Rumors were like smoke.
Individually meaningless—together, impossible to ignore.
Three days after the scouts departed, the first uninvited guest arrived.
He did not fly.
He did not announce himself.
He simply walked up the mountain path, staff in hand, robes faded with age but meticulously clean.
An old cultivator.
Not weak.
Not strong.
Careful.
The outer disciples noticed him first.
"An elder?" one whispered.
"No sect emblem," another replied cautiously.
Before anyone could react further, Xuan Wei's calm voice echoed from the stone steps.
"Let him pass."
The old cultivator paused mid-step.
A flicker of surprise crossed his face.
Then he smiled.
"So the rumors were true."
Inside the outer hall, the air felt different.
Not heavier—clearer.
The old cultivator's spiritual sense spread unconsciously… and then recoiled.
He frowned.
Strange.
There was no pressure suppressing him.
Yet his Qi refused to extend fully.
Like reaching into water that bent around his fingers.
[System Whisper]: External cultivator detected.]
[System Whisper]: Affiliation – unaffiliated wanderer.]
[System Whisper]: Intent – observation, not hostility.]
[System Whisper]: Reputation interaction opportunity detected.]
Xuan Wei gestured calmly. "Sit."
The old man obeyed without thinking—then stiffened, realizing what he had done.
He laughed softly.
"Young Sect Master… no. That title doesn't fit you."
Xuan Wei poured tea. Steam curled upward gently.
"Then call me what you wish."
The old man accepted the cup, eyes narrowing slightly.
"This mountain," he said slowly, "should be dead."
"And yet," Xuan Wei replied, "you climbed it."
Silence stretched.
Then the old man sighed.
"I have wandered Muram for three centuries. I've seen Heavenly Demons rise and Demon Gods fall."
His gaze sharpened.
"But this place… this feels like the beginning of something."
Outside, Liang Shen paused mid-cultivation.
He didn't hear voices.
He didn't sense pressure.
Yet something inside him stirred.
Like a string pulled too tight.
Shi Yun noticed immediately.
"Do not look," he said quietly. "Listening is enough."
[System Whisper]: Disciple sensitivity increasing.]
[System Whisper]: Unorthodox growth reacting to causality shift.]
Xuan Wei remained seated, expression unchanged.
"You came for answers," he said. "I don't give those freely."
The old cultivator chuckled. "Good. Anyone who does is lying."
He placed the teacup down carefully.
"I'll speak plainly then. Other sects are watching. Not because you are strong—but because you shouldn't exist."
Xuan Wei's eyes met his.
"And yet?"
"And yet you do."
Far away, within the Azure Cloud Sect, an emergency meeting was quietly convened.
Within the Crimson Demon Hall, a sealed mirror flickered once… then went dark.
And somewhere deeper still—where even Demon Gods dared not descend—an ancient will turned slightly.
[System Whisper]: Reputation Points: 47 / 50.]
[System Whisper]: Threshold approaching.]
[System Whisper]: Recommendation – controlled exposure.]
The old cultivator stood.
"I will leave," he said. "But I will also speak."
"To whom?" Xuan Wei asked.
"To those who already doubt."
A faint smile.
"That will be enough."
As the man descended the mountain, the wind shifted.
Not violently.
Not dramatically.
But decisively.
Xuan Wei watched until the figure vanished.
"Shi Yun," he said calmly.
"Yes?"
"Prepare the sect."
"For war?" Shi Yun asked, eyes sharp.
Xuan Wei shook his head.
"For visitors."
Above the mountain, clouds gathered—not storm clouds, but watchful ones.
And deep beneath the land, the dormant Secret Realm pulsed once more.
Still sealed.
Still patient.
But no longer asleep.
[System Whisper]: Major arc transition approaching.]
[System Whisper]: Sect survival probability increasing.]
Xuan Wei closed his eyes.
The world had noticed.
Now it would test them.