Feng Zhiming and Wuya stood in the headmistress's chambers, their postures rigid with tension. Behind them, Raja stood silently, his head bowed, the weight of the moment pressing down on him.
Iyana, the headmistress, observed them from her desk, her piercing gaze shifting from one instructor to the next, finally resting on Raja. The room was thick with the unspoken judgments and simmering rivalries of the sect.
“The disciple has indeed disrespected the hierarchy of the sect,” Iyana began, her voice even, but with an underlying current of authority that made it clear she tolerated no excuses. “Instructor Ryes, this cannot go unpunished.” Her eyes bore into Raja, who remained fixated on the ground, unable to meet her penetrating stare.
Feng Zhiming inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the headmistress's concerns. Before he could speak, Wuya interjected, his voice laced with venom.
“I say we cripple him and cast him out of the sect. Who knows what havoc a fiend like this could wreak in the future,” Wuya declared, his words quick and harsh, reflecting his deep-seated contempt.
Feng Zhiming’s expression hardened. “How distasteful,” he countered, his voice measured but firm. “The child was born and raised in the Wildlands. How can you impose such a severe punishment on someone so ignorant? As instructors, it is our duty to guide the next generation, not to persecute them for their lack of understanding.”
The headmistress sighed deeply, sensing the stalemate between the two instructors. It was clear that Instructor Ryes had no desire to see Raja expelled, while Wuya was adamant about it. The air crackled with tension.
“What do you suggest, Instructor Ryes?” Iyana asked, her tone suggesting she was both weary of the conflict and eager for a resolution.
“In my humble opinion, the disciple does not warrant such a harsh punishment,” Feng Zhiming said as he took a step forward, his voice calm but resolute. “It is evident that Wuya’s true motive is to eliminate anyone who might challenge his access to the sect’s treasures. His personal vendetta clouds his judgment, and he behaves more like a petulant child than an instructor.”
“Hmph! You hateful bastard,” Wuya spat, his face contorted with fury. “You act as if this child isn’t your pawn in the same game, aiming to lead you to those very treasures!”
The two instructors locked eyes, their gazes as hostile as the words exchanged between them.
“He’s a waste, not fit for this sect!” Wuya continued, his voice rising in anger.
“A waste?” Feng Zhiming retorted, his tone cold and cutting. “A waste wouldn’t provoke such fear in you that you would seek to cripple him and shatter his foundation. Even you don’t believe your own words.”
“Enough!” Iyana’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. “Both of you, cease this bickering and present something of substance before I deliver my judgment.”
Feng Zhiming pointed at Raja with a steady hand. "This child does not deserve such a fate. Since the root of the issue lies in the acquisition of treasures, I propose an equitable solution."
Iyana leaned forward slightly, her interest piqued. "Continue."
Feng Zhiming took a breath, his voice calm and resolute. "I suggest we dispense with further arguments. Allow one of Wuya’s best disciples to compete against Raja in the upcoming evaluation. Should Raja lose, he will be expelled and crippled, and I will publicly concede that Instructor Wuya had superior judgment. Moreover, Wuya would be granted entry to the armory. However, if Raja wins, I request that I be granted entry to the armory instead. Additionally, Instructor Wuya must publicly apologize for his misconduct to restore Raja’s honor."
"YOU!" Wuya's face flushed with rage, his voice trembling with indignation.
"Instructor Wuya, do not overstep your bounds," Iyana interjected, her voice sharp as she unleashed a fraction of her Divine sense, the oppressive force causing everyone to feel a moment of suffocation. She continued, her tone solid. "Instructor Ryes has proposed a reasonable solution, especially since the debate concerns whether disciple Raja can serve the Sect. His suggestion is indeed fair."
"I—" Wuya began, but Iyana cut him off with a glance that brooked no dissent.
"No more objections. I’ve already been lenient with you, Wuya. Do not presume that I am blind to your ambitions."
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Wuya’s eyes blazed with fury, but he bit back his retort. The authority of the Headmistress was absolute, defying her was not an option.
"Very well," he spat, his voice dripping with venom. "If this is the Headmistress's wish, then I will agree to delay this brat's punishment. But mark my words, I will personally see to it that his life ends when the time comes. I refuse to be disrespected!"
With that, Wuya stormed out of the room, his exit as dramatic as his entrance. As he passed Raja, he deliberately struck his shoulder, sending the young disciple tumbling to the ground.
"Pitiful man," Feng Zhiming muttered, extending a hand to help Raja to his feet.
