The Peak Head did not answer imdiately. He first took the cold silk orchid out of the box and then sealed it in in solid ice.
He stood there, the Cold Silk Orchid sealed away in a box of pure ice that radiated an authority far beyond Han Yu's own craftsmanship. The frost in the warehouse had stabilized, no longer expanding, no longer retreating. It was as if the space itself had co to a quiet agreent with the man standing at its center.
Only now did he fully turn toward Han Yu.
For the first ti, Han Yu properly saw his face.
It was not imposing at first glance. In fact, if one did not know who he was, one might even mistake him for a frail old scholar who had lived too long among scrolls and cold lamps. His white beard was trimd short and neat, his skin pale but unblemished, and his eyes were small, almost narrow, giving him an unassuming look when relaxed.
But Han Yu had learned long ago not to trust appearances.
Behind those small eyes was depth. Pressure. A stillness that ca only from soone who had stood on the brink of a great step for centuries and had refused to retreat, even as ti itself tried to grind him down.
The Peak Head stepped forward.
The ice beneath his feet did not crack, nor did it lt. It simply accepted his presence.
He reached out and took the box from the air where it hovered, his movents casual, unhurried. There was no fear of damage, no hesitation, no excess caution. The Cold Silk Orchid was no longer sothing he needed to guard against. It was his.
The mont his fingers closed around the ice box, Han Yu felt it.
A surge.
No, a torrent.
The Eight Emotions energy burst forth without restraint.
WOOONG
Green. Pure, vibrant green.
Joy.
It flooded the space between them like a tidal wave, thousands upon thousands of wisps pouring out of the old man. They were not thin or diluted like those Han Yu often collected from ordinary cultivators. These were dense, saturated, almost luminous. Each one carried weight, history, desperation finally released.
Han Yu's Eight Emotions Lotus Soul Core reacted instantly.
It spun, petals unfurling wide as it drank greedily. The absorption was smooth, effortless, as if the core itself had been waiting for sothing like this. Han Yu felt warmth spread through his soul, not the heat of fire, but the warmth of fulfillnt, of sothing aligning perfectly.
He had never experienced anything like this.
Even Madam Cold Fang's emotions, intense as they had been, did not compare. This was different. This was the joy of a man who had stood on the edge of stagnation for centuries, watching his future erode bit by bit, and had finally been given a path forward again.
The Peak Head exhaled slowly.
"…Finally," he muttered.
It was not loud. It was not dramatic.
But it carried the weight of centuries.
He looked at the box just enough to confirm the orchid's condition once more. A flicker of blue-white light reflected in his eyes, and for a long, silent minute, he simply looked at it. There was reverence in his gaze, but also hunger, determination, and sothing darker beneath it. Fear of losing it again.
Then, with a decisiveness that brooked no argunt, he sealed it away.
The ice box he produced was far superior to Han Yu's. It was ford of condensed Bone Frost, etched with formations that made Han Yu's scalp tingle just from proximity. The Cold Silk Orchid vanished inside, its aura completely suppressed, as if it had never existed.
The Peak Head stored it away, then turned his full attention back to Han Yu.
"Stand, Ju Fan," he said.
It was an order, not a suggestion.
Han Yu rose imdiately, spine straight, posture respectful, head still lowered. Even now, he did not dare to et the Peak Head's eyes without permission.
"You wanted a conversation," the old man said calmly. "And a conversation you will get."
Han Yu inhaled deeply.
This was the mont he had prepared for.
Slowly, he lifted his gaze. He did not stare. He did not challenge. He simply looked, eting the Peak Head's eyes just enough to show sincerity.
"This disciple has been waiting for this day since the mont the Cold Silk Orchid ca into his possession," Han Yu said. His voice was steady, carefully asured. "The suffering of the Second Kidney Peak's Head is not a secret within the sect. Any disciple who pays attention knows of it."
The Peak Head did not interrupt.
Han Yu continued, "As a disciple of the Slaughtered Moon Divine Blood Sect, this disciple wished to see that suffering end. However, this disciple is also aware that there are those who benefit from your stagnation, and who would never allow such a matter to proceed openly."
A faint smile tugged at the Peak Head's lips.
"So you chose secrecy," he said. "And audacity."
Han Yu inclined his head. "This disciple chose survival."
The Peak Head let out a short laugh. "You did well. I do not know whether I should praise you… or reprimand my peak's mbers for their incompetence. To think that a re Core Condensation realm outer disciple managed to infiltrate this far into my domain, undetected."
Han Yu allowed himself a faint, restrained smile. "This disciple is flattered by the Peak Head's words."
The old man's eyes sharpened slightly.
"Flattery will not save you if your next words disappoint ," he said bluntly.
Han Yu's expression beca serious once more.
The Peak Head took a step closer. The pressure intensified, not crushing, but heavy enough to remind Han Yu of exactly how vast the gulf between them was.
"Now," the Peak Head said, "tell what you really want."
The warehouse was utterly silent.
Han Yu did not answer imdiately.
He took a breath, steadying his thoughts. He had rehearsed this countless tis, weighing every word, every implication. He could not afford to hint at slaves, mines, seals, or rescue. Not yet. Not like this.
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