The entire discussion was chaotic; topics were brought up one after another without any continuity, each spawning a new subject like a wild weeds.

Voices rose and fell in a discordant symphony, drowning out any attempt at reasoned discourse. Eventually, it devolved into a heated debate about how shameless the Huashan Elder was in his blatant attempts to recruit Ji Wuye into their sect.

This both amused and startled Ji Wuye, whose lips quirked ever so slightly at the corners. He had been silently planning to collaborate with Elder Ma Tang from the Beggar Sect, his eyes betraying the calculating mind beneath.

He had even prepared an additional argument to reinforce his stance, yet...

'But it's useless,' Ji Wuye thought to himself.

The recognition of his potential had progressed within the range he expected, but matters escalated when the Grand Elder finally flicked his wrist, a subtle gesture that carried the weight of a thunderclap. Instantly, the entire hall fell silent, as if the very air had been suctioned from the room.

In that tense moment, Ji Wuye's sharp eyes noticed something subtle—a minute shift in Elder Qiao's posture.

She had been silent from the start, a statue amidst the chaos, but now her slender hands revealed one palm facing downward, while a folded fan rested beneath that palm like a secret hidden in plain sight.

Observing her discreet gesture, Ji Wuye immediately understood. There was no reason for him to take further action—this situation was now Elder Qiao's to command.

"Like a frog in a well dreaming of the moon above," the Grand Elder's voice reverberated through the Hall of Insight, each word sharp as autumn frost. "How dare you attempt what is beyond your measure?"

His frost-sharp eyes swept over the assembly of guests, each wilting like autumn leaves beneath his withering gaze. “Before you pluck a branch, first consult the tree's master. This disciple's path is like jade within the mountain - it belongs to where it was nurtured.

“He is our flesh and blood, raised in the embrace of Kunlun's peaks, cultivated by our teachings like a precious herb in our garden. You treat him as though he were a reed on the wall, top-heavy and easily swayed, but he has grown deep roots here."

The temperature in the room seemed to plummet with every word, compelling the guests to urgently cup their hands in gestures of respect and apology, as if warding off an encroaching chill.

Such was the way of righteous martial artists: respect for the elderly and protection of the weak were not just ideals but the foundation of their very existence, interwoven into their bones.

"Grand Elder, if I may..." Elder Qiao's voice, melodious yet authoritative, cut through the tense atmosphere like a silk blade. She rose gracefully, cupping her hands in a gesture of respect as her sharp eyes gleamed with resolve.

Her gaze, sharp settled on Murong Yu and his bodyguard like a falcon surveying its prey. "Outer Disciple Ji Wuye is but a youth of seventeen summers," she began, her words tinged with both understanding and reproach, like a mother gently chiding a wayward child. "At such an age, the heart burns hot, and the mind often outpaces wisdom."

She paused, letting the weight of her words hang in the air. Around her, the gathered Elders and disciples seemed to lean in imperceptibly, drawn inexorably into the melodic cadence of her speech.

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"However," her tone hardened, carrying undeniable authority that commanded the rapt attention of all present, "Young Master Murong's judgment in this matter was...regrettably misplaced."

"How DARE you speak to me like this!" Murong Yu exploded, his face mottled with rage as he struggled to rise despite his heavily bandaged body. His wounded pride clearly surpassed the pain of his injuries as his bodyguards rushed to steady his trembling form. "Do you have any idea—"

"Was it not you who struck the first blow, Young Master?" Elder Qiao's calm yet cutting words sliced through his outburst like a blade through silk. Murong Yu's unfinished retort clung to the air, dissolving like morning mist under the weight of inescapable truth.

She continued, her voice unwavering even as the echoeslinger trailed off into uneasy silence. "This is no different from what transpired with the Wudang disciples or the disciples from our own Law and Enforcement Department. Outer Disciple Ji's claim of self-defense stands as strong and immovable as Mount Tai."

Yet instead of nods of agreement, an unsettling silence fell upon the hall, thick and cloying as a dense fog. The assembled Elders exchanged guarded glances, their gazes heavy with unspoken implications as they shifted between their disciples and the Elder from the Beggar Sect.

