Dressed in a flowing white martial robe with dark blue stripes accentuating the powerful lines of his toned physique, the young man walked with purposeful strides into the sunbaked wooden square arena.

The wooden planks creaked softly beneath his white shoes, releasing wisps of dust that danced in the morning light.

The warm morning light caught the determined glint in his eyes as his gaze confidently swept across the murmuring crowd watching him intently.

Scattered whispers rustled like autumn leaves as he passed. With a slight flourish of his sleeves, the pristine fabric rippling like water, he cupped his hands together and offered a respectful bow, back straight as a sword and movements controlled with the precision of a master calligrapher's brush.

"Greetings, everyone. I am Hao Hanying, an Official Disciple representing Kunlun. I am honored to receive your guidance," he announced.

This young man was none other than Hao Hanying, who secretly harbored feelings for his Senior Sister Lian.

"Look, an Official Disciple! As expected, their bearing and image exude a different air from the Outer Disciples," an elderly spectator murmured, eyes crinkling with approval as he stroked his wispy white beard.

"He's impressively tall and powerfully built—just who is this strapping youth again?" a young man whispered, craning his neck and nearly losing his balance on his tiptoes.

"Idiot, lower your voice!" his neighbor hissed, elbowing him sharply in the ribs. The young man winced, rubbing his side with a chastened expression. "He can surely hear your babbling from zhang away."

"Greetings, esteemed Hero of the Jianghu!" At the same time, echoed through the arena as others added their own respectful salutes, the synchronized sound of palms meeting in ceremonial gestures creating a rhythmic percussion.

Hao Hanying felt his chest swell with pride at being acknowledged by the crowd, despite knowing this all due to him being a disciple of Kunlun.

'Heheh, I still can't get enough of this!' he thought to himself.

Everywhere he went, people treated him with respect simply for being a disciple of Kunlun. Now that he had officially become a Kunlun disciple, this feeling soared. Still, he carefully maintained his elegant, unflustered demeanor.

Only the slightest tilt of his chiseled jaw betrayed the surge of joy within as he bestowed a slight, regal nod of acknowledgment upon them. A single bead of sweat traced down his temple, caught by the morning breeze.

After magnanimously receiving the accolades, he turned with quiet confidence to face the guests, his piercing gaze calm yet intense as it roved over them with measured scrutiny.

The silk of his robes whispered with each precise movement, the dark blue stripes catching the light like ripples on a midnight lake.

His breathing steadied, ribs expanding with deep, controlled inhales as he appraised each figure from the various prestigious schools and sects.

"May I ask which distinguished individual would be willing to exchange knowledge with me?" he inquired humbly, hands still cupped in a gesture of profound respect as he examined the guests one by one.

His fingers remained steady, betraying none of the eager energy coursing through his veins.

In recent days, fortune had smiled upon him.

Not long ago, Hao Hanying completed several crucial sect missions with exceptional success, especially the Kunlun's latest operation, which earned him significant recognition and contribution points toward his promotion to Official Disciple.

This meteoric achievement also allowed him to train alongside, and observe more and interact with, and even admire from afar his beloved Senior Sister Lian.

'Senior Sister look at me! I’m a step ahead of Junior Brother Ji!' he thought inwardly, still grinning foolishly. He believed that after this, he would be praised more by the time he visited her.

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Yet, entirely oblivious to the unaware Hao Hanying, the watchful guests observing from the higher stands found his admittedly impressive actions tinged with hints of amusement.

"Look at him, acting so cocky and self-important despite only being a Kunlun Official Disciple," a mocking voice sneered from the guests' viewing area.

The lips of the disdainful speaker curled into a derisive smirk as he appraised Hao Hanying's bold display.

He appeared to be in his mid-twenties, with a muscular, powerfully built frame typical of the famed Wudang disciples; however, he was not a Wudang disciple.

A squarely set jaw and sharply chiseled features lent his face an aura of unyielding severity, heightened by the permanent furrow between his thick brows that seemed carved into stone.

Cropped black hair and a deep, perpetual scowl stood out starkly against the dark gray martial robe he wore.

"Hmph, what kind of so-called 'hero' can't even recognize the traitors festering within their own sect?" another voice rang out, thick with resentment and bitter jealousy - especially as the crowd continued bestowing such reverent regard upon Kunlun's representatives.

The speaker stood at an impressive height of six chi. His slender, whipcord-lean figure was accentuated by long, flowing raven locks secured in a loose bun at his nape, with the dark tresses framing sharp, almost vulpine features like curtains of silk.

Piercing green eyes momentarily scanned the audience with thinly-veiled disdain before settling on Hao Hanying.

Golden bamboo patterns embroidered his deep green martial robe caught the sunlight like living flames with each subtle motion.

"That's very rude, both of you," a third, stern voice suddenly cut in, the words falling like heavy stones into still water. The two disdainful figures instantly fell into an abrupt, chastened silence as they turned to see its owner, their shoulders tensing involuntarily.

"Kunlun has graciously provided this feast, and yet you both display such ingratitude while benefiting from their generous hospitality. Where are your manners?" the reprimanding voice continued.

