Immortality Starts With Face

The grand banquet hall of the Governor's Palace was an arena of breathtaking, almost oppressive opulence. Soaring ceilings, held aloft by massive, luminous jade pillars that pulsed with a soft, internal light, were lost in a high, vaulted darkness where glowing night-pearls were suspended like a captive constellation. They cast a gentle, moon-like radiance down upon the assembled elite of the Azure Province, a light that shimmered on the polished surfaces of the rare, thousand-year-old spirit wood tables and glinted off the fine silver and jade of the tableware.

The very air here screamed of wealth and status: it was a decadent perfume woven from the competing scents of expensive, slow-burning incense that calmed the spirit; the sweet and exotic fragrance of rare spirit fruits piled high in crystalline bowls; and the rich, savory aroma of a whole spirit boar roasting on a distant spit, its skin crackling and glistening with fragrant oils.

Lin Feng, direct disciple of the eminent Elder Yue Qingxue of the Azure Cloud Sect, felt a knot of anxiety tighten in his stomach. He sat stiffly at the table designated for the "young geniuses" of the province, a position of significant honor that currently felt more like a pillory. He had arrived as part of his Master's delegation, a privilege that had allowed him to be seated early… but it also meant he was now a silent, solitary exhibit at that same table — one attracting attention from the watchful eyes of many powerful cultivators.

He smoothed the front of his fine, azure-colored sect robes, his palms sweating slightly. He understood the terrifying precision of such events, the unspoken language of power that flowed in this room like a treacherous, invisible river. A single misspoken word, a clumsy gesture, a moment of disrespect — any of these could ruin not just his own reputation, but could bring shame upon his Master and the Sect itself. This, he thought, his gaze sweeping the room, is a different kind of battlefield, one where a smile can be sharper than a sword, and the wrong toast can be more fatal than poison.

His gaze was drawn, as if by a magnetic force, to the main table at the front of the hall. It was a raised dais, a stage upon which the true powers of the province were seated.

There was the guest of honor, of course: Her Imperial Highness, Princess Long Xueyue. With her trademark liquid moonlight-like hair and piercing blue eyes, she presented a figure of cold, Imperial majesty that was difficult to look at directly. But, more than just a wealthy beauty from a powerful family, she was a living legend in the cultivation world: a genius who, at a tender age of nineteen, had already reached the Peak of the Foundation Establishment realm. Her power was a terrifying, coiled thing, and yet she had restrained her aura to such an extent that he could barely even sense her presence.

Such a feat of fine control, Feng noted, was far more intimidating than any overt display of strength could ever be.

Beside her, playing the part of the gracious and powerful host, was the Provincial Governor, His Excellency Sheng Yan. He was a man in his late middle years, his hair a distinguished salt-and-pepper at the temples, his face etched with the fine lines of a man who spent his days in careful thought rather than harsh training. He wore the formal, dark purple robes of a high-ranking Imperial official, embroidered with the silver crane of a civil minister, a stark contrast to the more martial or clan-oriented attire of the other guests. His cultivation was a deep, steady sea at the Early Stage Golden Core realm, which made him the member of a true elite worthy of managing an entire Imperial province. And yet, it was still a power that felt different from his Master's—less like a sharpened needle and more like a deep, immovable mountain. It was the power of bureaucracy, of Imperial law, of a man who was used to crushing his enemies not with a single blow, but with the weight of a thousand perfectly executed documents. His smile was warm and constant, his movements smooth and practiced as he ensured the Princess's cup was always full, yet his eyes, sharp and intelligent, missed nothing, constantly scanning the hall, assessing the moods and interactions of his powerful guests. He was a spider in the center of a vast, political web, and this banquet was his masterpiece.

And on the Governor's other side sat the Princess's personal attendant, the legendary Talisman Master, Wei Long. Lin Feng remembered him from the auction in Fallen Star City, a silent, imposing figure whose presence had been a source of immense speculation. Back then, his aura had been obscured by the privacy formations of their box, but now, seated in the open, even from this distance, his power was a palpable, terrifying presence. To even attempt to examine him with the spiritual senses was like staring into a bottomless, silent abyss. This was an expert at the very Peak of the Golden Core realm, a being who stood on the very threshold of the Nascent Soul. A living saint… or a calamity given form. Lin Feng watched as Senior Wei leaned over and spoke a few quiet words to the Governor, his expression calm and impassive, yet everyone currently in the hall indirectly felt the weight of his presence.

Will I ever reach such a breathtaking level of power? Lin Feng wondered, a feeling of profound, almost crushing awe filling him.

Next to Senior Wei sat his own Master, Elder Yue Qingxue. She was an ethereal and dangerous presence, a vision in aquamarine silk, her famous glowing green eyes sweeping the room with a calm, analytical gaze. For a moment so brief and fleeting that Lin Feng thought he might have imagined it, he thought he could feel a subtle, non-verbal contest of auras between his Master and the Princess, a silent clash of two supreme frost-aspected auras that made the air around their table feel degrees colder.

Master is so powerful, he thought with a surge of pride, but the Princess… her bloodline is on a different level altogether.

