Chapter 11: Gentle and Innocent:
"A single word, spoken with conviction, can defy the weight of ten thousand doubts. And sometimes, the sharpest blade wears the gentlest smile."
—
"Humph. I've never seen someone more shameless. Just a piece of trash—what is there to be so proud of?"
A mocking voice sliced through the murmuring crowd like a sharp gust of wind—cold, sarcastic, and dripping with disdain.
It came from none other than the young master of Leishen Sect, Shen Jinyan—absent since the welcome banquet at the Moon-Reflecting Pavilion, yet now returning with venom sharpened on his tongue.
Amid the ripple of startled gasps, footsteps halted.
Feng Yusheng, who had been walking with quiet grace toward the ceremonial platform, stopped mid-step.
His gaze, calm and unreadable, settled briefly on Shen Jinyan. Then, wordless, he turned his eyes to Wei Yehan.
He said nothing—but the pause alone was enough.
As if even the second young master of Lianfeng Sect found the words too bitter, too cruel.
However, it seemed that Shen Jinyan didn't noticed the shift in the air as he continued, "Strutting into the ceremony like he belongs here—when all he's ever done is cling to Longling Pavilion's coattails like a spirit leech. If not for Ling Zheming, who would've protected a bastard child who can't even cultivate?"
His words grew more poisonous with each breath, his gaze fixed on Wei Yehan with unveiled contempt.
The atmosphere shifted.
The few disciples from Longling Pavilion—who had joined with Young Master Jian and Young Master Yue in teasing Wei Yehan a while ago—now stood stiffly. Their expressions darkened. No matter how they mocked him in private, Wei Yehan was still the younger brother, their Young master acknowledge. How could they allow an outsider to insult him so brazenly?
Su Jin narrowed his eyes and stepped forward. "Young Master Shen, please watch your words. Wei-gongzi is not someone you may mock at your convenience."
"That's right," Meng Ke added, his voice edged with indignation. "As you said—he is protected by our young master. Even if you don't care about Wei-gongzi, show some respect to Ling-gongzi. Your words are downright insulting."
His stance was clear: he might bully his own sect's disciples—but others had no right.
In the response to their fierce protectiveness of Wei Yehan, Shen Jinyan merely smiled, tone cooling into something smooth and sharpened like the edge of a blade. He no longer shouted—he didn't need to. Just a few choice words, and the seed of doubt would be planted.
"Hmph. And here I thought the master of Longling Pavilion didn't favor his illegitimate son."
He let the words hang in the air, light and casual—too casual.
"Strange, isn't it? How one without cultivation, without even a spiritual core, is placed alongside the most promising talents from every sect. If that isn't favor, then what is?"
He turned his gaze toward the platform, where the elders sat in silence.
"Ah, but perhaps I've misunderstood. After all, I'm sure Longling Pavilion has its reasons. Transparent ones, no doubt."
A faint chuckle escaped him, soft and dismissive. As if he'd said nothing at all.
But the silence that followed was far from empty.
The elders seated atop the high platform shifted uncomfortably in their seats. A quiet stir rippled through their ranks as their gazes turned, almost in unison, toward Elder Qingxu. After all, it had been he who proposed placing the four young masters into the same group.
At the time, Elder Qingxu had claimed it was to test the strengths and compatibility of the future leaders of the cultivation world. Yet now, in light of Shen Jinyan's thinly veiled insinuation, his intentions seemed less noble. If this was truly about talent, then why had Shen Jinyan—the legitimate heir of the Leishen Sect, known for his strength and spiritual power—not been included? Why choose Wei Yehan, someone without cultivation or a known spiritual core?
It hadn't struck them as odd then. But now…
Doubt crept into their expressions. Their gazes flickered between Elder Lei Han of Leishen Sect and Elder Qingxu of Lianfeng Sect, as though expecting a confrontation—perhaps even hoping for one. Surely, Lei Han, known for his strict nature and fierce protectiveness over Shen Jinyan, would speak up on behalf of his junior.
But to their surprise, Elder Lei Han turned not to Qingxu—but to Shen Jinyan.
"Xiao Yan," he said coolly, his voice level, but firm. "Watch your words. This is not the place to fling reckless accusations. Whatever affairs lie within Longling Pavilion, it is not our place to question them."
His words were calm, but their implication landed hard.
He didn't deny the accusation.
He didn't refute the insinuation.
Instead, he distanced himself with cold neutrality—quietly validating, in the minds of many, the notion that Shen Jinyan may have simply spoken what others had chosen not to say.
The ceremonial ground seemed to still. Every gaze began to shift—first toward Wei Yehan, who stood unmoved and quiet, then slowly toward Ling Zheming, who stood a short distance from the Ceremonial Platform.
