The heat of the festival night had yet to fade, and most of the Zhu Sacred Kingdom’s Royal Court Retainers and Feng Chen had gathered at the Sundial Immortal Mansion to welcome the Vermilion Bird.
For cultivators from East Pole Province, the Shengyu Festival was not just a time to bid farewell to the old and welcome the new; personally experiencing the Jinwu Descent was also a rare opportunity.
At dawn, it wasn’t uncommon for cultivators to break through their bottlenecks while bathing in the Ri Lun.
In the grand hall of the Sundial, music and dance flourished, and honored guests accepted invitations from the Princess to enjoy the feather lanterns together.
Bai Yu and his two companions arrived rather late; the graceful girl bedecked with flowers had already finished her song and retreated backstage.
“Ah, we’re late!”
Zhuang Heng slapped his forehead, frustrated that Senior Sister Zhou’s fascination with the shadow play had made them miss the exciting part.
The three of them quietly joined the ranks of the Radiant Light Sect disciples and apologized to the elders.
Elder Pu, seeing his prized student once again mingling with the Shenhua sword cultivators, snorted but said nothing.
At the main entrance, Ji Shiyu and Xiao Xinran exchanged glances—both quick-witted enough to immediately split up and slip into the crowd.
The old Monarch remained absent.
To not appear at such an important occasion spoke volumes about the rapid deterioration of his health.
Most at court were fence-sitters, waiting to see which way the wind would blow.
When one Princess sided with Madam Jing Rui, it was only natural that no one reserved seats for the Shenhua Sect.
After all, in the eyes of many, the Zhusheng State Religion, once devoted to Jing Yan, was now a thing of the past.
A new ruler brought new ministers; any clear-eyed person could see the power of the Radiant Light was on the rise.
The era of sword cultivators dominating a thousand years ago had long since passed.
After seating Lin Shu in the back row with the Xiao Family, Xiao Xinran delighted several clan elders.
They looked around but didn’t spot the Chief of Pavilion.
She waved her hand.
Ji Shiyu, still craving that delicious goose leg from last time, was about to sneak into the kitchen for a bite when she spotted Li Su in the front row.
“Over here, Goldie!”
Dan Boy called out in a low voice, still disguised as a boy.
Ji Shiyu rolled her eyes and rushed over, poking Li Su’s dimple with a finger.
“Who’s Goldie! Is that how you talk to your elders? I’m older and stronger than you—calling me Sister Ji isn’t shameful!”
“Ha? You are older, and shameless, too. We didn’t settle our score last time. Want to compete now, chicken eats fish?”
“I! Am! Ji! Shiyu!”
“Silence.”
Mister Canghai glanced over in confusion, a single word silencing the two noisy brats.
At this hour, this child shouldn’t even be here.
The seats of honor in the hall were occupied by two royal members—Madam Jing Rui, dressed boldly and raising her cup with a seductive smile, and Senior Sister Jing Tan’er, clad in royal robes of gold thread and black feathers, as if hinting at something.
“Why are they here…”
Her Highness the Princess noticed the two uninvited guests as well, her lips twitching with a bad premonition.
Envoys and great noble families from all directions presented their gifts to the Monarch, and next came a martial exhibition to showcase the dynasty’s might, marking the beginning of the Sun Guard parade.
Several powerful body cultivators saluted, each representing a Fief Prince as they took the stage.
Even the weakest among them had reached the upper realm of Foundation Establishment—elite forces of the military.
This performance was more spectacle than true combat; weapons clashed, blades and spears rang out, and the surging spiritual energy drew waves of applause.
Fief Prince Pan Yi of the East stroked his beard and clapped, less interested in the match but visibly more relaxed.
As the Golden Crow Attendant, the King’s absence from such an event confirmed he was truly gone.
Another royal member, most likely terrified, was probably hiding in the palace, trembling with fear.
Whoever won would be the true king… yet the real Princess’s supporters extended far beyond the Forbidden Army’s commander.
The Northern Fief Prince was ambitious and stubborn, his burning gaze fixed on the counterfeit presented by Jing Rui.