For one idle, fanciful moment, he allowed himself to wonder who would win if the two Frost geniuses present were to fight, before concluding with a shudder that nothing good could possibly come from contemplating such calamitous things.

Finally, to the left of his Master, sat Jin Shen, the Regional Manager for the Myriad Treasures Pavilion, a famous Empire-wide trade organization with deep pockets and unfathomable backing, which even the highest of Imperial officials didn't dare to slight lightly. Senior Jin was enigmatic man whose cultivation was a deep, unreadable sea of the Golden Core realm, his face fixed in a permanent, pleasant smile that never, ever seemed to reach his eyes.

He watched as the remaining high-status guests arrived, their names announced by a herald in a booming voice.

The City Lords' table began to fill.

Among the various provincial city lords — of mostly poorer towns comparable to (and perhaps slightly more prosperous than) Qingshan Town — sat Lord Zhang Wei, who, Feng noted, was looking particularly pleased with himself, his chest puffed out with a confidence that wasn't there when he last saw the man back during the Qingshan Martial Exhibition Fair. He was greeted with a surprising degree of deference by the Governor's staff, a warmth that seemed entirely out of proportion for the lord of such an impoverished town.

Has something changed in Qingshan?

Lin Feng considered the question, filing his observations away for a later conversation with Master.

Just then, the herald announced the arrival of Lord Meng of Fallen Star City. A Late Foundation Establishment level expert and a rumored practitioner of a rare cultivation method, he was a plump man in rich (but practical) brown and gold robes. As he entered, Feng noted that his steps seemed super-humanly light and precise for a man of his girth. His face was a jovial mask, creased with what looked like a permanent, good-natured smile… but his eyes…

His eyes were another matter entirely.

They were small, dark, and sharp as a hawk's, constantly moving, missing nothing, assessing the value of the decorations, the cultivation of the guards, the subtle shifts in the room's political atmosphere.

This was not a man to be underestimated.

Instead of proceeding directly to his own seat, Lord Meng made a deliberate detour. He approached Lord Zhang Wei, who was already seated, and performed a respectful bow, his hands clasped before him. It was not the deep bow of a subordinate, but it was far more deferential than was required between lords of theoretically equal rank — especially considering the fact that Lord Zhang's cultivation was still only at the middle stage of Foundation Establishment.

"Brother Zhang!" Lord Meng's voice was a warm, hearty boom. "A pleasure to see you looking so well. Why, you are positively radiating vitality! The air in Qingshan must be treating you kindly indeed."

Lord Zhang, who was clearly enjoying the attention, puffed up his chest even further and let out a magnanimous laugh. "Ah, Brother Meng, you flatter me! But, indeed, you have a sharp eye! I recently had the good fortune to try some truly exquisite high-grade meridian cleansing pills. The effects, as you can see, are rather on point."

Lin Feng's eyes widened slightly.

High-grade meridian cleansing pills? For a Foundation Establishment cultivator? He took the time to consider the statement.

The cost of a single one of those pills could probably buy a small estate in the Silk Ward. They are treasures that require rare spirit herbs and, more importantly, a highly skilled alchemist to refine them. These are resources that only the wealthiest clans or the Imperial aristocracy can truly afford. Where in the nine hells would the lord of a mere backwater like Qingshan even begin to acquire such things?

"…But that, as they say, is only a side benefit of the greater trend," Lord Zhang continued, his tone becoming grand and mysterious. He leaned closer to Meng to make the delivery of the next statement particularly dramatic.

"Qingshan is on the cusp of a revitalization the likes of which haven't been seen in a long time. Great things are happening! You will soon see."

Lin Feng watched this exchange with narrowed eyes, his mind racing.

No, this is all wrong, he thought. Fallen Star City is a hub of commerce, more than twenty times wealthier and more powerful than Qingshan has been in centuries. Lord Meng is a far more significant figure than Lord Zhang. By all rights, it should be Zhang Wei approaching and paying his respects to Meng, not the other way around. And yet, Meng is acting with the careful politeness one shows to the steward of a much greater power.

He noted the way Meng's smile didn't quite mask the calculating, probing look in his eyes, and the way Zhang Wei preened under the attention he was receiving from his peers.

But why? What connections could possibly justify such treatment?

A hush fell over the hall as the Governor's herald, a tall man in ceremonial robes with a cultivation at the peak of the Qi Gathering Stage, stepped forward once more. He took a deep breath, infusing his voice with Qi, and his announcement boomed with a formal, resonant authority that instantly commanded the attention of every guest.

"Announcing the esteemed delegation from the Su Clan of Fallen Star City," he declared, his voice echoing off the high, vaulted ceilings. "Led by the Honorable Patriarch, Su Guangde!"

Lin Feng felt a nervous flutter in his stomach, a sudden heat rising to his cheeks as he straightened his posture.

The Su Clan entered with the quiet, unshakeable confidence of a family that had a known Golden Core ancestor in seclusion, a living deterrent to any who would seek to openly challenge them. Patriarch Su Guangde, a man with a stern, scholarly face and a neatly trimmed grey beard, led them in, his expression a mask of calm authority.

But it was the young woman beside him who drew every eye in the room, including Lin Feng's.

Su Lian.

The number one young genius of the Su clan.

