None of the people present so much as blinked for a suspended moment, their faces frozen in slack-jawed disbelief at what had just transpired before their very eyes. Gazes locked unwaveringly on Ji Wuye, who now clutched only the hilt of his Cháng Dāo. They remained rooted in place, bodies rigid with amazement - but not Ji Wuye.

His crimson eyes gleamed with an intense, burning focus, and with an eerie calm, his feet slid forward in an effortless glide. The subtle crunch of debris underfoot - shattered remnants of the wooden platform now scattered like forsaken shards across the polished marble floor - was the only sound to pierce the stillness. Then, without so much as a whispered warning...

A shadow flashed, and Ji Wuye lept lightly up the ascending marble staircase in one smooth bound. He landed with a practiced grace behind the stunned Inner Disciples, the sudden displacement of air ruffling their robes with a faint gust that brushed over their slack, stupefied expressions.

Ji Wuye cut an imposing figure clad in his flowing white martial robe, the aqua stripes vivid against the pristine fabric now tortured by rips. Wasting not a breath, he bent fluidly at the waist, hand shooting out to clamp around Elder Xia's throat with an iron grip. With seemingly no effort, Ji Wuye hoisted the Elder's considerable bulk high into the air.

Elder Xia hung suspended, body exposed and vulnerable, the deep crimson gash rent across his heaving chest. His eyes remained tightly shut, mouth slackened in a bloodless rictus of pain and dismay as he dangled helplessly in Ji Wuye's grasp.

"How does it feel..." Ji Wuye's words sliced through the tension with cold menace, "...to be in the exact same position I was in before?"

Only then did the Inner Disciples seem to shake free of their collective stupor, the trance abruptly shattered.

"You DARE! Junior—"

The furious bellow was drowned out by the metallic whisper of countless jians hissing free of their sheaths in one synchronized, swirling motion. The dazzling sunlight glinted wickedly off the sea of unsheathed blades, the brilliance searing the eyes.

A swirl of dark red and pristine white closed in from all sides as the circle of Inner Disciples clad in their flowing robes tightened around Ji Wuye, glittering jians aimed squarely, unforgivingly, at his exposed neck.

"How dare you lay hands on Elder Xia!" One disciple's outraged bellow shattered the tense silence, his voice trembling with barely contained fury as spittle flew from his lips.

"Insolent!" Another growled through gritted teeth, the word Ground out like gravel.

Their potent qi flared wildly around them, steadily enveloping their forms in a thin, wavering membrane of translucent energy. Yet their bulging eyes and contorted expressions betrayed the roiling tension within - narrowed to slits, glaring daggers, brows deeply furrowed in a rictus of murderous intent.

Despite their overt displays of aggression, Ji Wuye's crimson pupils shifted lazily, regarding them all with an almost indifferent detachment. From the corner of his eye, he could not fail to notice the finer contradictory details - their white-knuckled grips trembling imperceptibly on the hilts of their jians, legs straining to maintain their stances, nervous gulps working at their tensed throats.

These mercurial shifts made Ji Wuye let out a slight, disdainful snort of dark amusement. He was about to dismiss them entirely as the insignificant weaklings they were when...

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"Benefactor, I urge you to show respect and release the injured Elder at once."

The distinctive word came from none other than Shao Mu the monk, who now leveled the steel tip of his staff directly at Ji Wuye's throat. Ranged alongside him, the other esteemed guests likewise aimed their unique weapons.

Yet before the tension could escalate further...

CLANK!

A sudden, violent blast of wind roared through the courtyard, whipping robes and hair into a frenzy as the sound of clashing metal rang out in harsh dissonance. Astonishingly, all the weapons pointed so threateningly at Ji Wuye were forcefully knocked aside, as if physically repelled by some invisible, overwhelming force.

"If you dare lay so much as a finger on him, I'll tear your heart from your chest!"

The fierce declaration rang out in a hauntingly familiar feminine alto, and the razor wind carried with it wild strands of inky black tresses streaming like banners. A lithe figure garbed in a white martial robe with dark crimson stripes flared dramatically in the daylight, scarlet pupils narrowing to murderous slits as they scanned the crowd, locking in turn onto every individual now poised to attack.

The unexpected, electrifying arrival was none other than Mu Lan Rou herself, standing resolute behind Ji Wuye with her jian raised defensively in his support.

