“Here we are, fellow Daoists. Please come in.” The Fire Dragon Child smiled at the two and strode confidently forward.
As they approached the pavilion’s entrance, Han Li casually glanced inside and was immediately taken aback. The interior resembled an ordinary tavern, bustling with patrons eating and drinking, while several waiters weaved between tables carrying trays of fine wine and delicacies. The clamor of clinking cups and lively conversation filled the air.
Beside the entrance hung a wooden plaque about a foot in size, inscribed with bold black characters: “Reserved for Private Event—No Entry for Outsiders.”
“That old fox Tianjing is at it again with his illusion tricks. Honestly!” The Fire Dragon Child muttered under his breath, completely unfazed as he marched inside.
Han Li, intrigued, swept the area with his spiritual sense and soon revealed a peculiar expression. Without hesitation, he followed suit. The moment the three stepped through the door, the light dimmed, and the patrons and waiters vanished like bubbles, the noise abruptly ceasing.
Han Li surveyed the now-empty space, where only faint gray mist lingered. In the center stood an old wooden table with a bronze oil lamp. Behind it sat a kindly-looking, gray-robed Daoist in his fifties or sixties, smiling warmly at them.
“I didn’t expect Brother Lan to bring not only himself but also Fellow Daoist Lü. As for this green-robed Daoist, I must admit my eyes are failing—I don’t recall meeting him before. Could he be a newly advanced Nascent Soul cultivator?” The gray-robed Daoist greeted them warmly, making each feel acknowledged and fostering an instant sense of goodwill.
“Brother Tianjing, I’ve brought two uninvited guests. I hope you won’t turn them away?” The Fire Dragon Child’s youthful face bore an innocent smile, though his tone was oddly mature.
“Of course not! All fellow cultivators are welcome here. Besides, Fellow Daoist Lü and I are old acquaintances. It’s just this one…” The old Daoist chuckled, his gaze lingering on Han Li.
“I am Han Li of the Falling Cloud Sect, a newly advanced cultivator. I hope Senior Tianjing will offer guidance in the future.” Han Li stepped forward, clasping his fists respectfully.
“Ah, a fellow disciple of Daoist Lü! Tsk tsk, you seem quite young. Your future is undoubtedly bright.” Tianjing’s face beamed with kindness as he praised.
“Enough, old friend. The others must be nearly assembled. Let’s head up.” The Fire Dragon Child, evidently close to Tianjing, spoke without reservation.
“Ahem! Brother Lan, still as impatient as ever. About seventy or eighty percent have arrived. Some eager ones may have already started trading. Here are two Black Spirit Masks for you two. Brother Lan, do you need one?” Tianjing flicked his wrists, producing two exquisitely carved ebony masks adorned with faintly glowing runes—clearly extraordinary artifacts.
“Hmph! You know as well as I do—my stature is unmistakable. What’s the point of illusions when everyone recognizes me?” The Fire Dragon Child puffed his cheeks in frustration.
“Fair enough. Please proceed, all three. I’ll join you shortly.” Tianjing tossed the masks to Han Li and Lü Luo, then cast a white spell into the mist behind him. The fog dissipated, revealing a luminous stone staircase leading to the second floor.
The Fire Dragon Child wasted no time, striding past the table and ascending. Lü Luo and Han Li bowed slightly before following.
Han Li noted the masks were identical, indistinguishable from Lü Luo’s. Without hesitation, he donned his as they stepped onto the stairs. The mask felt cool and soft against his skin, weightless and surprisingly comfortable—an unexpected delight.
Glancing at Lü Luo, he saw a cold, wooden face staring back, the mask now in place. Han Li smiled faintly.
In moments, they reached the second floor. The space was brilliantly lit by hundreds of fist-sized moonstones embedded in the ceiling and walls, casting a daylight-like glow.
To Han Li’s astonishment, the second floor was several times larger than the first, contrary to the pavilion’s outwardly tapered shape—a baffling spatial anomaly.
The room was far from empty. Chairs and tables lined the walls, many occupied by cultivators of varying attire, gender, and age. As the trio entered, countless sharp gazes swept over them.
Many recognized the unmasked Fire Dragon Child, their expressions shifting to warmth, hostility, or indifference. A few even radiated thinly veiled killing intent, hinting at deep-seated grudges.
Unfazed, the Fire Dragon Child led Han Li and Lü Luo to an empty spot, where they sat closely together. Through his mask, Han Li scrutinized the others.
The masks rendered even his formidable spiritual sense useless for discerning faces, but the aura fluctuations confirmed every attendee was a Nascent Soul cultivator. Two even exuded mid-Nascent Soul power, sitting isolated at opposite ends—untouchable figures no one dared approach.
Over twenty Nascent Soul cultivators gathered in this modest pavilion—a staggering assembly.
Han Li had never seen so many high-level cultivators at once. It seemed one’s circle expanded with their cultivation realm.
His gaze paused on a corner where, as Tianjing had mentioned, a few eager cultivators huddled around a table, whispering and exchanging jade boxes and vials—already bartering in a small circle.
Most others sat meditating, waiting for the full assembly before trading. Clearly, the early exchanges involved lesser items.
Perhaps to avoid recognition, all remained silent, communicating only via secret transmissions. The eerie quiet of the second floor felt both peculiar and oppressive.
The Fire Dragon Child’s unmasked presence stood out, though he wasn’t alone. Across from them sat an enormously obese man, also bare-faced, his girth straining the chair beneath him. He grinned at Han Li, though his facial folds made the gesture less than welcoming.
Beside him lounged a curvaceous female cultivator. Though masked, her seductive, languid eyes roamed provocatively. Yet the seasoned cultivators ignored her charms entirely.
Just then, Lü Luo’s voice whispered in Han Li’s ear: “Be cautious, Junior Brother Han. That fat man may seem harmless, but he and his companion are the infamous ‘Twin Demons of Delight’ from the Heavenly Joy Sect. Together, their dual cultivation techniques rival mid-Nascent Soul power. Avoid provoking them.”
Han Li inwardly noted the warning, adding them to his mental watchlist before closing his eyes like the others, feigning meditation.
Over time, more masked Nascent Soul cultivators trickled in. When Tianjing finally ascended, all eyes opened in unison.
Tianjing strode to the center, summoning a table with a wave of white light. “The time has come. All expected guests have arrived. With no objections, let the exchange commence.”
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