"Oh, there was an incident at the Black Market," she said slowly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
Her voice was low, as if unsure whether to speak of it in public. "A Foundation Establishment cultivator from the Cloud Sword Sect caused quite a commotion and almost lost his life."
He blinked in surprise. "Hah? What could push someone from the Cloud Sword Sect to do something so reckless?"
She gave him a look and spoke with gravity. "Do you remember those three inner disciples who were arrested last time?"
He nodded. Their disappearance had caused a ripple through the outer circle. He remembered well how they'd been dragged away never to be seen again.
"One of them was related to the elder who showed up as reinforcement during the beast tide. Not only was he a disciple, but also a member of the same clan. The elder came demanding their release and an explanation. If I'm not mistaken the Elder name is Ye Liehai"
A silence settled between them before she continued.
"He was met with resistance, of course. The Black Market doesn't yield to threats, not even from the infamous Cloud Sword Sect. But the elder didn't care and after back-and-forth arguments, he struck the Black Market Guardian first. That's when the fighting began."
His brows furrowed.
"I don't know the exact outcome," she admitted, her fingers lightly drumming the table. "But it escalated quickly. So much so that the Supreme Elder of the Cloud Sword Sect was forced to personally intervene. And just when it seemed blood would truly be spilled…"
She paused, her tone turning grim.
"A terrifying pressure swept across the entire Black Market. Everyone regardless of cultivation froze. And then, from the shadows, a figure stepped out. A Core Formation realm cultivator… from the opposing side."
His eyes widened. "A hidden Core Formation expert from the Black Market?"
She nodded. "Yes. One unknown even to the Cloud Sword Sect. That's when they realized the Black Market's depths run deeper than they assumed. They also likely had more than one Core Formation Realm Cultivator if they can dispatched one here."
"Peace talks were initiated immediately. The Cloud Sword Sect had no choice but to bleed a little, resources, treasures, talismans just to avoid igniting an all-out war. And the disciples is also reported to be executed, so they left empty handed."
He leaned back, his heart racing slightly. "If war broke out between both forces... the entire Cloud Province would be pulled into it."
"Exactly," she said. "We'd be nothing but dust in that storm. But it seems the Cloud Sword Sect wasn't there just to reclaim their disciples they were probing. Testing the Black Market's strength." She sighed.
"Unfortunately the Black Market intelligence is beyond what we can understand. The moment Cloud Sword Sect decided to sent a Core Formation Realm Cultivator, they also sent one."
"Are they scouting for war." Lan Rui asked.
She hesitated, then shook her head slowly. "Maybe. Or maybe there's something bigger in motion. I don't have solid proof, but something tells me a conflict is on the horizon."
The conversation ended in silence. A few incense sticks' time later, they left together, walking quietly under the moonlight. Perhaps it was paranoia. Or perhaps she felt something watching. Either way, he didn't question it.
"Well, our houses are on the same path," he offered. "I don't mind walking together."
She gave him a small smile, but said nothing more.
.....
Feng Family Residence, Feng Mountain.
Atop Feng Mountain, within the ancestral hall of the Feng Family, the air was tense and heavy.
Dozens of people were seated in neat rows elders, key clansmen, battle-hardened warriors. At the front sat a refined middle-aged man, his hair streaked with silver, his face calm but weary.
Feng Wuji, Patriarch of the Feng Family.
His gaze swept across the hall. "How do we proceed?" he asked quietly.
Silence met his words. A weighty, bitter silence that said more than voices ever could. Finally, after a few moments, one of the older elders spoke.
"We stay," he said. His voice cracked, aged by years of hardship. "The young, the women, the children, they should leave the mountain. We will remain to defend our home. But they… they must survive."
Nods followed. No one protested. It was unspoken among them already, those seated here would likely die. But as long as the bloodline continued, the Feng name could rise again in another era.
Feng Wuji's voice was steady. "How many are willing to stay?"
To his surprise, nearly every person in the hall raised their hands. His chest tightened.
"I'll stay," said one elder. "Let my son take his wife and children. As long as they survive, I will have done my part."
"I will stay too," said another. "My grandson is still young, but one day… he will avenge us."
Feng Wuji nodded, but raised a hand. "Not all of you can stay. We need some of you to escort and protect the retreating group. The road won't be safe. If they're caught, all of this… will be for nothing."
"I'll go," said one grey-robed cultivator. "I may be old, but I can still hold off a few dogs. I'll get the next generation out, even if it costs me my life."
A heavy silence fell again.
Feng Wuji's voice lowered. "If this truly is the end of the Feng Family as we know it… let us fall with pride. Our name will not vanish into the dirt like cowards. It will be remembered through those who live."
He stood slowly, the room following suit. For a moment, Feng Mountain itself seemed to hold its breath.
No one cried. No one despaired.
They had made peace with their fate.
All that remained now was the storm.
.....
The meeting had ended, but no one truly left. People lingered in the hallways and courtyards, staring silently at the banners fluttering in the mountain, emblems of the Feng Family, still proud, still bold.
Moonlight bathed the compound in a soft glow, like a mourning shroud for what was about to be lost.
Feng Wuji stood on the highest balcony of the ancestral hall, his robes fluttering gently in the wind. Behind him, an old woman approached quietly. It was his wife, Madam Yulan, whose presence rarely entered political matters.
She didn't speak immediately, but when she did, her voice was soft and knowing.
"You've already decided to stay, haven't you?"
He turned slightly, his eyes softening. "I have to. It's my duty as the Patriarch."
For a moment, the two stood in silence. The wind carried the faint smell of incense from the ancestral shrine, as if the past generations were listening watching.
He finally said, "Our youngest, Feng Lian'er… take her with you."
Madam Yulan's voice was low. "I want to stay with you."
"No, you can't. I need you to watch over our daughter," Feng Wuji said firmly, placing a hand on her shoulder.
She looked at him, eyes trembling. "Don't worry… I will always be there, watching you."
Finally, Madam Yulan embraced her husband. Tears began to fall, wetting the silence of the night.
.....