The Mirror of Startling Beauty: Her courtiers are everywhere

"My lord, Bai Cang, the master of the Thousand Arena, has arrived. Shall we go up on stage now and put that brat's arrogance to a halt?"

Qi Zhu hurried back to the elegant pavilion, where he had just been ordered to summon the renowned champion Bai Cang, who had won a thousand battles.

He walked to Si Xingxuan's side, bowed and asked for instructions, his tone carrying a hint of eager anticipation and coldness.

"This brat dares to be so arrogant in my Seven Generations Pavilion; he's really made a name for himself..."

Qi Zhu looked down at the white-clad figure below the stage, her voice tinged with dissatisfaction.

"I even wanted to personally intervene and teach him a lesson he shouldn't be so arrogant."

"Oh--"

A very soft chuckle came from the soft couch.

Si Xingxuan slowly raised her eyes, the smile on her pale, sickly face almost cold.

He looked at his loyal yet exceptionally upright subordinate and was almost amused by his own anger.

"Qizhu," his voice wasn't loud, but it made Qizhu's back stiffen, "by sending someone onto the stage now, are you trying to trample on his face, or the face of my Seven Generations Pavilion?"

"My lord?" Qi Zhu was taken aback, his face showing confusion—just now it was clearly the lord who personally gave the order, instructing him to dispatch the masters of the Thousand Arena in case of emergency.

Si Xingzhou slowly set down his teacup, his deep blue wide sleeves brushing against the table, making a soft rustling sound.

He turned his head and glanced at Qizhu with a half-smile. His gaze was like a deep, still river, yet it made Qizhu feel an inexplicable pressure.

"Qizhu," Si Xingzhou spoke, his voice deep and resonant, "the one that the young man just knocked down with a single sword strike was Qi Wang, who is firmly in the top ten of the Asura Ranking. At this moment, his name has probably already jumped into the upper ranks of the list."

He pointed with his fingertip toward the arena outside the window.

"The master of the Thousand Arena you summoned is certainly remarkable. But to contend with the Sword Immortal's successor, who is currently at the height of his power and who even defeated Qi Wang..."

Si Xingzhou shook his head slightly, the smile on his lips deepening, yet fading further.

"I'm afraid I'm not qualified."

Qi Zhu's pupils constricted slightly, and he stared in disbelief.

"A sword—the successor of the Sword Immortal? That person who thanked the gods?"

He felt as if he had fallen into an ice cave.

Thank God—that's a true god of death!

Very well, I've seen the look in his eyes, he's someone I can't afford to mess with!

He was simply too arrogant and ignorant.

"It was my oversight!" Qi Zhu immediately knelt on one knee, cold sweat beading on his forehead.

"That's enough," Si Xingxuan said, closing his eyes wearily and waving his sleeve. "Have them leave. Don't make a fool of yourself."

"Since my Seven Generations Pavilion dares to open its doors and engage in the most dangerous business in the world, it can naturally afford to lose. We will accept the losses tonight."

His gaze returned to the center of the arena downstairs, where the figure in white was calmly walking down the stage. The crowd spontaneously made way for him, their eyes filled with awe.

Si Xingxuan's pale lips curved into a very complex smile.

"Xie Jinlian's successor... this loss isn't entirely unjust."

The elegant room fell silent for a moment.

Only the gilded lion-shaped incense burner emitted wisps of fragrant agarwood from Singapore, its smoke rising in the candlelight, casting a hazy glow over the room.

The faint echoes of the remaining clamor from the Asura Platform below only served to accentuate the profound silence of the place.

After a while, Si Xingxuan suddenly raised his eyes again.

He looked at his elder brother, who stood quietly by the window, his figure as upright as a pine tree. He slowly pulled his heavy snow fox cloak tighter around himself, as if trying to draw some warmth to dispel the incurable cold that seeped from the depths of his bones.

However, even in the candlelight, his face remained almost transparently pale, except for his eyes, which were dark and deep, reflecting the flickering firelight.

"However, brother, I did hear a rather interesting secret before."

His clear, gentle voice, tinged with a hint of weakness, stood out exceptionally well in the silence.

Upon hearing this, Si Xingzhou turned his deep blue eyes, which always seemed to contain the entire starry sea, and waited for what he would say next.

"There are rumors that Xie Jinlian... may already be crippled."

Si Xingxuan spoke casually, yet what he revealed was a secret that would shake the heavens.

Si Xingzhou's fingers suddenly tightened, causing ripples to spread across the teacup: "Useless?"

"Ah Zhe, is this really true? In this world... who can cripple Xie Jinlian?"

He knew all too well the significance of the Seventh Pavilion's intelligence network—every clue could be used to spread information, and they could detect opportunities before the storm even began.

But this news still struck like a thunderbolt.

Si Xingxuan did not answer; a few strands of his dark hair were ruffled by the draft through the hall.

"Some time ago, Yun Jue... offered me an extremely valuable treasure as a reward, wanting me to help him once."