Feng Tingshen stood at his side, along with several senior disciples from the other sects who had come to observe the proceedings. Their expressions varied—surprise, doubt, scrutiny, calculation.
But every one of them looked to Ling Zheming now, as if awaiting a response.
As if demanding an answer.
Under countless gazes, Ling Zheming stood indifferent and expressionless. As the elder and junior duo put their performance, his eyes met Wei Yehan's—who merely shrugged in response, as if the entire scene had nothing to do with him.
Even under such pressure, his nonchalant attitude made Ling Zheming twitch his lips faintly and shake his head. A rare softness appearing in his always indifferent eyes.
Once assured that his younger brother hadn't taken their words to heart, Ling Zheming's gaze swept sharply toward the elders on the high pavilion, then landed coldly on Shen Jinyan.
That cold and piercing look sent a faint tremor through the Leishen Sect disciples standing behind Shen Jinyan.
Ling Zheming curled his lips into a mocking smile and let out a low chuckle.
"Shen-gongzi," he said lightly, "I happen to agree with Elder Lei Han's advice—you really should watch your words and mind your business. What goes on within Longling Pavilion, and how my father treats my younger brother, has nothing to do with you—or anyone else, for that matter."
He paused, his eyes sweeping deliberately across the ceremonial platform, as if warning every watching elder and disciple to think twice before provoking his brother.
"And as for why Xiao Han was placed with Second Young Master Feng, Young Master Yue, and Young Master Jian—and not you—if you have any doubts, you should take them directly to the elders who made the decision, rather than slinging underhanded remarks at my gentle and innocent brother," Ling Zheming said coolly, his cold and detached voice slicing through the stillness of the ceremonial platform.
The moment the words gentle and innocent fell from his lips, a wave of stunned silence swept across the crowd like a gust of wind snuffing out every last flicker of sound.
Not a single person moved.
Wide eyes glanced at each other in disbelief, as if trying to confirm that they had all heard the same absurd thing.
Gentle? Innocent? Wei Yehan?
Ling Zheming's unwavering favoritism was so barefaced, so absurd, it left everyone momentarily speechless.
Feng Tingshen stared at Ling Zheming like he'd grown a second head. "Ling-gongzi, have some conscience," he said, his voice tight with disbelief. "That sharp blade hiding behind you—how could you possibly call that 'gentle and innocent'? Seriously?"
Even Feng Yusheng, who had been standing calmly a few steps ahead, turned slightly—casting a subtle glance back at Wei Yehan, as if trying to see from which absurd angle Ling Zheming could possibly see him as "gentle and innocent."
As the entire ceremonial platform turned their gazes toward Wei Yehan—with disbelief, scrutiny, disdain, and barely concealed mockery in their eyes—he, in response, immediately raised a hand to his cheek, tilted his head ever so slightly, and blinked twice—earnestly attempting to appear exactly as described, in the most exaggerated I'm-innocent-I-swear way possible..
Jian Qingzhou gave a discreet cough into his sleeve, his tone light as he commented,
"Looking at Wei-gongzi from this angle… he truly does seem the 'gentle and innocent' type."
The shift in attention from Shen Jinyan's earlier slander to Wei Yehan's composed expression was swift. Yue Chenxiao seized the moment to intervene as well, voice breezy,
"Otherwise? You think our dragon Ling-gongzi would lie just to support his younger brother?"
It was meant to divert tension, but instead, Yue Chenxiao's remark earned him a flurry of side glances and narrowed eyes.
Those glances didn't need words. They all seemed to say: "Your Ling-gongzi really was lying."
But no one dared speak it aloud. Not in front of Wei Yehan's "gentle and innocent" face, which remained untouched by the storm, framed in graceful silence.
In the midst of the awkward laughter and stifled tension, a few individuals—the very ones who had tried to sow discord between Longling Pavilion and the other sects—were conveniently forgotten, their schemes left unattended as the focus slipped quietly away.
Shen Jinyan's expression cracked like a lacquered mask. For a breath, the glint of hatred flared in his eyes—but only for a breath.
He bowed his head slightly, lips pressed into a pale line, and stepped back into the crowd, unnoticed and ignored.
No one was looking anymore.
At the high platform- Elder Qingxu and Elder Lei Han exchanged the glances.
—
Inside the old shrine...
Deep within the crumbling shrine, cloaked figures stood around a withered altar, their eyes fixed on the dimming glow of a spirit lantern.
"The seed of doubt did not take root," one of them muttered, voice low and bitter.
Silence stretched, heavy and thick.
Then the second whispered with insincere regret, "We missed our chance to divide them before they entered the Spirit Realm.."
Fingers traced a broken rune etched into the altar's base. It pulsed once, faintly, like a dying ember.
"But it is not over yet. When they step into the Spirit Realm…" A smile curled beneath the hood, slow and cruel.
"We will make them bleed where it matters most—each other."