Chapter 752: Gazing Down from the Pavilion

The Jian Academy had about thirty people, with over ten small tables arranged beneath a faux rock, each seated by two or three individuals, scattered but mostly filled.

Pei Ye led Li Tishui inside, greeted them with two calls, and people shifted slightly to clear a small table for the two. He now held considerable prestige in the Jian Academy; many smiled and nodded in greeting.

Indeed, it was bustling and lively—pavilions and terraces lined the pond, tiered in height, countless small tables scattered or clustered, most already occupied, their wearers dressed in varied hues and radiating distinct demeanors. Servants moved swiftly and orderly, guiding guests and serving tea.

Two swordsmen were already dueling on the pond, advancing and retreating, their blades sending up white droplets that glittered brilliantly in the morning sun.

“If you’re below the Fourth Life, you can’t step onto the field,” Pei Ye said.

Nearby, Chu Shuiting replied: “I doubt even Third Life friends are eager to fight.”

Ning Shuhong added: “I’d be surprised if there were twenty Third Lifes in the whole garden.”

Though they spoke to Pei Ye, their eyes kept drifting to the veiled woman beside him. She sat quietly, bearing an air of distinction, speaking to no one and meeting no gaze, merely observing the surroundings—only the faint outline of a sword shape visible atop her knees beneath her spring robe.

“This is an elder friend of mine,” Pei Ye said. “She prefers not to be seen.”

Li Tishui turned her head and gave a slight nod to the group.

They nodded as if understanding, each bowing with clasped fists.

Among a group of women on the other side, Jiang Yiner kept glancing back at him. Only after the young man finished his greetings and looked over did she smile at him, then glance twice more at the woman beside him with faint curiosity.

Pei Ye smiled at her; the girl turned her head away.

“Is that Jiang Yiner?” Li Tishui asked.

“Mm. She’s my younger sister-in-the-way.”

“So pure and lovely,” Li Tishui gazed at the girl’s nape. “She radiates brilliance—clearly a sword prodigy.”

Pei Ye glanced at her: “Shall I call Yiner over to join us?”

Li Tishui fell silent a moment, then shook her head: “No. Don’t mention me to her or Xiang Suyu. Just watch the Sword Banquet. Today, let’s not pry into each other’s affairs—about the sword matches here, you can ask me anything.”

Pei Ye nodded.

The Jian Academy’s location was relatively quiet and centrally positioned, offering excellent views. Pei Ye scanned briefly; though seated within a garden with assigned spots, closer inspection revealed clear distinctions of inner and outer, high and low.

Many small and medium sects occupied the outer ring—roughly dozens to nearly a hundred—youthful men and women clustered around their elders in lively groups. Yet each sect received few invitations, only three or five per family; many came with just master and disciple. Among them mingled various martial luminaries and sons of prominent families from the Capital.

The inner ring, by contrast, was sparser—figures from the Thirty-Three Sword Sects began to appear.

Pei Ye recognized many—Qingcheng, whose attire was neither quite Daoist nor not; Huashan, in pale green and white; Xiaoyunshan, whose faces were familiar; and beside it, naturally, Dayunshan.

Then came Cangshan, Taihang… Pei Ye’s gaze suddenly halted—he spotted Kongdong. Kong Lanting, Guan Qianyan, and Zhang Jingbi were all there, but seated at its head was a man Pei Ye had never seen: copper-skinned, with deep-set features, roughly the same age as Zhu Ge.

At that moment, the man seemed to sense Pei Ye’s gaze and looked over. The three froze for a moment, then simultaneously broke into delighted expressions; Guan Qianyan nearly leapt up and waved.

Seeing old friends brought Pei Ye warmth; he smiled and waved back. The young man looked over, then his junior disciples leaned in to whisper something; he nodded and smiled in return.

Tianshan, Kunlun, the Daoist sect, and the Jian Academy itself were all within this inner ring. Beyond that, only six spots remained.

Each group held about a dozen people; Pei Ye knew almost none. Some were aloof, some serene, some coldly distant… Soon his gaze locked onto a silent man with long hair and a sword on his back—he had never seen the face, but he remembered the man.

The black fox mask of Huanlou. The ruler of the Youdu lineage of Beihai Mansion.

But Chen Quan was not seated beside him.

At the very center, a few small tables clustered together stood out prominently—six young people sat there.

