The sun hung low over Black Dragon Mountain, gilding the jagged cliffs with fire before it slipped behind the southern horizon. The echoes of Lu Mao's triumph against the Jade Owl Syndicate had barely faded, yet whispers carried faster than wind, reaching every corner of the southern territories. Tales of six War Blood practitioners felled and an Elder barely surviving the wrath of a single youth had ignited a frenzy of fear, curiosity, and disbelief. Amongst these murmurs, a name began to solidify like molten iron in the minds of cultivators: Slayer.
Lu Mao sat cross-legged on the steps leading to the main hall, Moonveil dagger across his knees, the golden-black veins from his inner world still faintly glowing beneath his skin. His mind was restless despite his apparent calm. Even the first stage of Martial General in the War Blood Realm demanded vigilance, a sharpness in perception that could not be dulled by victory.
"Slayer," he murmured, testing the word on his tongue, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "It does have a nice ring."
Li Xian, leaning against a column nearby, tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. "Don't let it go to your head. It's just a name."
"Just a name that inspires fear," Lu Mao replied, letting a trace of amusement curl through his tone. "Fear, respect…sometimes fear precedes respect."
Yan Mei, seated cross-legged beside them, remained silent, her whip-like blade sheathed at her side. Her eyes followed the horizon, the corners flicking as if measuring the invisible flow of qi from the surrounding valleys. Though still at the Spirit Apprentice stage, her senses had sharpened with survival and cunning; even now, she could feel the ripple of power Lu Mao emitted and the subtle tensions brewing from nearby sects.
Chen Yuan and Bao Fu joined them, their laughter echoing across the courtyard. "I've heard the tales," Bao Fu said with a teasing grin. "Six War Blood downed by one? And the Elder fled with injuries? You're making our Black Dragon faction look like gods among mortals."
Lu Mao raised a brow. "Careful. Legends grow fast, but so do knives aimed at those who wear them."
Chen Yuan chuckled. "Then let's hope they aim with poor aim. Otherwise, Slayer here will have more fun than he knows."
Shen Mu, watching from the shadows of the hall, said nothing. His expression remained stoic, his long black robes folding silently as he observed. But his gaze lingered, not with pride but with calculation—every rumor, every whisper, every ripple of fear that spread across southern Xunwei was a thread in the tapestry of power he intended to weave.
By the fourth day after the battle, the Golden Sparrow Thieves' Guild had prepared for the journey south. The Southern Sect Convergence—an inter-sect tournament held once per generation on the vast Plains of Vaerion—was the next stage. It was an arena where low to mid-tier sects could display their prodigies, where prestige and influence were as valuable as gold or rare herbs.
Madam Yan had issued the orders with her usual grace, voice calm but firm: Lu Mao, Li Xian, Yan Mei, and select disciples will represent Black Dragon in the Convergence. This is not merely a test of strength, but of perception, strategy, and influence. Any misstep will be recorded, any display of arrogance remembered.
Lu Mao nodded, fingers tracing the edge of Moonveil dagger. "Then we'll ensure they remember us."
Yan Mei's eyes flickered at the mention of strategy. "And not get ourselves killed."
Li Xian let out a small laugh. "Don't underestimate our enemies. The Southern Conclave doesn't just attract the weak."
Before the journey south, the three younger disciples—Bao Fu, Chen Yuan, and Yan Mei—retreated into seclusion. Deep within the Golden Sparrow halls, in chambers fortified with spiritual formations, they consumed potent Foundation Pills. For days they meditated and channeled the surging qi through their meridians, refining and expanding their cultivation. Even Yan Mei, previously limited to the Spirit Apprentice stage, felt the surge in her veins as her qi threads strengthened and multiplied. Chen Yuan's and Bao Fu's bodies glowed faintly with golden light as they pushed through the bottleneck, their spiritual veins thrumming in harmony with the pills' power. By the end of their seclusion, all three had crossed the threshold into Spirit Master stage of the Spirit Accession Realm, their strength now comparable to many first-stage War Blood practitioners, though they lacked the battle-hardened experience of someone like Lu Mao.
The road south was long, stretching across valleys and plains, past jagged cliffs and rivers that glimmered like molten silver under the rising sun. The Black Dragon delegation traveled as a single, silent wave across the land, banners of the Golden Sparrow Thieves' Guild fluttering faintly against their cloaks. Other sects joined the flow—hundreds of them, from the silvered towers of the Silver Crane Sect to the shadowed alleys of the Shadow Whisperers. Each was a moving cluster of power, their colors, sigils, and energies creating a kaleidoscope of spiritual resonance.
