CONVOCATION
Zi Rongyu raised his sword and struck without restraint, the strength behind the blow driving Baili several steps backward. Baili had clearly not expected such force. He cried out as his footing faltered, and by the time he stumbled to a halt, blood had already begun spreading beneath the torn fabric at his left ribs, where Rongyu’s blade had nicked him.
“Shixiong!”
Rongyu scowled at the shallow wound. He raised his sword again, but just as the blade was about to descend, Baili lifted an arm to defend himself instead of reaching for the sword that had fallen from his grasp.
The motion made Rongyu stop mid-strike.
“What kind of trash are you?” he demanded coldly. “How did I end up with an apprentice like you? Do you even know how to pick up your sword?”
The insults no longer affected Baili. After enduring them for so long, he had grown completely numb to them. Rather than obey, he lowered his gaze.
“I am sorry, Shixiong.”
Rongyu’s brows tightened. Baili seemed unusually distracted today, and the sight only fueled his irritation. He sheathed his sword.
“What is your problem?”
Baili pushed himself upright, wincing as he steadied his breathing. He swallowed once, then went straight to the question that had been weighing on him.
“Shixiong...” He hesitated. “Is it true that the Silver Thread of Shifting Stars... has fallen?”
Rongyu’s expression darkened.
“Where did you hear such nonsense?”
Baili looked genuinely surprised by his reaction.
“It is what all the initiates on Moon Ivory have been talking about.” He hesitated, uncertain whether he should repeat the rumors aloud. “They said... that he was seduced by a demon lover. A fo—”
Before the final word could leave his mouth, Rongyu drew his sword.
Instinctively, Baili raised an arm to shield himself. The blade stopped a hair’s breadth from his face.
Rongyu’s restraint lasted barely a moment.
He drove a vicious kick into Baili’s stomach, sending him reeling several paces backward.
“Shixiong!” Baili cried.
Rongyu could scarcely believe anyone would dare utter such filth. The Silver Immortal existed far beyond any circle Rongyu could ever hope to approach, yet his reverence for the elder was no less than that of the countless disciples within the sect. Hearing him reduced to such vulgar gossip stirred a fury Rongyu himself did not entirely understand.
Unable to find the proper words to defend the Immortal’s name, he stepped toward Baili and spoke through clenched teeth.
“Speak such filth again, and I will cut you down myself.”
Baili merely looked away.
That single reaction snapped the last thread of Rongyu’s patience.
“Pick up your sword.”
“But you already broke my hand,” Baili retorted bitterly.
“And I will break your legs next if you do not get off the ground,” Rongyu spat. “After that, I will cut out your tongue and feed it to you.”
Baili understood then that he had truly provoked him.
This would no longer be another sparring session.
Slowly, he rose to his feet, retrieved his fallen sword, and returned to position.
The moment the exchange resumed, Rongyu attacked without mercy.
He moved with terrifying speed. Baili could barely follow the trajectory of one strike before another descended upon him. Rongyu’s swordsmanship was leagues above his own. After all, he was now the foremost disciple of the Dragon Banner, and being his apprentice was both a blessing and a curse.
Steel flashed repeatedly across the training grounds.
Baili was forced backward again and again, unable to regain his footing or momentum.
A kick to the side of his face sent him spinning. He crashed onto his back, his vision swimming as his left ear rang violently. Blood filled his mouth. He swallowed it down and forced himself upright, waiting for the world to steady.
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For a moment, he saw two of Rongyu standing before him.
Baili’s grip on his sword weakened. It slipped from his hand and clattered against the ground.
Rongyu took it as surrender.
Yet he had strictly taught Baili that surrender was never an option.
His anger flared once more, and he attacked again without pause.
The beating continued until Baili finally collapsed unconscious onto the training grounds.
When Rongyu stopped, he had not even broken a sweat.
He stood over Baili’s battered form, looking down at him with open disdain, before finally turning away.
But the instant he did, his steps halted.
Li Weiji stood several paces away, silently watching.
Rongyu’s eyes widened slightly, as though he had been caught doing something shameful. His jaw tightened. He hurried forward and lowered himself into a deep bow.
