As its name implied, the Four Pavilion Grand Meeting was jointly hosted by the four great pavilions of the Central Plains. Though the four pavilions were undoubtedly the main focus, each season of the Grand Meeting was a grand occasion that resonated throughout the entire Central Plains.
While it could not quite compare to the renowned Pill Gathering of the Pill Tower, it remained a rare and prestigious event in its own right.
Unlike the confrontations among senior experts, this Grand Meeting was a stage prepared solely for the younger generation. Naturally, those qualified to represent the four pavilions were the most outstanding prodigies among their peers—true pillars of hope for their respective factions.
If a faction wished to endure and flourish, fresh blood was indispensable. Thus, the four pavilions placed great importance on nurturing and evaluating their younger generation through this event.
The Central Plains, after all, was a land teeming with hidden dragons and crouching tigers. No one could predict when a dark horse might rise and shake the heavens. Even so, the Four Pavilion Grand Meeting continued to attract countless gifted youths from all corners of the region. While the four pavilions naturally held the spotlight, the event did not exclude worthy challengers from other factions.
Naturally, to preserve the prestige and quality of the competition, a strict screening process was in place. Rumor had it that this filter was exceptionally harsh—eliminating those who sought only to make up the numbers without possessing true skill.
After all, among the competitions between the younger generation, the Four Pavilion Grand Meeting was widely regarded as one of the highest caliber. It was said that even some senior experts would struggle to meet its entry standards.
As for the venue, it was traditionally chosen by the faction that had emerged victorious in the previous season. The last winner was the Wind Lightning Pavilion. Therefore, this season's Grand Meeting would be held at the Wind Lightning Eastern Pavilion.
…
At the summit of Lightning Mountain, wild, demon-like cheers thundered across the skies—filled with fervor and anticipation. The uproar surged like crashing waves, and those unaccustomed to such clamor might find themselves disoriented amidst the overwhelming tide of noise.
The Four Pavilion Grand Meeting drew an unending sea of people, creating a torrential flow of human traffic that surged without pause.
This vast crowd had gathered within an enormous stadium, constructed from the towering silver-colored trees lining the path toward the peak of Lightning Mountain.
These trees were peculiar in appearance—devoid of leaves, each one stood tall like a colossal silver pillar. Yet within their trunks surged a dense, pure lightning energy.
If one extended their Spiritual Strength to probe deeper, they would sense a constant surge of lightning aura gathering at the tops of the trees before rising skyward, merging with the roiling dark clouds above.
It was likely due to these strange silver trees that Lightning Mountain possessed such a terrifying concentration of Wind Lightning Strength. With the trees as a conduit, the dark clouds overhead never dissipated.
As a result, those who cultivated lightning-affinity Qi Methods here would find their progress accelerated, achieving twice the results with half the effort.
Due to this construction materials, the entire stadium gleamed with a bright silver hue, its brilliance somewhat glaring under the light. Scattered across the arena were shallow potholes—clear signs that this place was often used by the Wind Lightning Pavilion's disciples for training.
Surrounding the stadium were countless buildings, likely serving as quarters for the disciples. However, the most striking feature atop Lightning Mountain was an enormous silver-colored tower.
Soaring to a height of at least three to four hundred feet, the tower stood with awe-inspiring majesty. Arcs of lightning danced along its surface, while its peak pierced directly into the cloud layer, enveloping it in a veil of mystery.
At the front of the vast silver stadium, several silverwood chairs had been arranged at a location offering an excellent view of the entire arena. These seats, clearly made from the same silver trees as the stadium itself, were obviously reserved for the most distinguished guests—the honored VIPs soon to arrive.
Standing before these seats were several disciples of the Wind Lightning Pavilion, their expressions stern and disciplined. From the faint pressure that seeped from their bodies, it was clear—they were no ordinary disciples.
Dong—!
A crisp gong suddenly echoed across Lightning Mountain. In response, numerous agile figures flickered into view from the mountaintop, each one swiftly taking their assigned position.
Their formation was near flawless, surrounding the entire summit. With sharp gazes and unshakable focus, these guards were clearly prepared to lock onto any trace of suspicious movement.
Bang—!
A deafening thunderclap exploded from the cloud layer as a massive bolt of lightning tore through the sky, crashing down with overwhelming force. The blinding flash of light forced many in the crowd to reflexively shut their eyes.
As the brilliance faded, several figures slowly emerged from within the scorched spot. With calm and composed steps, they approached the silver stone seats and took their places.
"It's the four pavilion chiefs of the Wind Lightning Pavilion…!"
"Tsk tsk, as expected of the Wind Lightning Pavilion. So many experts gathered in one place. The one seated in the center must be the rumored Lei Zun-zhe, no?"
"Is that young lady beside Lei Zun-zhe… his famed personal disciple, Miss Feng Qing Er?"