He barely suppressed his laughter, already feeling victory within his grasp.
The previous King’s sudden death was an unexpected blessing—heaven’s aid.
The thought of the Monarch dying at the hands of Jing Rui, that venomous woman, made his straightforward defection understandable.
He even brought an imperial decree and a marriage edict.
He immediately gathered his confidants, waiting for dawn to sweep away the rebels in the name of supporting the King.
At that point, he could rightfully marry the Empress, effortlessly bringing the dynasty under his control.
Perfect!
While traitors at the banquet dreamed of conquest, a lazy voice interrupted.
“Such small games are dull—enough. Stand down.”
Jing Rui yawned, eyes cold, glancing at the golden-haired girl gorging herself, the haughty Xiao Family heiress, and the mysterious woman in a Golden Crow mask behind her.
It was obvious where the courtesan was.
Those two brats dared to run wild on the Silver Sparrow Terrace—no matter if they were even the Holy Son’s cauldron, they still needed discipline.
“All present are powerful outside-world cultivators—no need for mere royal warriors to embarrass themselves. Instead, why not have a master from the Radiant Light Sect display some world-shaking skills for us all to witness?”
“The lady speaks well.”
Pan Yi echoed with a smile; all officials and ministers nodded in eager agreement.
Elder Pu feigned profundity.
“The lady flatters us. Body cultivation techniques have their unique merits, but our sect’s spells are indeed so potent that sparring might injure our friends.”
Guests from various Spirit Heaven Mansions found the words jarring. Since when did spell cultivators become so arrogant?
Even Jing Rui’s eyelid twitched. She took a deep breath.
‘You say we’re strong, but you’re already boasting. If it’s about power, even our Holy Son hasn’t spoken yet.’
“Elder Pu speaks truly. Since it’s a martial exhibition, suitable opponents are needed, and limited sparring rules shouldn’t apply. It just so happens we have two little sword immortals from Yanhai Academy present.”
“As a prestigious sect, the Shenhua Sword Clan certainly has the power to defend itself—am I right, Miss Xiao?”
Jing Tan’er frowned slightly.
The old teacup stoked the flames with every word—even amidst rebellion, he couldn’t resist fanning them higher.
“The lady need not seek help. If the opponent is you, Xinran is always ready.”
Xiao Xinran extended her pinky, mockery and challenge in her gaze, taunting without fear.
So what if it was a Golden Core demon cultivator?
She felt nothing for the Radiant Light Sect—her only wish was to pierce the demonic woman’s true face with her sword in front of all and wipe away the shame suffered on the Golden Crow.
Jing Rui, feeling wronged, naturally ignored her.
“Why do you say that, Miss Xiao? I am but a weak woman, without your cultivation talent.”
“Very well. Zhuang Heng, go test yourself against the Sunset Sword Classic. Last time’s defeat was unsatisfying—I’d like to see firsthand how sword cultivators break techniques.”
Elder Pu pondered for a moment, then, knowing it was a trap, still volunteered to let his disciple be used as a tool.
If a sect member triumphed over the prized new student of Yanhai Academy, it would bring great honor. If the new king awarded them the position of state religion, perhaps even the title of Zhusheng National Teacher might be in reach.
“Huh?”
Zhuang Heng pointed at himself, glanced at Xiao Xinran’s stormy expression, then at Senior Brother Bai’s sympathetic look—utterly helpless.
To have such a master—what rotten luck!
Zhuang Heng forced himself to take his bow and step onto the stage.
Fortunately, the terrifying white-robed youth from last time wasn’t present; dealing with Senior Sister Xiao, a lower Foundation Establishment cultivator, shouldn’t be too hard.
“Miss, allow me.”
Lin Shu clenched her fists, sharing a strong hatred for demonic cultivators.
“If Sister Lin steps up, it’ll be bullying the boy.”
Xiao Xinran shook her head, left her seat, and slowly walked to the center of the platform, fiery spiritual energy pressing toward Zhuang Heng—but her gaze was fixed on Jing Rui.
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