Mission Hall

"Master! This outfit looks incredibly good on you! It's better than any clothes I have ever seen!"

Liu Ruyan trotted around Lin Yan three times. With her small face tilted upward, her bright eyes were filled with absolute adoration.

If Master wore this outfit...

No, no, no!

Liu Ruyan shook her small head vigorously, trying to toss out the messy thoughts swirling in her mind.

Right at that moment, the faint sound of light footsteps came from the courtyard entrance.

Murong Yanran walked slowly from the direction of the cultivation pavilion, playfully rolling a freshly condensed water droplet between her fingers.

She looked up and saw the white-clad figure standing beneath the old locust tree. Her steps faltered, and with a soft pop, the water droplet at her fingertips shattered into a fine mist.

She stood frozen in place, staring for three whole breaths before hurrying forward to curtsy. "Disciple greets Master."

Her voice was half a pitch softer than usual, and a faint shade of pink quietly crept up the tips of her ears.

Lin Yan was just about to speak when a notification exploded in his mind—

Ding! Detected an increase in the affection level of personal disciple Murong Yanran. Loyalty +3%!

...

Lin Yan was rendered completely speechless.

Sure enough, good looks were justice!

Before he could say anything, three pairs of delicate hands reached out to him.

Liu Ruyan claimed the best spot. Her two small hands rested on Lin Yan's shoulders, massaging them with just the right amount of pressure.

The little girl's technique had grown increasingly skillful. Through the thin fabric of his robe, her fingertips could feel the muscular contours of her Master's shoulders.

Her cheeks were flushed red, though whether it was from the setting sun or something else entirely was anyone's guess.

"Master, your shoulders are so stiff. Yan'er will give them a good rub for you."

She spoke with righteous confidence, yet her eyes could not help but steal glances at her Master's side profile.

The collar of his robe was slightly open, revealing a small section of his collarbone that gleamed with a healthy luster in the evening light.

The little girl's breathing hitched for a second, and she nearly lost control of the strength in her hands.

Zhao Xiangru remained crouched on Lin Yan's left side. Her slender fingers peeled a purple grape and gently offered it to his lips.

But this time, her fingertips trembled slightly, and she almost dropped the grape.

From the corner of her eye, she couldn't resist sneaking peeks at her Lord. The white clothes accentuated his sharp jawline, making even the bobbing of his Adam's apple look ten times more attractive than usual.

Zhao Xiangru bit her lower lip and lowered her head even further. She was blushing furiously from the tips of her ears down to the base of her neck, yet she could not bear to stop what her hands were doing.

Murong Yanran had originally come to pay her respects to her Master. Seeing that her Eldest Senior Sister and the maidservant had already taken their positions, she paused briefly before calmly walking over to Lin Yan's right side.

Lifting the hem of her skirt, she knelt gracefully beside Lin Yan's legs. With both hands, she gently lifted his right leg, rested it on her own lap, and began to massage his calf with soft, tender pinches.

Murong Yanran kept her head bowed. Her long hair cascaded down, hiding half of her face.

However, her earlobes, faintly visible through her hair, were so red they looked ready to bleed. Through the thin fabric of his trousers, she could clearly feel the warm heat radiating from her Master's leg.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to focus on massaging him, but her mind was in total disarray, filled entirely with the image of her Master standing on the cloud terrace just moments ago.

Lin Yan leaned back in his lounge chair. On his left was his maidservant peeling grapes and feeding them to him, behind him was a little loli diligently rubbing his shoulders, and on his right was his third disciple kneeling to massage his legs.

Three distinct, delicate fragrances of young maidens lingered at the tip of his nose, while the evening breeze rustled the leaves of the old locust tree.

This life... was simply fantastic.

However, he soon realized something was off. Liu Ruyan was rubbing his shoulders with increasing force, Zhao Xiangru was peeling grapes at an ever-faster pace, and Murong Yanran's leg massage was becoming more and more meticulous. None of the three pairs of delicate hands showed any intention of stopping.

Lin Yan bit into a grape, its sweet juice bursting in his mouth. He mumbled, "Alright, alright, that's enough. Stop fussing and go do your cultivation."

Three voices said "No" almost simultaneously.

Liu Ruyan huffed, "Master looks too handsome today. I want to stay a little longer."

