The storm refused to leave completely
Although the worst of it had passed, dark clouds still drifted between the mountain ridges while thin curtains of mist rolled across the valleys below. Occasional flashes of distant lightning illuminated the cliffs for brief moments before darkness reclaimed them once more. The entire landscape felt washed clean by violence, as though the heavens themselves had exhausted most of their anger and now lingered only out of habit.
The Cloud Peak convoy continued forward.
Eight vessels moved through the narrow valley routes in disciplined formation, their protective arrays glowing softly against the darkness. Formation lights reflected from the surrounding cliffs, creating shifting patterns across stone walls slick with moisture.
The atmosphere aboard the fleet had changed considerably.
Several hours earlier, every disciple had been expecting another attack.
Now they were mostly dealing with paperwork.
Which, in the opinion of many cultivators, was somehow worse.
A middle-aged disciple crouched near the outer edge of a cargo vessel while replacing damaged spirit stones inside a defensive formation array. His sleeves had already been rolled above his elbows and his expression suggested he had personally developed a grudge against formations.
"This makes the third replacement today."
His companion glanced down from a nearby ladder.
"Only three?"
The first disciple looked offended.
"Only?"
"Brother Zhang replaced seven."
The man stared at him.
"Brother Zhang isn’t normal."
"That’s true."
The conversation ended there because nobody could argue with that assessment.
Nearby, another group inspected several cargo containers that had shifted during the earlier chaos. Wooden seals were examined carefully while inventory records floated above jade slips in glowing blue script.
A young disciple sighed in relief after comparing two manifests.
"Nothing missing."
The younger disciple finally released a long breath and leaned against the railing.
"Good."
Beside him, an older disciple nodded while tightening a loose strap on his armor.
"Very good."
The younger man glanced around the deck before lowering his voice.
"To be honest... I thought we were going to lose at least one ship."
The older disciple didn’t answer immediately.
His eyes drifted toward the valley disappearing behind them.
Even now he could still remember it clearly.
The lightning.
The roar.
That monstrous shadow moving through the clouds.
A chill crawled up his spine.
His gaze slowly shifted toward the silver-white vessel travelling among the convoy.
The Celestial Sword Sect ship.
Or at least that’s what everyone believed it was.
After a few moments, he exhaled.
"So did I."
The younger disciple looked surprised.
"You too?"
The older man snorted.
"I’m not stupid."
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"When something bigger than a mountain starts flying toward me, I get nervous."
The younger disciple laughed.
"Fair."
Neither spoke after that.
The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable.
There simply wasn’t much left to discuss.
The beast had been real.
The destruction had been real.
The terror spreading through the fleet had certainly been real.
Yet somehow they were still moving forward.
The convoy remained intact.
The formations were functioning.
The supplies were safe.
Not a single ship had been lost.
For a military campaign of this scale, that bordered on a miracle.
Meanwhile, aboard the flagship, several disciples sat together near the observation deck, passing around bags of dried spirit fruit while watching the clouds drift past.
Naturally, the conversation eventually returned to the same subject everyone in the fleet had been discussing for hours.
"I’m telling you, that thing was definitely Nascent Soul Realm."
The disciple sounded completely certain.
The others immediately groaned.
"You’re still talking about that?"
"Because I’m right."
"No, you’re not."
"I am."
The disciple pointed dramatically toward the sky.
"Did you see the size of it?"
Another disciple stuffed a piece of spirit fruit into his mouth.
"Being large doesn’t automatically make something Nascent Soul Realm."
"It does when it’s that large."
"No."
"It does."
"No."
"It does."
A third disciple finally interrupted before the argument could continue.
"By that logic, Elder Fang’s wife would be a Nascent Soul cultivator."
Several disciples immediately choked on their fruit.
The first disciple nearly fell off the bench laughing.
"You’re dead."
"I know."
"Elder Fang will kill you."
"He doesn’t need to."
The disciple wiped tears from his eyes.
"His wife can do it herself."
The entire group burst into laughter.
Even nearby disciples turned around to see what was happening.
Eventually the conversation settled down.
The first disciple shook his head.
"Fine. Maybe it wasn’t Nascent Soul Realm."
"Thank you."
"But it was definitely terrifying."
That statement received immediate agreement.
Nobody argued with that.
Another disciple leaned forward.
"What do you think about Elder Xu?"
The laughter faded.
Several heads turned.
The mood shifted almost immediately.
One disciple scratched his chin thoughtfully.
"The Celestial Sword Sect elder?"
"Who else?"
The first disciple glanced toward the silver-white vessel visible in the distance.
A complicated expression appeared on his face.
"I don’t know."
"What do you mean you don’t know?"
The disciple shrugged.
"He’s strange."
