Mistress Zhuzhao raised a slender willow brow. "Oh—?

For whom?" "The Wang family of Penglai," Li Muzhan replied. Mei Ruolan's expression shifted, her desire to speak checked by hesitation.

Mistress Zhuzhao’s willow brows knitted together. "The Wang family of Penglai?...

Did Martial Grand-Uncle ask you to deliver a message to the Wang family of Penglai?" Li Muzhan nodded. "Yes, to Wang Xiu'e of the Wang family of Penglai." Mistress Zhuzhao's brows furrowed even tighter, and she snorted.

"Do you even know who Wang Xiu'e is?" Seeing Li Muzhan shake his head, she elaborated, "Wang Xiu'e is the matriarch of the Wang family of Penglai, the most senior in generation, about the same age as Martial Grand-Uncle." Li Muzhan let slip a meaningful smile. "Oh—?" Mistress Zhuzhao pursed her lips in a slight smile, then composed herself, her face turning stern.

"The old lady is no gentle soul, you must be very careful not to offend her." Li Muzhan laughed. "Master, rest assured, I am merely delivering a message, how could I possibly offend her?" "Hmph, that's not necessarily true." Mistress Zhuzhao disagreed, glancing at the other women present.

"For what I say next, you may listen, but do not speak of it outside." "Yes," the women nodded, looking at her with curiosity. Mistress Zhuzhao scanned the surroundings to ensure privacy.

Li Muzhan smiled. "Master, relax, no one else is near.

Great-Grand-Uncle is not here." Although his mind and body had been dedicated solely to swordsmanship this past year, his internal energy hadn't improved much; however, his intuition had sharpened considerably. He would have sensed Great-Grand-Uncle’s presence if he had emerged.

Mistress Zhuzhao shot him a look and coughed. "It is rumored that Wang Xiu'e and Martial Grand-Uncle were once lovers.

Later, they became estranged and parted ways... though they still exchange letters from time to time." Li Muzhan smiled faintly, as if to say, 'Just as I suspected.' Mistress Zhuzhao continued, "Your journey to deliver the message is fraught with unpredictable fortune.

Wang Xiu'e's feelings toward Martial Grand-Uncle—a mix of love and hatred—are hard to decipher. Should you stumble, she might vent her anger upon you." Li Muzhan chuckled.

"Master, don't worry, I know what I'm doing." "Hmph, you are bold and reckless; you haven't caused little trouble, have you?!" Mistress Zhuzhao huffed. Li Muzhan stroked his small mustache and laughed.

"That was when we were on the mountain, Master. Outside, I will naturally be cautious and avoid causing trouble." "I hope you keep your word," Mistress Zhuzhao glanced sideways at him.

Mei Ruolan ventured, "Second Martial Aunt, the Wang family of Penglai..." Mistress Zhuzhao smiled. "Ruolan, the Wang family of Penglai has deep ties with your Mei Manor, correct?" Mei Ruolan nodded.

"Yes." Mistress Zhuzhao said with a smile, "However, Ruolan, you had best not visit the Wang family. Among the great noble families of the world, the Wang family of Penglai is certainly prominent, but they have made too many enemies..." Mei Ruolan, being sharp and perceptive, grasped the implication immediately.

"Second Martial Aunt, is the Wang family of Penglai in trouble?" "Big trouble!" Mistress Zhuzhao snorted, shaking her head dismissively. "They have managed to provoke the Nangong Clan!

Alas... who dares provoke the Nangong Clan these days!" "Master, are we speaking of Nangong Sidao’s Nangong Clan?" Li Muzhan inquired.

Mistress Zhuzhao nodded. "Who else?

Besides Nangong Sidao, who else dares claim the title of Nangong Clan?" Li Muzhan was not surprised that his Master, presiding over Canghai Mountain, was aware of worldly affairs. But the Wang family provoking the Nangong Clan was indeed unfortunate, and moreover, the Mei Manor's close relationship with the Wang family was not something easily severed.

Without the protection of the Wang family, the Mei Manor would have been obliterated by the Helian Clan long ago. He turned to glance at Mei Ruolan and smiled.

"Miss, I shall go and see." Mistress Zhuzhao huffed. "You reckless boy, don't overreach yourself!

Do not meddle in the affairs between the Wang family and the Nangong Clan!" Li Muzhan smiled. "Yes, Master, I will handle things as they come." Mistress Zhuzhao frowned and snorted.

"Though our Canghai Mountain is vast, provoking the Nangong Clan will lead to dire consequences! Boy, do not invite endless trouble out of momentary bravado!" Li Muzhan became serious.

"Yes, Master, your disciple understands!" Mistress Zhuzhao still felt uneasy. "I hope you truly understand!

If enmity is forged with the Nangong Clan, who knows how many will perish. That old fellow Nangong Sidao is vicious and ruthless; he spares no one!" She turned to look at Wen Yinyue, her bright eyes flickering momentarily.

