As soon as Zhao Xuan finished speaking, the lamplight in the Feudal Lords' lodgings flickered wildly.
Before any of the Feudal Lords' envoys could speak, the teacups on the table trembled faintly. A thread of cold white flame emerged from the lamp wick, making their eyes sting, as though something meant to plant the words "Chaoge will fall into chaos" in their hearts before they could open their mouths.
Zhao Xuan did not hurry to write.
He raised his eyes toward the Northern Frontier Beacon Tower.
"The Feudal Lords have yet to grow suspicious."
"Someone else has lost patience before the Feudal Lords have."
Atop the Northern Frontier Beacon Tower, the white-robed Daoist jerked his head up.
The burns left by the rupturing flames still marked his palm with blood. As the night wind blew, those bloody marks suddenly transformed into a white feather.
As the feather fell, the pale green line of fire linking the Northern Frontier Beacon Tower, the Grand Preceptor's Residence in Chaoge, and the Clear Gate Register before Golden Turtle Island faltered at all three points.
The White-Robed Daoist finally stopped concealing his form.
A crane's silhouette spread behind him, its feathers shining like snow, overwhelming the Northern Border's night in an instant.
Before Golden Turtle Island, all the immortals recognized it.
This was no nameless wandering cultivator's technique.
Nor was it the suppression of names by the Remnant List's ashen shadow.
This Daoist had a known affiliation.
He simply refused to reveal it yet.
The White-Robed Daoist looked toward Zhao Xuan across the mortal realm's Beacon Tower, his voice steady.
"Zhao Xuan, the hearts of the mortal realm's Feudal Lords are not for the Interception Sect to question."
"You should lay down your brush."
Zhao Xuan looked at him.
"In what capacity do you command