"Strange how?"
He thought for a moment.
Then pointed toward the convoy around them.
"Everyone was panicking."
"Naturally."
"Half the fleet thought they were about to die."
"Also natural."
The disciple nodded.
"Meanwhile, Elder Xu looked like he was taking a casual evening stroll."
Several cultivators exchanged glances.
Now that he mentioned it...
That was true.
Another disciple spoke up.
"He didn’t even seem nervous."
"Exactly."
The first disciple pointed dramatically.
"That’s what bothers me."
"It bothers you that he wasn’t scared?"
"It bothers me that he looked more annoyed than scared."
The group fell silent.
Then one disciple slowly nodded.
"Now that you mention it..."
"He really did."
Another cultivator frowned.
"I thought powerful experts were supposed to be calm."
"Calm is one thing."
The disciple leaned back.
"Looking mildly inconvenienced by a giant flying beast is something else entirely."
For several seconds, nobody could argue with that.
One of the disciples suddenly leaned closer to the group and lowered his voice as though revealing a great secret.
"I heard Elder Xu killed that beast with a single attack."
Several heads immediately turned toward him.
Then one disciple snorted.
"No."
The response came so quickly that the speaker looked offended.
"What do you mean no?"
A disciple sitting opposite him pointed a piece of dried spirit fruit like an accusing finger.
"You’re wrong."
The first disciple folded his arms.
"Oh really?"
"Really."
The second disciple nodded confidently.
"It was two attacks."
Silence.
The first disciple stared at him.
The second disciple stared back.
Eventually, the first asked,
"And where exactly did you hear that?"
The disciple puffed out his chest.
"My friend told me."
"What friend?"
The confidence immediately weakened.
"...A friend."
"What friend?"
The disciple frowned.
"I just said it."
"No, you didn’t."
"Yes, I did."
"You said ’a friend.’ That’s not a person. That’s a category."
A few nearby disciples struggled not to laugh.
The accused cultivator thought hard for several seconds.
Then his expression slowly changed.
"...I don’t remember."
The entire group groaned.
"Of course you don’t."
"That’s because you’re making it up."
"I’m not making it up!"
"You literally forgot your source."
The disciple pointed angrily.
"That doesn’t mean it’s false."
"It helps."
Laughter spread through the observation platform.
Yet despite their complaints, nobody actually stopped talking about Elder Xu.
In fact, the rumors only became more outrageous.
One disciple leaned forward.
"I heard the beast sensed Elder Xu’s aura and fled immediately."
Another shook his head.
"Impossible."
"Why impossible?"
"Because my cousin’s friend serves in logistics."
Everyone immediately looked at him.
"Oh?"
The disciple nodded seriously.
"According to him, Elder Xu never even drew his weapon."
Several people blinked.
"What?"
"Then how did he fight it?"
The disciple lowered his voice dramatically.
"He used pressure."
A long silence followed.
Then someone threw a piece of dried fruit at his forehead.
"Stop talking."
"I’m serious!"
"You’re an idiot."
The group burst into laughter again.
Unfortunately, the rumors refused to die.
Each retelling added something new.
The beast became larger.
The rescue became more unbelievable.
The danger became more terrifying.
And Elder Xu...
Well.
Elder Xu gradually stopped sounding like a logistics administrator.
One disciple rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"At this rate, by tomorrow people will say he fought three beasts."
A second disciple nodded.
"By next week it’ll become ten."
A third laughed.
"By next month they’ll claim he defeated an entire beast horde while organizing supply manifests."
The group erupted once more.
None of them noticed Elder Hang standing a short distance away.
The elder had arrived halfway through the conversation.
Unfortunately, he had heard enough.
His gaze drifted toward the silver-white vessel travelling calmly through the convoy.
For several moments he remained silent.
Then he muttered to himself,
"An entire beast horde is ridiculous."
A pause followed.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Though defeating one wouldn’t surprise me."
The disciples instantly froze.
Then looked at each other.
Then looked at Elder Hang.
The elder simply continued walking away as though he hadn’t said anything at all.
The moment he disappeared, the group erupted into excited whispers again.
Now even Elder Hang seemed impressed by Elder Xu.
Which, somehow, only made the rumors worse.
The process was remarkably efficient.
Humans had been doing it for thousands of years.
The silver-white vessel sailing alongside the convoy remained completely unaware of its rapidly improving reputation.
Or rather—
Most of the people aboard remained unaware.
One person knew exactly what was happening.
Shaurya stood near the front railing beneath the fluttering Celestial Sword Sect banners while quietly observing the convoy around them.
The valley winds carried fragments of distant conversation between ships.
Most cultivators couldn’t hear them clearly.
A Spirit Lord cultivator could.
