A group of five gathered in the cool pavilion before Thousand Feet Rock, Bian Qiao sat alone on the stone bench in the center.
He appeared to be in his early forties, dressed in luxurious clothing, wearing a Nine Yang Cloth on his head, and thick-soled high boots on his feet. His face was fair, round, and plump, and he was leisurely sipping from a Purple Mud Tea Pot, looking more like a wealthy gentleman than a servant.
In front of Thousand Feet Rock, the place was crowded with people, some pointing and whispering from afar, but he remained completely unconcerned. The other servants around were in short attire, clothes open at the chest and abdomen, with arrogance written all over their faces.
Zhao Ying watched from a distance, secretly cursing Zhang Yan for his recklessness and felt a tinge of regret. Bian Qiao was known for his ruthless methods, easily dealing with a mere registered disciple. If this little thief got beaten to death here, it wouldn't matter much, but her elder brother would surely reprimand her. What if his temper caused his old ailment to flare up again?
She was raised by Zhao Yuan since childhood. If not for her, Zhao Yuan would have already gone up the mountain to seek the Dao, and wouldn't have been delayed for ten years. Therefore, she never dared to disobey Zhao Yuan, even now acting out of urgent anger when she saw Zhao Yuan cough up blood.
Yet Zhao Ying wasn't aware that while Bian Qiao seemed domineering, he actually knew a bit about choosing battles wisely.
On one hand, he wouldn't offend those whom he shouldn't; even if there was some conflict, others would overlook it due to Hu Shengyu. On the other hand, he would recklessly bully disciples with no background. It was precisely because of this that he had the most fearsome reputation among the managers.
"Manager Bian, Zhang Yan has arrived."
A timid Daoist boy from Shanyuan Temple peeked out and pointed to the tall figure approaching from afar, whispering.
Bian Qiao had been growing impatient, but upon hearing this, he perked up a bit, lifted his head indifferently, and with one glance, raising the teapot to his lips, he froze in surprise, saying, "Is that Zhang Yan?"
He had thought Zhang Yan was just a poor scholar ignorant of the rules, but the man's appearance was far beyond his expectations.
Today, Zhang Yan had donned the wide-sleeved Daoist robe gifted by Min Lou Building. Not only was he handsome, but his build was tall and well-proportioned, towering a head above ordinary people. His eyes commanded respect and power as he strode toward them with a majestic and imposing presence.
What astonished Bian Qiao even more was the faint gleam of light on Zhang Yan's face. Having spent years around Hu Shengyu and dealing with affairs, Bian Qiao was knowledgeable enough to recognize that Zhang Yan had not only reached the "Condensing Yuan and Manifesting Intent" realm of the Middle Stage of Foundation Establishment but was also faintly showing signs of progressing into "Yuan Cheng Ruzhen".
Bian Qiao twisted his mouth in silent annoyance, inwardly cursing the incompetence of those who gathered information. With such cultivation, could he really just be a mere registered disciple?
Actually, Zhang Yan's previous personality was taciturn; after three years on the mountain, he focused solely on diligent cultivation and studying the Erosion Text, never forming friendships with others, making him quite unremarkable, and it was impossible to uncover anything about him in a rush.
According to Bian Qiao's original plan, if Zhang Yan had no substantial background, he would naturally teach him a lesson, crippling him before throwing him down the mountain.
In his mind, a registered disciple was insignificant. If it weren't for the fact that this was Shanyuan Temple, one word from him would have many rushing to handle the matter without his personal involvement, but unexpectedly, upon first meeting, Zhang Yan seemed anything but simple.
Moreover, Zhang Yan's mastery of the Erosion Text...
Such a person was either backed by entry-level disciples or came from a prominent family background.
With this thought, Zhang Yan's figure started appearing profound in his eyes, and he dared not act rashly.
However, in the past, Bian Qiao relied on Hu Shengyu's reputation to consider himself a noteworthy figure. Since the stage was set, retreating in front of so many disciples would be a loss of face.
He forced a smile on his face, sat there, cupping his hands towards the approaching Zhang Yan, and said, "I am Bian Qiao, usually handling mundane matters for Young Master Hu of De Xiu Temple. Is this Brother Zhang Yan?"
Zhang Yan halted his steps, looking at Bian Qiao with calm, unruffled eyes, and said, "Yes."
Bian Qiao always watched Zhang Yan's expressions closely, seeing no change in his eyes upon hearing Hu Shengyu's name. This only confirmed his previous assumption, and he feigned familiarity with a probing question: "I wonder what Brother Zhang's relations are with the several Shanyuan Temple brothers?"
The "brothers" Bian Qiao referred to naturally meant those entry-level disciples of Shanyuan Temple.