Beyond the vermilion gates of the Mo Clan residence lay a broad passage paved with smooth bluestone slabs. Sparse moss grew between the cracks, while neatly trimmed pines and cypresses lined both sides, their emerald branches lending the place an artificially cultivated solemnity. Xiao Yan and the other two followed behind the steward at an unhurried pace. The Purple Gold Winged Lion King, which had been lazily curled up in Qing Lin's arms, now seemed to have sensed danger. Its little head turned warily, an imperceptible flash of ferocity passing through its golden eyes. Low whimpers occasionally rumbled from its throat as its claws unconsciously scratched at Qing Lin's sleeve.
Past the passage was the Mo Clan's front courtyard square. At the center of the square stood a man-tall Taihu rockery, while several koi drifted leisurely through the pond beside it, ripples spreading across the water's surface in an apparently peaceful scene. Yet Xiao Yan's gaze was as sharp as a hawk's, locked tightly onto the reception hall at the end of the courtyard. Faint voices drifted from within. One of them was old yet arrogant, carrying an aura that made him feel both familiarity and disgust—it was exactly the same as the aura from when the Misty Cloud Sect had hunted him down.
"Three honored guests, the clan head is in the reception hall. Please follow me." The steward turned around, his false smile still fixed in place. Yet the corner of his eye kept darting toward Xiao Yan and Hai Bodong, revealing barely concealed wariness, while his hands unconsciously clenched the cuffs of his sleeves.
Xiao Yan said nothing. He merely stepped forward and headed toward the reception hall. The Black Heavy Ruler on his back trembled slightly, as if it too had sensed the hostility ahead. The