His expression became increasingly strange.
"...Interesting."
Nearby, Lu Fang glanced over.
"What is?"
Shaurya looked toward the surrounding fleet.
"They think I killed the beast with one attack."
Lu Fang considered that.
Then nodded.
"That’s not bad."
"They also think I’m a mysterious hidden expert."
"Also not bad."
"They think I travelled through a thunderstorm specifically to save them."
Lu Fang nodded again.
"Excellent public relations."
Shaurya stared at him.
"You don’t see a problem?"
Lu Fang folded his arms.
"Master."
"Yes?"
"When has reality ever defeated a good story?"
Shaurya opened his mouth.
Then closed it again.
Unfortunately, that argument made far too much sense.
Several minutes later, the first visitors arrived.
Not elders.
Not commanders.
Disciples.
Three of them crossed between vessels using a temporary spiritual bridge formed from condensed qi. Their movements were careful enough to avoid looking rude but curious enough to reveal exactly why they had come.
Young cultivators possessed many admirable qualities.
Subtlety was rarely one of them.
The moment they stepped onto the Celestial Sword Sect vessel, their eyes immediately began wandering across the deck.
The ship looked impressive.
The silver-white hull reflected formation light beautifully. Defensive arrays glowed beneath polished surfaces while elegant sword motifs decorated the railings and support structures.
The boarding bridge connected the two vessels with a soft metallic click.
A group of Cloud Peak Sect disciples crossed over, curiosity written plainly across their faces. Since the attack had ended and the convoy had returned to normal operations, many had finally found time to look around the mysterious Celestial Sword Sect ship that had saved them.
The moment they stepped onto the deck, their eyes wandered everywhere.
One disciple stopped beside a stack of supply crates and whistled softly.
"Look at this arrangement."
Another followed his gaze and nodded.
"The cargo sections are separated by category."
A third crouched beside a crate, inspecting the markings.
"Medicinal herbs are stored away from moisture-sensitive materials."
His eyebrows rose slightly.
"That’s actually smart."
The first disciple folded his arms.
"Our logistics department should do something similar."
"Good luck convincing Elder Hang."
Several disciples immediately laughed.
Meanwhile, Lee Bie watched the visitors from nearby. His eyes moved from the approaching group to Lu Fang, then back to the group again.
A sigh escaped him.
"We’ve attracted tourists."
Lu Fang leaned comfortably against a crate and glanced toward the newcomers.
After everything that had happened during the night, their curiosity wasn’t surprising.
"They survived a giant beast attack."
He shrugged.
"I’d be curious too."
The visitors eventually reached them.
Both groups exchanged greetings before introducing themselves. The conversation began politely enough.
Names.
Departments.
Responsibilities.
Normal things.
For nearly a minute, everything remained surprisingly civilized.
Then one disciple’s attention suddenly shifted toward a red leather ball resting beside a supply crate.
His expression immediately changed.
"What is that?"
Several heads turned toward the object.
Lu Fang followed their gaze before looking back at the disciple.
"A weapon."
The response came so naturally that nobody questioned it at first.
The disciple immediately straightened.
"A weapon?"
His eyes narrowed.
"What kind of weapon?"
Lu Fang looked thoughtful for a moment.
Then he answered with complete seriousness.
"A weapon for boredom."
The disciple stared at him.
Lu Fang stared back.
The disciple blinked.
Then blinked again.
His expression suggested he was trying very hard to determine whether he was being insulted.
Before the situation could become any more confusing, Lee Bie walked over and picked up the ball.
"Ignore him."
The disciple visibly relaxed.
"Oh."
Lee Bie tossed the ball into the air and caught it again.
"We use this for entertainment."
The disciple’s gaze followed the ball.
"...Entertainment?"
"Yes."
"That’s all?"
"That’s all."
The answer somehow made him even more suspicious.
He stared at the ball.
Then at Lee Bie.
Then back at the ball.
Clearly, he was waiting for the hidden explanation.
Unfortunately for him, there wasn’t one.
After a few moments, curiosity finally won.
"How does it work?"
A grin spread across Lu Fang’s face.
That was all the invitation he needed.
A few minutes later, several Cloud Peak disciples stood on one side of the deck while Lee Bie and Lu Fang stood opposite them.
The red ball rested in one disciple’s hands.
He looked uncertain.
"So I just throw it?"
"Throw it."
"That’s all?"
"That’s literally all."
The disciple looked disappointed.
"I thought there would be more."
"Trust me."
Lu Fang folded his arms.
"There will be."
The disciple drew back his arm and threw the ball.
The throw was terrible.
The ball flew sideways.
Missed everyone.
Bounced off a crate.
Struck a support pillar.
Then ricocheted directly into another disciple’s chest.
