Early the next morning, Ding Family estate.
The sky had yet to brighten, and the lamps in the main hall were still lit.
Ding He Nian, the eldest of the Ding Family, sat in a grand chair, holding a covered teacup.
The eldest son of the Ding family, Ding He Nian, sat in a Grand Preceptor's Chair, holding a lidded bowl of tea in his hand.
Third Master Ding stood in the middle of the hall, his back ramrod straight, though the hand hanging at his side trembled faintly.
"You said that man was in the Sha-Condensing Realm?"
"Yes."
He lowered his head. "Our Ghost Candle Lantern was struck by the other party's Killing Intent and nearly went out on the spot."
"Someone below Sha-Condensing couldn't have done that."
"Big Brother, should we investigate him?"
"Though that man covered his face, and his accent didn't sound local, if we investigate, we should be able to uncover a few clues..."
"It would be best not to."
Ding He Nian set his teacup on the table with a soft clink.
"Third Brother, I know what you're thinking."
"Your artifact was taken, and you can't get over the loss of face. You were publicly slapped across the face on your own turf—anyone would want to win back some ground."
Third Master Ding's cheeks twitched, but he said nothing.
"But remember this: we cannot afford to provoke an old monster in the Sha-Condensing Realm."
He slowly rose from the grand chair and walked over to Third Master Ding with his hands clasped behind his back.
The two brothers were only three years apart, yet Ding He Nian's temples had already turned gray. He looked more than ten years older than Third Master Ding.
"Since the Red Moon, let alone Sha-Condensing cultivators, even Rogue Cultivators