Chapter 249 - 248: Celebration
The heavy doors of the Zhao Provincial Palace’s grand hall were securely closed against the chaotic, continent-wide panic currently paralyzing the upper echelons of the Central Continent.
Within this warded sanctuary, the atmosphere was not one of tense anticipation, but of a profound, triumphant exhale. The air was thick with the fragrant, intoxicating aroma of thousand-year spiritual peach wine, poured generously into cups of polished jade.
Lord Zhao Shenming stood at the head of the massive star-iron table, his dark-blue provincial robes completely stripped of their usual rigid formality. The Lord of the Zhao Province held his cup high, his youthful face flushed with a mixture of premium wine and absolute elation.
"Nine thousand six hundred and ten merits," Lord Zhao spoke, the numbers rolling off his tongue as if he were reciting a sacred scripture. He looked down the length of the table at Lin Yuan, his voice trembling with a reverence that blurred the lines between a ruler and a subject.
"When we arrived, the Nine Provinces looked upon our delegation as lambs willingly walking into a slaughterhouse. They mocked the Ascension Clause. They mocked the very soil we walked upon. Yet today, Daoist Lin, you did not just survive their crucible. You stood upon the ninth floor of that tower, ripped the domain of a Half-Step Soul Transformation phantom in half, and forced the entire Central Continent to look up at your name in sheer terror."
Lord Zhao bowed his head, raising his cup higher. "To you. To the true expert of our age. To Lin Yuan!"
"To Brother-in-law!" Bai Chen roared, leaping out of his chair, his youthful face beaming with a manic, ecstatic energy that he had failed to suppress since they left the Grand Court. The Foundation Establishment youth practically slammed his cup against Lord Zhao’s in a toast, the wine sloshing over the edges. "You made Chu Kuang look like a toddler swinging a stick! Did you see the Chu Patriarch’s face? I swear, I saw his soul try to leave his body when the tri-colored light erupted from the pagoda!"
Lin Yuan sat calmly at the center of the table, his pristine robes contrasting sharply with the warm, amber glow of the hall’s celestial-pearls. He did not boast, nor did he rise to match Bai Chen’s boisterous energy. He merely lifted his cup, offering a faint nod before taking a slow, measured sip.
Beside him, Bai Qingyue sat in her wheelchair, her hands resting gracefully in her lap. She wore a gown of pale, shimmering blue silk, her black hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of moonlight. She did not drink the potent wine, for her fragile meridians were still too weak, but she did not need alcohol to feel intoxicated. The sheer, overwhelming pride radiating from her eyes was brighter than the hall’s illumination. She looked at her husband, witnessing him resting peacefully beside her, and her heart swelled with devotion.
"The celebration is earned, Lord Zhao," Lin Yuan said smoothly, setting his cup down. His voice, a low, rumbling resonance, instantly commanded the absolute attention of everyone in the room. "But the board is merely set. The Upper Division is bleeding, their pride is fractured, and they now know the depth of the threat. In two days, Jiang Wan will not fight me as a dismissive superior. He will fight me with the absolute, desperate truth of his sword. The celebration must not breed complacency."
"Of course, Daoist Lin," Lord Zhao agreed immediately, sobering slightly as he took his seat. "The Wan Jian Sword Sect will likely spend the next forty-eight hours pouring every supreme-grade resource they possess into Jiang Wan’s foundation to ensure he does not suffer the same fate as the Phantom Guardians. But after witnessing your absolute domain... I find it difficult to fear a mere swordsman."
Before Lin Yuan could elaborate on the lethal nature of Jiang Wan’s Absolute Severance Sword Intent, the heavy doors of the grand hall began to slowly groan open.
The private, intimate atmosphere of the immediate family and the Provincial Lord was instantly bridged with the broader political reality of their delegation.
Pouring into the grand hall was the entirety of the Zhao Province’s elite retinue. Dozens of sect masters, high-ranking elders, and paramount martial talents. Days ago, these very same men and women had huddled in their quarters, terrified of the Chu Province’s wrath, silently cursing Lord Zhao for bringing a suicidal madman to invoke the Ascension Clause.
Now, their postures were entirely different. They walked into the hall with their heads bowed, their eyes fixed firmly on the floorboards, completely terrified to look directly upon the black and white-robed cultivator sitting at the table. They moved with the synchronized caution of mortals approaching a resting dragon.
At the very front of the procession was a man whose face was pale, drawn, and visibly glistening with a cold sweat.
It was Han Wuji, the Patriarch of the Han Clan.
Behind him, entirely absent from the room, was his son, Han Zilie. The young master of the Han Clan, who had once sneered at Lin Yuan, who had plotted to usurp the position of Participating General, and who had gleefully prayed for Lin Yuan’s death within the Void Ascension Battlefield, was nowhere to be seen. Han Zilie had been forcefully sequestered in his quarters, deemed far too dangerous of a political liability to even be allowed in the same airspace as the man who had just defeated a half-step Soul Transformation Stage phantom.
Han Wuji did not walk up to the table. He stopped ten paces away, his knees trembling so violently that the fabric of his lavish robes shook.
Without a single word of preamble, the Patriarch of one of the most powerful clan in the Zhao Province threw himself forward. He collapsed onto his knees, pressing his forehead so hard against the floorboards that a dull, echoing thud rang out across the silent hall.
"Senior Lin!" Han Wuji cried out, his voice cracking with sheer terror. "The Han Clan greets the true expert!"
Lin Yuan did not immediately respond. He sat in his chair, his expression an unreadable mask of cold, flawless jade. He allowed the silence to stretch, heavy and suffocating, letting the oppressive weight of his Unshaken Dao Heart press down upon the entire room. The air in the grand hall grew so thick that the ambient spiritual Qi seemed to freeze in place.
"Patriarch Han," Lin Yuan finally spoke, the two words dropping like anvils onto the trembling man’s back. "You possess a remarkable flexibility. It was only weeks ago that your clan’s elders whispered in the corridors, betting their spirit stones on how quickly Chu Kuang would sever my limbs and return my head to Lord Zhao."
Han Wuji whimpered, his forehead remaining glued to the floor. "We were blind, Senior Lin! We were frogs at the bottom of a well, completely ignorant of the vast, infinite sky that existed above us! We could not fathom the depths of your foundation! We allowed petty arrogance to cloud our judgment!"