Back in the Headmistress's chamber the meeting was still ongoing.

“The upcoming war, under the gaze of the Maiden? How could such a thing even be possible?” Wuya asked, his brow furrowed in genuine confusion.

“I always thought the war was nothing more than a scare tactic,” Humaira added, her voice tinged with concern. “Could the sect leader truly be considering overturning millennias of peace? What could drive him to such extremes?”

Midas remained silent, his thoughts hidden behind a mask of contemplation.

“If the sect leader truly intends to wage war, could it be that he seeks to dominate the entire continent?” Laizu speculated, a note of disbelief in his voice.

Headmistress Iyana turned her gaze toward Feng Zhiming, silently seeking his perspective.

“If war is indeed what the sect leader desires, then our only choice is to follow,” Feng Zhiming responded, his eyes scanning the room, taking in the unease etched on each face.

Iyana acknowledged the responses before speaking. “The thoughts of the sect leader are a mystery to us all. He has not yet made a firm decision to pursue war.”

The tension in the room eased slightly, though the air remained thick with unspoken fears.

“However,” she continued, “the timing is uncertain. It could be as soon as the next evaluation of disciples, or perhaps years from now. His intentions are as unfathomable as the deepest abyss.”

Feng Zhiming’s mind raced as he pieced together the underlying truths from the conversation. It was clear that no one in the room harboured a genuine desire for war. The horrors of battle, the bloodshed, and the inevitable loss of life were things they all wished to avoid.

As cultivators, particularly those aligned with the orthodox factions, they held a deep-seated aversion to risking their lives. Each one present was at least a Spiritual Awakener, and the thought of cutting short their own lifespans in a battle they didn't start was a heavy burden none wished to bear.

Wuya's words sliced through the heavy silence, his voice tinged with concern. “The refugee disciples, they will not take kindly to the news.”

These disciples, having escaped the dire conditions of the Wildlands, had no desire to revisit such a turbulent existence. Without deep-seated loyalty to the sect, it was evident that many might choose to flee or seek hiding rather than face conflict.

“True though it may be, what can we do? Such is human nature.” Midas finally added, his tone resigned yet pragmatic.

Feng Zhiming suppressed a chuckle. Certain strategies sprang to his mind, poisoning the disciples to coerce them into battle, or forcing them to swear loyalty under the threat of execution. They were indeed effective but dark, reminiscent of an unorthodox cultivator's mindset. He knew such suggestions would be out of place in this gathering.

The prospect of war loomed large in his thoughts, demanding consideration for its potential impact on his own future objectives. Whether to support or oppose the notion was a decision he could not rush.

“All we can do is encourage them and rely on their gratitude for rescuing them from the Wildlands,” Humaira proposed, her expression clouded with frustration. Her words reflected a hope that the bonds formed in rescue might inspire loyalty in these turbulent times.

“You’re overlooking a crucial element, fellow cultivators. Should a war commence, would the Clans simply follow along?” Laizu interjected, adding another layer to the already complex situation.

Feng Zhiming tapped his chair rhythmically, letting the conversation unfold.

“The Clans, particularly the Hao clan,” Iyana responded with a tone of firm assurance, “have their brightest within our sect. They wouldn’t dare to risk severing ties with us, as it could mean cutting off their most valuable and talented bloodlines.”

Stolen novel; please report.

Laizu nodded eagerly, almost like an obedient dog. “The headmistress is wise.”

Feng Zhiming couldn’t help but marvel at Laizu’s almost brainless behavior. Instructor Laizu was clearly infatuated with the Headmistress, to the point where Feng suspected that if she told him to bark, he would do so without hesitation.

“Ryes, you have been quiet. What are your thoughts on these matters?” Iyana’s asked as she turned her head towards him.

He pretended to ponder for a moment before responding. “It’s true that the clans wouldn’t risk damaging their relationship with us. But would the Maiden’s followers allow such a conflict to unfold?”

He only half-believed his own words, keeping his true thoughts hidden. After all, he was not simply Feng Zhiming at this moment; he was a righteous, or at least, a somewhat righteous cultivator.

