The air suddenly fell still. Even the usually aggressive man-eating grass seemed to sense an eerie tension, its sharp leaves letting out a faint click-clack as if silently warning something.
Xuan Changsheng glanced down at the bamboo pen pinched between his fingers, idly twirling it in his palm. The fierce sword intent trapped within—like a caged beast—remained unnoticed by anyone.
Earlier, Ye Wenshu had confidently declared he would teach him a skill, mysteriously handing him this bamboo pen. But after barely a few words, the man had followed Yuan Ji into the house.
At this thought, Xuan Changsheng’s fingers stilled. He stared at the utterly ordinary bamboo pen, scoffed, and tossed it aside without a second thought.
As if he were some illiterate fool.
His dark eyes shifted, moving away from the tightly shut wooden door. Leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, his gaze inevitably landed on Qi Yan, who sat in the courtyard, sipping tea with infuriating calm.
A surge of unwillingness rose in him.
Why was this man leisurely enjoying tea while he had to stand guard at the door?
The bitter taste of defeat made him grind his teeth, frustration simmering in his chest. Yet for now, he had no choice but to endure.
His attention snapped back to the closed door, waiting for Yuan Ji to reappear—as if waiting for his moment to prove himself.
Meanwhile, the prolonged silence from the other side grew unsettling. Huang Li glanced at Luo Qiushui, deep in meditation, and for some reason, her heartbeat quickened.
Trying to ease her nerves, she turned and asked, “Senior Brother, aren’t you curious about what he wants to discuss with the River God?”
The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them. Senior Brother Qi was famously aloof—of course he wouldn’t care.
Yet, to her surprise, Qi Yan’s brows lifted slightly, as if struck by a thought. A faint trace of amusement flickered in his eyes—so fleeting it was nearly imperceptible.
He didn’t answer. Instead, his gaze briefly skimmed past Xuan Changsheng’s irritated figure.
His composure made Huang Li sigh inwardly. As expected of the senior brother—so unshakable. It’s my own mind that’s restless.
She tightened her grip on her sword’s hilt, dispelling her unease—when suddenly, a ripple of spiritual energy surged through the air. Her eyes widened. “Senior Brother! Senior Sister is about to break through!”
Before she could finish speaking, thick storm clouds gathered above the River God’s temple, pressing down like a suffocating weight. Within the dark mass, bolts of blue-violet lightning flickered, the oppressive energy making it hard to breathe.
Qi Yan’s expression darkened. Even Xuan Changsheng shot a wary glance at the ominous clouds—their density almost tangible.
This storm… something’s wrong!