Iyana's gaze softened as she turned to Feng Zhiming. "Are you satisfied now, Ryes?"
Feng Zhiming cupped his hands in a respectful gesture and nodded. "How could I be anything but satisfied with the Headmistress's wise decision?"
He had deftly turned the entire situation in his favor, framing his proposal as though it had been Iyana’s idea all along. With just a few well-placed words, he had ensured that the arrangement would hold firm.
"Child, you’re fortunate that such a righteous man exists in this sect," the woman in the ring spoke directly into Raja’s mind, her tone warm. "Without him, I fear your journey would have ended before it began."
"Indeed, senior," Raja replied silently, his eyes filled with admiration as he looked at Feng Zhiming. "Instructor Ryes has not only saved me but also given me a chance to reclaim my honor. He is a saint, if ever there was one."
A righteous cultivator, Feng Zhiming. The words resonated in Raja’s mind, fitting the image of the man before him perfectly.
…
In a remote corner of the Wildlands, a certain patriarch knelt, his head bowed low in submission as a woman held a gleaming sword to his throat. The air around them was tense, charged with the raw power she radiated.
“Is this the Raoni Clan? The home of Raja, disciple of the Celestial Haven Sect?” Anissa's voice was cold, each word cutting through the air like the blade at the patriarch's neck.
"Indeed, great immortal," the patriarch stammered, his forehead nearly touching the ground as he trembled at her feet. "May I ask what brings you here today?"
"All of you will immediately relocate to the city of Spirit Stones," Anissa commanded, her tone leaving no room for dissent. The finality in her words was absolute.
The patriarch's heart pounded in his chest. He was only a man at the Foundation Establishment realm, living in a humble, backward village. What could he have done to provoke such wrath? Before him stood a cultivator at the peak of Spiritual Awakening, her power overwhelming, her presence terrifying.
She had single-handedly cut down the guards from the Falling Petal Sect, both of whom were at the Ethereal Core realm. Now, she had charged into their county, her intentions unmistakable.
"I—" The patriarch began, his voice quavering as he tried to form a response, but his words were cut short.
Without a second thought, Anissa crushed him under the weight of her Divine Sense. His body crumpled, reduced to a bloody pulp in an instant, his life snuffed out as effortlessly as one might extinguish a candle.
Her gaze, colder than the sharpest winter wind, shifted to the two elders cowering beside the fallen patriarch. They bowed low, their faces pale with terror.
"All of you will immediately relocate to the city of Spirit Stones," she repeated, her voice as unyielding as stone.
The elders nodded frantically, their bodies trembling. Yet inwardly, they wept. What had they done to draw the attention of such a powerful force? Why were they being pursued so relentlessly by the demonic factions?
The two elders, still quaking with fear, dared not meet Anissa's gaze. They could feel the weight of her presence pressing down on them, a reminder of the unfathomable power that had just ended the life of their patriarch without a moment's hesitation. The thought of defying her command was inconceivable.
"We will comply, great immortal," one of the elders managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. "We will gather the clan and depart for the city of Spirit Stones immediately."
"See that you do," Anissa replied, her tone leaving no doubt that any delay would be met with the same swift and brutal force.
As she turned to leave, the elders exchanged a brief, desperate glance. They knew that their lives, and the lives of everyone in the Raoni Clan, now depended on their obedience. But the fear that gripped them was not only for their immediate survival.
"Prepare the clan for departure," the elder who had spoken earlier instructed, his voice steadier now but still laced with anxiety. "We must not delay. The sooner we leave, the sooner we might understand why we’ve been targeted."
"But what about the Falling Petal Sect?" the other elder asked, his voice trembling. "They will not take kindly to us abandoning our posts."
"The Falling Petal Sect is the least of our concerns now," the first elder replied sharply. "Did you not see what she did to their guards? We have no choice but to obey."
As they hurried to gather the clan, a sense of doom settled over the Raoni Clan's small village. The once-quiet settlement was thrown into chaos as families packed their belongings, whispered fears spreading like wildfire. The children clung to their parents, too young to fully understand but old enough to sense the fear in the air.
Anissa watched from a distance, her expression unreadable. To her, these were just small, insignificant movements in a much larger game. She had her reasons for driving the Raoni Clan from their home, reasons that went far beyond the comprehension of the trembling mortals before her. Raja, the disciple of the Celestial Haven Sect, was central to Feng Zhiming’s plans.
With a final glance at the village now bustling with frantic activity, Anissa turned and vanished into the shadows, her form dissolving into the night. The Raoni Clan’s fate was now sealed.