The venue for the major conference was kept very secret, chosen as a villa in the outskirts of Shangjing owned by the Mo Family.
Its remote location ensured it wouldn’t attract unwanted attention.
When Bai Maomao arrived, there were already quite a few people inside the villa.
Cultivators valued freedom and ease, so among the comings and goings, very few wore normal clothing. Instead, everyone was dressed in all sorts of strange and exotic outfits.
It looked less like a serious meeting and more like a costume exhibition.
Bai Maomao watched as a man wearing a Bagua robe, sporting a Taoist hairstyle and holding a duster in his right hand, walked past him.
Bai Maomao twitched the corner of his mouth, wondering how someone dressed like that even passed security.
Among all the bizarre costumes, Bai Maomao, dressed in a suit and shirt, actually appeared somewhat normal.
Coupled with his striking appearance, his turn rate was easily one hundred and twenty percent.
Dragging his small suitcase, Bai Maomao followed the attendant to his room.
The Mo Family’s villa was spacious with many guest rooms.
Since each guest had their own room and didn’t need to share with strangers, Bai Maomao breathed a sigh of relief.
The attendant stopped at Bai Maomao’s door, reminded him of some precautions, and handed him a business card, saying it was specially entrusted by the steward.
Bai Maomao glanced at the card and guessed it must have been Mo Qin who had arranged this in advance.
Although the invitation came from Mo Qin, Bai Maomao hadn’t come together with him.
Mo Qin’s reasoning was that since the Thousand Mechanisms Sect was presenting itself openly to everyone, it would be better not to appear too close to the Mo Family, preserving the mysterious aura of their secluded noble house.
For this reason, Mo Qin had a driver send Bai Maomao separately.
But Bai Maomao thought he was just talking nonsense—he just didn’t want him hanging around with Yan Miao, so he concocted a fancy-sounding excuse.
Everyone already knew Bai Maomao, Xiao Hei, and Mo Qin were classmates, so if he could pretend otherwise, he was truly impressive.
After grumbling to himself for a while, Bai Maomao unpacked and got ready. Later in the evening, there would be a buffet dinner.
According to Mo Qin, a chef specially invited from the Mo Family’s Old Residence was preparing the pastries, which were said to be extraordinary.
Bai Maomao wasn’t about to miss that.
After tidying up, he video-called Xiao Hei, and by then it was almost time to eat.
Bai Maomao headed to the dining hall punctually.
The dining hall was bustling, filled with cultivators from all corners of the world.
From afar, it looked like a cosplay event, giving off a strangely comical vibe.
Time to eat.
Bai Maomao caught just a glimpse of the scene and decided not to think too much, grabbing a tray and rushing toward the pastry section.
He piled his plate high with assorted desserts, beaming with satisfaction.
His eyes gleamed as he scanned around, looking for a quiet corner.
Finding a less crowded spot, Bai Maomao just sat down when someone else unexpectedly sat opposite him.
He frowned slightly—he had purposely chosen a quiet corner, yet someone had followed him. But since it was a public area, he didn’t say anything and buried himself in eating.
The person opposite noticed Bai Maomao stuffing tiny cakes into his mouth, his cheeks puffed out like a hamster, and couldn’t help but chuckle.
Instantly, Bai Maomao grew a little annoyed.
He swallowed the cake, took a sip of juice, and glanced at the other person.
The man appeared to be in his twenties, maybe not even thirty, quite young.
But Bai Maomao felt a strong sense of discordance just looking at him—he had disliked the man at first sight.
So Bai Maomao glared and continued eating without responding.
I don’t want to talk to someone I don’t like.
The man opposite was silent for a moment, then said, “Which sect do you belong to, young friend? Are you here alone?”
Bai Maomao’s mouth was full, so he didn’t reply.
The man persisted, “I am Shi Xuan. May I know your honorable surname?”
Bai Maomao took a sip of juice and bit into a piece of cheesecake.
Shi Xuan smiled warmly, his gaze resolute.
“I feel we may have met before. Meeting like this must be fate. May I be so bold as to ask for your friendship?”
Bai Maomao rolled his eyes.
That old line was so cliché—couldn’t he at least update his script?
“No, thank you.”
Shi Xuan’s smile faltered, but after a brief pause, he refused to give up.
“I only wish to be friends with you.”
