CHAPTER 44: CHAPTER 44 - ELDER FENG IS VERY DOMINATING

The pavilion went dead silent.

Dual cultivation was known to every cultivator, but it was rarely discussed openly. The intimate nature of the practice made it a taboo subject in formal settings, especially mixed gatherings like this one.

"Dual cultivation?" Zhou Fatty’s voice cracked slightly. "You mean... you mean you..."

"Shared spiritual essence through intimate connection," I confirmed matter-of-factly. "Energy exchange through physical and emotional bonding. It’s an ancient technique, well-documented in classical texts, highly effective when practiced correctly."

Zhao Ling’s face had gone pale. "That’s... that’s improper. Scandalous. The sect has rules about such things!"

"Rules about cultivation methods?" I raised an eyebrow. "How strange. I thought the Immortal Sect prided itself on pursuing all paths to enlightenment. Are you suggesting that certain classical techniques should be forbidden simply because they make some people uncomfortable?"

Zhang Mei was watching this exchange with fascination, her information broker instincts clearly intrigued by the implications.

"Dual cultivation is legal," she said slowly, "though rarely practiced openly. The intimate requirements... make it challenging for most cultivators to pursue."

"Exactly," I agreed. "Which is why most people dismiss it as ancient nonsense. They can’t imagine achieving the necessary emotional and spiritual intimacy, so they assume it doesn’t work." I gestured to my companions again. "These results suggest otherwise."

Jian Wei wasn’t finished. "Even if such methods work," he said through gritted teeth, "the... the moral implications... taking advantage of young women, coercing them into degrading acts..."

Lin Yue’s laugh was sharp as a blade. "Coercing?" She stepped forward, her aura flaring slightly. "Little boy, I could break your neck before you finished drawing that sword. If I’m here, it’s because I choose to be."

"And I," Mei Ling added quietly, "have found more respect and advancement with this man than in fifteen years of palace service. Judge the results, not your assumptions."

The assembled disciples were clearly struggling to process this information. Some looked scandalized, others intrigued, and a few appeared to be making rapid mental calculations about the practical applications.

That’s when Liu Wei made his move.

I’d been peripherally aware of the former guard captain throughout the ceremony, watching him fidget and sweat as he tried to remain inconspicuous. Now, perhaps seeing an opportunity in the chaos, he rose from his distant table and approached our group.

"Honored guests," he said formally, his voice carefully controlled, "perhaps this discussion would be better continued in private? The morning grows late, and there are other ceremonies to attend..."

His suggestion was reasonable on the surface, but I caught the desperation in his eyes. He was trying to end the conversation before it went further, probably afraid that continued attention might expose his own secrets.

"Guard Captain Liu Wei," I said pleasantly, watching him freeze as if struck by lightning. "How thoughtful of you to be concerned about our schedule."

Every eye in the pavilion swung toward him, disciples suddenly realizing that someone they’d dismissed as a minor sect member had just been identified by title and name.

Liu Wei’s face went ashen. "I... that is... I’m not sure what you mean..."

"Oh, come now," I said with mock disappointment. "Surely you remember our previous association? Though I suppose you’ve reinvented yourself since those days. Palace guard to sect disciple—quite an impressive transformation."

The implications hung in the air like poison gas. A palace guard who’d somehow ended up in the Immortal Sect suggested connections, possibly treason, definitely secrets that some people would kill to keep hidden.

Zhang Mei leaned forward intently. "Captain Liu? That’s an interesting background for a cultivation student. How exactly did you make the transition?"

Liu Wei looked like a trapped animal, his eyes darting around the pavilion as if seeking escape routes. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the morning coolness.

"I... the old regime fell... I sought new opportunities..." he stammered.

"New opportunities," I repeated thoughtfully. "Yes, I suppose betraying your oath and helping murderers seize the throne would open certain doors. Especially if you brought valuable information with you."

The accusation landed like a physical blow. Liu Wei staggered backward, his cultivator composure cracking completely.

"That’s... that’s not... I never..." he protested weakly.

"Never what?" I pressed, my voice hardening. "Never betrayed your emperor? Never sold information to his enemies? Never helped orchestrate the murder of an entire family?"

The pavilion had gone deadly quiet. Even the morning breeze seemed to have stilled, as if nature itself was listening to the unfolding drama.

Jian Wei tried to intervene, stepping between me and the panicking Liu Wei. "These are serious accusations," he said loudly. "Made without evidence, in a sacred space, against a member of our sect. I demand—"

"You demand?" I turned my attention to him with dangerous calm. "How interesting. Tell me, Jian Wei, what gives you the authority to make demands here? Last I checked, you were an inner disciple, not an elder."

Before he could respond, a new voice cut through the tension like a blade through silk.

"Indeed. Most interesting."

Elder Feng Lianhua materialized at the pavilion’s entrance as if condensed from the morning mist itself. Her obsidian robes flowed around her like liquid shadow, and her pale eyes held an arctic chill that made the assembled disciples collectively shiver.

She moved with predatory grace toward our gathering, her presence immediately shifting the pavilion’s entire dynamic. Disciples bowed deeply as she passed, but she ignored them completely, her attention fixed on our small drama.

"Elder Feng," Zhang Mei stammered, rising hastily from her seat. "We weren’t expecting—"

"Clearly," Feng replied coolly. Her gaze swept across the assembly, taking in the scattered tea cups, the nervous disciples, and the obvious tension hanging in the air. "I came to check on our guests and found... this. How enlightening."

She stopped directly in front of Liu Wei, who looked ready to collapse from pure terror.

"Guard Captain Liu Wei," she said softly, her voice carrying clearly across the silent pavilion. "Yes, I know who you are. Did you really think we wouldn’t investigate everyone in our guest’s party?"

Liu Wei opened his mouth, but only a strangled sound emerged.

"The question," Feng continued, "is why you’ve been hiding your identity. And why our guest seems so... familiar... with your background."

All eyes turned back to me. This was the moment—the test that would determine whether I could truly navigate sect politics or if I’d overplayed my hand.

I rose slowly, meeting Feng’s pale gaze with steady confidence.

"Elder Feng," I said formally, "I believe we have much to discuss."

Her lips curved in what might have been a smile, though it held all the warmth of winter moonlight.

"Indeed we do," she replied. "Indeed we do."

The tea ceremony was definitely over.

The pavilion’s lingering tension dissolved like morning mist as Elder Feng Lianhua’s presence commanded immediate obedience.

Disciples scattered with hurried bows, their earlier protests forgotten under her glacial stare.

Zhang Mei and Zhou Fatty exchanged quick glances before excusing themselves, leaving the space eerily empty.

Jian Wei lingered a moment longer, his eyes burning with resentment, but a sharp look from Feng sent him scurrying like the rest.

She turned to me, her obsidian robes whispering against the polished floor. "Follow. Bring your... companions."