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Chenlin Village, Blueheart Mountain.
On the practice ground beside the ancestral hall, a dozen or so figures leaned against red-lacquered corridor pillars or stood before white marble steps, all gazing at the stone gate deep within the grounds, carved with soul beast reliefs.
The morning mist had yet to disperse, and faint wisps of soul power seeped through the cracks in the stone gate.
At the main entrance on the second floor.
Xia Yun sat in the shaded side of the gallery with his arms crossed. Zhuang Mocheng rubbed the black jade thumb ring on his finger as he leisurely drank tea. Tempted by a drink, Wang Wei took out his wine flask, only to tuck it away again. Chen Xiaojun kept them company, gently waving a folding fan, faint ripples of soul power flowing across the rivers and mountains painted on its surface.
Xia Yun raised his brows slightly and teased, "Brother Zhuang, I imagine you're suffering and enjoying yourself at the same time right now."
Zhuang Mocheng shook his head helplessly and replied with a rueful smile, "We have your Chen Clan to thank for taking the lead with donations, followed closely by the Glazed Tile Merchant Guild. These days, visitors have practically worn through the threshold of the academy's reception room."
"The crests of the Ten Great Families, purple-gold invitations from the Myriad Treasures Pavilion-even people from Soul Fighting City have come flocking in. Their invitations are stacked neatly on the sandalwood table, all asking to discuss 'strategic donation partnerships.'"
Just what schemes were these old foxes hatching?
Which soul master wasn't a big spender? They were all future patrons-if not patrons already!
At the Chen Clan's "suggestion," the Glazed Tile Merchant Guild had booked fifty mu of land in