"I heard she ranks among the most gifted of the younger generation, even within the Four Pavilions. I wonder if the rumors are true…"
As the crowd gradually reopened their eyes and took in the sight of the five seated figures, murmurs and exclamations rippled through the stadium, unable to suppress their awe and curiosity.
Most gazes were drawn to the man seated at the center. He possessed a tall and broad figure, appearing to be in his forties or fifties. His chin was lined with a neatly kept silver beard, exuding a mature and steady presence.
Draped over him was a silver-colored robe embroidered with lightning motifs. From afar, the patterns seemed to writhe with life, flowing like currents across his body. A faint lightning aura pulsed from the robe itself, lending him an air of silent pressure.
Yet, before long, attention naturally shifted to the young lady seated nearby—an instinctive reaction, as though the eyes could not help but be drawn to her.
She had a delicate, breathtaking countenance, with skin like fine porcelain and a tranquil expression that carried a quiet confidence. Her lips bore a soft crimson hue, while her calm, intelligent gaze radiated a noble and refined grace.
Her large, expressive eyes, framed by long lashes, gave her an almost ethereal allure. Small, shimmering blue scales marked her cheeks and forehead—subtle, yet striking—imbuing her with a mystical, otherworldly beauty.
Her long, elf-like ears added a touch of fantasy to her appearance, enhancing her charm even further. Her sleek black hair cascaded down her back like flowing silk, adorned with a small golden crown and delicate ornaments. A vivid orange streak running through the front of her bangs gave her a unique and unforgettable presence.
However, the only imperfection in her divine presence was the icy indifference that shrouded her, creating a sense of distance that made her seem unapproachable.
Yet, as the saying goes—only a flawless jade with a faint crack reveals its true worth. This cold aloofness did not diminish Miss Feng's beauty in the slightest. On the contrary, it added an air of untouchable grace. Her bearing and appearance were nothing short of exceptional.
Many had already heard of her remarkable achievements. Her cultivation talent was said to be outstanding, and she had been accepted as the final disciple of the Eastern Pavilion Chief of the Wind Lightning Pavilion.
Rumor had it she was the strongest contender among the younger generation to succeed the Eastern Pavilion throne.
Even so, murmurs of comparison quickly stirred among the crowd.
"Still, she's far behind the four Hall Masters of the Moonlit Chaos Mansion in the western region of the Central Plains."
"Those four reached the Dou Zun realm at such a young age. Two of them are even eighth-tier alchemists. They're of similar age to Miss Feng, but their achievements are on a completely different level. It's clear who holds the greater talent."
"And don't forget—one the Hall Masters of Moonlit Chaos Mansion, Ming Cheng Zun-zhe, has defeat her master, Lei Zun-zhe. Even after being ambushed by his forces, he turned the situation around and forced them to pay a heavy price."
"Ke ke… If not for Lady Li Mei and Lady Xin Yu withdrawing out of concern for Ming Cheng Zun-zhe's condition, I wonder how that confrontation would have ended…"
Naturally, with their level of cultivation, Lei Zun-zhe and the others could clearly hear the hushed whispers circulating through the crowd. The expressions that had moments ago brimmed with pride and satisfaction from the initial compliments now turned dark and sullen.
For Lei Zun-zhe, that incident remained a deep humiliation. To be utterly suppressed by someone from the younger generation—unable to prove his own strength—was a bitter pill to swallow.
The defeat alone had been shameful, but what worsened matters was the failed ambush he had orchestrated through his personal connections. Not only had it failed, but it had also further dragged his reputation into the mud.
As for Feng Qing Er, she found it difficult to believe that someone of her generation had already reached the Dou Zun realm—an achievement that should have been beyond their years—and had even managed to overpower her master with ease.
The overwhelming strength of the others mentioned left her shaken. A faint suspicion took root in her heart, wondering if they belong to one of the ancient clans…
Meanwhile, the four pavilion heads sat in silence, an uncomfortable heaviness settling in their hearts as the murmurs from the crowd reached their ears. Lei Zun-zhe was not only their peer but the chief of the Wind Lightning Pavilion.
Hearing such words—spoken so casually, yet carrying such weight—naturally left them feeling somber and gloomy.
Swoosh—!
Just as this oppressive mood began to settle over them, an ear-piercing gust tore through the skies above Lightning Mountain.
The sharp sound of wind split the silence, and the audience was suddenly stunned by the sight of an enormous sword—over a hundred feet long—slicing through the distant space as it rushed forward.
In a flash, the sword appeared high above the stadium, hovering majestically in the sky.
"Ha ha! Jian Zun-zhe, you're the fastest to arrive this time," Lei Zun-zhe said, shaking off the gloom clouding his heart. Rising to his feet, his thunderous laughter echoed across Lightning Mountain like a roaring storm.