He turned his head, his eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight.

"I refused."

"Why?" Si Xingzhou asked, his gaze fixed on him.

His younger brother may seem carefree, but he actually has a lot of ideas and secrets.

The four words "Divine Physician Who Can Turn the Moon" are worth more than a thousand pieces of gold, and he has never broken his promise.

His Ah Zhe loves money, so how could he let go of such an outrageous deal as Yun Jue?

Si Xingxuan suddenly chuckled softly, a laugh as delicate and fragile as frost under the moonlight.

"Medicine can't cure all diseases, but wealth can help those who are destined to be poor."

"In this chaotic world, what is right and what is wrong?"

"What does it have to do with me?"

"Which side does the moonlight shine on tonight—"

"I am one of those people."

His fingertips brushed across the incense smoke on the table, the sound like a cold spring gurgling over stones.

That posture was as unrestrained as the wind and as clear as ice.

I do not judge good or evil, but simply follow the movement of the moon.

It is neither good nor evil, but simply follows one's own heart.

When Tang Xixue received the Flying Gold Token from the judge of the Asura Platform, her fingertips touched the cool edge of the token.

Clearly, one could see that the other person's usually smiling face now had a stiff smile, and even a hint of relieved exhaustion flashed in their eyes.

"Please take care, young master. I will not see you off further."

The judge's voice was dry and hoarse; one could almost hear the lingering echo of his long breath after sending away the evil spirit.

He watched the white-clad youth turn away, then impatiently raised his sleeve to wipe away non-existent cold sweat.

Only after the figure in white had completely disappeared into the light and shadow outside the door did the judge stiffly turn his neck and raise his eyes to look at the Asura Ranking hanging high above.

My gaze swept across the top ten and finally settled on the fifth position—where a lone "nine" was prominently displayed.

The judge's lips twitched violently.

This name... it's such a perfunctory choice!

Can't they even be bothered to come up with a decent alias?!

"Ninth Young Master! Please wait—"

A clear, urgent voice sounded from behind.

Qi Wang had retrieved the sword Tan Hua that had been knocked away, carefully put it back in its sheath, and then strode after him.

As his black robes fluttered, the silver hibiscus patterns on the hem shimmered in the lamplight of the corridor.

His eyes were still burning with desire, even brighter than when he was fighting.

"May I ask your name?"

However, the white-clad figure in front only paused slightly at the edge of the crowd without turning around.

In the next instant, the figure disappeared completely into the bustling crowd outside the Seventh Pavilion, like mist merging into the moonlight or water droplets flowing into a river.

Qi Wang hurried to the door and stopped to look around.

The long street was brightly lit, with people bustling about, their noise echoing in the cold winter night.

But where has that pure, snow-like, solitary figure gone?

That fleeting glimpse of sword light, that fluttering, dreamlike butterfly shadow, that breathtaking beauty that trembled the soul—did they all vanish into the fading night along with that person?

Qi Wang stood there, stunned, beneath the towering gate of the Seven Generations Pavilion. His dark robes fluttered in the night wind, brushing against the cool scabbard of his sword.

He gripped the hilt of Tan Hua's sword tightly in his hand, the cool jade-like texture penetrating his palm, yet a void seemed to suddenly appear in his heart, filling him with a heavy sense of melancholy he had never felt before.

That kind of sword...

That kind of person...

For him, a warrior obsessed with swordsmanship and madly seeking the ultimate realm of martial arts, the shock and attraction brought by that battle and that move "Ten Thousand Butterflies Flying Together" had already transcended the shallow boundaries of victory, defeat, honor, and disgrace.

It was the resonance of sword intents, the collision of realms, a ray of light suddenly cleaving through the long, dark night, allowing him to glimpse a completely different landscape from a higher vantage point.

My heart is churning with emotions, and I can hardly discern the flavor.

Is it regrettable? Of course it is.

Are they resentful? Perhaps even more so.

However, the most turbulent and burning desire is an almost instinctive longing.

I wanted to get closer to the source of that sword light, to see the appearance of the swordsman, and to stand opposite him again, to ask him about the way with the sword in my hand.

He wanted to get to know this person.

This thought is like a wildfire spreading across the plains, burning fiercely and difficult to extinguish.

"Hey, isn't this the God of War, Qi?"

A voice, tinged with obvious mockery, lazily rose from my side, like a spark scattering into the silent night.

"Standing here like a waiting-for-husband rock in the middle of the night?"

Qi Wang suddenly came to his senses and looked to the side.

A figure dressed in fiery red was seen leaning against the stone lion by the entrance of the Seven Generations Pavilion, arms crossed, looking at him.

Feng Zhuo's eyebrows were raised high, and a defiant smile played on his lips.

He looked Qi Wang up and down, his expression one of utter disorientation, and slowly sneered:

"Tsk, look at her, completely lost in thought..."

"Could it be... that he's heartbroken, God of War?"