Bai Maomao clapped his hands slowly, wiping the crumbs from his mouth. He picked up his tray and stood.
Taking a few steps, he stopped, turned back, and said, “If you can’t even show your true face, how can you talk about friendship?”
Shi Xuan was taken aback.
Watching Bai Maomao’s retreating figure, his eyes darkened.
He tugged at the corner of his mouth and muttered, “He really looks like you…”
The meeting was scheduled for the afternoon.
Bai Maomao ate until his belly was full, then happily took a nap before following the attendant to the meeting hall.
The hall was large, with only a few people scattered around.
Bai Maomao casually found an inconspicuous seat.
The heavyweights had yet to arrive.
The people present were minor figures, sitting in small groups, whispering quietly.
Next to Bai Maomao sat a chubby man.
His round face and soft, pale flesh made him look like a steamed bun—quite pokable.
The chubby man initiated conversation, “Young friend, do you know why we were summoned here?”
Bai Maomao shook his head.
The chubby man smiled mysteriously and leaned closer, lowering his voice, “I heard something big is about to happen.”
Bai Maomao’s face turned cold.
“If I didn’t know, you’d have to tell me. What big thing?”
The man looked around cautiously, then whispered even quieter,
“I heard the demons sealed away since ancient times have all broken free. A great war is imminent.”
Bai Maomao stared at him in surprise.
The chubby man was delighted by his reaction, proudly saying, “You didn’t know? My uncle told me. After the meeting, don’t wander around. Follow me; I’ll look out for you.”
He pointed to an elderly man with a long beard sitting in the middle.
The old man was stern and noticed the gaze, turning his head to glance over.
Startled, the chubby man immediately lowered his head, looking like a flattened cotton ball.
The old man saw nothing unusual and soon turned back.
Bai Maomao poked the chubby man’s arm, pushing down a dimple.
As expected, he was soft.
“Hey, he turned back.”
The chubby man glanced nervously, then patted his robust chest.
Halfway through, he felt this wasn’t very imposing and, embarrassed in front of his junior, straightened up and explained, “My uncle’s pretty fierce, but I’m not afraid of him, haha.”
Indeed, he had already assumed Bai Maomao was his junior.
Bai Maomao moved his mouth but ultimately chose silence.
Suddenly, the meeting hall fell silent as several people entered.
Leading them was Mo Qin, followed by Lang Laotaiye, Lang Juntian, and Lang Junxian, with the Ji Family Patriarch bringing up the rear.
One by one, they took their seats.
The previously restless atmosphere instantly turned solemn.
The hall was deathly quiet, and those seated could only communicate with their eyes.
Taking advantage of the crowd, Bai Maomao shamelessly stared at his man.
Xiao Hei wore a black Tang suit today, his slightly long hair slicked back, revealing a broad forehead beneath which his sharp features were especially captivating.
Bai Maomao unconsciously licked his lips, eyes burning.
My man is so handsome, it’s hormonal overload!
The chubby man beside him noticed his intense stare and, after holding back several times, elbowed him softly, whispering, “Stop staring, your eyeballs might fall out.”
Bai Maomao snapped out of his pink bubble and gave the chubby man a disapproving look.
“What do you know? That’s my man. Not only can I look, I can touch too!”
While these two were distracted, everyone else remained serious.
This meeting had gathered all the notable sects and families of the cultivation world.
Though people were present, most had no idea what the meeting was truly about.
Even with rumors swirling, no one dared to believe them.
That was until Mo Qin spoke personally, confirming the previous speculations.
The table erupted in commotion—disbelief, worry, and doubt.
Everyone whispered, clamoring to voice their opinions.
Mo Qin watched coldly, making no attempt to silence them.
It was Lang Laotaiye who couldn’t stand the chaos.
He slammed the table hard.
Having lived over two hundred years and holding a high position for long, his imposing presence quickly quieted the crowd.
Lang Laotaiye spoke slowly and clearly, first delivering a stern warning.
He emphasized the gravity of the situation, stating it wasn’t just about one family name but concerned the future of the entire cultivation world and even the human society.
After his speech, every cultivator’s expression turned grave, their brows furrowed so tightly they could crush flies.
Bai Maomao secretly wanted to applaud.
That oratory, that ability to sway minds—it was a waste if he didn’t go into sales or propaganda.
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