There were about thirty people in the Sword Repair Institute, with a dozen small tables set under an artificial rock; two or three people sat around each table, sparsely scattered but all seats were filled.
Pei Ye brought Li Tishui inside and greeted them twice, and people made room for them to share a small table. Now, he had quite a high reputation in the Sword Repair Institute, and many people smiled warmly and greeted him.
Indeed, it was bustling and lively; by the pond, the pavilions lay in tiers, with countless small tables either gathered together or scattered apart. Most were already seated, their clothing varied, and their demeanors were distinct. Attendants weaved through the crowd, guiding paths and serving tea in orderly fashion.
On the pond, two swordbearers were already sparring; as one advanced, the other retreated, and white pearls raised by the sword edges glistened in the morning sun.
"If they're below the Fourth Level, they can't get on stage," Pei Ye said.