She was… breathtaking.

Her robes were of a deep, forest green silk, subtly embroidered with patterns of stylized bamboo stalks in shimmering silver thread — the symbol of the Su Clan — that seemed to sway with her every movement.

Her beauty was not soft or inviting; it was sharp and fiery, like a perfectly forged blade glowing with inner heat, or a flawless fire opal that seemed to burn with a captured sun. Her movements were a symphony of controlled grace, every step perfectly balanced, a silent declaration of her power.

And… was it… truly Stage 9 Qi he felt from her just now? She managed to break through since the auction? What an incredible talent!

As she came by to join him at the "genius" table, he caught a faint, exotic scent of sun-warmed sandalwood, cinnamon, and star anise.

For a brief moment, he forgot how to breathe.

He hastily looked away from her, focusing intently on a fruit bowl, hoping no one had noticed the blush that he could feel burning on his ears.

She is like a living flame, he thought, his heart pounding a foolish, frantic rhythm.

Beautiful. Proud. And utterly untouchable.

Several more announcements took place before, at last the herald's voice boomed again — this time with a slightly different, more complex cadence.

"Now announcing the Esteemed Jiang Clan of Yuhang City!"

Lin Feng's feelings were a complex, tangled knot as he watched them enter.

The first to enter were the Patriarch and his wife. Jiang Hongji was a mountain of a man, his face a stern, thunderous mask, his every movement radiating a heavy, oppressive authority. Beside him, Madam Liu Ruyue was his perfect opposite—elegant, formidable, her calm, analytical gaze sweeping the room as if she were a general surveying a battlefield, her every step a silent calculation. Both, Lin Feng sensed, were powerful cultivators at the very Peak of Foundation Establishment, as was expected of the leaders of a great clan.

Following them was the famous Jiang Yue, the notable Frontier explorer. She moved with a wild, untamed grace that was completely at odds with the stiff formality of the banquet hall. Her aura was a sharp, piercing thing, likely still in the Mid-Foundation Establishment realm — but to him, it felt far more dangerous than many late-stage experts he had met.

She caught his eye and gave him a brief, almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgment.

But it was the figures who entered next that made Lin Feng's breath catch in his throat. He recognized the other Jiang clan elders from the notes his Master had made him memorize in preparation for this day.

The stern Jiang Meili.

The sharp-faced Jiang Zemin.

Lady Yue's esteemed father, Jiang Tianheng.

The Jiang family's Second Young Master, Jiang Feng.

And behind them, a step back in a position of honor, was their beautiful attendant, Lin Ruolan.

The problem was, his Master's notes… were inaccurate.

Because every single one of the Clan Elders, without exception, radiated with the distinct, stable, and undeniable aura of a Foundation Establishment cultivator.

Impossible! Lin Feng thought, his mind reeling.

The bottleneck between Qi Gathering and Foundation Establishment is not so easily crossed! Nine out of ten cultivators, perhaps even more, fail to cross it before they are thirty, after which the difficulty is said to increase exponentially! For a clan to have its patriarch, matriarch, and a genius like Jiang Yue at that level is impressive but predictable. But my Master's notes said that the rest of them were still in the late stages of Qi Gathering! These Elders are not young… and yet, every one of them was able to break through? And the attendant… even their servant is a Foundation Establishment expert??

This was a display of power so profound, so absurd, that it defied all logic. For a moment, his mouth hung open, a perfect, foolish impression of a gasping carp, before he made a visible effort to school his features back into a mask of calm composure.

And then Lin Feng saw him.

Jiang Li.

The man whose apparent disciple, the now notorious martial artist known as "Shadow," still haunted his nightmares.

He remembered the crushing, effortless defeat during the Qingshan Town exhibition match. The feeling of his incredibly tough, Earth Qi-enhanced bones being snapped like mere twigs; his body being tossed about like a leaf in a storm by a power that felt less like a martial art and more like a force of nature.

If Shadow, a mere mortal martial artist, was that terrifying, he thought to himself with a cold dread, then how powerful must the man who had taught him be?

Just who are you… Jiang Li?

He watched, expecting the Jiang family to be led to another of the high-status tables, perhaps one of roughly equal or slightly superior to that of the Su Clan's.

Instead, he witnessed the unthinkable.

A Nüshi from the Governor's staff respectfully guided Patriarch Jiang and Madam Liu to a prestigious table, one positioned as close to the main dais as the City Lords', a sign of tremendous respect in itself.

But then, said Nüshi personally turned and escorted Jiang Li away from his family, leading him not to the young geniuses' table as he expected, but towards the main table itself.

Lin Feng's mind reeled while trying to process the social earthquake he was witnessing.

It's the ultimate statement of favor, he thought, his mind racing through the lessons on courtly etiquette his Master had drilled into him. The seat of honor, a position facing the door, belongs to the Princess. The host — His Excellency, the Governor — sits next to her, as is proper. To place Jiang Li to the Governor's other side, at the main table, is to elevate him to a status equal to the Host and our Sect. It is a position of power that completely eclipses every other clan Patriarch in the room! Something like this was surely not the Governor's decision; it could only have been a direct command from the Princess herself.