Chen Quan was one of them.

Pei Ye did not recognize the other four, but the final figure stirred a strange familiarity—a woman with hair pinned and long robe, her face pale and clear, eyes like autumn water, eyebrows slightly downturned, exuding ethereal gentleness.

Her posture was elegant and upright, yet she seemed like a statue—gaze fixed, head bowed, sword clutched, utterly motionless.

Pei Ye frowned, studying her for a moment, but before he could ponder further, a pale white robe appeared at his side, accompanied by a sound like chime beads: “Young Master Pei, we meet again.”

Pei Ye looked up to see Shi Zanxue’s clear, smiling face.

She was dressed especially beautifully today—though of course, no trace of adornment was visible—carrying a flask of clear wine, placing it on Pei Ye’s table: “Young Master Pei, today has been so busy—I was supposed to greet you at the gate, but didn’t expect you weren’t with the Jian Academy group, so I missed you—here, fine wine. Only ten flasks in the garden today. Consider it my apology.”

This was no empty words; early that morning, sword disciples had seen this woman waiting at the gate, inquiring after Young Master Pei. Jiang Yiner told her Pei would come later, and only then did she depart.

Pei Ye laughed in surprise: “What apology is needed—Miss Shi, do you have some odd habit of apologizing to people?”

Shi Zanxue widened her eyes, half-angry, half-amused: “Young Master Pei, can you say something pleasant? Who has such an odd habit? Give it back if you won’t drink.”

Pei Ye quickly pressed his hand down: “No going back on your word.”

The woman dropped her feigned anger, glanced at Li Tishui beside him, but did not ask Pei Ye anything; instead, she bowed respectfully. Li Tishui nodded to her in return.

Then Shi Zanxue crouched briefly near the table, closer now: “Young Master Pei, they’ve reserved a seat for you over there—why sit here?”

She gestured toward the group of young people at the center.

“...I’m fine here. I don’t know them.”

Shi Zanxue nodded, explaining: “This Sword Banquet is mainly for networking, not competition. The process is simple—due to the large number, there are no strict rules. It proceeds from small sects to large ones; whoever wishes to duel may step up. Winners who wish to stay may remain, and so on, round after round, letting swordsmen show themselves and everyone enjoy the spectacle.”

“Hmm. So what’s our order?”

Shi Zanxue thought: “The Jian Academy should be number eighty-nine. We’re already at seventeen—but that’s not entirely reliable. Once the Thirty-Three Sword Sects begin, few remain. Everyone knows each other; they duel among themselves, and order hardly matters anymore.”

She pointed at the invitation on Pei Ye’s table: “There is one rule, limiting how many times one may fight. Each invitation has gold lines drawn on it—one line means one fight, two lines mean two fights… Young Master Pei’s here has no gold lines…”

“...I’m not allowed to fight?”

Shi Zanxue smiled: “These two characters are joined: ‘Jie Xu.’ Young Master Pei, whenever you wish to fight, just step up. I’m sure everyone will be delighted to see you.”

“...Miss Shi, you’re being so courteous and gentle now—I’m not used to it,” Pei Ye said. “It’s as if I’ve become someone extraordinary.”

“Young Master Pei is extraordinary now,” Shi Zanxue smiled. “And wasn’t I always gentle with you?”

Pei Ye thought: “True. You’ve always treated me this way. Maybe I was overthinking it.”

Shi Zanxue smiled, leaned closer, whispering: “Perhaps in the future, I’ll treat you even differently.”

The words bordered on intimacy. Pei Ye stared at her, but the woman rose from the table, and in Li Tishui’s intrigued gaze, departed.

“They even use beauty traps,” Li Tishui murmured, then added, “Good thing we have one too.”

Pei Ye’s widened eyes turned to her.

…

The garden wasn’t small, but not vast either. Since they were on the outer edge, they needed higher ground to see the full view.

After all, this was the Tianshan Sword Banquet; martial sects naturally dominated the main stage. These Capital youths were positioned slightly behind, waiting until the banquet ended and guests wandered the garden to approach the swordsmen they admired.

Fortunately, Director Cui held high status and had secured a two-story pavilion, its corridor extending to a side building, jutting into the garden—a perfect viewing spot.

