The female cultivator stood before the table in the cabin, smiling at them.
She wore plain robes and held a scroll. Her curved brows and eyes showed not a trace of sharpness. She was like a warm spring breeze, yet retained a courteous distance, giving the impression of a scholar steeped in books.
But Fan Lingrong knew full well that this was merely the image she currently wished others to see.
As early as half a year ago, Fan Lingrong had come into contact with this female cultivator. Yet even now, whenever she saw her, she always felt that a haze veiled that peerlessly beautiful face, leaving it dim and indistinct—just like her name:
Murong Qingyan.
The moment they met, Bai Qinghui burst into an adorable pout. "Sister Qingyan, Lei Tong was being so rude just now, and you did not help me!"
Murong Qingyan set down her scroll. She first nodded to Fan Lingrong, then spoke gently, "How was I supposed to help?"
"Hmph, hmph. Sister, all you needed to say was, 'Young Master Tong is being exceedingly rude. If he is not punished, the Lei clan will get no share of the Mirage Tower...' Old Master Rong and my family's ancestor would surely raise both hands in approval!"
Murong Qingyan could not help laughing. Her mild, graceful smile was like that of an elder sister facing a mischievous younger one. "And then the agreement between our two sides would die aborning under Ancestor Lei's vehement opposition, would it not?"
"How could that be!"
Bai Qinghui shook her head fiercely. "Without a great shaman like you, Sister Qingyan, what right would the Lei clan have to carve out territory in the Mirage Tower? When the time comes, never mind my family and the Rong family—even the other clans could