With this, Her Highness is making a statement! She wants everyone present to understand that Jiang Li now belongs to Her.

The entire hall, which had been a low hum of polite conversation, fell into a stunned, whispering silence. Lin Feng saw Patriarch Su's hand, which had been lifting a cup, freeze in mid-air. Matriarch Chen's elegant fan stopped its gentle fluttering. At the Zhao table, the old Patriarch's eyes narrowed into slits. It was a silence made of a hundred suspended gestures, a hundred indrawn breaths.

As Jiang Li calmly took his seat, Lin Feng saw his own Master, Elder Yue Qingxue, who was seated on the other side of Wei Long, incline her head in a subtle greeting.

A knot of worry tightened in Lin Feng's chest. He remembered his Master's words, her ambition to recruit Jiang Li as her own direct disciple. Her goal, he knew, was to use his resources to help forge a High Grade or even a Supreme Grade Golden Core, a feat that would make her a nearly unassailable power in the entire province, perhaps even beyond. If she succeeded, not even the Princess could think to command her lightly!

But his Master wasn't there yet.

And now, with this public and overwhelming display of Imperial favor, he wondered if his Master's chance had already passed. How could the declining, impovrished Azure Cloud Sect compete with the direct patronage of even the Eighth Princess of the Imperial family?

He nodded at the high table, trying to project the air of reserved respect.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Unfortunately, this sensible attitude wasn't shared by many of the young masters present, who vividly remembered Jiang Li as the talentless loser, the wastrel who had been exiled in disgrace. After the initial shock settled into a tense, simmering curiosity, the arrogant heirs of the Zhao and Chen clans at Lin Feng's table, their already questionable judgment further clouded by spirit wine, began to whisper snide remarks.

"Just look at him," the Zhao heir sneered, his lip curling. "My father says his family are just jumped-up miners who got lucky. As they say, you can take a man out of the provincial dust, but you can't take the dust out of the man."

"Luck runs out," the Chen heir added with a condescending smirk. "And, can you believe, I hear he dabbles in alchemy, of all things? An amusing hobby, but true mastery requires generations of refinement, not whatever crude methods one learns in some… swamp."

Lin Feng felt a surge of cold fury.

It was not born of any affection for Jiang Li's honor, of course, but from the sheer, galling ignorance of these fools. He knew, with a certainty that chilled him to the bone, that they were children playing with fire. More importantly, however, they were doing so right next to him, and he had no desire to be caught in the inferno with them when they inevitably got burned.

Besides, his Master had told him she was trying to recruit Jiang Li. He would not risk spoiling Her plans because of these idiots.

He leaned forward, his voice a low, chilling whisper that cut through their drunken bravado.

"Mind your tongues, before someone rips them out" he hissed. "You think you can mock a Dragon because you have only ever seen his shadow? Fools. Know that even that mere shadow is enough to consume the likes of you."

His words, spoken with the absolute conviction, silenced the table. The heirs stared at him, their faces paling, suddenly sobered by the cold, hard certainty in his eyes.

Suddenly, he felt a new gaze upon him. Chancing a glance, he saw that Su Lian was watching him, her head tilted slightly, her fiery eyes holding not mockery, but a flicker of genuine, calculating curiosity. As the abandoned former fiancée, she was clearly no fan of Jiang Li's, but Lin Feng's fervent warning had obviously registered with her — and now, she was curious about something he'd said.

Their eyes met for a fraction of a second, and Lin Feng's stomach did a nervous backflip. He immediately looked away, hoping his expression remained stoic and unreadable while his heart threatened to escape his ribcage.

Glancing back at the high table to check for adverse reactions to the clan heirs' reckless whispers, he was relieved to see that no one seemed to have paid them any mind — and with good reason, for they were occupied with something far more outrageous. The legendary Talisman Master, Wei Long, had physically moved his chair, turning away from the Governor towards Jiang Li! The two of them seemed to be engaged in a passionate, low-voiced conversation.

How strange, Lin Feng thought. Her Highness must truly favor the Jiang family, to ask a great master like Senior Wei to give their heir personal pointers on the Dao of Talismans.

But then he looked closer, and did a double-take…. for it was not Senior Wei who was speaking.

It was Jiang Li!

He was talking, gesturing with his hands, his expression calm and authoritative… like a teacher instructing a student.

And Senior Wei Long, the Peak Golden Core expert, the man whose ability with Talismans was said — by his Master — to be greatly respected by the Sect Leader himself, was actually leaning in, listening with a rapt, almost feverish attention. Even the Manager of the Myriad Treasures Pavilion, Jin Shen, had leaned over, his usual placid smile gone, replaced by an expression of intense, focused concentration.

The two of them seemed to be hanging on to Jiang Li's every word!

"...of course," Lin Feng's cultivator-enhanced hearing picked up a fragment of Jiang Li's quiet lecture, "that is a self-evident application of the resonant frequency dampening technique in any n-dimensional multi-phasic matrix with more than four dimensions. But, to achieve true stability against a high-level spiritual assault, one must also consider not just the dimensions of space, but also of time. You see, the temporal ripples inherent within the spiritual medium itself, which begin to emerge from..."

Lin Feng's mind ground to a halt.

