The afternoon sunlight drifted across the sea of clouds, gilding the dark rock roof ledges of the Thousand-Floor Celestial Pagoda in warm amber.
The cheers for Yan Zixuan gradually subsided into quiet murmurings of awe. Then, Lin Xiao stepped up to the front edge of the grand dais. He didn’t wear royal gold or crimson martial silks. He remained clad in his simple azure-gray linen scholar tunic, the sleeves rolled up past his forearms, looking more like an elder brother gathering his family for supper than the supreme sovereign of an immortal realm.
Behind him, Su Ling’er signaled with her jade wand. At once, the multi-angle water-mirrors across forty-five thousand leagues focused upon Lin Xiao’s calm, smiling face.
“Friends from across the four empires, sect elders, wandering fighters, and beastfolk kin,” Lin Xiao began, his clear, unrushed voice ringing across the terrace. “Over the past three moons, we built this pagoda, set up forty thousand beanbags, and invited everyone to test their courage against our guardians. Many of you thought this was just a grand festival—a seasonal tournament to celebrate the post-war peace before everyone returned to their mountain gates to hoard their secrets once again.”
Lin Xiao paused, sweeping his gaze across the seventy-two sect patriarchs seated in the front rows.