The colossal sword trembled slightly before dissolving into countless specks of light, scattering like stars across the sky. From the midst of those falling lights, two figures slowly descended and landed gracefully in their designated seats.
One was an elderly man accompanied by his young disciple. The old man was diminutive in stature, dressed in simple linen robes, and seemed utterly unremarkable at first glance—like a frail, unassuming elder one might pass on a quiet street.
Yet none among the gathered crowd dared to underestimate him.
Everyone present knew that this seemingly inconspicuous old man was a fearsome existence—one who stood on equal footing with Lei Zun-zhe himself.
"It's surprising that even Jian Zun-zhe has come to watch this time. It seems those who arrived at Wind Lightning Mountain Range earlier were merely the vanguard of the Four Pavilions. The true core figures are only beginning to appear now."
"Heh, I bet it has something to do with Lei Zun-zhe's recent defeat at the hands of Ming Cheng Zun-zhe. Jian Zun-zhe probably came to mock him a little."
"Everyone knows Jian Zun-zhe still holds a grudge over losing to Lei Zun-zhe in that duel back then…"
Jian Zun-zhe's arrival immediately caused the atmosphere within the stadium to heat up. Conversations erupted all around, with many speculating that his true purpose was to witness Lei Zun-zhe's gloomy expression following his defeat by Ming Cheng.
However, Jian Zun-zhe paid no heed to Lei Zun-zhe's booming laughter or the chattering crowd. With a roll of his eyes, he walked over and casually took his seat, appearing completely indifferent.
Behind him, his disciple Tang Ying stood respectfully, hands lowered and posture upright, silently accompanying his master without a word.
"Hee hee, Old Jian still has that same fiery temper. Looks like that match all those years ago still lingers as a scar on your heart," a strange, sinister chuckle rang out just as Jian Zun-zhe took his seat.
In the next instant, a dark-black glow surged up from the base of the mountain. It moved so swiftly that it seemed to teleport, and in a flash, it materialized before the silver seats. With a casual wave of his sleeve, the figure seated himself without the slightest formality.
The man was an old man clad in black robes. His complexion was pale, and there was an ominous, unsettling air around him. The most striking feature, however, was his face—split evenly down the middle, one half black, the other white—making his appearance deeply unnerving.
Like Jian Zun-zhe, this old man was accompanied by a disciple who stood silently behind him. The young man's expression was respectful, yet a faint, eerie smile lingered at the corners of his lips.
"Back then, I was simply unlucky and lost by a narrow margin," Jian Zun-zhe said flatly, not even bothering to look directly at the man. "That's still far better than someone who only lasted a hundred exchanges before being defeated by Feng Zun-zhe."
He finally turned his eyes, calm and cutting, toward the black-robed elder. "Wouldn't you agree, Huang Quan Zun-zhe?"
Huang Quan Zun-zhe's expression turned cold the moment he heard the mocking tone in Jian Zun-zhe's voice. Even the smile on his disciple's face stiffened slightly. However, just as Huang Quan Zun-zhe was about to retort, his expression shifted subtly. His sinister gaze lifted, locking onto a point high in the sky.
A dragon-roar-like wind had suddenly swept over from that direction.
"Hmph, that fellow always has the fastest speed, yet insists on being the last to arrive…" Jian Zun-zhe raised his eyes, his turbid gaze narrowing slightly as he let out a dry chuckle.
Bang—!
Just as his voice fell, a thunderous sound accompanied the howling wind. It echoed like a distant dragon's roar before erupting into a muffled explosion.
An enormous green whirlwind tore through the heavens and descended from above, drawing the eyes of all present. It shimmered faintly as it spiraled, growing more distinct with each passing breath until it hovered directly above the stadium.
The massive whirlwind trembled once and abruptly froze in midair.
Then, in a blink, it collapsed into countless specks of light that scattered like falling stars. From within those lights, two figures glided down, carried by the wind, and slowly landed beside their designated seats.
At the forefront stood a tall and lean man, draped in a flowing green robe adorned with golden patterns and trim. Though his appearance was that of a refined and youthful man, those who recognized him knew he was an old monster who had lived for several centuries.
In terms of outer bearing, he clearly stood above the other three Dou Zuns present. Perhaps due to his cultivation in a wind-affinity Qi Method, his aura felt light and elusive, like a breeze that slipped through one's fingers—ethereal and unfathomable.
Behind him stood a young lady dressed in robes of the same hue. Her intelligent, curious eyes gave her an innocent and adorable charm. Her soft features still carried a trace of youthful naivety and warmth, making her seem entirely out of place in such a solemn and intense setting.
"It's Feng Zun-zhe! And that girl behind him… must be Mu Qing Luan, his newly accepted disciple."