Wen Yinyue offered a gentle smile. "Master, Junior Brother acts with prudence and understands the larger picture.

Master need not worry." Mistress Zhuzhao chided, "You! Stop only saying the nice things!

This reckless boy acts rashly and impulsively; how can one feel at ease about him?!" Li Muzhan chuckled and stroked his small mustache. Mistress Zhuzhao sighed.

"Alas... fine.

Since Yinyue is also reassured about you, I won't say more. You travel alone; be careful on the road and avoid trouble!" "Yes, Master." Li Muzhan clasped his hands in salute and withdrew.

He exited the Wuji Hall, followed by Xiaoyuan, Gong Qingyun, and Mei Ruolan, who caught up to him and entered his small courtyard together. The four arrived at the small pavilion in the courtyard.

Xiaoyuan busied herself with brewing tea, while Mei Ruolan sat opposite Li Muzhan, Gong Qingyun beside him, and they talked. Mei Ruolan's delicate eyebrows were slightly furrowed in deep thought, remaining silent, her eyes distant and shifting, as if her spirit soared a thousand miles away, roaming everywhere.

Gong Qingyun spoke softly, inquiring about his secluded training, then explaining her own progress and Xiaoyuan’s. She had advanced her Canghai Divine Art to the fifth level and was now an officially recognized disciple.

Xiaoyuan was stuck at the third level and hadn't managed a breakthrough. Li Zongheng and Song Wenbin were also fine; they practiced diligently after entering the inner sect.

Since Li Muzhan was in seclusion, they kept their distance, only exchanging a few words occasionally in the dining hall. Li Muzhan recounted amusing anecdotes from his training, leaving Gong Qingyun astounded.

The Martial Arts Hall was the essence of Canghai Mountain, and for him to hold off nine opponents single-handedly was truly remarkable. Her delicate face was filled with envy; such a miraculous encounter was rare, and Zhanran truly possessed great fortune.

After a while, Xiaoyuan brought the tea. Mei Ruolan’s distant eyes flickered, and she returned to herself, letting out a faint sigh before lifting the cup and taking a small sip.

Li Muzhan took a sip, slowly set down his cup, and gazed at Mei Ruolan with a faint smile. Mei Ruolan smiled.

"Zhanran, you already know what I intend to say?" "How could I not know what kind of person Miss is," Li Muzhan replied, stroking his small mustache with a smile. "What do you think?" Mei Ruolan asked.

Li Muzhan smiled. "How about this: I will give it a try.

But no matter what, I am only one person, my strength is limited, and I can only do my best." "Then our sect..." Mei Ruolan asked, a faint worry shadowing her delicate brow. Li Muzhan waved his hand with a smile.

"I have my own plans, Miss, rest assured." Mei Ruolan trusted him completely, nodded, and smiled. "Mm, then I leave it to you.

Alright, you should rest well now; we are leaving." With that, she left the pavilion. Xiaoyuan and Gong Qingyun, reluctant but resigned, also departed.

Li Muzhan did not detain them. Watching them leave, he too exited the small courtyard and headed straight for the back mountain, arriving at the small pavilion where he had resided for the past year.

The pavilion was empty; Lan Chunhe was gone. Li Muzhan hovered in mid-air and called out loudly, "Martial Great-Grand-Uncle..." His voice drifted out slowly, neither rushed nor slow, like waves washing onto a sandy shore—rising steadily, yet ceaseless.

A yellow shadow flashed, and Lan Chunhe appeared, snorting coldly, "Are you summoning a ghost?" Li Muzhan smiled and offered a salute with clasped hands. "Martial Great-Grand-Uncle." Lan Chunhe grunted.

"Say what you need to say, spit out whatever needs spitting, don't delay my practice!" Li Muzhan smiled. "Does Martial Great-Grand-Uncle have any token?

If I go to the Wang family without one, given the matriarch's seniority and prestige, it might not work." Lan Chunhe frowned, glared at him, and snorted. "What the hell token?

The identity of a Canghai Sword Sect disciple is enough! Do you think someone dares to impersonate us?!" Li Muzhan shook his head, his expression firm despite the smile.

Seeing his demeanor, Lan Chunhe snorted again, pulled something from his robes, and flung it out. It shot like a streak of dark light straight towards Li Muzhan’s chest.

Li Muzhan swept his long sleeve, catching it, and smiled. "Thank you, Martial Great-Grand-Uncle!" Lan Chunhe coldly huffed.

"You audacious boy, don't shame me at the Wang family! If that old woman acts out of line, give her a proper wake-up call!" Li Muzhan hesitated for a moment, then nodded with a wry smile.

Lan Chunhe cast him a sidelong glance and snorted. "Don't worry.

No matter what, she still has to save face; she won't lay a hand on you personally!" "That's good..." Li Muzhan let out a long breath of relief. Lan Chunhe waved his hand.

"Enough chatter. Get lost!" With that, a yellow shadow flashed, and he departed first.