On the third day of travel, Yan Mei walked alongside Lu Mao, her eyes sharp despite her restrained power. "Do you think any of them know what we're capable of?" she asked, voice low. "I mean, the ones who've heard the rumors…"
Lu Mao smirked. "Fear travels faster than knowledge. Let them think Slayer is a myth. When they meet me, the shock will be theirs."
Yan Mei's lips twitched. "You never did like subtlety, did you?"
"I prefer results." His tone was calm, but his eyes flickered with calculation. "Subtlety is for those who survive by trickery. We survive by being the storm."
Li Xian walked a few paces behind, arms crossed, scanning the horizon with Eyes of Hawk. "Keep your storm in check, Lu Mao. There's politics in play here. Every mistake will be cataloged by dozens of eyes you don't even see."
Chen Yuan, riding a large black steed, leaned back and laughed. "Since when did we care about politics? I say we give them a show they'll tell their grandchildren about."
Bao Fu nodded, though more measured. "Yes, but don't forget, even a show has its consequences."
The first glimpse of the Plains of Vaerion took their breath away. The expanse was nearly a thousand li wide, grasslands stretching to jagged mountains in the distance. Hundreds of pavilions and grandstands had been erected along the rolling hills, each adorned with banners, flags, and magical talismans that shimmered faintly in the wind. The air was thick with the mingling energies of sects, the scent of incense, and the faint metallic tang of spiritual formations.
Lu Mao's gaze swept the plains. Each pavilion represented a sect, each flag a declaration of pride. Dawn Lotus' silver banners waved gracefully against the wind, Crimson Fang's red and black standards snapped loudly, and countless other sects—the Silver Crane, Amber Viper, Jade Tiger—each made their presence known. And yet, amidst them all, the Golden Sparrow Thieves' Guild carried a sense of understated cunning. Their banners were simple, almost humble, yet the sharpness of their spiritual resonance whispered of traps and hidden techniques.
As the delegation approached, Chen Yuan and Bao Fu's laughter mingled with the chatter of the traveling disciples. "Look at those fools over there," Chen Yuan whispered, pointing at a group from the Wind Shadow Sect. "They're puffing up like roosters. Let's see if they can back it up."
Bao Fu grinned. "I'd pay to watch Lu Mao and Li Xian tear through a few of them just to set an example."
Yan Mei's attention, however, remained on the subtle currents of energy around them. Even at Spirit Master stage, she could sense pockets of tension, moments where disciples tested each other from afar, and the faint ripples of hidden treasures and qi arrays laid out as traps. She tilted her head, evaluating paths through the crowds. "We need to be careful," she murmured. "Even low-tier sects here aren't stupid. Someone will try to take advantage of our reputation before the first match begins."
Lu Mao smiled faintly, resting his hand on Moonveil dagger. "Let them. By the time they realize it, it will be too late."
The evening before the first duels, the Black Dragon delegation set up camp near the southern ridge of the plains. Firelight danced across tents and pavilions, the shadows of mountains stretching long and thin. Discussions turned to tactics, positioning, and reading opponents.
Chen Yuan leaned against a tent pole, polishing his blade. "So, what's the plan for the first round? Lu Mao, you go in swinging or subtle?"
Lu Mao's eyes glittered. "Subtlety only works when you need to observe. When you fight, you fight to win. I'll show restraint when I must, cunning when I can, and power when they force my hand."
The night passed with little sleep. The first dawn broke across Vaerion like molten gold, wind sweeping across the plains, raising dust and stirring the banners. Hundreds of participants, from Spirit Master stage of Spirit Accession to first-stage War Blood cultivators, lined the arena, each vying for attention, reputation, and future sponsorships. The sheer magnitude of competition made even seasoned Black Dragon disciples feel the weight of the event.
Lu Mao, Li Xian, and Yan Mei moved to the central pavilion, where their matches would begin. The scale was overwhelming, and the excitement was almost suffocating.
Chen Yuan nudged Bao Fu. "This is going to be the start of something…big."
Bao Fu chuckled. "Wait till they see the tricks we brought."
And so, the Golden Sparrow delegation stood poised, ready to enter the tournament, their banners fluttering, their techniques honed, and their reputations whispering through the plains: a storm was coming, and the world would not forget the name of Slayer.