"To think that four Dou Zuns would appear at this Grand Meeting… This trip has truly been worth it."
"It's rare enough to catch a glimpse of a single Dou Zun, yet now four of them have gathered in one place. The scale of this Four Pavilion Grand Meeting is beyond anything I imagined. No wonder it draws such massive attention."
"Still… for so many elites to appear at once, there must be something more behind it."
"I heard that Lady Xin Yu recently returned and swiftly quelled the unrest in the Moonlit Chaos Mansion—but there's been no sign of Lady Li Mei or Ming Cheng Zun-zhe…"
"Heh, perhaps a good show is about to unfold…"
The stadium buzzed with growing excitement and anticipation. Though the Four Pavilion Grand Meeting was meant to be the focus, many in the crowd had already shifted their attention elsewhere. What truly stirred their spirits wasn't the competition itself, but the possibility of an unexpected twist—Ming Cheng Zun-zhe appearing to shake the entire event.
It might not happen. It shouldn't happen.
But even the faintest possibility was enough to keep their blood running hot.
Lei Zun-zhe and Jian Zun-zhe, seated at the front, smiled faintly and rose to cup their hands in greeting when they saw Feng Zun-zhe's arrival. Though all four now shared equal status as Dou Zuns, Feng Zun-zhe had achieved fame far earlier than the others. As such, the two still offered him a measure of respect out of courtesy and acknowledgment.
However, Huang Quan Zun-zhe, seated nearby, made no such gesture. He merely narrowed his sinister eyes, cast a brief glance at Feng Zun-zhe, then turned his head away, acting as though he hadn't seen him at all.
The green-robed Feng Zun-zhe maintained a warm and composed smile. He returned the greetings of Lei Zun-zhe and Jian Zun-zhe with a graceful nod and cupped hands, but completely ignored Huang Quan Zun-zhe—as if the man were nothing more than empty air.
Although the Four Pavilion heads were wary of one another, it was no secret that Feng Zun-zhe and Huang Quan Zun-zhe were particularly at odds. Their paths had long been incompatible, and Feng Zun-zhe openly disdained the other man's shady and ruthless nature.
After the brief courtesies were exchanged, Lei Zun-zhe slowly lifted his gaze toward the sky. Then, rising to his feet, he swept his eyes across the vast stadium. Instantly, the rumbling buzz of conversation that had reached toward the heavens fell into absolute silence beneath the pressure of that faint lightning glow within his eyes.
"Today is an auspicious day for my Wind Lightning Pavilion, as we have the honor of hosting this season's Four Pavilion Grand Meeting," Lei Zun-zhe's voice rang out calmly, yet with a weight that could shake the heart. "I thank all of you for gathering here in support of my Pavilion. However… I trust everyone is familiar with the rules of the Wind Lightning Pavilion. I hope no one will attempt to disrupt the Grand Meeting while it is in progress."
Though his words were spoken without haste, Lei Zun-zhe's voice echoed like rolling thunder across the entirety of Lightning Mountain. Contained within it was a trace of lightning might that made the air itself feel charged.
Many among the weaker cultivators involuntarily trembled, their expressions tightening as the pressure bore down on them.
His tone was firm and domineering—like an unyielding thunderbolt that left no room for debate. Some might have found his words unpleasant, but none dared raise objections in the face of his overwhelming strength. The deterrence of an elite Dou Zun was not something ordinary people could challenge.
Seeing that no one dared to speak out, Lei Zun-zhe gave a slight nod of satisfaction. He raised his hand, preparing to signal the start of the event.
But just as the gongmaster readied his hand—
"Ha ha! Lei Zun-zhe!"
A loud, carefree laugh suddenly echoed from the skies above.
"How about we make this Four Pavilion Grand Meeting a little more interesting—for all those who've traveled from afar?"
The burst of laughter rumbled across the sky like thunder, carrying with it a terrifying force. The moment the voice descended, many among the crowd felt a wave of dizziness surge through their minds.
The voice, infused with an even greater lightning might than Lei Zun-zhe's earlier display, struck like a heavenly tribulation. Some of the weaker cultivators directly collapsed, fainting on the spot under the overwhelming pressure.
Lei Zun-zhe's expression changed drastically the moment he heard the familiar voice and sensed the aura that followed. His confident demeanor crumbled as his face twisted in shock and disbelief.
Snapping his head upward, his eyes locked onto a descending group in the sky. Though they landed with calm composure, each figure radiated an oppressive strength that made even the clouds retreat.
At the very front stood two figures. As Lei Zun-zhe's gaze landed on the youthful man among them, his pupils shrank violently. That face—one he could never forget.
Lei Zun-zhe's pupils contracted sharply. Clenching his teeth, he spat out the name with a mixture of fury and dread:
"Ming Cheng…!"
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