Undercurrents Surge: The First Signs of a Dispute Over Interests

A soldier's shadow swept past the gap in the tent flap, stretching into a thin black line across the ground. It happened to cut through the rough map on the table, severing the line linking the Western Frontier Saber Sect and the Central Alliance. Chen Wuya's gaze followed that shadow until it vanished into a corner untouched by the brazier's glow.

He neither moved nor spoke. He merely set the charcoal pencil, dusted with ash, lightly back at the edge of the table. Bai Zhi stood slightly behind him, fingertips pinching a stack of papers whose repeatedly turned edges had gone fuzzy and curled. The people murmuring inside the tent gradually fell silent, as though they sensed something was about to happen.

An elder from the Southern faction cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "The distribution of battle merits has always been determined by each sect's manpower contribution and casualty ratio. That has been the old rule of the martial world for decades. Now you want to establish another method—do you intend to make all of us follow your word alone?"

Before his words had faded, a middle-aged man from the north chimed in. "Exactly! Every sect's casualties last night are on record. You say our figures are wrong—do you have solid proof? Or are you using this victory to press us beneath your heel?"

The gray-robed representative of the Western Frontier Saber Sect slowly raised his head. His gaze swept over Chen Wuya, and though his tone was calm, it allowed no doubt. "Sixteen members of our sect died in battle. Their bodies are proof, and the route map has already been submitted. If you can claim we falsified our report merely by drawing a few lines on paper, would that not chill the hearts of the soldiers at