The cedar door opened.
Lín Xiù entered the Eastern Pavilion with quick, shallow breaths. She walked rapidly across the rug, holding something against her chest beneath her tunic. She ignored Yù Méi and Yù Qíng, heading straight to the veranda where Zhì Yuǎn stood with his back turned.
She dropped to her knees on the wooden floor. With trembling hands, she pulled the object from under her tunic and raised it with both arms.
It was a heavy black jade disk interwoven with threads of ancient silver — the Astrolabe of a Thousand Bridges.
— Senior… — her voice came out low, almost reverent. — I understood. These are the true roots of the mountain.
Zhì Yuǎn turned. His dark eyes descended to the disk. He extended his hand and touched the relic without hesitation.
The moment of contact, the thousand-year-old silver emitted a low hum. Zhì Yuǎn's mind connected with the matrix engraved in the jade. He did not see a treasure — he saw spatial routes, anchoring points, and the logic that controlled the ancient bridges surrounding the mountain. The void in his Dantian reacted immediately, hungry to devour that structure.
He took the Astrolabe from her hands.
— You brought me the foundation — Zhì Yuǎn stated, his deep voice confirming the literal fact.
Lín Xiù was left breathless. Her heart raced. She remained on her knees, her face flushed with vanity. In the cultivator's deluded mind, this was the moment. She expected him to touch her, to praise her, to acknowledge that she was worthy.
But Zhì Yuǎn did not move a single muscle in her direction. He simply turned the disk in his hands, his eyes already focused on the geometry of the silver, having forgotten the existence of the kneeling woman the instant he took the artifact.
The silence that fell over the veranda was awkward.
Yù Qíng lowered her porcelain cup with a soft clink.
— A beautiful offering, Young Mistress Lín — she said, her voice velvety and sweet. — To rip the heart out of your own house and deliver it on your knees to a stranger. Cut branches wither quickly in the dust… but they make for a fine decoration for a day.
Lín Xiù raised her gaze toward Yù Qíng. In her mind, the words sounded like an admission of defeat. She is acknowledging that I am superior.
She opened a wide smile, her eyes moist with emotion.
Yù Qíng returned the smile. A gentle, almost maternal smile.
Three heavy tolls of a bronze bell tore through the mountain air.
The invasion alarm sounded.
Immediately after, the sound of armor and hurried footsteps climbing the stairs of the Eastern Pavilion filled the courtyard. Fifty elite disciples surrounded the entrance. In their center stood Sect Master Zhào Fēng, Grand Elder Lín Wújiàn, and Mù Chén — his right arm bandaged and his face twisted with hatred.
— Invaders! — the Grand Elder thundered. — You mutilated our disciple and dare to steal the foundation of the Misty Peak!
Mù Chén took a step forward, his voice shrill:
— Bring that blonde bitch out here! She's going to pay for my arm!
Inside the pavilion, Yù Méi shot up from her armchair. The predatory smile returned to the youngest's face in the same instant.
— He asked for me — Yù Méi said, cracking the fingers of her right hand. — Your tea party is over, sister. Can I go down and rip his head off now? I promise I'll clean the courtyard afterward.
Lín Xiù, who was still kneeling near the wall, felt her blood run cold. Panic completely swallowed the illusion as she witnessed the carnivorous excitement on the golden-dressed girl's face. She stood up at once, her face pale.
— Wait… wait a moment — her voice came out trembling, almost desperate. — You can't… I gave you the Astrolabe! I gave you everything! You can't just kill everyone now! This doesn't make sense! I betrayed my own sect because of him and now you're going to—
She couldn't finish.
Suddenly, her lips pressed together forcefully, as if something invisible had sealed her mouth shut. She tried to open them, but her lips wouldn't part. A muffled, desperate sound escaped her throat. Her eyes widened in pure panic.
Yù Qíng set her cup down on the center table with a sharp clack. She sighed, purely irritated.
— Killing isn't the problem, Méi. The problem is the noise — she said, her tone calmer and more direct. — If you go down there and start breaking bones, that boy will scream even louder before he dies. Your husband is trying to read the Astrolabe's matrix. Vibrations are distracting.
Zhì Yuǎn didn't even lift his eyes from the jade disk, completely indifferent to the conversation. He turned the Astrolabe in his hands, slightly furrowing his brow.
— The vibration from screaming interferes with reading the matrix — Zhì Yuǎn murmured, his tone practical and focused solely on the stone.
Yù Qíng glanced sideways at Yù Méi with a small, tired smile. With an automatic movement, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and rose from the divan.
— As I said — she murmured, her tone calm and resigned. — I'll handle it. No screaming.
She stopped at the railing, looking down at the army below with pure boredom. Downstairs, Mù Chén opened his mouth to shout another insult.
Yù Qíng made no dramatic gesture.
She simply stopped suppressing her Dantian.
The air across the entire courtyard suddenly became heavy. The dense, oppressive Qi of the priestess descended upon everyone without warning.
Swords fell to the ground. Elite disciples collapsed to their knees, coughing up blood. The Sect Master and the Grand Elder fell together, their bodies hitting the limestone. Both old men vomited dark blood, unable to lift their heads.
Mù Chén fell face-first onto the ground, his bandaged arm striking the stone. He let out a muffled scream of pain.
The entire courtyard plunged into absolute silence.
From the veranda, Yù Qíng looked down at the fallen bodies with an expression of pure boredom.
— Clean this trash from my door — she said, her voice calm and polite. — You may continue pretending you rule this mountain. Just don't make any more noise.
She turned her back. The blue fabric brushed against the wood, and the pavilion door closed with a soft click, leaving fifty disciples and two sect leaders bleeding on the floor of their own home.
The soft click of the door isolated the pavilion. The sounds of pained groans and bodies dragging outside were muffled by the thick wood. The scent of lotus incense once again dominated the room.
Near the wall, the invisible gag on Lín Xiù's lips dissolved. The woman in white and blue silk collapsed onto the rug, gasping and trembling uncontrollably. She could scream now, but terror had stolen the voice from her throat. The epic romance she had built in her mind collapsed in an instant. She was not the chosen one. She was simply the fool who had opened the door to her own end.
Completely ignoring the panicked woman on the floor, Zhì Yuǎn stopped turning the Astrolabe of a Thousand Bridges. The hum of the ancient silver fell silent.
His dark eyes absorbed the final geometric line of the matrix carved into the black jade. The apathy in his expression did not change, but the void in his Dantian vibrated with the answer he had been seeking.
— The central root is not here — he said, his voice deep and calm. — This mountain is only a peripheral branch. The primordial matrix that controls the bridges of this territory and holds the true density of space lies in the central pillar. The Shattered Heaven Sect.
Near the door, Yù Qíng smiled.
The irritation from the noise of the army outside evaporated from her face, replaced by the pure, sweet devotion she always carried. The priestess walked over to her husband with light steps. She stopped behind him, wrapped her arms around Zhì Yuǎn's waist, and pressed her face between his shoulder blades, as if she had found her true home.
— Then let's go there — she murmured, her voice low and serene, almost a whisper against his back. — And let's rip that root from the ground.