"Young Lady..."

"Why, Sister Mu?"

Shock and disbelief spread in palpable waves across the faces of the Inner Disciples like a contagion, eyes widening in synchronous stupefaction as every gaze locked on the defiant figure of Mu Lan Rou. Wu Kang in particular looked utterly stunned, his mouth working soundlessly as if the ground had opened up beneath him.

"Junior Sister Mu, what are you doing? Come back here at once.." He finally managed to spoke softly with worry, brows knitting in a deep furrow of bewilderment and dismay. Stepping closer, he tried to reason with her in a softer tone, placating hands extended imploringly.

But his entreaties fell on deaf ears as a jian suddenly whipped up, the razor-sharp edge now leveled squarely at his throat in blatant threat.

The sight seemed to physically strike Wu Kang, causing him to recoil as if slapped. His eyes hollowed out in an expression of pure, visceral disbelief - as if confronted by a loved one turned suddenly, inexplicably unrecognizable.

"The one called the Sword Fairy, the legend of Kunlun," Mei Ling muttered indifferently, her frigid gaze sweeping over Mu Lan Rou in a clear display of disdain, as if assessing an insignificant insect. "You're defending a murderer, Lady Mu." Her tone dripped with naked disappointment as her eyes narrowed further upon taking in Mu's resolute, uncompromising stance.

On the other hand, Ji Wuye, who had been watching the unfolding events with seeming disinterest from the corner of his eye, frowned slightly as a series of minute shifts rippled across his chiseled features. His crimson pupils reflected a roiling tempest of emotion - disappointment, bitter realization, a profound sense of loss.

Not once, not even in his previous lifetimes, had Mu Lan Rou ever acted in such a way before. She had never been willing to outright defy the sacred rules of Kunlun, much less to defend him. Yet now, in this time line, things were completely, indisputably different.

'Is it really just because of strength?' Ji Wuye found himself wondering with a sense of leaden resignation settling in his core. If that proved to be the sole impetus behind her actions, it would only serve to deepen the crushing disappointment he felt.

This hollow dynamic was nothing like the bond he had experienced with his beloved Big Sisters and Senior Brothers. Even when he had been weak, they had stood resolutely by his side - shielding him, caring for him, liking him for his authentic self rather than any duplicitous self-interest.

But... Mu Lan Rou - his former most cherished loved one - her motivations now rang disturbingly empty to his worldly senses.

'Face. Reputation.' The grim realization settled like a leaden weight as the pieces fell into inscrutable place in Ji Wuye's mind.

Even now, as he observed Mu Lan Rou's outward determination to defend him, all he could sense from her was a hollow pretense. There was no genuine warmth or sentiment behind her actions - only an artificial facade, a carefully curated display in his view.

His plans were flawless. Despite slight changes in execution, the result was almost exactly as he had planned. Yet, it was as if Mu Lan Rou somehow understood his intentions. She made an effort to appear as though she were defending him...

'But why now? Why not before...my l-' Shaking his head and sighed… She had hurt him too deeply back then, far beyond his capacity for forgiveness.

His expression shifted into an impassive mask as he forcefully discarded those lingering slivers of fragile hope...suffocating the wistful yearnings until they dissipated into oblivion.

As for his true 'plan' currently unfolding...

The crumpled, unconscious form of Elder Xia, the fleeing crowds scattering like terrified insects, and now...the final pawns had arrived to take their preordained positions on the chessboard.

Ji Wuye's piercing gaze tracked the shadows suddenly materializing before them - an approaching ensemble, their forms sharpening into familiarity.

"How...how is this happening?"

"The-the Central Courtyard..."

The new arrivals, a delegation of several Elders from Kunlun and various other prominent sects, could only gape in stunned disbelief at the catastrophic scene laid before their eyes.

The first horrific details they took in were the deep, jagged gash rent into the immaculate marble floor, surrounded by the shattered detritus of what was once the grand wooden combat platform.

"Little Brother..."

The last figure to arrive, following a half-step behind the stunned Elders, was none other than the elegant,form of Elder Qiao. Her slender ivory pipe slipped from slackened fingers to clatter hollowly on the marble as her wide eyes locked onto Ji Wuye, lips parting in an expression of naked shock and incomprehension.

A tight knot of her own disciples followed in her wake, their faces likewise contorted into matching masks of stunned disbelief.

The stage was now set.