Chapter 156 - 155
The night descended upon Sky Jade City, but the Celestial Summit Palace did not sleep. Hovering a thousand feet above the mortal realm, the magnificent fortress was bathed in the ethereal, silvery glow of thousands of floating spirit-lanterns.
Inside the Grand Concourse, a sprawling hall built to host the continent’s finest elites, the atmosphere was a chaotic mix of forced revelry and barely concealed anxiety. The Lower Division delegations had gathered in full force.
Provincial Lords, top sect masters, and their respective Participating Generals mingled throughout the hall, exchanging cups of hundred-year-old spirit wine and polite smiles. Laughter echoed across the room, but it was noticeably louder than necessary. Everyone seemed eager to boast about their province, their sect, or their chosen champion, as if talking loudly enough could drown out the unease hanging over the gathering.
But above the Grand Concourse lay the Supreme Suites, the private domains prepared exclusively for the Six Upper Division delegations. Those floors were entirely dark, silent, and sealed off by heavy barriers.
The Six Peerless Geniuses—Xuan Mingzhe, Jiang Wan, Feng Yao, Chu Kuang, Ye Ao, and Ling Chuan—had immediately secluded themselves upon arrival. Not a single one of them, nor any of their sect elders, dared to descend and mingle with the crowd below. To them, the Lower Division cultivators were nothing more than scum, dirt completely unworthy of their breath or their time.
Yet, in the absence of the gods, the mortals danced.
On the eastern flank of the Grand Concourse, seated at a crescent-shaped table carved, was Lin Yuan’s household.
Lin Yuan sat back in relaxed repose, peeling a grape before gently placing it into Bai Qingyue’s waiting mouth. She sat beside him in her wheelchair, a soft smile on her lips as she savored the sweetness. To anyone watching, they looked like a young, wealthy couple completely unconcerned with the Lord Tournament unfolding around them.
Standing a step behind them, however, Bai Chen was a coil of nervous, restless energy. The young cultivator had spent the entire day processing the sheer terror of the Upper Division’s arrival. He held a cup of wine in his hand, taking small, distracted sips as his eyes darted across the crowded room.
From the shadows beside a nearby pillar, hidden by the milling crowd, Han Zilie watched the Lin household with eyes burning with resentment.
The disgraced young master of the Han clan slowly swirled the wine in his cup, his expression twisted with hatred. He had lost the seat he once believed was guaranteed to him. He had been humiliated before the entire provincial elite. But tonight, he had prepared something that would make Lin Yuan regret ever taking his place.
Han Zilie caught the eye of a palace servant passing through the crowd. The servant was a young Qi Condensation cultivator carrying a silver tray piled with roasted delicacies. Their eyes met for only a moment.
The servant gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.
Han Zilie smiled, taking a slow sip of his wine. The trap was sprung.
The servant moved through the crowd with practiced efficiency, weaving between cultivators as he made his way toward the eastern side of the hall where Bai Chen was standing. As he approached from behind, he suddenly stumbled, his foot catching on the edge of a woven silk rug.
"Ah!"
The servant lurched forward, and the heavy tray in his hands tilted dangerously before he crashed into Bai Chen’s side.
Bai Chen, possessing the reflexes of a Peak Foundation Establishment cultivator, reacted instantly. He caught the servant by the shoulder before he could fall and steadied the tray with his other hand, ensuring that not a single dish spilled.
"Steady there," Bai Chen said kindly. "Are you alright?"
"Y-yes, Young Master! A thousand apologies! My clumsiness is unforgivable!" the servant stammered, bowing repeatedly as he quickly regained his footing.
"It’s fine. No harm done. Just watch your step next time." Bai Chen smiled and released him.
The servant bowed three more times, backing away quickly before disappearing into the sea of guests. Bai Chen brushed off the front of his robes, thinking absolutely nothing of the brief, mundane encounter.
He didn’t notice the faint, practically weightless addition to the inner fold of his silk sash.
Less than five minutes later, the lively, buzzing music of the Grand Concourse abruptly ground to a halt.
