**Regarding the Chronicle of Hengyue, A Summation of the Day’s Events:**

The Scribe hath penned two new scrolls for the edification of the brethren. One arrived with the sun’s midday ascent, the others in the dark hours before dawn’s embrace. Verily, a small surge of productivity has blessed this day.

***

“Hmph,” a gruff voice rumbled through the ranks of Hengyue’s Elders. “The Xuandao Sect, ever the practitioners of parlor tricks. Sheltered by a beast they deem invincible, while we stand bereft! May the Ancestors grant me the strength to rend that scaled monstrosity, and silence their boasts forever!” The speaker, an elder of considerable years, fixed a venomous gaze upon the creature in question, his eyes glinting with ill-concealed malice.

In response, the Sect Leader, the esteemed Huanglong Zhenren, emitted a cold snort. From him erupted a lance of purple light, a sword energy that twisted and spiraled, ballooning to become a spectral Purple Dragon that coiled protectively above Hengyue Sect. It unleashed a deafening roar towards the approaching centipede, a challenge to all who dared trespass.

The Thousand-Legged Centipede faltered, its advance halted by the majestic display. From atop the beast, a voice dripped with amusement echoed, “Ah, the Purple Mountain Immortal Sword of Fellow Huanglong! Rumors spoke of a Dragon’s soul bound within, and now I see the truth. Good Fellow, the cycle turns once more! If Xuandao triumphs, your Hengyue Sect shall fulfill the ancient pact. Not only must you relinquish the one hundred and thirty-seven enchanted artifacts seized from us in ages past, but you must also offer two hundred flying swords as a token of apology!”

Huanglong Zhenren remained impassive, his visage betraying nothing. He replied, his voice measured, “Fellow Daoyang, should Xuandao prove victorious, the debts of the past shall be honored. But remember this, should fortune favor Hengyue, your sect’s prized spirit beast… shall be forfeit!”

With these words, the spectral Dragon slowly unwound, the shimmering form collapsing inward until it once again resided as a simple, yet potent, purple flying sword, held firmly in the hand of Huanglong Zhenren.

The Thousand-Legged Centipede, freed from the Dragon’s intimidating gaze, resumed its slow advance. After a circuitous path around the Hengyue grounds, it lowered itself to the earth. Fear rippled through Hengyue’s inner disciples, as they hastily retreated to a safe distance, leaving a large area unoccupied.

The elders frowned, their disapproval clear as they glared at their retreating flock.

The centipede, at rest, remained motionless. Upon its back were dozens of figures, save for three aged patriarchs, they were all young men and women, clearly disciples of the Xuandao Sect.

These guests, disciples of the Xuandao Sect, were arrayed in garments of deep purple. Whether a deliberate slight aimed at Hengyue, where such robes were rarely seen, or a coincidence, mattered not. What truly captivated the eyes of the Hengyue disciples was the comeliness of the newcomers. Each member of the Xuandao Sect, male and female alike, possessed striking beauty, a sight to behold.

At the forefront stood a man and woman, particularly breathtaking. The man possessed an aura of raw masculinity, his long hair danced in the breeze, and a sheathed sword rested against his back, he was the very image of a hero from legends. More than one Hengyue female disciple felt their hearts quicken at the sight.

The woman, adorned in a purple gown, possessed the beauty of a celestial maiden. Her hair flowed like a dark waterfall, framing features of exquisite delicacy. Her eyes, like pools of liquid starlight, held a mesmerizing depth. Even Wang Lin, a youth known for his restraint, felt a flicker of disquiet, his heart skipping a beat as he beheld her. He swiftly regained his composure, though the woman’s image remained etched within his mind.

Several elders bristled at the sight of their disciples’ captivated expressions. One, unable to contain his indignation, boomed, “Has the Xuandao Sect stooped to practicing such base arts of seduction? Shameful!”