“Master.”
Li Weiji’s gaze passed briefly over him to the unconscious Baili before he shook his head in quiet disapproval.
The disappointment in that small gesture caused Rongyu’s expression to stiffen further, though he said nothing in his defense.
After a moment, Li Weiji spoke calmly.
“Grandmaster Zhenwu has called for a gathering at South Bixia Hall. Prepare yourself. Wear your ceremonial robes and join me.”
* * * * * *
Rows of elders sat in rigid silence, their hands hidden within the folds of their wide sleeves, their stern expressions fixed ahead. Among them sat the Guild Tribunal’s top three echelons: Zi Rongyu, Xiao Mingjue, and Yan Yurui.
At the forefront of the hall sat Grandmaster Qiang Zhenwu, with Lady Qiang Lian at his right and the scion’s empty seat at his left.
The large doors to the grand hall opened, and Zhouyi entered first. He walked steadily, though an unusual stiffness in his shoulders betrayed a tension he could not fully conceal.
Haoran followed close behind.
Zhouyi stopped among the gathered elders and took his designated place, while Haoran continued forward alone to take the scion’s seat.
The meeting began.
Grandmaster Zhenwu rose, and every eye followed him. He stepped toward the center of the hall, his white robes trailing gracefully behind him as his gaze moved slowly across the elders and tribunal members, acknowledging their presence.
When he finally spoke, his voice carried evenly through the chamber.
“You all have questions regarding the events that have taken place within the Jingshen Spire over the past two months.”
No one interrupted him.
“Events that began with the arrival of a darkling disguised as a sickly mortal, followed by the fire at Immortal Songhe’s residence, his venture into the Blackwood and subsequent return, and finally, his arrest alongside the darkling.”
Zhenwu’s eyes hardened slightly.
“Above all else, however, you wish to know one thing.”
He looked directly at the elders.
“You wish to know whether Xue Feng Yong Ye has truly returned. So I will answer that question first.”
“No.”
“The darkling recently imprisoned within the Eternal Fire Cauldron has no connection to the Demon King Tianyao. Though he possesses the Demon Heart Seed, he is still only a darkling—half human, half fox spirit.”
The tension in the chamber visibly eased. Several elders exchanged restrained murmurs of relief.
Zhenwu allowed their voices to settle before speaking again.
“The second matter concerns the outbreak of divine fire at Immortal Songhe’s residence. The cause was a grave error committed by the darkling in question. Mortal lives were placed at risk, but Immortal Songhe intervened before greater loss could occur.”
The explanation made perfect sense. Several elders nodded in understanding, while others murmured their agreement before settling into silence once more.
Zhenwu did not pause for long.
“Third—the Blackwood. It is not a matter to be discussed within this hall.”
No one objected.
“However, I will say this: so long as none venture into that place, the danger within remains contained. This has been true for centuries, and it will remain true for centuries more.”
The answer, vague as it was, seemed sufficient. The gathered elders nodded slowly in acceptance.
Then Zhenwu reached the final matter.
“Why, then, did Immortal Songhe venture into that place? Why keep a darkling in his residence? Why did the fox spirit come to He Yu Zong in the first place, you may all wonder?”
His gaze moved slowly across the attentive faces in the hall before he answered calmly.
“He came to find me. Because I am his father.”
For one full breath, the hall remained utterly still.
Then the silence shattered.
Whispers erupted across the chamber. Several elders rose in disbelief, while others stared openly at Zhenwu as though questioning whether they had heard him correctly. The tribunal members immediately lowered their heads, afraid to even look upon the reactions around them.
Haoran felt himself sink deeper into his seat.
Zhenwu did not react to the uproar around him. His eyes remained fixed on one person: Qiang Lian. She sat in complete silence, only the whiteness of her face betraying her composure.
Zhenwu waited. Only after he was certain she would not lose control did he continue.
“Everything Immortal Songhe did—concealing and protecting the darkling—was for me. To protect my son.”
The murmuring continued, louder and more prolonged than before. Yet despite the disbelief filling the chamber, despite the shock visible on nearly every face, no one dared question Grandmaster Zhenwu directly.