Li Muzhan retrieved a small, obsidian-black sword from his sleeve. It seemed to be made of sandalwood, heavy in the hand, emitting a faint, elegant fragrance.

It was exquisite and delicate, intricately carved with patterns that resembled strange floral motifs he had never seen before. Li Muzhan examined it for a few moments, recognizing its quality instantly, and a spark of curiosity ignited regarding the carving technique.

The Wang family of Penglai was located in Dengzhou Prefecture. Dengzhou Prefecture bordered the sea to the east, possessing excellent geography; it had never suffered natural disasters, remaining untouched by earthquakes, severe droughts, or floods.

In the early autumn, Dengzhou was humid and pleasantly temperate. The Wang residence occupied the center of Dengzhou Prefecture.

The estate was magnificent. Standing on the pavilions within the courtyard, one could gaze north to the sea, which looked like a piece of jade.

The city walls of Dengzhou encircled it on three sides; the northern side adjoined the sea, rendering walls unnecessary. Thus, standing in the pavilions within the city, one could see the ocean directly.

The Wang estate spanned several li, occupying an entire main street—a true magnate. Compared to it, the Mei Manor was like a mere speck; it wasn't even one-fifth its size.

One clear morning, a young man arrived at the main gate of the Wang residence. He wore a flowing robe of sapphire blue and held a white jade folding fan, which he gently fanned, exuding an air of casual elegance.

He wore a skullcap adorned in the center with a piece of white jade, giving him a distinguished and refined bearing. Looking closer at his features, they were ordinary, but his skin was flawless, like polished white jade, seeming to emit a faint luminescence that commanded respect.

He stood before the main gate, assessing the two stone lions, a look of approval on his face. The main gate was studded with dozens of palm-sized bronze studs that shimmered with a dull yellow light, radiating an imposing aura.

Coupled with the two lifelike, fierce lions, ordinary folk dared not approach. Four middle-aged men stood guard at the gate, clad in white satin fitted jackets, long sabers at their waists, their expressions fierce.

Upon spotting the young man, the four exchanged glances, their right hands resting on their saber hilts. Their bodies tensed instantly, their eyes flashing sharply, almost tangibly.

A horse-faced middle-aged man stepped forward, cupped his fist, and said in a deep voice, "Esteemed young master, may I ask your name and the purpose of your visit to our humble residence?" The blue-robed youth looked at him and offered a faint smile that felt like a spring breeze. "Brave warrior, is this the renowned Wang family of Penglai?" The horse-faced man nodded.

"Indeed, this is the Wang residence." "Then that is correct," the blue-robed youth nodded. He took an object from his robe—a small, dark-colored sword, palm-sized—and presented it.

"Please present this item to the Wang family Matriarch for viewing." "And your name, young master?" The horse-faced man hesitated for a moment before accepting it, still inquiring. The blue-robed youth smiled, shaking his head.

"The Matriarch will know my identity upon seeing this." "Very well, please wait, young master!" The horse-faced man bowed slightly and entered through a side door nearby. Li Muzhan stood before the main gate of the Penglai Wang residence, admiring the two lions.

He felt the master craftsman’s work was truly exceptional. Now skilled in painting, he knew that carving and painting were inseparable, sharing underlying principles.

In his mind’s eye, the two stone lions seemed to shake their long manes and let out a roar—a magnificent presence, as if ready to tear him to shreds. Such skill, such profound artistry, made Li Muzhan admit his own inferiority.

A moment later, the horse-faced man emerged and approached respectfully. "Young hero, the Matriarch requests your presence!" Li Muzhan was about to clasp his hands in salute but quickly switched to cupping his fist instead, saying with a smile, "Thank you for your trouble; please lead the way!" He followed the horse-faced man through three courtyards.

Each courtyard was spacious and grand, possessing a rugged style distinct from the scenery in the south. Soon, they reached a great hall, imposing and magnificent in its scale.

Even the water-spouts on the eaves were much larger than those in the south. The horse-faced man called out loudly, "Reporting to the Matriarch, the visitor has arrived." "Come in," a woman's voice sounded from inside.

Li Muzhan judged the voice to belong to a woman around fifty years old. It wasn't loud, yet it carried explosive power that made his eardrums subtly throb.

Such profound internal strength did not match the perceived age. Li Muzhan suspected this must be the Wang family matriarch—Wang Xiu'e.

The horse-faced man bowed and gestured. Li Muzhan nodded and stepped inside.

The hall was vast, capable of holding hundreds of people. On the central wall hung a painting titled 'Crane and Pine Wishing Longevity,' and beneath it, a Grand Tutor's chair and an Eight Immortals table made the furnishings look rather diminutive.

Seated in the Grand Tutor's chair was a middle-aged woman with an oval face, fair skin, only faint crow's feet at the corners of her eyes, and no other wrinkles, projecting an image of dignity and grace. Two rows of high-backed chairs were arranged before her, occupied by about a dozen people, young and old.