The Li Family had risen as a family of sword immortals. Not only did they possess a sword manual that suppressed their family's fortune, but they also had many predecessors highly accomplished in the sword path. Li Zhouwei was naturally no stranger to such things. With just this glance, he sensed something deeply unusual.

It is not sword intent... but another direction of it. Still a sword... yet a sword of the Dao, a sword of techniques, a sword of divine abilities.

Li Zhouwei knew that Li Xizhi possessed a sword art, the [Five-Colored Boundless Sword Art], which was widely renowned and also related to Heavenly Glow!

Perhaps this kind of sword art has been cultivated to such a profound level that the sword Dao is hidden within divine abilities. Wherever the divine ability passes, the radiance of sword art follows!

The expanse of rainbow-like sword qi stirred a deep, life-threatening sense of danger within him, even prompting an instant judgment, This sword is in no way inferior to ordinary sword intent, and its power is beyond estimation... Mount Luoxia... I fear that neither Chi Wei nor Jiang Boqing would be his match. Even Duanmu Kui, who once dominated an entire era, would be no more than this!

That swirling vortex of rainbow sword qi seemed like an illusion, appearing for only an instant before vanishing into the man's brown pupils. This Grand Daoist Master of the Purple Mansion Realm, with perfected divine abilities, showed no change. He simply gazed calmly at the pair of golden eyes hidden within the pavilion.

The cheers around them surged like waves, yet the two seemed cut off from both the world and time itself, forming their own isolated realm, locking everything into that single moment of eye contact.

A melodious voice drifted through the air, long, graceful and clear, and echoed softly in his ears, "A fair youth of Long Prefecture, adorned in courtly robes through many reigns, soaring like the Peng[1] across the vast seas, perched upon the phoenix marsh. If not for one family ruling the land alone, how would ten generations fall? If immortals are not revered, how can gods be honored? There is no need for ghosts or monsters to intervene. Without you, how would your entire lineage survive?"

In that instant, Li Zhouwei lowered his gaze slightly. The [Brilliant Yang King's Axe] at his waist gleamed dimly in the shadows, a heavy bronze-gold presence, while the cheers within the building swelled louder and louder, like mountains collapsing and seas roaring.

"From Pingjin to Penglai, as the morning light descends, sword chains span a hundred and twenty layers. The qilin mourns its homeland. If the seat has a rightful master, who cannot sit upon it? The old father longs to strike down his son, yet the immortals suppress him at the springs below... If not for watching from the heavens of drifting mist, how many in the prefecture would remain?!"

Li Zhouwei's pupils dilated slightly. He braced his hands against the railing, the expression in his eyes growing increasingly grave, causing the gold within them to shine brighter. He narrowed his eyes but remained silent.

The old father longs to strike down his son...

Qingyu Qian's light, drifting voice resurfaced in his ears, along with those chilling words, "The son slays the father, the father kills the son. The father takes the son's love, the son seizes the father's authority..."

When the son grows strong and the father weak, how could he not seize the position... Yet Bright Yang abhors usurpation, so how could he not fear his own son?!

A glint of cold light flashed through Li Zhouwei's eyes, as though he understood many things in that instant. The middle-aged man before him slowly shifted his gaze away, turning in another direction.

His gaze was like a sharp blade, splitting seas and cleaving waves, drawing attention irresistibly and ignoring all surrounding noise and distractions, landing upon a small table at the outer edge.

The small table was no more than two feet wide, considered a cheap seat within the Dawn Guest Pavilion. A white-robed youth sat there, holding a small cup in one hand and chopsticks in the other, studying the small dish before him. On the dish lay two thick slices of pickled radish. He seemed unsure how to eat them, turning them over with his chopsticks as though trying to figure out their purpose.

As the middle-aged man looked his way, he simply set down his chopsticks and lifted his head, revealing a cold and delicate face, almost feminine in beauty, with hair like a cascading waterfall and a stillness like frozen ice.

His features were strikingly handsome, and his limbs appeared no different from an ordinary person's. Yet from each cheek grew an ear, long and pointed, extending along the curve of his jaw toward the back, transforming his aura completely into something cold and eerily alluring.

Though he did not move, a faint ring of multicolored light flickered behind his head, radiating outward in a circular pattern, appearing and disappearing, softening the eerie aura about him and instead giving him a sacred air.

Compared to the other's relaxed demeanor, his expression was cold and even somewhat grave.

The moment he raised his head, all noise vanished at once. The entire Dawn Guest Pavilion fell into pin drop silence. All around, the crowd froze in place, each in a different pose. Some leaned forward, still shouting; some shook their heads in sighs; some whispered; and some spoke loudly, yet all were frozen like statues. Meat held by chopsticks hung in midair; poured wine remained suspended like crystal. Even droplets of spit were frozen in place, unmoving.

Yet the performers on stage were completely unaware, growing more at ease as they continued. Golden flowers and colored silks, long prepared, rained down from above, signaling blessings from the immortals and the retreat of demons and ghosts. The character finally ascended to immortality, and the surrounding performers all knelt in worship.

"Receiving the immortal position, bathed in divine light, truly blessed by the immortals' favor. Yang mists, dragon banners, grand music riding the clouds and wind. Half an incense stick, the bell rings as one bows. That single point of immortality is the truest of all!"

A faint, amused smile appeared on the face of the Grand Daoist Master with perfected divine abilities, as if he found the matter somewhat overblown. His interest lay more with the performers on stage, and he turned back at once, drawn by the commotion.

He glanced at the stage and, with a hint of regret, realized the performance was nearing its end. He gave a couple of soft words of praise, hung the gourd back at his waist, brushed the dust from his sleeves, and swept away the mortal airs clinging to him. Then he offered Li Zhouwei a faint smile.

In the next instant, the spot was empty. Not a single trace of him remained. Li Zhouwei immediately shifted his gaze. The table in the corner was likewise empty. Even the wine had been taken, leaving behind only two slices of radish.

"Excellent!"

Someone's cheer broke the silence of the entire hall. In an instant, stillness turned to motion. The suspended wine fell back into cups, the meat caught between chopsticks was finally eaten, and an endless wave of noise erupted once more.

"Excellent!"

The clinking of copper coins rang out as people on both sides went up to the stage to offer tips. Time passed unnoticed. Eventually, the crowd escorted the performers out, and as the noise subsided, the entire building dimmed.

Yet at the highest point of the building, the man clad in scaled armor still stood silently. As everything dimmed, only his golden eyes continued to flicker in the darkness, sending a chill through anyone who beheld them.

The entire building fell silent once more, so quiet that not a single sound could be heard. A man in black ascended the stairs, trembling as he approached Li Zhouwei. He knelt first and said respectfully, "Daoist Master..."

Li Zhouwei's expression revealed nothing. He simply spoke more slowly than before, his tone heavy, "What play was that?"

At his words, Chen Yang lowered his head even further. "It was the [Lament For Passing Waters]..."

1. Peng (鹏) is a giant mythic bird from classical Chinese lore, often paired with vastness, transcendence, and soaring beyond ordinary limits. ☜