"He's the youngest among us, yet he has shown more maturity today than all of your disciples combined, Elders—guests from the renowned and, I believe, revered factions present here," Elder Qiao declared, her tone ringing with conviction as she met each guest Elder's gaze without flinching.

As martial artist of the righteous path, the sworn defenders of the weak and hunters of evil, how could they turn a blind eye?

"Indeed, Elder Qiao speaks the truth." The voice of Elder Ma Teng rose from his seat. His eyes swept across the audience, seeming to weigh each individual present.

"These old eyes have witnessed much in their time," Elder Ma continued, a hint of steel beneath his otherwise casual tone. "Young Ji acted purely in self-defense, both before and during the spar. Yet..." He stroked his chin thoughtfully, his words falling slowly, like autumn leaves yielding to the inexorable pull of gravity. "I couldn't help but notice how quick everyone was to condemn him."

His subtle remark landed with the precision of an archer's shaft, forcing the assembled Elders—who already looked chastened and guilty due to their disciples' foolish behavior—to confront their own damning silence and complicity head-on.

"We...we have indeed acted hastily," an Elder from the Kongtong Sect finally admitted, her steel fan trembling slightly in her hands as she glanced at her indifferent disciple.

"Our judgment was clouded," came the reluctant admissions, one after another, from Elders representing various factions like a litany of contrition. Even the Wudang Sect, offered their apology—what shame would it be for others not to follow their lead?

It became clear that their failure stemmed from trusting their disciples too readily and overlooking the youthful recklessness and arrogance that precipitated this debacle. Kunlun, with their keen foresight, hadn't mentioned this fault outright—at least, not until pushed.

Just as the atmosphere began to ease, Elder Mu cleared his throat, cutting through the reconciliatory mood with measured seriousness. His expression remained stern, tinged with disapproval, especially as he recalled how these same Elders had fawned over Ji Wuye, praising him just moments before their world violently tilted on its axis.

"While we address these matters, another grave transgression cannot be overlooked," Elder Mu stated, his tone sharp as an autumn wind stripping the last leaves from the trees. His hawkish gaze swept firmly across the room, commanding attention. "It does not change the fact that this arrogant disciple's behavior toward Elder Xia was utterly unacceptable and disrespectful."

This time, the assembled Elders from other factions remained utterly silent, an eerie calm descending over the hall like a thick fog muffling all sound.

This particular matter no longer required their input; it was a private Kunlun affair, an internal reckoning from which outsiders would be barred. It was already more than a mere courtesy that Kunlun had allowed their guests to bear witness, even participate, in the heated discussion over such grievous internal grievances.

Just as the tense silence grew nearly suffocating, the tall wooden doors creaked open once again, the harsh sound shattering the fragile quiet.

"Greetings to all the esteemed Elders! Please forgive my intrusion, but the construction of the platform is complete and ready for use!" An officious voice declared as an Official Disciple bustled in, quickly lowering his head and cupping his hands in a gesture of respect.

His announcement referred, of course, to the much-anticipated day when the Inner Disciples of Kunlun would have the honor of sparring against the guests - a chance to either restore Kunlun's reputation or elevate the prestige of the visiting factions in the arena of skill and prowess.

"It's a pity... the final outcome will have to wait," the Grand Elder remarked, his words trailing off into pregnant silence as he too recognized the significance of this charged moment.

As the room quieted once more, every ear straining, the Patriarch, who had remained an inscrutable bastion of silence until now, finally spoke.

"Disperse," he commanded with a single, resonant word that carried immense, inexorable weight despite its brevity. Though his tone never rose above a murmur, it conveyed overwhelming authority that brokered no argument, no objections.

His power was palpable, a tangible force that seemed to press down on the entire assembly...except perhaps to the one solitary figure who dared to meet his glacial gaze head-on - the young disciple with the piercing crimson eyes.

'He's as useless as ever,' Ji Wuye thought inwardly, his expression betraying nothing as he watched the assembled dispersed.

Many cast fleeting sidelong glances in his direction as they departed, their furtive looks a curious mix of wariness, consternation and, for a few, begrudging respect.

Among them, he noticed Ye Yujin and several disciples from various factions, but his attention was briefly drawn away as his sharp gaze locked with Elder Qiao's once more.

In that fractured moment, a thousand unspoken words seemed to pass between them , but of course both of them understood.

'We need to talk.'