A wave of silent understanding rippled through the crowd. Everyone present knew the history. Ji Gengxin had lost to Lin Feng in every single public and private engagement for years.
Lin Zhen's question was a masterful counter, wrapped in courtesy but laced with venom. He wasn't attacking; he was merely "wondering," exposing the absurdity of the Sky Sword Sect's choice and the hollowness of Ji Gengxin's pride.
Ji Gengxin's face darkened instantly, the smirk wiped away and replaced by a flush of humiliated anger.
Jian Zihan, however, simply fanned his jade fan gently, his expression one of bored indifference.
"The business of the Sky Sword Sect," he drawled, "does not require the approval or understanding of outsiders. We do not explain our decisions."
Lin Zhen's smile widened, but it did not reach his eyes. He let out a soft, dry laugh. "Is that so? Then, by that same logic, I suppose the Sky Sword Sect should not interfere in the business of others either?"
The politeness was gone. The challenge was now direct.
Jian Zihan's eyes, previously lazy, sharpened into twin points of cold light. The air around him grew several degrees colder.
"Enough words," he snapped, his voice losing its casual drawl and gaining an edge of impatience. "I am here to deliver a message, not to banter. The Lin Clan will submit to the Ji Clan. You will hand over all your alchemy businesses and assets to them, and you will leave Fortune City."
He paused, his gaze sweeping slowly, insultingly, over the women of the Lin Clan—Lin Wanrou, Mu Qiuxue, and the other female disciples. A lecherous, cruel smirk touched his lips. "And as for the women... they will stay behind. Consider it compensation."
The silence shattered.
A wave of pure, unadulterated fury erupted from the Lin Clan members. Lin Canghai looked as if he was about to explode. Lin Wanrou's hand went to the hilt of her sword, her eyes blazing with cold fire. Even the usually gentle Mu Qiuxue had a steely glint in her eyes.
The rival clans—the Nangong, Wang, and Zhou—watched with barely concealed glee. The Hua and Bai Clan members looked on with deep concern and anger.
Lin Zhen's face turned to ice. The dignified aura around him began to shift, a powerful, ancient pressure starting to seep out, causing the very air to tremble. He was about to speak, to give the order that would likely spell the destruction of his clan.
Swoosh!
But just as he opened his mouth, a new presence washed over the entire avenue.
It was a gentle aura, yet impossibly strong. It did not crush or oppress, but rather soothed the raging spiritual energies, easing the suffocating tension like a cool breeze on a sweltering day. The intense pressure from Jian Zihan was subtly, effortlessly, pushed back.
All eyes turned skyward.
A beautiful figure descended from the heavens, her pristine white robes fluttering around her like the petals of a celestial flower. She landed gracefully in the very center of the avenue, her arrival so serene it felt like a scene from a painting.
She was exceptionally beautiful, with features that seemed carved from jade and eyes that held the depth of ancient stars. She completely ignored Jian Zihan, as if he were a piece of furniture.
She first turned to Lin Zhen and offered a respectful, graceful bow. "Patriarch Lin, please accept my apologies for my late arrival. My master sends his regards and his congratulations on your birthday."
Then, she turned to Lin Feng, her expression softening into a gentle, apologetic smile. "Junior Brother, I'm sorry I'm late."
Lin Feng, who had remained stoic throughout the entire confrontation, finally allowed a genuine smile to touch his lips. "Senior Sister Rong, your timing is perfect."
This was Rong Yanan, Lin Feng's senior sister.
Only then did Rong Yanan turn her gaze towards Jian Zihan. She looked at him not with anger or fear, but with an expression of mild distaste, as if she had just noticed a particularly unpleasant insect.
She tilted her head slightly, her voice clear and melodious, yet carrying to every corner of the avenue.
"Junior Brother," she said, speaking to Lin Feng but her eyes fixed on Jian Zihan, "don't tell me you were actually being bullied by this... weakling from the Sky Sword Sect?"
Hiss!
A collective intake of breath echoed through the crowd. The patriarchs of the other clans stared at Rong Yanan, their faces a mixture of shock and dawning horror. They could not perceive her cultivation level at all. She was an enigma, a vast, deep ocean whose bottom they could not see.
The word "weakling" hung in the air, even more shocking and audacious than Jian Zihan's own insults. The condescending smirk on the sword cultivator's face froze, then shattered. The hand holding the jade fan stilled.
For the first time since his arrival, a flicker of genuine emotion—shock and fury—crossed Jian Zihan's features. The aura of effortless superiority he had projected wavered. He looked at Rong Yanan, his cold eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.
"Does Old Man Tian," he bit out, the name carrying a weight of clear recognition and caution, "decide to intervene in the matters of the Sky Sword Sect?"
His question was pointed. He was trying to ascertain if this was the will of Lin Feng's legendary master, or just the impulsive action of a senior sister.
Rong Yanan's response was as graceful as it was devastating. A faint, almost pitying smile touched her lips.
"It is true that my master does not concern himself much with worldly affairs," she acknowledged, her voice still melodious. "He prefers the tranquility of his mountain and the pursuit of the Dao."
She paused, letting the implication sink in. Then her tone, while still gentle, gained an edge of unshakable steel. "However, that does not mean he will stand by and allow anyone to bully his youngest disciple at will."
Her gaze swept over Jian Zihan from head to toe, her disdain palpable. "Especially when the one doing the bullying comes from an... insignificant little sect like the Sky Sword Sect."
Insignificant little sect.