Chapter 70: The Banquet of Breaking Boundaries

Within a small pavilion on the Eastern Departure Peak.

Chen Yuan sat idly with several junior sisters, chatting and occasionally glancing down the mountainside.

For disciples of the sect, it was common to host a banquet for fellow disciples after breaking through a cultivation stage. Such gatherings were both a celebration and an opportunity to display one’s strength. After all, on this mountain, every privilege was tied closely to one’s cultivation realm.

Before long, a dozen cultivators approached the pavilion.

“Congratulations, Junior Sister Chen.” The one leading them was a tall, slender young man. His skin was so fair it lent him a delicate air, yet a trace of resolute vigor lingered between his brows.

“Senior Brother Zhiwei, you’ve left seclusion!” Chen Yuan quickly stood up, her round cheeks—still bearing the softness of youth—growing even fuller as she broke into a wide smile.

The young man was, in fact, a steward of Eastern Departure Peak, but his approachable nature made the disciples prefer calling him Senior Brother rather than using his title.

Li Zhiwei nodded, withdrawing his gaze and, with the corner of his eye, glanced at the junior brother beside him whose excitement was hard to contain. He made his way inside at a measured pace.

He had only just emerged from seclusion and had no intention of joining the disciples’ affairs, but he could not withstand Junior Brother Liu’s heartfelt pleas. After all, they shared the same master. A moment’s hesitation, and he agreed.

Leaning against the railing, he gazed off toward the distant sky. His white robes fluttered gently, lips pressed in a thin line, and his handsome profile—intentionally or not—drew the gaze of all the female cultivators present.

A hush fell over the pavilion.

“Junior Sister Chen has reached the peak of Qi Refinement. Surely she’ll earn a fine place in the upcoming grand competition.” The most enthusiastic disciple among them brazenly sat close by.

“Thank you for your kind words, Senior Brother Liu.” Chen Yuan forced a polite smile.

With the two of them breaking the ice, the other disciples joined the conversation, though every topic seemed to circle back to Senior Brother Li.

“This time you left seclusion, you must have made progress toward the mid-stage of Foundation Establishment, yes?”

At these words, Li Zhiwei turned, offering a gentle smile that felt like a spring breeze. “Yes, I am grateful to have lived up to our elders’ expectations.”

“Senior Brother entered the sect a little over twenty years ago. You put us all to shame.” The female cultivators did not hold back their praise.

“I heard you came from a poor region, yet in our eyes, you far outshine those pampered sons of noble families.”

“It was merely luck.”

Li Zhiwei continued gazing at the distant mountains, his expression calm, the flattery passing through him as if unheard.

Unable to join the conversation, Chen Yuan’s eyes betrayed her impatience. But with Liu Xin being so annoyingly persistent beside her, she could only force herself to respond with an awkward smile now and then.

On her own, she could never have persuaded Li Zhiwei to attend. As a disciple of an elder and a steward of Eastern Departure Peak, his presence at her breakthrough banquet was a great honor—one owed largely to Senior Brother Liu, who, as a fellow disciple of an elder, had made the request.

With half an hour left until the appointed time, she guessed that Senior Brother Li must be growing impatient. She rose with a smile and said, “Almost everyone’s here. Let’s be on our way.”

More than twenty disciples made their way toward a small courtyard.

Liu Xin’s face nearly split with his grin as he quietly clung to his senior brother, lowering his voice in gratitude: “You’ve really helped me out. She’s never treated me this kindly before.”

Li Zhiwei waved his hand, indicating it was nothing.

“Later, at the banquet, please put in a good word for me.” Liu Xin pulled out a small box, looking pained as he glanced at the little magical tool inside—it was borrowed from Li Zhiwei, worth three whole spirit stones, a price that even as a disciple of an elder strained his purse.

Li Zhiwei was silent for a moment, then nodded lightly.

Even though he thought this particular junior sister was not a good match for his dull-witted junior brother—her mind was far too cunning for him—he agreed nonetheless.

The banquet was already laid out in the courtyard.

The seat of honor, naturally, was reserved for the young man in white. Liu Xin, eager to sit next to Chen Yuan, watched as she slipped into the company of the other female disciples with a playful laugh and a coquettish glance in his direction.

“Heh.”

Liu Xin scratched his head with a foolish grin, feeling his heart melt, and obediently took his place beside his senior brother.

After several rounds of wine, the atmosphere warmed, and flattery flowed freely.

Li Zhiwei drained his cup in one go.

As a steward, his presence was already a great honor for these disciples—there was no need for him to stay until the end. He set his cup down, preparing to take his leave, when his gaze was drawn outside the courtyard.

A flurry of hurried footsteps could be heard.

Moments later, a somewhat awkward figure appeared at the entrance.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Wang Yao glanced at those inside, apologetic: “Senior Sister Chen, I’m sorry I’m late.”

He’d finally convinced the gatekeeper to let him up, only to get lost on the vast Eastern Departure Peak, wandering half an hour before he found this small courtyard.

Everyone paused, curious eyes turning to the unfamiliar face.

Chen Yuan rose to greet him. “No matter, come in and sit.”

“And who is this?” a female cultivator couldn’t help but ask.

“Wang Yao, a junior brother I met in the outer sect.” Chen Yuan’s warm smile eased some of Wang Yao’s embarrassment.

“He’s not from our peak?”

Liu Xin’s cheerful expression faded, his face darkening.

They were all fellow disciples, yet Junior Sister Chen had gone out of her way to invite someone from another peak? The gesture made him uneasy.

Wang Yao quietly found a seat at the end of the table. No sooner had he sat down than he felt an unfriendly gaze upon him.

He looked up in confusion to see a burly-faced senior brother frowning at him, though he hadn’t the faintest idea when he’d offended the man.

“What are you waiting for? Try the spiritual wine of Eastern Departure Peak,” Chen Yuan urged with a smile as bright as the moon, raising her cup.

“Thank you, Senior Sister.” Wang Yao hurriedly poured himself a drink and raised his cup in return. The fiery wine burned his throat, making him cough repeatedly—a clear sign he’d never touched wine before.

The sight drew laughter from the crowd, and the sense of unfamiliarity faded a little. Though he wasn’t from their peak, they were all disciples of East Mountain Sect; as a guest, he was not so much a stranger after all.

Gradually, others began to speak with him.

Li Zhiwei watched Wang Yao’s blue robe, observed his manner, and found a strange sense of familiarity. The corners of his mouth lifted as he raised his cup in Wang Yao’s direction.

Clad in white, sitting at the head, his aura was otherworldly.

Even though Wang Yao was new here, he could tell this was no ordinary man. Awkwardly, he raised his own cup. Their gazes met across the table; Li Zhiwei’s eyes sparkled with amusement.

Liu Xin, seeing this, felt a fresh wave of grievance.

Even Senior Brother won’t help me!

Flushed with wine, he staggered to his feet. “We haven’t asked yet—which peak are you from, Junior Brother?”

Wang Yao paused, then stood as well with a smile. “Wang Yao of Little Green Mountain, greetings, Senior Brother.”

“Little Green Mountain…”

Liu Xin smacked his lips drunkenly, a hint of provocation in his tone. “I’ve never heard of it.”

At these words, silence fell over the courtyard.

Everyone could sense that something was amiss.