Zhao Xiangru added in a soft, timid voice, "This servant's work is not yet finished."

Murong Yanran did not speak, but the massaging motions of her hands clearly showed no intention of stopping.

Lin Yan closed his eyes and gave up resisting.

Fine, fine. It wasn't like he had to move anyway.

...

The next day.

Midway up Qingyun Mountain.

The morning sun had just risen. Golden rays of dawn pierced through the thin mist, dyeing the entire mountainside in a pale golden hue.

This area had now become the gathering place for the disciples of the Tianyan Sect.

Apart from Lin Yan and a few personal disciples who resided in the Sect Master's courtyard at the mountain peak, the other inner, outer, and honorary disciples were arranged sequentially downwards in clearly defined tiers.

The location closest to the peak housed the independent courtyards of the top ten inner disciples.

Each person had their own small bluestone courtyard, where the concentration of spiritual energy far exceeded that of other areas on the mountainside.

Zhao Feng, Su Wanqing, Liu Bai, Li Tianxing, Wang Hu, Li Mei, Zhang Hao, Lin Xiaoyu, and Chen Beiwang each occupied one.

Further down were the residences of the outer disciples.

Thirty people lived in six rows of blue-brick tile-roofed houses, with five rooms per row. Though not as spacious as the inner disciples' courtyards, they were kept neat and tidy.

In front of the houses lay a martial arts arena paved with bluestone slabs, provided for their daily sparring.

Closer to the foot of the mountain was the area for honorary disciples.

Fifty people lived in a row of connected wooden cabins. While the conditions were simple, they were countless times better than the ruined temples and thatched huts they had lived in as rogue cultivators at the bottom of the mountain.

As for the unassigned handyman disciples, they temporarily resided in a makeshift camp at the foot of the mountain. Every day, they gazed longingly at the mountainside, hoping for the day they could move up.

At this moment, the sky was just beginning to brighten. The disciples had already begun to wake up one after another. Some were practicing their swordsmanship in the courtyards, some were meditating in cultivation, and others were excitedly discussing the scene of the Sect Master summoning everyone to the mountain peak yesterday.

Suddenly,

The earth trembled.

Rumble!

The bluestone slabs beneath their feet suddenly began to vibrate violently, as if a pair of invisible giant hands had grabbed the entirety of Qingyun Mountain and was gently shaking it.

The expressions of all the disciples changed drastically at the same time. Some instinctively drew their swords, some flipped and leaped into the air, and others panicked and fell flat on their rears.

"An earthquake? It's an earthquake!"

"Don't panic! Hold steady!"

The trembling did not last long.

A few breaths later, on the hillside above the martial arts arena, not far from the inner sect courtyards, an antique pavilion slowly rose from the ground.

With a bluestone foundation and white jade pillars, its flying eaves and up-turned corners were adorned with carved beams and painted rafters. It looked like an ancient palace that had slumbered for millions of years finally seeing the light of day again.

A plaque hung above the pavilion, reading: Outer Sect Cultivation Transmission Pavilion.

Before the disciples could recover from their shock, directly opposite the martial arts arena, another pavilion sprang up from the ground.

This one was even more peculiar. It was pitch-black all over, constructed of an unknown material. Its walls were as smooth as mirrors, reflecting the morning light and the shadows of the clouds.

Three large characters were written in gold paint on the lintel: Mission Hall.

The two pavilions had gone from non-existent to fully formed in just a brief moment.

There were no craftsmen, no bricks or tiles, and no traces of manual labor whatsoever. They had simply grown out of the ground out of thin air.

All the disciples stared in dumbfounded amazement.

"My god! This... this is the work of the Sect Master!"

"Too incredible! It's simply unfathomable!"

"Being able to join a sect like this is truly the greatest blessing of my life!"

The crowd boiled over with excitement.

The outer disciples and honorary disciples gazed up at the two brand-new pavilions, their eyes brimming with absolute fanaticism.

To be accepted into such a sect and to witness such earth-shattering abilities with their own eyes was the greatest blessing of their lives.

Many disciples fell directly to their knees and respectfully kowtowed three times toward the mountain peak, their eyes brimming with awe and reverence.

Just then, a steady figure slowly walked out from the inner sect courtyard.