The words were utter gibberish, of course; concepts so far beyond his understanding that Jiang Li may as well have been clucking like a chicken.

He looked at Senior Wei's face again.

The great master did not look like he was merely humoring a junior. Instead, his face was alight with a joy so pure, he resembled a wide-eyed child who had just been fed sweets for the very first time.

The world was no longer making any sense.

Lin Feng chose to look away, back at his fruit bowl, for the sake of his own sanity.

…

And so, the banquet proceeded in a tense theater of social realignments and shifting alliances.

Perhaps two hours after the Jiang clan's arrival, Lin Feng watched as Su Guangde, his face a mask of grim determination, led Elder Su Bohai from their table and approached the Jiangs. He saw them perform a deep, formal bow of apology to Patriarch Jiang Hongji — a public and significant gesture that sent another wave of whispers throughout the hall. He watched as the Su and Jiang Elders briefly huddled together.

Then, he saw them wave over Su Lian.

His stomach fluttered again as he watched her rise and walk dutifully towards the Jiang table, the very vision of grace and elegance. He saw her face suddenly go pale as her uncle spoke to her.

He watched as her hands clenched into white-knuckled fists.

He saw the battle between pride and duty play out in the tense lines of her body before she schooled her features into a mask of calm obedience.

He watched, bewildered, as a confused Jiang Feng — Jiang Li's younger brother and the Second Young Master of the Jiang Clan — was led back to the "genius" table to be seated next to the — now visibly unhappy — Su Lian.

The political implications here were immediately clear to him, as they would be to any astute observer. The old engagement was dead, but a new one was likely being negotiated to replace it. The Jiang and Su families were creating a powerful, mutually beneficial alliance that would make them unrivaled in the entire province.

He felt a flicker of pity for the exploited Su genius, who — perhaps — will now be betrothed to the younger brother of the man who had so thoroughly humiliated her before.

Jiang Feng, looking like a nervous, inexperienced peacock, puffed up his chest and attempted a charming smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He pointedly poured Su Lian a cup of fine spirit tea, his movements a little too quick, a little too eager, to be considered proper.

"Lady Su Lian," Jiang Feng began, his voice a touch louder than strictly necessary. "This is a profound honor. Long have I admired your great talent and beauty from afar. The unification of our families will surely be a cause for celebration throughout the entire province!"

Su Lian did not even look at him.

Instead, she made a point of intently studying the intricate bamboo patterns embroidered on her own sleeve, as if they held the deepest secrets of the Dao. She let his words hang in the air for a long, excruciating moment, the silence at their end of the table a stark contrast to the low hum of conversation in the rest of the hall.

Finally, without raising her eyes, she spoke. Her voice was not angry, nor loud, but as cold and sharp as a shard of ice.

"Second Young Master Jiang," she said, the title itself a subtle dismissal. "Your elder brother is indeed a dragon among men. You, on the other hand? Well… you are… his brother."

She then picked up her teacup, took a slow, deliberate sip, and placed it back down.

"Let us hope that will prove… sufficient."

The insult was so perfectly crafted, so devastatingly precise, that it took a moment for its full impact to land.

She had not insulted Jiang Feng's cultivation, his looks, or his status.

She had simply defined his entire existence as a mere footnote to his brother's apparent greatness.

Lin Feng saw the blood rush to the boy's face, a wave of crimson rage and shame in equal measure.

He opened his mouth… then closed it, utterly defeated, unable to muster even a single word in his own defense. He had been thoroughly dismissed — and in front of the entire table of his peers no less!

Lin Feng felt a strange mix of pity for the humiliated boy and a profound admiration for the fiery, unyielding pride of the Goddess sitting next to him.

Shortly thereafter, the gift-giving ceremony began, a crucial part of the banquet where families displayed their power and temperament. The herald stepped forward again.

"Let the presentation of gifts in honor of Her Imperial Highness, Princess Long Xueyue, commence! First, let the esteemed Zhao Clan present their tribute!"

Patriarch Zhao Tianba, the bull-like man whose cultivation was stalled at the peak of Foundation Establishment, strode forward. His steps were heavy and deliberate, the walk of a man who dealt in tangible assets and had little time for courtly graces. He carried with him a simple, unadorned box of black spirit wood, its plainness a statement in itself.

He reached the dais, performed the customary deep bow, and opened the box.

A warm, honey-yellow light spilled out, a light so pure and stable that it seemed to dim the glowing night-pearls above. Inside, resting on a simple black silk cushion, was a single, flawless, fist-sized spirit stone. It was not faceted like a jewel, but was smooth and round, and within its translucent depths, faint, ancient patterns swirled like the contours of a mountain range seen from the heavens. A palpable aura of stability and nourishment emanated from it, a silent promise of a solid foundation.

"A humble offering from the earth for Her Highness's consideration," he boomed, his voice echoing in the suddenly quiet hall.

Lin Feng recognized it instantly. A Peak-Grade Earth Marrow Stone. A treasure of immense monetary value, capable of solidifying a cultivator's foundation and preventing Qi deviation during a breakthrough. Earth-Aspected. I wouldn't mind such a gift myself! he thought, analyzing the move.