Iyana considered his words carefully. “I have brought this concern to the Sect Leader. He believes that as long as we avoid unnecessary collateral damage, we should be fine. After all, if we were to exterminate the mortals, the future of humanity would indeed seem bleak.”

Laizu, still nodding enthusiastically, added, “Of course, the Sect Leader’s wisdom is beyond our comprehension!”

Feng Zhiming suppressed a smirk, amused by the predictability of Laizu’s devotion.

Regardless, she was correct, the further a cultivator advanced, the more challenging it became for them to have children. In a very real sense, they needed mortals to ensure their own survival.

“If that is what the sect leader believes, then I have no objections,” Feng Zhiming replied, his tone understanding.

A heavy silence settled over the room until Iyana spoke again. “So, are there no more concerns to address?”

She scanned the room, and everyone maintained a neutral expression, until Instructor Humaira abruptly stood up, her face flushed with anger.

“Lunacy! That’s what this is! We’ve maintained balance for so long, and now the sect leader wants to expand? We’d be murdering millions! And for what? More power? More spirit stones? Cultivation resources?”

She turned to each person in the room, her frustration palpable. “Laizu, have a backbone, you feet licking dog! Wuya, you’re never short of words, yet now you remain silent! Midas, with all your years, you must have some wisdom to share! And Ryes,” she glared at Feng Zhiming, “you sit there as if nothing matters, slumped like always! I will be taking these concerns to the council of elders. The Sect Leader is wise, but I cannot support this war, it would bring death on a scale never before witnessed!”

“I refuse to send the disciples I’ve nurtured to their graves!”

With that, she stormed out of the room, her anger leaving a charged atmosphere in her wake.

Iyana sighed, her expression softening as she spoke. “She is talented, but she is young. Do not take her words too seriously.”

The others nodded in silent agreement before rising from their seats. The meeting was clearly over for now, but the tension lingered, unresolved and heavy in the air.

Feng Zhiming returned to his abode after the meeting, his mind churning with thoughts of the impending conflict. Six clans, six sects, each with their own intricate web of alliances and power dynamics. Their relationships were hierarchical, with the clans often compelled to send their most valuable descendants to the sects. Yet, such arrangements bred obligation, not loyalty.

He considered the demonic sects, with their ruthless methods to bend their subordinate clans to their will had the advantage there. The orthodoxy, however, operated differently, cloaked in the guise of righteousness. This façade granted them an advantage in sheer numbers, as the common people preferred the stability of orthodox rule over the chaos of demonic lands.

But if war erupted, Feng Zhiming knew betrayals were inevitable. Loyalties would shift, alliances would crumble, and the orthodoxy’s veneer of righteousness would be tested. The sects themselves bowed to the religion of the Maiden, adding another layer of complexity to the situation.

“Beast Suppression Seal aside,” he mused, his thoughts drifting to the long-term implications. “To destabilize the continent, to rise above these so-called heavenly blessed figures, I’ll need more than just my own strength. Overcoming the Maiden and her followers is the first step. For that, I’ll need the support of at least ten Dao Lords. I have one so far, Kura.”

{A war, huh. Not too bad. In times of chaos, people often cling to a log in the ocean, no matter how rotten that log is.}

Feng Zhiming chuckled at the voice in his head, the Scholar of Black, who always had a knack for cutting to the truth with his cynical wisdom.

“Are you calling me rotten, you old fool?” Feng Zhiming replied. “Go find something else to do.”

{What, something more interesting than the battle for a throne that rules heaven and earth? Name this old man one such thing and I shall vanish!}

“....”

Yet, despite the sharpness of his retort, Feng Zhiming knew the Scholar was right. A war might be his best opportunity to gather the power he needed to conquer this land. The task was monumental, the stakes higher than ever—but so was the potential for victory.

A war was brewing, and amidst the chaos, Feng Zhiming saw the glimmer of an opportunity to grab a hold of the continent. The path ahead was treacherous, but he was no stranger to daunting tasks. With each step, he would edge closer to his ultimate goal, to stand unchallenged, even against the heavens themselves and have them answer his questions.