Chapter 40: Su Lan Lust 1
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.
Soft gusts of spiritual wind gently played with her long, flowing robes — a misty blue ensemble trimmed with phoenix embroidery, ethereal in appearance, as though woven from mist itself. Her sleeves billowed gently even though the air inside was still, and her silken black hair, adorned with a single moon-pearl pin, cascaded like a waterfall over her shoulder.
Her eyes, half-closed, had been lost in thought, flashing momentarily with the ghosts of past memories. Bitterness, longing, and deep-seated restraint flickered behind those calm pupils. But before any emotion could linger long enough to escape her gaze, she exhaled softly and reined herself in.
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.
A cold, clear voice broke the silence.
"Today," Su Lan began, her tone carrying both authority and an edge of warning, "there has been a sudden drop in spiritual energy fluctuations near the outer boundary of our sect. There are also murmurs... rumors of a Golden Core realm treasure surfacing nearby."
At her words, the nine beautiful women seated respectfully before her — her senior disciples — straightened their backs, their expressions sharpening. Su Lan’s gaze swept across them, calm and authoritative, but from time to time, it lingered for a fleeting second longer on one person — Meng Hao, the sole male among them.
Despite her typically frigid demeanor, those brief glances held the faintest trace of something... warmer. Perhaps too warm.
"This," she continued, "will likely attract many demonic cultivators. The region will descend into chaos in the coming days. I hope you all remember your responsibilities and refrain from leaving the sect’s territory without express permission."
Her words echoed across the chamber like the toll of a temple bell — firm and unyielding.
Standing not far behind the seated disciples was a slender woman dressed in silver-white garments — Cheng Yue, Li Yao’s master. With her sharp, discerning eyes, she had long noticed the subtle glances her Sect Master threw toward Meng Hao. She leaned slightly toward Li Yao, whispering just loud enough for her disciple to hear.
"Girl," Cheng Yue said with narrowed eyes, "your master’s lust seems to be growing more restless by the day. If you truly want to protect your junior brother, you need to grow stronger — fast. That treasure... it might be your chance."