Quite useful to many cultivators with an Earth root. But it's also a statement. 'We are the foundation,' the gift says. 'We are solid, reliable, and possess impressive, tangible power.' It is a merchant's gift, but also a challenge to the other clans. He has set the bar for pure monetary value impressively high.

The Princess offered a slight, regal nod. "Patriarch Zhao is most generous," she said, her voice cool and clear as a mountain spring. "The Empire values such foundational strength. This gift is accepted with gratitude." A servant from the Governor's staff glided forward, collected the box with reverent hands, and placed it on a display table set aside for the occasion.

Next came the Chen Clan.

Matriarch Chen Ming-xia, elegant and sharp, moved with the grace of a court dancer. Her gift was a work of art: an ornate, nine-layered box of fragrant spirit wood. She opened it with a flourish, revealing nine perfect, lustrous pills, each one glowing with a soft, internal light and radiating a calming medicinal aroma.

"Clarity Pills, Your Highness! Refined by this humble one's own hand, to aid in calming the spirit during meditation," she announced, her voice like silk.

It was a display of exquisite craftsmanship, a subtle advertisement for her clan's superior skill. After all, pills useful at the Foundation Establishment stage required the skills of at least a Third Grade Alchemist — a most uncommon specialization in these backwater parts.

Princess Xueyue inclined her head, a gesture of regal acknowledgment that was as precise as it was minimal. A faint, polite smile touched her lips but did not warm the icy depths of her blue eyes.

"Matriarch Chen's skill in the Dao of Alchemy is impressive," she said, her voice cool and clear. "Such fine pills will surely be of use to the cultivators in my retinue. The Empire is fortunate to have such dedicated artisans. This gift is accepted."

Lin Feng watched, fascinated.

It was a masterclass in political communication. The Princess had praised the Matriarch's skill, not the value of the gift, subtly placing the Chen Clan in the category of useful craftsmen rather than powerful peers. The words were a compliment, but the subtext was a clear delineation of status. It was a perfectly executed, velvet-gloved display of Imperial authority.

Then, it was the Su Clan's turn.

Patriarch Su Guangde strode forward, his expression one of solemn reverence for the past. He carried with him not a box, but a long object wrapped in layers of fine, embroidered silk. He placed it carefully on a stand provided by a servant and began to slowly unwrap the layers, revealing the gift within.

A collective gasp went through the hall, a sound of pure, shocked recognition. Even the Governor and Elder Yue Qingxue leaned forward, their eyes wide.

Resting on the final layer of silk was a single, solitary shard of a blade, perhaps a foot long, jaggedly broken at one end.

It was neither shiny or beautiful.

The metal was a deep, lusterless obsidian-black, and it seemed to drink in the light around it. Faint, crimson lines, like dried blood trapped within the metal itself, pulsed with a slow, malevolent, and almost imperceptible light. A faint, sharp aura radiated from it—not of power, but of pure, ancient killing intent — a lingering echo of an ancient battle so profound that it had stained the very essence of the metal for all time.

"Your Highness," Patriarch Su said, his voice filled with a pride that resonated through the hall, "the Su Clan presents for your consideration the 'Fang of Calamity'—a shard from the legendary sword, Crimson Star."

Another, louder wave of gasps and excited whispers swept the room. Lin Feng felt his own heart hammer in his chest.

The Crimson Star!

The name was the stuff of legend! He had only read about it in the Sect's archives.

"Yes. This is indeed a fragment of the very blade our Nascent Soul ancestor, Su Tianheng, used some eight centuries ago to slay the Star Calamity Beast," the Patriarch declared, his voice ringing with the weight of history. "A beast, whose arrival here created the famous Fallen Star Lake. A beast that threatened to devour this entire province! We offer this symbol of our clan's ancient duty and power to you, Your Highness. May it serve as a reminder of the strength that has long protected this land, and of our family's unwavering duty and loyalty to the Imperial throne."

It was a gift of history. Of deep roots. Of a legacy of power and sacrifice that no amount of money could buy.

It was an impressive political statement: a reminder to everyone, especially the "upstart" Jiangs, of who the true, ancient power in the province was.

Princess Xueyue's expression remained a mask of cool, aristocratic grace, but Lin Feng, watching her closely, saw a subtle, almost imperceptible tightening around her eyes.

"The Su Clan's history of service to the throne is well-documented in the Imperial archives," she said, her voice clear and carrying. "The Tianlong Dynasty is ever grateful for the continued loyalty of the great families who helped forge the foundations of the Empire."

The Princess doesn't seem particularly pleased with this gift.

But... why?

…

Finally, it was the Jiang family's turn.

Jiang Li rose from his seat at the main table, a move that drew every eye in the hall as he made his way to the front and bowed low. He carried with him two boxes, both of exquisitely polished Frost Jade, one slightly larger than the other. Calmly, with a quiet confidence, he placed them on the tribute stand with an audible click that carried in the suddenly silent hall.

He gestured to the larger box first with a rather dramatic flourish.

"Your Imperial Highness," he began, his voice calm and clear, carrying easily to every corner of the room.

"This first, humble offering is a small token I discovered during my recent, fortunate explorations. It is a shard… of the highest quality Frost-Aspected Spirit Crystal, which I hope may prove useful as a catalyst for Your Highness' upcoming Golden Core breakthrough."

