The entire group turned as Master Daokan stepped forward, his mere presence silencing the room. The air grew heavy with authority, and even Atlas, ever the opportunist, knew when to pause. The time for negotiation would come later.
Master Daokan stood and insisted on them to sit while he verbally says to the maids
''Bring out the best'' and followed them outside.
The moment they sat inside the grand hall, something unexpected happened.
Bao let out an audible "Ahhh~" as he practically melted onto the floor.
The entire group turned to him as he sprawled onto his back, stretching like a cat basking in the sun.
"Bao" Jiang hissed, eyes darting around at the staring disciples. "Get up. You're embarrassing us."
Bao sighed blissfully, completely ignoring him.
"You don't understand. The floor is warm. The floor... is heated."
Layla's eye twitched. Slowly, deliberately, she knelt down and pressed her palm against the polished wooden surface. A wave of comforting warmth radiated up her fingers.
Layla had scoffed earlier at the mere idea of heated floors, dismissing it as an unnecessary luxury.
''What kind of spoiled sect would waste resources on something so ridiculous?'' she had thought at the time.
Layla's eye twitched again. Slowly, she sat down.
And then stood up. Then sat back down. Then up again.
Her face twisted into something between horror and reluctant admiration as she kept shifting between positions, trying to comprehend the sheer staggering difference in temperature.
Atlas watched her with barely restrained amusement.
"Meilin… are you comparing the floor temperatures?"
Layla, still in a state of mild disbelief, muttered
"It doesn't make sense. How… how can a floor feel this good?"
Bao, sprawled on his back, raised a lazy hand. "Join me. Embrace the warmth. Give in."
Jiang groaned. "I swear, I will leave you here."
As if a silent agreement had passed through the group, one by one, they all sank onto the floor. Bao had already claimed his spot, but now Jiang, despite his earlier protests, hesitantly lowered himself, letting out a slow exhale as warmth seeped into his bones. Meilin's parents followed suit with a measured grace, but even Lin Wuye let out a pleased hum.
Atlas, ever the opportunist, stretched his legs out, sighing in mock satisfaction.
"Now this… this is civilization."
Layla shot him another glare, but even she couldn't deny the comfort as she crossed her arms and sat fully.
"This is an insult to all struggling sects everywhere."
Meyu, who had resisted the longest, finally relented, sitting with her hands pressed flat to the wood.
"I don't think I can ever go back to cold floors."
Atlas, ever the joker he is, tilted his head and smirked.
"Alright, real question—if Master Daokan himself asked you to be his concubine in exchange for permanent access to these floors, would you leave me?"
Meyu barely hesitated before playfully responding
"Hmm… depends. Would the deal include heated walls too?"
Atlas let out a sharp laugh, but something inside him twisted. It was a joke. He knew it was a joke. And yet, the idea—her leaving him, even hypothetically—stung in a way he hadn't expected.
He kept his expression relaxed, casual, but the weight of the answer settled deep in his chest, unnoticed by anyone else but him.
Jiang, eyes shut in reluctant bliss, muttered, "If we had this back home, I'd never leave my quarters."
Bao, still sprawled on his back, lazily waved a hand.
"Forget everything else. I propose we abandon all worldly struggles and dedicate our lives to floor appreciation."
Layla groaned. "I swear, if Master Daokan walks in and sees us like this, we're never getting taken seriously."
Atlas leaned back on his hands, smirking.
"Or, we could propose a lucrative heated floor business expansion. Think of the profits, Meilin. Think of the future."
Layla buried her face in her hands. "I am so done with you all."
But the thought stayed with both of them.
Atlas, for his part, merely scoffed at Layla's rejection, recognizing it for what it was—pettiness. She had to know this was a brilliant idea. He could already see the potential: luxury-heated floors in every sect, a revolution in comfort that he would personally monopolize. Of course, that meant he first had to convince a certain sect master to let him have a piece of this operation. A grin tugged at the corner of his lips as he began mentally crafting his pitch—after all, what kind of merchant would he be if he let an opportunity like this slip through his fingers?
Meanwhile, Layla sat stiffly, her thoughts racing. Atlas was dangerous—not because of his fighting ability, but because of his mind. She could feel him scheming already. She knew exactly what he was thinking because she had the same idea herself. But there was no way in hell she was letting him be the one to take advantage of this. No, if there was anyone who was going to strike a deal with Master Daokan and secure this innovation for their own sect, it was going to be her.
All she needed to do was figure out how to get Atlas out of the picture first.
Before she could plot any further, the air in the room shifted, and the presence of authority became undeniable. Master Daokan returned, his expression unreadable as he took his place at the head of the hall.
Without hesitation, as if reading their very thoughts, he simply stated, "No."
Atlas blinked. "No?"
Daokan's gaze swept over them, unimpressed.
