Ling Tian’s rage, Ling Tian’s hatred, they were palpable, a tangible shroud that followed Jian, chilling every soul it touched.
The coming week would be a storm. Ling Tian and the Ling family would not simply wait for the duel. Jian knew this. They would pull every string, exploit every connection, use every dirty trick in their arsenal to eliminate him before he could face their precious heir. Let them come, he thought, a grim smile touching his lips as he disappeared into the labyrinthine corridors. Their desperation will only fuel my ascent.
One week. One week until high noon, until the true reckoning.
The next morning, before the sect could fully mobilise its silent investigations, Jian slipped away. He moved like a phantom, his Mortal Veil once again perfectly masking his true aura
