciple of the Sanatan Flame Sect."

The Caretaker’s eyes dilated until the whites turned red. His jaw slackened, a faint, rattle-like gasp escaping his throat.

"Everything... ends..." the Caretaker whispered.

His head fell back, his eyes rolling into his skull as his body went completely limp, crashing flat onto the dirt.

Muo Qian walked up beside Lee Bie, her arms remaining folded as her gaze shifted toward the herbal shop entrance. "Now, can you tell us what’s actually going on?"

The cold, domineering air Lee Bie had maintained vanished instantly. A deep, vivid flush surged up his neck, turning his entire face bright crimson. His hand lifted stiffly, his finger trembling as he pointed toward Meng Jia, who was still standing by the rosewood door, completely silent.

Su Quan looked at Meng Jia, then shifted her gaze back to Lee Bie’s burning ears. A spark of pure, mischievous amusement lit up her eyes.

"Oh... so is that her?" Su Quan asked.

Lee Bie gave a tiny, rigid nod, his eyes fixed firmly on the ground near his boots.

Muo Qian reached out and lightly patted Lee Bie’s shoulder, a soft chuckle leaving her chest. "Good luck, Lee Bie. Don’t ruin it."

Without another word, both of them tapped their heels against the stone, their bodies rising like twin streaks of light that swept up over the wooden eaves and vanished beyond the roofline.

Lee Bie let out a long, shuddering breath, the tension leaving his frame as he turned back toward the herbal shop.

Meanwhile, on the roof behind the shop...

Xiao Rui, Sheng Lu, and Zong Bu emerged from behind the chimney, letting out a collective, breathless sigh of relief.

"Finally..." Xiao Rui wiped his brow. "They’re gone."

"Did you really want us to leave that quickly?" a smooth, familiar voice purred from directly behind them.

The Single Mingle Gang froze.

They turned around slowly, three pair of eyes widening in pure, unadulterated terror.

Muo Qian and Su Quan were standing on the roof tiles behind them, arms folded, smiling with terrifying sweetness.

CRASH!

All three fell to their knees simultaneously, bowing their heads flat against the roof tiles.

"PLEASE DON’T TELL ELDER JIAN FAN!" Xiao Rui cried out. "WE ONLY SKIPPED MORNING DRILLS TO HELP LEE BIE’S LOVE LIFE!"

"WE ARE INNOCENT ACCESSORIES!" Sheng Lu yelled.

Su Quan stepped forward, lightly tapping Xiao Rui’s head with her boot, before crouching beside the edge of the roof. "Shut up, all of you. Quiet down and let us watch."

The three gang members blinked, looking at each other in utter confusion, before quietly crawling back to the edge of the tiles alongside the two unexpected disciples

Five pairs of eyes peeked over the wooden eaves.

Down on the quiet street, Lee Bie smoothed down his navy robe, took a deep, steady breath, and slowly walked toward Meng Jia.

To Be Continued.....