At that, the hall erupted…

Not in whispers, but in a collective, audible gasp of pure, unadulterated shock!

Lin Feng felt his own jaw go slack.

Spirit... Crystal? he thought, his mind struggling to comprehend the words.

Not a spirit stone, not even a high-grade one, but a genuine Spirit Crystal?

The difference between the two was like the difference between Heaven and Earth, between a common river stone and a flawless diamond.

Spirit stones contained Qi.

Spirit Crystals were crystallized Qi.

They were treasures of unparalleled rarity, things that could not be bought with mere money, only discovered through immense, karmic fortune.

And... a Frost aligned crystal? Such things were rare even among spirit crystals, usually found only in the deepest, most dangerous frozen tundras and icy plateaus of the far North: lands ruled by Golden Core and — occasionally — even Nascent Soul level spirit beasts! To find one here, in the swampy, tropical Azure Province, was not just unheard of; it was an impossibility that bordered on an outright joke.

He chanced a glance at his Master.

Elder Yue Qingxue's face, usually so composed, was now a mask of pale, frozen shock. Her aquamarine-green eyes were fixed upon the box with an intensity that was almost painful to behold. For a single, terrifying moment, Lin Feng saw not the wise, powerful Elder of the Azure Cloud Sect, but a woman staring at the one thing in the entire world she desired most… that was now being offered to her rival instead of her.

He knew then, with a certainty that made his stomach clench, that his Master's dream of forming a Supreme Grade Golden Core — a dream that relied on just such a catalyst — had likely just evaporated before her very eyes. After all, to locate even one such treasure must have already required nothing less than an unprecedented miracle. Not even the most gullible of mortal village idiots would possibly dare believe that another such miracle could casually happen again.

But Jiang Li was not finished!

Slowly, dramatically, he gestured to the second, smaller box.

"And this," he said, his voice taking on a humble, almost apologetic tone, "is a singular specimen of my own, crude creation. I have named it… 'Jiang's Dew.' It is but a simple elixir, Your Highness, capable of improving a Frost cultivator's spirit root quality by a mere one or two percent. The quality is, I fear, not what it could be — but I beg Your Highness to forgive this humble one's clumsy efforts."

If the first announcement was a thunderclap, then this was a celestial tribulation that shattered the minds of everyone present.

The Hall suddenly grew dead silent.

An elixir that could permanently improve a cultivator's very aptitude, even by a single percentage point? Such things were treasures that could — and did — start wars between sects. The alchemical recipes for such things were secrets more closely guarded than the location of an Emperor's tomb! And the ingredients... well, the ingredients required would be so rare, and the success rate so low... Lin Feng shuddered just thinking about the mountains of wealth that must have been burned to create even one, solitary pill!

Just how skilled an Alchemist must one be to even attempt making such a Heaven-defying elixir? The Fifth Grade? The Sixth?

The Chen heir at his table made a small, strangled sound — a mixture of a gasp and a sob — before quickly clapping a hand over his mouth…

But it was too late.

The Princess's cool, glowing blue eyes quickly focused upon their table.

"Oh? Did the Young Master of the Chen Clan have something to say?" she asked, her voice dangerously soft.

The young Chen Bowen immediately went white as a sheet.

"I believe you were asked a question. Speak."

Realizing the trouble he was in, Chen Bowen tried desperately to salvage the situation. "N-no, Your Highness! I wouldn't dare! I was merely... merely voicing my surprise and… great admiration! I had no idea the esteemed Jiang family harbored such profound alchemical talents… or any alchemical talents at all!"

Jiang Li gave a magnanimous bow.

"Your Highness, please forgive the ignorance of my… provincial brethren. They were not present at the Fallen Star Auction and likely do not realize that these boxes are protected by special formations, rendering their contents immune to casual spiritual probing. I dare not open the box with the Frost Crystal here, for fear of its unrestrained aura freezing the geniuses of our next generation solid,"

— he said, with a slight, mocking glance directed towards the so-called "young geniuses" table —

"but… perhaps Your Highness would be so magnanimous as to allow me to briefly display the 'Jiang's Dew' pill?"

The Princess, a flicker of genuine, amused curiosity in her eyes, gave a slight nod.

Jiang Li opened the smaller box…

And Lin Feng's eyes widened despite his best efforts as the medicinal fragrance -- so pure and potent it seemed to cleanse the very soul -- washed over the hall. It was accompanied by a Frost Qi Aura so intense that a thin layer of crystalline hoarfrost instantly covered the tribute stand.

Jiang Li promptly closed the box, and the hall was, once again, returned to absolute, stunned silence.

Then, the Princess's legendary composure finally broke.

A look of pure excitement and sheer desire lit up her face: a dazzling, disarming expression that made her seem, for a moment, like a mere mortal girl who had just been given the most wonderful gift in the world.

She did not send a servant to pick up the tribute.

She personally rose, descended from the dais, and walked to the tribute stand. She collected both boxes with her own hands, placing them immediately into her personal storage ring.

Then, she did something that made the entire hall gasp again: she reached out and took Jiang Li by the hand.

