Chapter 39: Su Lan
The grand hall of the Sixth Peak was nothing short of majestic. It soared upward, the ceiling lost in a swirl of spirit mist and golden formations, humming softly with spiritual energy. Velvet-red carpets embroidered with phoenix motifs rolled from the golden gates all the way to the elevated jade dais where Su Lan sat upon her throne—an ethereal beauty wrapped in a robe of blue and black silk, its sleeves fluttering without wind, revealing glimpses of her fair shoulders and smooth collarbone.
Her eyes were calm, half-lidded, but focused. Those same eyes now narrowed slightly, fixated on one person standing silently at the edge of the carpeted path—Meng Hao.
He stood straight and unyielding, dressed in a crisp robe gifted by the sect, the robe hugging his slender but powerful figure. His black hair, tied with a white ribbon, cascaded over his shoulders like a river of ink. His face, mesmerizing and handsome, exuded a tranquil aura that made even the air around him feel different.
Su Lan’s fingers gently tapped the armrest of her throne, the smallest flicker of an indecipherable emotion flashing through her gaze.
At first, Meng Hao had ignored the presence of others in the room, his eyes fixed on Su Lan. But now, sensing their stares—burning, yearning—he slowly turned his head to observe them.
They were Su Lan’s direct disciples. Eight women.Each of them possessed a beauty that defied the mundane, as if Heaven itself had sculpted them with different strokes of divine inspiration.No one can say that they are normal
The First Senior Sister, Han Qing, immediately drew his gaze. She was tall, her mature allure accentuated by a deep green robe that clung tightly to her curves, its neckline teasing the upper swells of her chest. Her long legs were exposed beneath the slit of her high-cut robes, smooth and fair like polished jade. Her raven-black hair was tied up in a regal bun, with a single silver pin holding it in place.
She met Meng Hao’s eyes with a calm and assessing gaze, then nodded. "Junior Brother," she said, her voice low and smooth, like velvet brushing against skin.
Meng Hao cupped his fists in greeting. "Eldest Senior Sister."
Their eyes lingered for a moment longer than necessary.
He proceeded, offering formal greetings to each senior sister in turn.
The Second Senior Sister, Wang Quier, wore a robe of soft lilac silk, almost transparent in certain places, a provocative design that danced dangerously on the edge of immodesty. Her long hair flowed freely down her back, and she pretended not to care about his presence—but her darting glances betrayed her interest.