Mountain-Calming Peak, main hall.
The atmosphere was oppressively tense.
The nine bell chimes had long since faded, yet their echoes seemed to still reverberate among the peaks.
Sect Master Qin Feng sat upright in the seat of honor, his fingers tapping the armrest now and then.
To his left, Grand Elder Meng Tianzheng sat with his eyes closed and head lowered.
He was the old man who had witnessed Ye Xingchen slapping Shen Yuan that day, Li Huairen's master.
The masters of the seven peaks stood in rows along either side, their expressions varied.
At the center of the hall stood a dense, dark mass of people.
The nine true disciples stood in front, with a hundred core disciples behind them.
These First Saint Sect geniuses, who normally held their heads high above the clouds, now stood straighter than spears. They did not even dare let their eyes wander, afraid they might provoke the sect master's displeasure.
They were waiting.
They had already waited for two quarters of an hour.
A faint unrest began to stir through the crowd, like an undercurrent surging beneath still waters.
"What airs."
Someone's lips moved, their voice lowered to a near-whisper.
"The nine bell chimes are the sect's emergency summons. Who would dare be late?"
"Who else could it be? That newly appointed Tenth True Disciple."
Xiao Lin, the First True Disciple standing at the very front, held his back ramrod straight. He did not turn around, but his right thumb unconsciously pushed against his sword guard. The blade slid out an inch, flashing with cold light, before he viciously pressed it back in.
The other true disciples wore expressions so gloomy they seemed capable of wringing out water.
Making the sect master, the grand elder, the masters of seven peaks, and over a