"You are not the first to come here offering business ventures, and you will not be the last. Heated floors, trade agreements, alliances—I have rejected them all. And I will continue to reject them. My sect has no need for outside interference."
Layla and Atlas exchanged a glance. They had both been shut down before they could even open their mouths.
But that didn't deter either of them. At least, not yet.
Atlas, ever the businessman, clapped his hands together and gave the floor an appreciative pat, his grin widening.
"Master Daokan, I must say, your sect's infrastructure is truly a marvel! Heated floors in a mountain stronghold—such foresight, such innovation! A true testament to leadership that values both practicality and luxury!"
Layla shot him a glare, practically vibrating with frustration.
"Don't compliment them! My sect is out here fighting off starvation and patching walls with leftover robes, and these people are walking on luxury!"
She turned her head toward Daokan and his disciple Yan Shuren, eyes narrowed.
"How do you have heated floors?"
Yan Shuren, ever the composed warrior, simply inclined his head.
"The sect values comfort and efficiency. The mountains are harsh in the winter. We prepare accordingly."
Bao, still on the ground, let out another satisfied groan. "I could live here."
Jiang promptly kicked him in the side. "You disgrace us all."
Layla, arms crossed, exhaled sharply.
"Unbelievable. First, they have an entire sect bigger than our entire territory. Then, they have pristine architecture, immaculate floors, and now heated floors? What's next? Personal servants? Massage parlors? A dining hall that doesn't serve week-old rice?"
Before she could even fully process her own words, Master Daokan simply raised a hand, his voice carrying an air of effortless authority.
"Come in."
The doors to the grand hall swung open. Maids entered in seamless formation, bringing in freshly steamed delicacies, silk-clad attendants stepping forward with practiced elegance. A row of well-dressed servants appeared, one carrying an assortment of fine teas, another presenting heated towels. A subtle, soothing aroma filled the air as a pair of masseurs stationed themselves nearby, waiting expectantly.
Layla stared, her brain halting mid-thought. Her mouth opened, closed, then opened again as she failed to form a single coherent word. Before she could even attempt to process the absurdity of what was happening, a servant appeared at her side, gracefully placing a warm silk towel in her hands. Another stepped forward, offering a cup of fragrant tea, the rich aroma curling into her senses. She took it without thinking, still too stunned to react properly.
Then, she felt it—a pair of gentle hands pressing against her shoulders, kneading expertly into the knots of tension she hadn't even realized were there.
Layla stiffened. "What—"
"Relax, honored guest" the masseuse said smoothly.
"You carry much stress. It is unbecoming of one in such a refined establishment."
Atlas, now fully seated and leaning back with a self-satisfied grin, burst into laughter.
"Meilin, you're practically royalty now! You sure you don't want to negotiate a long-term stay?"
She turned to glare at him, only to freeze when another servant approached with a delicate plate of what looked like the finest, most perfectly cooked dumplings she had ever seen.
Her fingers twitched. Her soul wavered.
"No" she whispered to herself. "Stay strong."
Atlas, wiping away a tear of laughter, leaned in.
"Be honest. If we left you here for an hour, you'd be wearing their robes, wouldn't you?"
Layla took a deep breath, gripping the tea in one hand and the warm towel in the other, now fully sinking into the luxurious trap set before her and eating a dumpling.
"I hate this place so much."
Atlas only laughed harder.
As the group settled into their newfound comfort, Jiang, though reluctant at first, finally gave in, sighing as he sipped his tea.
"I hate to admit it... but this is nice.
Bao, already sprawled comfortably, grinned.
"You see? Acceptance is the first step. The second step is never leaving."
Meyu chuckled, shaking her head.
"I don't know what's worse—the fact that you're saying this, or the fact that I kind of agree."
Lin Wuye, who had remained silent until now, chuckled lightly.
"Perhaps instead of resentment, we should take this as a learning opportunity."
Layla muttered something incoherent under her breath but didn't argue further.
Master Daokan, watching their exchange with a small, knowing smile, finally spoke.
"I must apologize for the trouble my guards caused you earlier. They were merely following protocol."
The group exchanged glances before shrugging collectively. In unison, they all replied, "It's okay."
Daokan nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. "Good. Now, let us proceed."
Layla wasted no time. She straightened, setting aside her tea and swallowing her dumping. Her expression grew serious.
"Master Daokan, before we move forward, you should know what happened earlier in the city."
She went on to explain in detail, recounting how she had tried to secure resources, only to be met with rejection at every turn. But as she continued, her focus narrowed on one particular incident—the slave traders.
Her voice grew sharper as she described the sight of people turned into slaves were being treated like commodities, their hollow eyes, their resigned silence. She told him about the kid that was brought here was the slave over there who was bought at a high price of 2 gold coins.
Then, she turned, pointing directly at Atlas. "And as a final insult, do you know who the buyer was?"
Atlas blinked. "Now, wait a—"