The sharp reprimand broke the spell, snapping the Hengyue disciples from their reverie. A collective gasp of shock rippled through their ranks.

One of the Xuandao patriarchs, a man with a merry twinkle in his eye, chuckled. “Daoxu Zhenren, at your service. And this is Qin Gulei, may I suggest you look closer, Good Fellow. These two disciples have not practiced any insidious charm, but were blessed by birth with a unique Water Spirit Root. Alas, I see no such fortune amongst your Hengyue disciples; their spiritual cores are all a jumbled mess of the Five Elements. No wonder you cannot discern the truth.”

The Hengyue Elders exchanged uneasy glances. After a long moment, Huanglong Zhenren, ever composed, spoke. “Honored guests of the Xuandao Sect, may I offer you respite within our halls? In three days’ time, we shall convene for the… the *Exchange*.”

Old Man Ouyang nodded, a genial smile spreading across his wrinkled face. “A most agreeable proposition. The bond between the Xuandao Sect and your own is long and storied. Though we each bring our own ambitions to these *Exchanges*, may harmony prevail, and the bonds of friendship remain unbroken.”

From the ranks of Hengyue’s Elders stepped a wizened old man, his face etched with countless wrinkles and an air of perpetual weariness surrounding him. He chuckled, addressing Old Man Ouyang, “Fellow Daoist Ouyang! Twenty years have passed since we last met. Pray, do you still recall your old friend?”

Ouyang roared with laughter. “And forget you, old goat? Fellow Daoist Song, I came here expecting to sample your famous brew once more! Last time, you were a miser, offering only a single jar! ”

Uncle Song smiled, a glint of mischief in his eye. “’Twas not stinginess, but rather your own bottomless thirst, Old Man Ouyang! A sea of jars would not have sufficed!”

As the two old acquaintances bantered, the other Xuandao patriarchs also sought out familiar faces within the Hengyue ranks. As if forgetting the initial animosity, they engaged in lighthearted conversation, regaling each other with tales from the Zhao State cultivation world.

Tales of the lecherous disciple of Wufeng Valley who bedded the Sect Leader’s daughter from Piaomiao Sect, resulting in an unwanted pregnancy and a desperate plea for justice, followed by the unlikely adoption of the bastard child.

Or the disciples of Tiandao Sect, who betrayed their masters to join the Hehuan Sect, leading to a cascade of defections and a desperate decree for their capture.

A rare treasure found, then plundered.
Grand Elder Wuwei from Piaomiao Sect, celebrating their ascension to Jiedan Realm, and planning a birthday celebration for the ages, that would bring friends from across Zhao.

Wang Lin listened, absorbing the rumors of the land. He felt a gaze upon him. He turned his head and saw the single girl with water spirit roots from Xuandao Sect, smiled slightly.

Wang Lin nodded slightly, withdrew his gaze, and was secretly alert inside. He didn’t think he had such great charm and could attract attention from many disciples.

Liu Mei, one of the most promising disciples of the Xuandao Sect, was confident in her natural allure. Few of her peers within the sect could resist her charms. This ordinary youth was one of the few that regained his composure, that made her curious and gaze over him, but no matter how she looked, the other party was just the third level of the Qi Condensation Stage, without any extraordinaryness.

While the elders engaged in conversation, the disciples from both sects sized each other up, preparing for the inevitable exchanges and competitions to come. What struck the Hengyue disciples was the subtle concealment of the Xuandao disciples’ power. It was as if an invisible veil cloaked them, masking their true strength.

Wang Lin, intrigued by the peculiar skill, found himself drawn to the mysteries of the Xuandao Sect. It was an immortal technique related to concealment, but far more superior.

While the disciples of Hengyue Sect gazed upon the comely couple, Wang Lin’s attention was drawn elsewhere. He noticed a curious deference shown to a nondescript middle-aged man standing at the end of the Xuandao line.

He spared the man a glance before withdrawing and lowering his gaze once more.