The day of the Dark Path Coalition gathering had finally arrived, and the grand pavilion was overflowing with cultivators. What was originally intended to be a political conference had transformed into a spectacle—an elaborate show of dominance and vanity among the dark sects of all five empires. The famous Grand Midnight Pavilion itself was a monument to extravagance, its towering pillars wrapped in embroidered silk banners, and its arched ceilings glittering with suspended crystal ornaments that sparkled beneath the daylight. Every inch of its design mirrored the ostentation of those it hosted.
Together with Li Yao and Xiao Delun, I stood quietly at the side of the road across from the pavilion's great entrance. Local residents had also gathered, watching wide-eyed from behind wooden barricades, craning their necks to glimpse the arrival of legendary figures whose names they had only heard in stories.
I waited patiently for an opening, letting the tide of dignitaries pass before making my own entrance.
One by one, the sect leaders arrived in grand processions, their carriages like rolling palaces—massive, gilded, and drawn by prized spiritual beasts. They disembarked with practiced poise, their robes shimmering beneath the sunlight, heavy with intricate embroidery, gold threading, and gemstones that gleamed like stars. Even their followers, disciples, and attendants stood in disciplined ranks, forming living banners that announced their sect's prominence. Every step down the polished marble aisle was calculated, a silent proclamation of their strength and influence.
The irony was not lost on me. Many of these very leaders had once united in an attempt to eliminate Ruan Yanjun after his near-fatal ambush. Back then, they had sensed weakness and sought to dismantle his power. But now, with Ruan Yanjun fully recovered and reigning once more from his reclaimed estate, their hostility had turned to fawning submission. Their ambitions had shifted—not to oppose him, but to seek his favor. Without his support, none of them had the strength to withstand the growing pressure from Kan and Xue Empires.
At last, the flood of carriages slowed, giving me my chance. I quietly bid farewell to my companions.
Only sect leaders were permitted to enter. Xiao Delun and Li Yao stayed behind among the curious onlookers, but their faces showed no disappointment—only eager fascination as they watched the processions continue. Their whispered observations about the identities of various grandmasters brought a small, fleeting smile to my lips. But for me, this gathering was no spectacle. It was simply another battlefield—one fought not with swords, but with influence, alliances, and veiled intentions.
Inside, the ceremonial parade continued. Each new arrival was announced with fanfare—names proclaimed loudly, titles listed in detail, their accomplishments greeted with applause from those eager to flatter and curry favor.
Then came my turn.
No voice called my name. No applause followed my entrance. Heads merely turned briefly toward me, some narrowing their eyes, others exchanging puzzled glances as they tried to place who I was. An unfamiliar face. An unremarkable sect.
My seat awaited me on the lower ground—naturally placed in the second row from the back. The upper platforms, elevated like cascading tiers of power, were reserved for the illustrious and most revered sect leaders. Their vantage points were not just symbolic. They were a visible reminder of the rigid hierarchy within the Dark Path.
I sat quietly in my simple white robes, unadorned by embellishments or ornamentation. No jade hairpins. No embroidered sigils of wealth. I looked like a wandering priest who had accidentally wandered into a hall of emperors.
As the spectacle continued around me, I became sharply aware of my own incongruity. The others carried themselves with grandiosity, every gesture practiced, every movement deliberate—a constant display of cultivated prestige. I, by comparison, was nearly invisible. An afterthought. A mere shadow in a sea of glittering ambition.
And perhaps that suited me just fine.
When the next name was announced, the very air inside the grand pavilion shifted.
"Sect Leader of the Eternal Damnation Sect, Lord Ruan Yanjun."
The voice rang out, sharp and clear. And as if struck by some unseen force, the entire assembly fell utterly silent. Every head turned toward the towering entrance.
The moment Ruan Yanjun stepped into the pavilion, the atmosphere transformed. It was not merely respect that greeted him—it was awe, laced with unease. An almost tangible weight settled upon the crowd, pressing against every chest in the room.
Unlike the other sect leaders who had paraded into the hall earlier with bejeweled robes and excessive displays of wealth, Ruan Yanjun arrived unadorned, needing no such hollow fanfare. He moved with calm authority, his simple, impeccably tailored black robe flowing around him like a living shadow. No gold embroidery, no ornate insignias. And yet, his presence alone eclipsed every gem-studded robe that had graced this gathering.
The cultivators who had been so eager to showcase themselves only moments earlier now dared not even breathe too loudly. Their gazes, whether out of reverence or fear, were magnetically drawn to him as he strode down the polished marble aisle, each step measured, steady, and unhurried.
I couldn't help the faint smile that tugged at my lips as I watched him. These hypocrites—all these sect leaders who had so recently schemed against him, who had once gathered in secret to destroy him—now lowered their heads in his presence like frightened children.
They could clothe themselves in their finest silks, polish their titles and parade their followers, but no amount of wealth could replicate what Ruan Yanjun possessed so effortlessly. It wasn't something acquired. It was something born—a terrifying, natural dominance that both captivated and unsettled everyone around him.
My thoughts drifted unexpectedly to an old memory—of Mao Hai's field, where Lan Feng once harvested an overgrown broccoli. It had towered above the rest of the crop, a strange, almost comical anomaly, too large and too unusual to be sold at market.
Ruan Yanjun reminded me of that broccoli.
In the cultivation world, he was much the same—too immense, too untamed, too far beyond the narrow expectations of others. The world viewed him as an outlier, something that couldn't be measured by ordinary standards.
But unlike that broccoli, he was no reject. He was a force. Unmovable. Unchallengeable. And despite their bitterness, every sect leader here knew it.
That was why they envied him.
And that was why they feared him.
