THE REAL PROTEGE Chapter 459: RETURN TO BAMBOO PAVILION

Butler Oda entered quietly, bowing low. His voice was hushed, yet urgent.

"Master, should we act against the sects who oppose us?"

Ling Li opened her eyes, her gaze steady, her tone calm yet edged with steel.

"Not yet. My principle is justice, not vengeance. We will wait. The truth reveals itself in ti. Those who ca to us will surely seek out the Li Elder for collusion. I want to see who betrays and who remains loyal. When the mont cos, we will strike once — swiftly, decisively. The guilty punished, the innocent spared."

Oda cupped his hands in salute, bowing more deeply. As he straightened, his face tightened with determination, though a flicker of worry crossed his features. He lingered briefly until dismissed, then turned and exited quietly, each footstep controlled.

"Understood."

He departed silently, the weight of her words pressing upon him like a mantle.

The Emissaries’ Negotiations

As the clan traveled, emissaries indeed t privately with Li Clan elders. Silk robes rustled, candles flickered, and shadows danced across the chamber walls like restless spirits. Hidden blades glinted faintly in the dim light. Their presence was not diplomacy — it was a warning.

The Iron Fang emissary leaned forward, his voice rasping like stone dragged across steel.

"Strike now. Ren’s cursed technique drains her. She’s weak. End her before she grows."

His eyes glead with ruthless hunger. Fingers drumd on the desk. The rhythm was relentless. Each tap was sharp, impatient. Each beat demanded action.

"Delay is weakness. Every day she lives, the Li Clan grows."

Several elders shifted uneasily, their silence betraying fear of imdiate bloodshed.

The Crimson Lotus spokesperson wore fine silk, their smile cold and polite, every word dripping venom masked as courtesy.

"Wait. Strike Ling Li at the Family Competition in three months. Her daughters will be exposed, and her husband will be distracted. The attack will be public and humiliating. The Jade Dragon Emblem, symbol of their honor, will beco a mark of downfall."

Their voice lowered, serpentine.

"We will weave illusions, poison truths, and let envy destroy her from within."

Several elders glanced sidelong at each other across the table, so nervously adjusting their robes, their hands betraying their hesitation, as they considered the allure of striking under the protection of tradition.

The Moonshade mystic spoke with cadence like the moon’s phases, deliberate and inevitable. His words seed to wax and wane with a lunar rhythm, every phrase a subtle pull of the tide, drawing them closer to their destiny.

"Chu Yan’s shield will fail. Wait for the cracks. Then strike."

He slowly raised a polished mirror from his sleeve and angled it so its surface caught the candlelight, offering it as a gesture of goodwill to the elders during their negotiation.

"Take these mirrors. Find his weakness. Let us enter your archives."

His tone was calm, as if betrayal were destiny itself.

Li Clan Elders’ Division

The chamber grew tense as the elders shifted in their seats or stiffened their posture. So gripped their cups with white knuckles, and a few exchanged wary glances, anticipation and suspicion clouding their faces.

Elder Han slamd his cup down, wine spilling across the table. His voice was sharp, ambition burning in his eyes. "Strike now! Ling Li’s influence grows too fast. Delay will destroy us." The mory of his brother’s betrayal haunted him, driving him toward rashness. He rembered the day he found his brother gone, the family crest left torn in the ashes of his burned ho. The wound never healed. The loyalty he once believed in was shattered, leaving suspicion and anger. He forgot that Ling Li had once saved him and his family from death and exile.

Elder Fan lifted her perfud sleeves with deliberate poise, fingers fanning them out before her as she leaned forward with a razor-thin smile.

"No. The Competition is best. Let her disgrace be public. Let envy sharpen the blade."

Voices rose, and alliances shifted. So elders pushed for violence now, others for humiliation later. Silence fell, heavy with potential betrayal. For a mont, the echoes of raised voices faded. A few elders remained silent. Their loyalty to Ling Li was unshaken, but their fear was evident. The quiet was brief yet charged, setting the stage for the storm to co.

Ling Li, though absent from the chamber, jolted from her ditation in the carriage when a sudden, chilling draft swept inside. She inhaled sharply as the faint scent of jasmine—the sa scent that once signaled a trusted friend’s betrayal — drifted in, triggering the vivid mory of that morning’s treachery.

Her thoughts whispered:

"They plot in shadows. So hunger for blood now, others for spectacle later. But all sharpen their blades against ."

Outside, Four Eyes guided his mount alongside the twins, glancing back periodically to check on Ling Li in the carriage. When their eyes t, he set his jaw with quiet determination, adjusting his grip on the reins, and the air around him shimred faintly, the Shield of Loyal Heart activating as a visible sign of his protective resolve.

"I will shield her. I will not falter."

The twins laughed, oblivious to the storm gathering. Their joy was fragile, a flicker of light against the encroaching dark.

The Bamboo Pavilion lood ahead, its bamboo pillars swaying in the wind. Every creak warned, every shadow threatened. Still, as the clan advanced, a stray lantern flickered in the distance. It cast a small circle of warm light on the path — a symbol of hope in the darkness. Above, a lone bird began to sing. Its lody cut through the heavy air, a reminder that even in gloom, life persists. The air otherwise hung heavy with betrayal, ambition, and looming conflict.

The Hidden Portal awaited, its promise uncertain. Curse or covenant, ruin or rebirth — the Li Clan would soon discover which fate the bamboo shadows concealed.

Arrival at Verdant Bamboo Pavilion

By the ti the group reached the Verdant Bamboo Pavilion, twilight had deepened into a velvet night. Lanterns swayed gently in the wind, their golden light spilling across carved bamboo pillars and polished stone floors. As Li Shenwu approached, he felt a profound sense of calm wash over him, as if he had stepped into a sanctuary draped in the quiet beauty of night. Yet beneath the serenity, a flicker of anxiety stirred within him, anticipation mingling with the warmth of the welco. The Pavilion’s staff and disciples greeted them with bows and warm smiles, ushering the weary travellers into the great hall where a sumptuous feast awaited.

The long tables glead with lacquered wood. They were set with steaming bowls of jasmine rice, platters of honey-glazed duck, and crystal pitchers of plum wine. Scents of spice and smoke mingled in the air — a warm counterpoint to the tension that had trailed them from the Hidden Valley.