Upon returning to the sect, the setting sun spilled across the ancient bluestone slabs like molten gold, draping this cultivation sanctuary hidden among the clouds in a glorious mantle. With the young disciple and the others' return, a grand victory banquet that had long been in preparation began in full swing in the sect square. Red lanterns hung high, colorful silks fluttered in the wind, and the air was filled with the fragrance of delicacies and the sound of laughter, as though even the breeze carried the sweetness of celebration.
At the banquet, firelight danced atop exquisite candlesticks, illuminating face after face brimming with joy. The disciples sat together, some raising cups in celebration, others whispering among themselves, all praising the young disciple's courage, fearlessness, and remarkable wisdom during that adventure. Surrounded at the center, the young disciple wore a modest, bashful smile, while his eyes shone with hopes and determination for the future.
However, just as the laughter and merriment reached their peak and everyone was immersed in the joy of victory, an unforeseen change descended like dark clouds blotting out the sun, instantly shrouding the entire banquet. The Mysterious Immortal seated in the place of honor suddenly furrowed his brows. His usually composed face became exceptionally grave, as though water could be wrung from it. His gaze pierced through the clamor and fixed upon some distant, unknown corner of darkness as a sense of foreboding quietly rose in his heart.
"Not good!" The Mysterious Immortal's voice was low and forceful, like thunder exploding over a tranquil lake, instantly freezing all laughter into ice. Urgency that allowed no doubt colored his tone. "Beneath this seemingly calm surface lurks a surging danger. I can sense an evil aura several times stronger than any we have encountered before. It is silently