"Come, Young Master Jiang," she said, her voice no longer cool and formal, but filled with a new, almost intimate warmth. She led him, by her side, back up to her seat at the main table.

"Servants! Attend us!" she commanded, her voice ringing with authority. "Quickly! Fetch a bottle of the Hundred-Year-Old Moonshadow Nectar from my personal provisions! Young Master Jiang and I shall share a toast."

The bottle — undoubtedly superior to anything in the Yuhang City's stores (and likely worth a fortune in spirit stones) was promptly brought forth.

The Princess pointedly raised her jade cup of wine.

"To Young Master Jiang Li," she declared, her voice ringing with confidence and authority. "Whose genius, initiative, and future contributions will surely bring great fortune and prosperity to all of the Empire!"

In an ultimate show of favor, she poured half of the wine from her own cup into a new, empty cup and personally presented it to Jiang Li.

"Please, my friend. Share this toast with me."

But, as the entire hall watched, mesmerized; as Jiang Li and the Princess raised their cups to their lips, there was a sudden blur of motion.

Senior Wei Long moved with impossible speed — his hand lashing out with a wave of nearly solid Qi that promptly struck both cups, shattering them in a spray of jade shards and wine, just as a shimmering, multi-layered defensive shield erupted around the Princess.

Most of the wine splattered harmlessly onto the floor, with not a single drop reaching even Princess Xueyue's robes…

But the same could not be said for Jiang Li — and Lin Feng watched, transfixed and unable to look away, as a few errant droplets landed on the back of Jiang Li's unprotected hand.

The effects were as instantaneous as they were terrifying.

A sickly, grey, stone-like color immediately began to spread from the point of contact, the veins on his arm turning dark and hard as they crawled up his skin. His aura — once vibrant and powerful — visibly flickered and dimmed.

The hall erupted into chaos: an explosion of screams, overturned chairs, and the panicked shouts of suddenly omnipresent guards. Wei Long immediately activated some kind of talisman, and he and the Princess disappeared from the room in a swirl of purplish-gold light.

Lin Feng felt his own heart seize in his chest.

Jiang Yue let out a roar of pure fury, while Lin Ruolan, the family attendant, cried out her master's name, her face a mask of white, terrified horror. Both tried to run towards the main table — only to be summarily blocked by the swarming guards, who rapidly created a perimeter of shields and crossed spears around the poisoned Jiang Li.

To his credit, the latter didn't seem to be panicking. He calmly produced a bottle of pills—those so-called "Myriad Poison Dissolving Pills" from the Fallen Star Auction, Lin Feng recognized with a jolt—and swallowed the entire contents.

Amazingly, the toxin's advance noticeably slowed… but it did not stop. Feng watched as Jiang Li stumbled, then dropped to his knees, his breathing visibly slowing. Becoming labored.

Jin Shen stood over the spilled wine, his face a mask of grim concentration. His voice was cold and clear, cutting through the commotion.

"This… is the Eternal Abyss Entombing Earth," he declared, the name sending a fresh wave of horror through the knowledgeable cultivators present.

Lin Feng felt his own blood run cold.

His mind — blessed (and cursed) with a flawless, photographic memory — instantly summoned the exact page from the Sect's advanced poisons manuscript, the words appearing in his mind's eye as clearly as if the scroll were open before him:

...This insidious toxin draws upon the primordial essence of the earth's deepest chasms, manifesting as a fine, obsidian-black powder that whispers promises of eternal rest to those who inhale or absorb it through their meridians. Nearly undetectable to the less attuned spiritual senses, and a potent toxin at the Golden Core level, it is refined from the fossilized remains of ancient mountain spirits crushed under tectonic fury, infused with corrupted Earth Qi harvested during seismic cataclysms.

Upon ingestion or Qi infusion, the victim feels an initial deceptive calm, as if cradled in the very womb of the world. But soon, their internal landscape erupts in chaos—their dantian begins to sink into an illusory abyss, where countless layers of phantom soil and rock compress their Golden Core with unrelenting pressure. The victim's meridians rapidly harden into unyielding stone veins, restricting Qi flow until the cultivator's body ultimately petrifies from within, trapping their soul in a living tomb full of waking nightmares. Agonizing screams echo as illusory earthquakes shatter bones, and the victim hallucinates being buried alive beneath endless mountains, their cultivation base eroding away like sand in a landslide.

Without at least a Nascent Soul-level antidote pill or a specialized counter-toxin such as the Celestial Flame Lotus or the tears of a True Phoenix, death comes as a slow suffocation, the body ultimately crumbling to dust that fertilizes the Earth anew.

Survivors speak of glimpsing the underworld's gates, forever scarred by the Earth's vengeful hunger.

Transcriber's Note: Alchemists have observed a particular effectiveness of this poison when employed on cultivators with Water or Frost-aligned spirit roots, which includes those blessed by the Tianlong Imperial Bloodline. By Imperial Decree, possession of the Eternal Abyss Entombing Earth is punishable by summary execution.

…

"No antidote for this poison is known to exist below Nascent Soul level elixirs" Senior Shen continued, his gaze falling on the struggling Jiang Li.

"There is nothing that can be done in time to save him. I…. am sorry."