Though of merely average height, the speaker possessed a solidly well-built, muscular physique that seemed to radiate an aura of quiet strength and poise, like a sheathed blade no less deadly for being concealed.

A dark blue martial robe clung to his form, its silk whispering with each measured movement, a family crest embroidered prominently on the right side in threads of silver that caught the light like scattered stars.

Spiky chestnut locks framed a chiseled visage, full lips pressed into a cold, humorless smile as an icy glare cut through the two mocking disciples like a winter wind.

"Your words are well spoken, Young Master Murong," the muscular young man in gray martial robe replied.

However, despite his outwardly polite words, the muscular youth's tone dripped with thinly veiled contempt. His lips curved into what might technically pass for a smile, though it looked more like a sneer barely held in check.

His narrowed eyes, glinting with unmistakable mockery beneath furrowed brows, betrayed his true sentiments - as if every gesture of respect physically pained him to perform.

The tall, lithe figure beside him cut an equally striking presence. His long raven tresses, bound loosely at the nape of his neck, spilled over broad shoulders like liquid silk catching the afternoon light. Though he remained stonily silent, the slight tightening around his eyes and the rigid set of his shoulders spoke volumes.

He too followed suit, offering a shallow, perfunctory bow as he cupped his hands in a facade of deference. His movements were precise yet somehow managed to convey profound reluctance as he directed the gesture at the imposing Young Master of the Murong Clan.

"If you understand the error of your rude behavior, then keep your discourteous words in check from now on," the Young Master responded coolly. The words fell like frost from his lips, accompanied by a cold smile that played at the corners of his mouth as he glanced down at Hao Hanying in the arena below.

This soon melted the icy, cold smile, transforming it as suddenly as a spring thaw into one of warm welcome and approachability.

"I am Murong Yu of the Murong family." His voice carried easily across the arena, rich and cultured like aged wine. "It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Brother Hao," he called out cordially, cupping his hands in a gesture of greeting that somehow managed to be both graceful and commanding.

"The Murong Clan...such a noble and influential family is in attendance at this mere sparring event?" The words were hushed yet electric with excitement.

"I've heard even the Emperor himself holds their clan in the highest regard." The speaker's voice quavered with barely contained awe.

"They are the very pillars upholding our glorious Western Xia dynasty..." Another voice joined the growing murmur of conversation.

The extraordinary clan's reputation preceded them everywhere - their vast territories stretched beyond the horizon, their coffers overflowed with wealth, and their influence reached into every corner of the empire, rivaling even the Imperial family's own authority.

Their esteemed reputation was carved into the very bedrock of the nation's history, their unmatched martial prowess having helped forge the Western Xia Empire itself.

The tales of their leadership in the rebellion that overthrew the oppressive Song Dynasty were still sung in the streets - stories of courage and might that had secured the throne for the current ruling family.

Like the awed crowd, Hao Hanying felt his heart skip a beat at the unexpected mention of the legendary Murong Clan.

Fame...and prestigious...

However, he quickly gathered his wits, straightening his spine and squaring his shoulders as he mastered the shock of such an auspicious encounter. His brilliant, eager smile blazed across his face like the rising sun as he greeted Murong Yu.

"It is truly my immense honor to be acknowledged by the esteemed Young Master of the prestigious Murong Clan," Hao Hanying exclaimed.

His eyes gleamed with newfound hope, like a gambler spotting an unexpected opportunity. The reason was simple...

If the illustrious Murong Yu accepted his challenge to an exchange of martial skill, even a loss would burnish Hao's reputation.

To be known as one who had crossed hands with a scion of the Murong lineage would itself be a badge of honor, a story worth telling for years to come!

Unfortunately, Hao Hanying's burgeoning hopes began to fade as swiftly as they had bloomed, as if the perceptive Murong Yu had read the youth's thoughts laid bare upon his expectant face.

"Unfortunately, my current martial realm vastly exceeds yours, Brother Hao. I fear an exchange of skills would be unequal and unbalanced, even were I to consciously suppress my true abilities," Murong Yu explained with a genteel smile and shake of his head. "You must forgive me, but I cannot in good conscience accept your request on this occasion."

It was an understandable declination that Hao Hanying had already reasoned within his own mind. From an objective standpoint, he fully realized the gulf between his own fledgling standing and the illustrious status of a paramount figure like Murong Yu.

Not to mention, unlike him, Murong Yu must have been in countless small skirmishes and trained from a young age.

And yet, despite the expected rejection, the fact that the Murong Yu had taken the courtesy to offer a personal apology - a rare gesture of respect from one of such towering prominence - left a lasting impression on him.

"How about you then, Brother Wang?" Murong Yu asked unexpectedly, turning with a warm smile toward a figure who had been eagerly chattering about sparring from the start.

Wang Hei's eyes instantly locked onto Hao Hanying in the arena below, a wide, anticipatory smile splitting his harsh features as he straightened his shoulders. "It would be an immense honor if the esteemed Brother Hao is willing to exchange knowledge with one as undeserving as myself!" he called out, cupping his hands in an overly flattering display of respect.

"Wang Hei, of the Xiao Yao Sect, humbly requests your guidance, Brother Hao!"