The heavy doors at the northern end of the hall, which connected to the elite guest pavilions, suddenly slammed open with a thunderous boom that rattled the wine cups on every table.
The chatter throughout the hall died instantly. Hundreds of heads turned toward the entrance.
Striding into the hall was Mu Tianyang.
The Senior Disciple of the Pure Cloud Sect was no longer wearing his usual polite, and composed expression. His face was twisted with cold, righteous fury. He no longer bothered to suppress his cultivation. The pressure of his Middle Nascent Soul cultivation erupted from his body, sweeping across the crowded hall like a freezing wave and silencing everyone in its path.
Foundation Establishment and Core Formation cultivators throughout the room instantly paled, some stumbling backward, unable to breathe under the suffocating weight of his cultivation.
Behind Mu Tianyang walked two elder Dao Protectors of the Pure Cloud Sect, their expressions grim and murderous.
Mu Tianyang did not scan the room. He walked in a perfectly straight line directly toward the eastern flank. Directly toward Bai Chen.
The crowd parted before him, cultivators hurriedly stepping aside to clear his path. The tension in the Grand Concourse rose sharply. Everyone held their breath, eyes darting between the enraged Nascent Soul genius and the young, confused Foundation Establishment cultivator he was approaching.
Lin Yuan, still sitting comfortably at the table, stopped peeling the grapes. He slowly wiped his fingers on a silk cloth, his deep purple eyes locking onto Mu Tianyang.
Mu Tianyang came to a halt ten paces away from Bai Chen. The air between them was so thick with killing intent it could be cut with a knife.
"Senior Disciple Mu?" Bai Chen asked, his voice steady despite the crushing pressure forcing him to root his feet into the floorboards just to remain standing. "Is there a problem?"
"A problem?" Mu Tianyang’s voice echoed through the silent hall, laced with a venomous anger. "You dare ask me if there is a problem, you filthy, mud-born thief?"
The insult cracked like a whip. A collective gasp rippled through the assembled guests. To hurl such an accusation in the middle of a gathering was a severe breach of protocol—unless the accusation was absolute.
"I don’t know what you are talking about," Bai Chen retorted, his brow furrowing in genuine confusion and rising anger. "Watch your words, Mu Tianyang."
"I will watch my words when you empty your robes, boy!" Mu Tianyang roared, stepping forward, his Nascent Soul aura physically pressing Bai Chen down by an inch. "Less than an hour ago, while Saintess Su Yin was attending a private briefing with the Cultivation Council, her personal chambers were breached. The wards were bypassed by someone possessing internal palace clearance. And a highly sacred, deeply personal artifact of hers was stolen from her vanity."
Whispers erupted like wildfire across the hall. The chambers of a sect Saintess breached? A personal artifact stolen? The implications were not merely of theft, but of gross, perverse obsession.
"And you think I did it?" Bai Chen demanded, his face flushing with absolute outrage. "I have been in this hall with my family for the past two hours! Ask anyone!"
"A convenient alibi for a boy who hides behind his brother-in-law," Mu Tianyang sneered, his eyes filled with righteous disgust. "I don’t need to ask the crowd. The artifact was coated with a unique, invisible tracking powder, a standard security measure of the Pure Cloud Sect. My Dao Protector followed its trace, and it led directly to you."
"Lies!" Bai Chen shouted, his hand dropping to the hilt of his sword.
From the periphery of the crowd, exactly on cue, Han Zilie stepped forward. He played the role of the concerned, objective observer flawlessly.
"This is a grave accusation, Senior Disciple Mu," Han Zilie announced loudly, ensuring the entire hall heard him. "But the honor of a Saintess is not a matter for debate. If Young Master Bai is truly innocent, as he claims, then he should have no objection to a simple search of his person. Let him empty his sash and his spatial ring. If he is clean, the Pure Cloud Sect owes Lord Zhao’s household an apology. If not..."
"I have nothing to hide!" Bai Chen snarled, his pride stung beyond reason. He threw his arms out wide, utterly confident in his own innocence. "Search me!"