As Ruan Yanjun ascended the staircase leading to the uppermost tier of the pavilion, the oppressive silence stretched a moment longer before nervous conversations cautiously resumed. But even as voices filled the air again, they were quieter now, subdued by the weight of his arrival.
Leaning back in my seat, I allowed my faint smile to linger.
Let them posture. Let them pretend. In the end, none of them could rival him. And watching them try was nothing short of entertaining.
When everyone had taken their places, the heavy doors of the pavilion closed behind us with a loud, resonant thud. The sound reverberated through the hall like a final gavel, signaling an end to the hollow posturing and ostentatious displays that had filled the earlier hours.
Now, only business remained.
A man stepped forward from the center of the grand hall—his movements calm, deliberate, and composed. He introduced himself as Xie Chengyi, the leader of the Shadow Serpent Sect—a rising dark path sect that had earned respect for its fair dealings, calculated neutrality, and reputation for staying clear of scandal. Unlike the more flamboyant sect leaders who clung to displays of wealth, Xie Chengyi radiated the steady confidence of a man who neither craved attention nor feared losing it.
His appointment as Chairman of the Dark Path Coalition Congregation had been accepted by nearly everyone without dispute. Even among the volatile alliances of the dark path, few could challenge the wisdom of placing a pragmatic and level-headed leader like Xie Chengyi at the helm of the gathering.
After offering a measured bow toward the assembled leaders, Chairman Xie raised his voice, calm but firm, as he began to speak. The weight of his words settled over the room like a carefully laid net.
He outlined the purpose of the gathering: the growing threat of the Kan Empire's recent invasions and the rising aggression of the Xue Empire pressing down on Wun's collapsing borders. He spoke of Emperor An's failing grasp on power and the dangerous vacuum that was forming at the heart of Wun. Without intervention, Wun Empire would fall entirely, destabilizing the entire region.
"We are gathered here," Chairman Xie declared, "because this is no longer a matter for the righteous path alone. If Wun falls, the balance will tip, and all the empires will suffer. The dark sects must unite, not merely for Wun, but for our own survival."
He paused, scanning the faces before him, and then he turned his gaze upward, toward the highest seat in the hall—the place reserved for the man whose decision truly mattered.
"Sect Leader Ruan." His voice softened with deference. "Your strength and influence remain unmatched. If you would lend your hand, we believe Wun Empire's stability can still be salvaged. Will you join the coalition… to reclaim the capital of Wun and preserve the balance of our world?"
The entire pavilion shifted as every head turned toward Ruan Yanjun. The weight of the room tilted toward him.
From where I sat, low in the second row, I could not see him. So I waited, breath still, for his answer.
A long silence followed.
And then, his voice rang out.
Cold. Clear. Unapologetic.
"Why," he said, his tone laced with venomous calm, "should I waste my time on a witless puppet who betrayed me at my lowest point?"
The pavilion fell utterly silent.
"That simpleton outlawed the very sect that protected him for over a decade. I was the one who taught him how to rule, shielded his borders, and elevated his empire to stability. And how did he repay me? By stabbing me in the back the moment I showed weakness. He banished my Eternal Damnation Sect and declared me an enemy of the empire, thinking he could stand without me."
His voice remained even, but every word sliced through the air like a drawn blade.
"And now, you expect me to return and rescue him? You expect me to protect the house that tried to burn me alive?"
The pavilion fell into a stunned silence as Ruan Yanjun's words echoed in the air. His open disdain for Emperor An left many of the gathered leaders visibly uncomfortable. No one, but Ruan Yanjun, could speak so bluntly and insult an emperor like he just did.
"If the emperor weren't such a short-sighted fool," Ruan Yanjun continued, his voice thick with derision, "he wouldn't be groveling now. He brought this collapse upon himself."
Chairman Xie hesitated. For the first time, a hint of strain entered his usually composed expression. "Sect Leader Ruan," he said carefully, "surely you recognize the opportunity before you. Reclaiming your influence over Wun Empire would not only restore your standing—it would expand it."
Ruan Yanjun gave a soft, humorless laugh. "You misunderstand me, Chairman. I have no need for empires. I never have. It is the empire that needs me. They should have understood that before they turned against me."
His voice dropped into a quiet, almost intimate malice, as though savoring every word.
"You do not stab your master while he lies sick, then expect him to come running when your roof starts to collapse." He paused for only a breath before delivering the final blow. "Now I will sit back… and watch his empire turn to dust. And when it does, I will be laughing."
The silence that followed was absolute. The gathered sect leaders sat frozen, their carefully rehearsed alliances and ambitions unraveling before their eyes.
And far beneath the grand tier where Ruan Yanjun sat, I lowered my gaze—my emotions torn between a quiet admiration and a deep, unspoken dread.
This was the side of him the world feared.
The boldness of his words sent ripples of shock through the pavilion. Even the most seasoned sect leaders exchanged uneasy glances, unaccustomed to hearing such unfiltered defiance directed so brazenly at a ruling emperor.
Chairman Xie composed himself and tried again, keeping his voice respectful, but firmer. "Sect Leader Ruan, the coalition's success hinges on your participation. Without your support, we risk failure before even taking the field."
Ruan Yanjun let out a soft, dismissive chuckle. "Your success or failure is of no concern to me. I did not come here to offer aid nor counsel." He paused, his voice dipping into something lighter—almost playful, yet still carrying that undercurrent of absolute authority.
"I attended this congregation for one reason only… to see a particular person."
A murmur swept across the grand pavilion like a rising tide, stirring whispers from one table to the next. Speculation crackled through the air. Who could command the attention of Ruan Yanjun himself? What person, among all gathered here, was worth traveling across empires for?
Down on the lower tiers, I furrowed my brow.
He traveled for months… just to see someone? And who could that person possibly be?
The question gnawed at my mind. Whoever that was must hold great importance to him.