Ning Fengzhi

Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect.

The sect's headquarters—Seven Treasures Mountain.

Seven peaks lay scattered and continuous, like seven sharp swords piercing the sky. White jade bridges connected the peaks, with clouds and mist surging beneath them, resembling a fairyland. Above the main peak, halls and pavilions rose layer upon layer, their glazed tiles reflecting a seven-colored luster under the sunlight, appearing from afar like a pagoda suspended in the clouds.

In stark contrast to the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan's rigid and stern architectural style, everything in the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect exuded a refined, restrained, and elegant grace.

The main peak's Assembly Hall.

The circular hall had beams made of superior rosewood, and its four walls were inlaid with seven-colored glazed beads, each about an inch in size. These beads refracted fine, soft light spots under the candlelight. The long table was polished from a single piece of black jade, its surface as smooth as a mirror, reflecting everyone's faces.

At this moment, over ten people were seated on both sides of the long table.

They were all core elders and deacons of the direct lineage of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect.

The atmosphere was heavy.

"Sect Master."

An elder with white hair and beard spoke first. He sat in the head seat on the left, clad in a gray-white sect elder robe. His face was thin, his cheekbones prominent, and his aged eyes were filled with anxiety.

"Our Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect has always been founded on benevolence and righteousness. For so many years on the continent, both internally and externally, we have conducted our affairs with dignity and followed a respectable path. But now, with this incident... it has truly ruined our reputation!"

The elder's voice carried a tone of heartbroken lament, and as he finished, he couldn't help but sigh heavily.

"You've all heard what people are saying outside. They say our Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect members 'sell their children for glory' and 'discard their flesh and blood like worn-out shoes'—if these words spread to the business world, how will those merchants and noble families who cooperate with us view us?"

A middle-aged deacon beside him couldn't help but interject, "It's more than that. Two major merchant guilds from the Star Luo Empire have already sent word saying they want to 're-evaluate cooperation terms.' To put it bluntly, they're using this as an excuse to lower prices."

"Although the Heaven Dou Empire's royal family hasn't explicitly said anything, according to our informants within the palace, the royal family is 'highly concerned' about this matter," another elder added in a deep voice.

"'Highly concerned'?" someone nearby scoffed. "Those royal relatives are just itching to see the Upper Three Sects make fools of themselves."

The Assembly Hall buzzed with chatter, a cacophony of voices rising, everyone's face etched with anxiety and unease.

And on the main seat.

Ning Fengzhi remained silent.

He appeared to be around thirty years old, with a handsome and refined face, his eyes carrying a natural gentleness. His nose was straight, his lips soft, and his jawline smooth. His long black hair was tied up with a jade crown, and a few stray strands fell from his temples. Paired with his well-tailored moon-white sect master robe, he looked every bit the gentle scholar, as warm and lustrous as jade.

Even within the circles of continental powers, Ning Fengzhi's "extraordinary appearance" was renowned. Many who had met him said that for the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect to be so successful on the continent, their Sect Master's face alone, which made people feel as if they were basking in a spring breeze, had already won them half the battle.

But at this moment.

The Sect Master, who was usually unreadable in his emotions, had his brows furrowed as if twisted into a single knot.

The cup of tea in his hand, long since gone cold, was clutched unconsciously in his palm. His long fingers tightened and loosened, loosened and tightened, his knuckles turning slightly white.

He was troubled.

Not because of the elders' complaints below.

But because—he himself knew the ins and outs of this matter better than anyone.

He was certainly aware of the affairs of that collateral branch.

As the Sect Master of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect, as a helmsman who oversaw every detail—there was no significant matter within the sect that he was unaware of.

He had known about it from the very beginning.

The night the steward of that collateral branch sent people to deliver the message to Seven Treasures Mountain overnight, he knew everything.

The moment he heard the news—

Ning Fengzhi was angry.

But that anger was not for the life or death of a seven-year-old child.

It was for—how dare those people from the collateral branch?

A direct descendant of the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan.

And the biological grandson of a clan elder.

Be beaten and crippled in the street by a good-for-nothing from a collateral branch?

To Ning Fengzhi, what was a collateral branch?

A collateral branch was not the face of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect, not the core of the sect, and not even considered "one of their own" in the true sense.

They were merely appendages to the direct lineage. They were tools for the main lineage to manage businesses, oversee industries, and run errands.

They shared the Ning surname, worshipped at the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect's ancestral hall, and enjoyed the resources and protection allocated by the sect—but all of this was on the condition that they behaved themselves and did not cause trouble.

Their existence was to add bricks and tiles to the direct lineage.

Not to cause trouble for the direct lineage.

A good-for-nothing who hadn't even awakened his martial soul injured the grandson of a Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan elder—in Ning Fengzhi's eyes, this was equivalent to the watchdog raised by one's own family biting the neighbor's young master.

If the dog bites someone, what should be done?

Apologize, hand over the dog, and let the other party deal with it.

It was only natural.

Therefore, when the steward of the collateral branch requested instructions on how to handle the matter, Ning Fengzhi's directive was also very simple—

Hand over that child, and be done with it.

A useless child without a martial soul, traded for peace with the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan—Ning Fengzhi could calculate this ledger clearly.

In his view, this was never a difficult decision to make.

But.

But!

Ning Fengzhi's fingertips tightened unconsciously, and the wall of his teacup emitted a faint creaking sound within his palm.

Those fellows from the collateral branch—

Could they not use their brains for once?!

Could they not have handled it privately?

Find a secluded spot, quietly hand the person over, or send them away in secret, letting the people from the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan take them away to deal with—quietly, without leaving a trace, finishing the matter cleanly so that no one would lose face.

But no!

They had to make a scene on the main street!

In front of all the citizens in the city, they trampled a seven-year-old child underfoot, forcing the child to cut themselves, to carve their own flesh—

Did they think the matter wasn't big enough? Did they think there weren't enough people watching the spectacle?

Now look at the result.

The whole world knows.

Everyone is cursing.

They curse the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan, and they curse the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect.

They curse that father for selling his son for glory, they curse that collateral branch for being cold-blooded and heartless—but how could the common folk distinguish between the main line and the collateral branch? In their eyes, you all share the surname Ning, you are all people of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect!

Where does this leave his face, Ning Fengzhi's face!

How many years had he spent, how much effort had he poured in, to build the reputation and public image of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect to where it stood today.

"Benevolence," "decency," "generosity"—these labels were the golden signboards he had meticulously crafted, step by step, stroke by stroke.

This signboard was worth more than any mineral vein, more than any business deal.

Because prestige is credit. And credit is profit.

And now—

It had been ruined in an instant by a group of collateral-branch trash who didn't even know how to use their brains.