With the new Vice Director Li’s far-reaching influence, the number of people entering the society reached a staggering twenty-three. Early that morning, they gathered together, and Vice Director Li personally waited at the gate to lead them here, chatting briefly before departing.

Then they watched as disciples from various sword sects entered the garden one by one, searching ceaselessly for Young Master Pei’s figure.

To be honest, though they all knew what he looked like, none had ever seen him in person. Though seeing so many fresh sword disciples and long-famed figures was interesting enough, they still most eagerly awaited Young Master Pei’s appearance.

Once some had figured out seating, they debated fiercely where Pei Ye would sit—mainly between the fervent supporters and the rational analysts.

Now, over twenty girls stood shoulder to shoulder along the railing, gazing in the same direction.

A scholar and a young master were squeezed into a corner; normally they would scold each other for extravagance or snobbery, but now they stood side by side in silent stillness.

The girls’ chatter was undoubtedly a vivid pigment in the world of sound, capable of drowning out most pale tones—but fortunately, it was bright, and thus easier to bear than others.

Just then, as the sun rose higher, that figure suddenly appeared in their vision.

Everyone was instantly thrilled—this was the first time they saw Young Master Pei’s true face. Though distant, he matched the portraits exactly: simple attire, clear features, pale brown eyes full of spirit, sword in hand, a beautiful little black cat on his shoulder.

He walked steadily toward his seat; everyone was excited.

A living Young Master Pei.

But soon someone asked: “Who is the person beside Young Master Pei?”

Everyone fell silent. Those on the left looked right; those on the right looked left—all eyes turned to Director Cui.

The seemingly omniscient Director Cui frowned, chin resting on her hand: “A friend… Young Master Pei is an excellent swordsman; many admire him.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Then they saw Young Master Pei enter, sword disciples laughing and making room for him; they grew even happier, discussing Pei Ye’s status in the Jian Academy and the martial world—this living Pei Ye was a novelty to the Society; everyone observed carefully, analyzed deeply—not just Pei Ye, but also his companions.

Then they saw who Pei Ye was closest to: after sitting down and exchanging greetings, he quickly met the gaze of a girl in the front row, eagerly waiting—both smiled warmly at each other, with subtle eye contact.

The girl was truly beautiful. Those on the left looked right; those on the right looked left, and again asked: “Who is she?”

“Is Young Master Pei seeing someone?”

“They seem very close.”

Cui Zhaoye replied calmly: “Don’t speculate rashly. That’s the White Dragon, Jiang Yiner—my good friend. She and Young Master Pei are family friends, like brother and sister.”

“Oh.” Everyone felt embarrassed by their misunderstanding.

But soon Young Master Pei greeted someone else on the other side.

Everyone turned their gaze—across the pond, a girl nearly leapt up.

“...Who is she now?” Everyone looked again at the Director.

“...” Cui Zhaoye frowned. “Kongdong’s… who…?”

Even Director Cui couldn’t answer. Everyone fell silent, watching the distant Young Master Pei.

Then, soon after, a pale white robe appeared beside the young man again.

She was ethereally beautiful, jade swallow earrings dangling, offering Pei Ye a flask of wine, crouching down, chatting warmly with him, their laughter faintly visible, even her playful scolding discernible.

She was ethereally beautiful, with jade phoenix earrings, offering Pei Ye a flask of wine, then crouching down to chat warmly with him, her faint pout barely visible.

Cui Zhaoye fell silent a moment, brows tightly knitted: “Tianshan… a Jade Maiden… not Shuangcheng, not Young Master, not Feiqiong…”

The pavilion fell quiet. Then the noble young lady, dressed especially well today, whispered softly: “Director Cui, tell me—was it true that Young Master Pei didn’t go drinking at the brothels before the Zhuque Sword Bet?”

The pavilion fell silent for a moment, then the well-dressed daughter of a official whispered, “Chief Cui, tell me—on that day before the Vermilion Bird Sword Wager, did Pei Ye really not go to visit courtesans?”

Qu Xin, leaning on the edge, spoke calmly: “If you find it boring, let Young Master Pei drink at brothels, stay at courtesan houses, sleep with whichever girl he wants—he’s still the best swordsman in the Capital.”

Her expression was calm, her tone decisive—she was the Society’s most loyal, steadfast supporter.

Cui Zhaoye nearly blurted out, “Exactly!”

Cui Zhao nearly chimed in with a “Exactly!”