Chapter Six: The Serene Pavilion Master

Everyone held their breath, uncertain of the intentions behind this immortal-like man’s sudden appearance, unsure whether they would escape calamity today. Mo Qing, caught by the man’s light, fleeting glance, felt a surge of unease, sensing that things would not end well.

None among them had realized the oddity: for one so young to ascend to Celestial Cloud Mountain and play the flute at its summit. All who could reach this place were elders possessing sixty years of cultivation at minimum. The man before them, at most in his early twenties, could only have attained such a feat if his internal strength was truly extraordinary.

“I believe that Lord Du has served as the leader of the martial world admirably these past years. There is no need to select a new alliance chief.” The young man’s words drifted out as lightly as if he were commenting on today’s fine weather.

“It’s a pity—they’ll soon be meeting the King of Hell,” Mo Qing declared loudly, as if to assert his authority.

“How could that be? If I haven’t agreed, the King of Hell wouldn’t dare accept them. As for you, perhaps it’s about time you paid him a visit yourself,” the young man replied without so much as a glance in Mo Qing’s direction. He reached into his sleeve, produced a white porcelain vial, and poured out a dozen white pills, offering them to the martial artists before him.

“Snow Lotus Fragrance!” someone exclaimed. Snow Lotus Fragrance was a rare antidote, famed for curing all manner of poisons.

“It’s truly Snow Lotus Fragrance,” another agreed. Most present were well-traveled and, recognizing the scent, knew exactly what it was. Though many had already lived most of their lives, the prospect of survival stirred excitement in their hearts.

Mo Qing watched as the young man effortlessly produced such precious medicine, his face turning ashen. Clearly, this was no ordinary figure; defeat was inevitable.

After taking the pills, the color gradually returned to everyone’s faces, and they cupped their fists in gratitude.

“We shall remember your kindness always. Young hero, may we know your name, so that we might repay you one day?” Du Qunying was the first to speak. Here, the others still regarded him as their chief, willing to look to him as an example.

“There is no need for repayment. This was nothing of importance. I simply wish to avoid further bloodshed in the martial world. Under Lord Du’s guidance, the realm has enjoyed peace these years, so I believe he is well qualified to remain as alliance chief,” the young man responded indifferently.

Hearing this, the crowd nodded in agreement and, as one, bowed and said, “We earnestly request that Lord Du continue in his post as alliance chief.”

Mo Qing glowered with hatred, glaring fiercely at the young man. “Name yourself, so that our sect may know whom we faced, even in death.”

“We are not acquainted; why grant you that satisfaction? I’d rather let you die in ignorance,” the young man replied with disdain, as though answering Mo Qing would lower his own status.

“You…” Mo Qing was so enraged he nearly spat blood. “I’ll fight you!”

Mo Qing struck out with his palm, but the young man didn’t even spare him a glance, treating him as nothing more than a clown. Everyone was caught off guard by Mo Qing’s sudden attack; they had no time to intervene and could only worry for the young man. Yet, with a mere flick of his sleeve, the young man sent Mo Qing flying several yards away. The assembly was stunned—such prowess surpassed all present.

Mo Qing, shocked by the young man’s overwhelming martial skill, felt his blood and energy surge as he was struck. Sensing the danger, he immediately fled down the mountain. The young man seemed disinclined to pursue, letting him escape without a second glance.

The crowd regarded the young man with awe and respect, hearts pounding with excitement.

“Heroes truly emerge from the young. It seems we are all growing old,” the elders sighed with emotion.

“Now that all is well, I shall take my leave,” the young man said calmly to the elders, about to depart.

“Wait! You think you can leave without telling us your name? This old man won’t allow it.” A small, white-haired elder with a rosy complexion blocked his path.

“Senior, what are you doing? He just saved us. If the young hero is unwilling to reveal his name, he surely has his reasons. Why force him?” Du Qunying quickly intervened, though he too was curious about the young man’s identity.

“I don’t care! He can’t just save us and leave. Now I owe him a favor, and it’s all his fault!” the elder protested stubbornly.

“I have long heard of Senior Wuli’s eccentric nature, and seeing it today, I am truly impressed. It is an honor to meet you. I am Feng Youran. May I ask if you have further instructions?” Feng Youran replied softly, startling the crowd.

Feng Youran—few had seen his face, but there was hardly a soul in the martial world unfamiliar with his name. He was said to be the master of the Carefree Pavilion, whose influence spanned the land. The pavilion was famed for its capable members, respected and feared by all.

“Oh, so this is where such a formidable young man comes from—the master of the Carefree Pavilion himself. Not bad, not bad,” Senior Wuli remarked, circling Feng Youran as he assessed him.

“I like you, young man. How about becoming my grandson-in-law?” The old man grew fonder as he looked, blurting out the proposal.

The crowd was stunned speechless; this elder was truly something else, proposing marriage after just meeting him.

Feng Youran was momentarily taken aback.

“Old man, you’re all alone—since when did you have a granddaughter? Want someone to be your grandson-in-law? I think that’s a lost hope for you,” someone teased.

The old man glared fiercely at the group, snarling, “Who says I don’t have a granddaughter? My girl is one of a kind; you just haven’t met her.”

“Haha… You wouldn’t just pick any child to be your granddaughter, just to get a grandson-in-law, would you?”

“You old fools, I’ve had a granddaughter for years. No need to go looking for one. Hmph!”

“Well, what do you say? Do you agree?” the old man asked Feng Youran, feigning seriousness.

Feng Youran coughed lightly to hide his embarrassment. “I have matters to attend to and will take my leave.” With that, he vanished without a trace.

“He runs fast, that rascal. If you ever want to marry my granddaughter, don’t come begging me!” Senior Wuli huffed indignantly.

Thus, the selection for the martial alliance chief came to an end. Du Qunying remained the chief. Those unable to ascend the mountain didn’t witness the contest themselves, but heard the details from those who had. From that day on, the name Feng Youran became even more renowned—whenever his name was mentioned, it was with faces full of admiration.

“Feng Youran…” Mo Qing, upon hearing the report from his men, smashed a white jade cup in a fit of rage.