"Oof!"
The unfortunate victim stumbled backward while clutching himself.
For half a second, complete silence filled the deck.
Then laughter erupted everywhere.
Even the injured disciple started laughing.
The atmosphere instantly relaxed.
The awkwardness between both groups disappeared.
Soon the ball was flying back and forth across the deck while Cloud Peak and Celestial Sword Sect disciples shouted at each other, argued over catches, accused one another of terrible throws, and celebrated successful catches as though they had accomplished something profound.
Lee Bie caught a clean throw and tossed it toward a younger disciple.
"Use both hands."
The disciple tried.
The ball smacked directly into his forehead.
More laughter followed.
"This game is stupid."
"Then why are you smiling?"
The disciple froze.
"...That’s irrelevant."
"It sounds very relevant."
The argument immediately resumed while the ball continued flying through the air.
For the first time since the convoy entered the mountains, nobody talked about monsters.
Nobody talked about war.
Nobody talked about death.
For a little while, they were simply young cultivators passing time during a long journey.
That somehow made everything more confusing.
The game had long since stopped being limited to a handful of disciples.
A growing crowd occupied the center of the deck.
Several Cloud Peak disciples stood mixed among the disguised members of the Sanatan Flame Sect while the red cricket ball flew back and forth between them.
Cargo inspection had completely lost the battle for everyone’s attention.
A disciple carrying supply manifests stopped halfway across the deck after hearing a burst of laughter.
"What happened?"
"The new guy dropped an easy catch."
"It wasn’t easy!"
"It hit both your hands!"
"That doesn’t make it easy!"
The argument immediately attracted even more spectators.
Nearby crew members abandoned their work one after another.
One man set down a crate.
Another forgot he was in the middle of checking inventory.
A third simply sat on a barrel and started watching openly.
Nobody even attempted to hide it.
Watching cultivators embarrass themselves was far more entertaining than counting supplies.
The crowd continued growing.
A Cloud Peak disciple successfully caught a difficult throw and immediately raised both arms in victory.
"I got it!"
His celebration lasted less than two seconds.
The next throw struck him directly in the shoulder.
The entire deck erupted with laughter.
"Why are you cheering?"
"Because I caught it!"
"You dropped the next one!"
"That isn’t the point!"
"It is exactly the point!"
Even more disciples joined.
Some had never touched a cricket ball before.
Others pretended they understood the rules.
Most of them were lying.
A heated argument soon broke out regarding whether catches performed while falling counted.
Nobody actually knew.
Unfortunately, that didn’t stop anyone from arguing.
At one point, two disciples nearly started a duel over the subject before a third pointed out that neither of them understood the game.
The accusation was completely accurate.
Neither appreciated hearing it.
Near the edge of the crowd, Lee Bie watched a Cloud Peak disciple attempt an especially ambitious throw.
The disciple spun dramatically.
His robes fluttered.
His expression radiated confidence.
The ball left his hand.
Immediately traveled in the wrong direction.
And vanished over the railing.
The entire deck fell silent.
The disciple froze.
Several cultivators slowly turned toward him.
A long moment passed.
Then Lu Fang pointed.
"That was yours."
"It slipped."
"It flew."
"It slipped while flying."
"You killed another one."
The disciple looked genuinely horrified.
"What do you mean another one?"
"You don’t want to know."
The arguments resumed instantly.
Half the crowd blamed the thrower.
The other half blamed whoever had taught him.
Both sides became increasingly passionate despite the fact that the missing ball belonged to neither
Standing near the railing, Shaurya watched the chaos unfold with folded arms.
The wind carried fragments of laughter across the deck as disciples from both sects continued arguing over catches, missed throws, and rules that seemed to change every five minutes.
For a while, nobody talked about monsters.
Nobody talked about military campaigns.
Nobody talked about Liu Tong’s army.
Cloud Peak disciples and Sanatan Flame Sect disciples stood side by side, laughing at the exact same stupidity.
The sight lingered in Shaurya’s thoughts longer than he expected.
Then a familiar voice interrupted him.
"Master."
Lu Fang appeared beside him.
Shaurya glanced sideways.
"What?"
The former prince pointed toward the crowd where three disciples were currently arguing over whether losing a cricket ball counted as a tactical retreat.
"I think we’ve accidentally started a cultural exchange program."
Shaurya followed his gaze.
A few seconds later, another disciple attempted to demonstrate the correct throwing technique.
The ball immediately slipped from his fingers and struck a crate.
The resulting laughter was loud enough to echo across the ship.
Shaurya rubbed his forehead.
"No."
A reluctant smile appeared on his face as he watched the crowd descend into another completely pointless argument.
"I think we’ve accidentally gathered idiots."
To Be Continued....
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