"Is that Fire Marquis Liu?" A man sitting on another table nearby whispered, pointing toward a stout man with crimson robes and a fla-shaped jade ornant in his hair.
"And there's Lady Qinglan of the Azure Wind Pavilion. She's been refining pills that can regrow severed limbs," the man's companion added, impressed.
The lights dimd slightly as a gong sounded, and the man in golden armor stepped forward onto the stage.
"Honored guests," he began, his voice carrying effortlessly through the courtyard, "we welco you to the Golden Pearl Courtyard, the heart of Golden Scales City. Tonight is not just a celebration of trade and unity, but of resilience in the face of darkness. Let us raise our cups to prosperity, collaboration, and to those who safeguard our lands."
A resounding cheer echoed through the courtyard, and the cups were raised.
"To prosperity!"
"To unity!"
"To wine!" Daoist Chu added cheerfully.
As music resud, the festivities rolled on—dancers twirled in radiant silks, musicians played zither and flute in harmony, and servers moved about gracefully with replenished trays of food and drink.
Lin Mu remained calm, but his senses were alert. There were too many powerful people here for it to be just a coincidence. Sothing deeper was going on beneath the gold-plated pleasantries.
Still, for the mont, he sat back, sipped his wine, and listened.
"I wonder what they'll do for entertainnt next," ng Bai said.
"I vote for fireworks," Little Shrubby replied, licking frosting off his claws.
The banquet's atmosphere grew livelier with every passing minute. Conversations swirled like clouds, laughter rippled between tables, and the scent of spirit wine and exotic delicacies danced in the air. On stage, a group of dancers began a routine inspired by the mythical Crane Phoenix, their flowing sleeves illuminated by shifting spirit lights.
Then the music stopped.
Not abruptly—but with the precise, deliberate fade of a zither string pulled taut and plucked one final ti.
All heads turned toward the courtyard's eastern gate as a ripple of energy swept across the hall. It wasn't loud, nor overtly threatening, but every cultivator present felt it—the soft, pressing weight of an aura too refined to ignore.
The tall doors opened.
Through them stepped a figure dressed in black and gold, his robes embroidered with a complex web of interlocking eyes. His face was sharp, elegant, and pale as porcelain, with eyes like still obsidian. A thin smile graced his lips as he walked, flanked by six followers in dark armor, each bearing a silver mask and a curved blade.
"Who's that?" ng Bai whispered.
Daoist Chu leaned in slightly, squinting. "Huh. I don't recognize him."
The murmuring spread quickly as the newcor approached the central table, nodding politely at the host from the Golden Scales rchant Union.
"Elder Mingshi," the host greeted with a respectful bow. "We are honored by your presence."
"I received your invitation and thought to visit," the man replied, his voice smooth as polished jade. "It has been so ti since I've witnessed such… social activity."
Whispers followed him like a tide.
"Elder Mingshi? From the Hollow Eye Sect?"
"Isn't that the group that rarely leaves their territories in the Shadow Whisper Valley?"
"I thought they'd gone into seclusion decades ago…"
Daoist Chu's brow furrowed. "Now that's suspicious."
Lin Mu was already watching with sharp interest. He hadn't heard of the Hollow Eye Sect, but the symbols embroidered on the robes sent a shiver down his spine. Interlocking eyes… thorns… roots? It was too close to what he'd seen on the corrupted cultivators.
Elder Mingshi turned, as if sensing the attention, and for a brief mont, his gaze locked with Lin Mu's.
The smile deepened—only by a fraction—but it carried weight.
Lin Mu did not look away.
Before the tension could thicken, a boisterous voice broke the air.
"Ho! Didn't expect to see the Hollow Eye freaks slithering out of their hole."
The speaker was a bulky man seated at one of the mid-tier noble tables, his cheeks already flushed with wine. He wore a burnt orange robe with a sword-shaped brooch at his collar, the emblem of the Vermillion Blade Clan.
"Watch your words," one of Mingshi's masked guards growled, stepping forward.
The noble stood up, clearly drunk but not lacking in confidence. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I insult your cult of creepy peepers? My mistake!"
The hall fell into an uneasy hush.
Elder Mingshi raised a single hand. His followers stopped imdiately.
"We of the Hollow Eye Sect harbor no ill will tonight," he said, addressing the hall with a slight bow. "This is a celebration, after all. We would not dare ruin such… rrint."
The noble snorted and sat back down, but Lin Mu could see his hand twitching near the hilt of his saber.
Daoist Chu muttered, "I don't like this. That Elder's aura is too stable. It's like it doesn't even fluctuate."
Lin Mu nodded slowly. "His presence feels… wrong. Artificial, maybe."
As if on cue, Elder Mingshi turned back toward them and began walking in their direction, casual, unhurried.
"Brace yourselves," Lin Mu said quietly, placing his wine cup down.
But instead of aggression, Mingshi rely approached their table with a diplomatic smile.
"You must be Lin Mu," he said.
Lin Mu rose from his seat. "I am." He wa a bit surprised that the man seed to know him.
'Does he know from the shopping district, or... soplace else?' He wondered with suspicion.
"Ah. I've heard much about you. The one who cleansed the corrupted cultivators in the Lotus Prefecture."
"I didn't realize the Hollow Eye Sect took such an interest in outside affairs." Lin Mu first said, feeling a bit alard. 'And they know from not here but the Lotus Prefecture?' he now knew for sure his suspicion was right.
"Oh, we see many things, even when others do not," Mingshi replied. "We've been… watching certain patterns. Energy shifts. Aberrations in qi."
"And you think I'm one of them?" Lin Mu asked calmly.
Mingshi chuckled. "Not at all. You are rely a variable worth watching. Perhaps even… understanding."
Lin Mu didn't flinch. "Then keep watching."
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