As those words fell, a refined and handsome young cultivator arrived before the crowd on a wisp of Clear Qi. His lips were rosy and his teeth white, with a faint trace of a smile at the corner of his mouth that elicited no ill will from onlookers. Yet, despite his gentle appearance, it was as if winter had descended upon the crowd. The Immortal Market became unnaturally silent, so quiet one could hear a pin drop; not a single person dared to contest further.
This was not merely due to Chou Kun’s own intimidating presence, but because the Shaoqing Sect’s infamous reputation loomed large.
Over the past century, no fewer than ten sects had been exterminated simply for showing disrespect to disciples of the Shaoqing Sect.
Furthermore, Shaoqing Sect disciples, due to the nature of their cultivation techniques, often initiated duels at the slightest disagreement — duels that frequently led to death. Their battles tended to end only when one side was annihilated. The Shaoqing Sect, as the foremost Great Sect of the Xuanmen, was notoriously protective of its own. It would not hesitate to eradicate entire households over a slight offense. Among the crowd, who did not have mentors or relatives? And who could disregard such concerns? Thus, none dared to open their mouths lightly, afraid to invite calamity upon themselves by crossing this Shaoqing disciple.
A few moments later, a voice from the seven-story pavilion above broke the silence; the previously languid tone had gained a measure of seriousness. "Since it is a disciple of the Shaoqing Sect who seeks this item, I shall step aside."
Chou Kun smiled lightly and cupped his hands in salute toward the speaker. "Thank you."
Now that someone had conceded, this Shaoqing disciple seemed disinclined to act further. A deeply wrinkled elder hesitated briefly before forcing a smile and declaring, "So it is a distinguished member of the Shaoqing Sect. It is after all merely a single Spirit Grass; this old man shall yield willingly."
Although his words sounded detached, anyone could discern the helplessness in his gaze.
The green-clothed cultivator’s face, too, shifted several times between various expressions. His previously aloof demeanor now wavered with hints of uncertainty, as if a battle was raging within his heart. Eventually, he stomped heavily, turned, and retreated into the chamber without saying a word — clearly conceding defeat.
The remaining onlookers naturally shifted their gazes toward Song Hong, the senior disciple of Linqing Temple. He was the last to persist in the bidding war. Yet even his face bore an expression of immense struggle at that moment.
Chou Kun, however, did not pressure him directly. He merely stood there with a serene smile. Nonetheless, this calm comportment brought Song Hong immense psychological strain, as beads of sweat began to emerge on his forehead.
Finally, Song Hong let out a lamenting sigh, shook his head, and cupped his hands in salute toward Chou Kun before stepping back. "Since a fellow Daoist from the Shaoqing Sect desires it, I, Song Hong, shall withdraw."
Although his voice trembled slightly, it was evident how deeply unwilling and helpless he felt within.
But at that moment, a lively young girl suddenly sprinted out from the Flying Pavilion. She tugged at the hem of his robe and shook it vigorously, exclaiming, "Senior Brother! The Master-Uncle is waiting for news from us. How could you just give up ? The Shaoqing Sect — so what? Why should you be so afraid? Where is the spirit you used to have?"
Song Hong suddenly roared, his expression transforming into one of stern severity. He pointed inside the chamber and spoke in a grave tone, "Mi Qing’er, this is no place for such talk. If you so much as utter one more word, I’ll punish you by forbidding you from stepping outside the temple for thirty years! Now, get back inside immediately!"
The girl froze in place. Ever since she could remember, her Senior Brother had been as gentle as an elder brother — warm, patient, and virtuous. He had never raised his voice, nor spoken harshly to her. Yet now, he had suddenly erupted in fierce anger against her. Staring blankly at Song Hong, tears welled in her eyes as overwhelming grievance flooded her heart. She held back the urge to cry, covered her mouth, turned on her heel, and ran back inside.
Chou Kun observed the scene unfold. Smiling faintly, he remarked, "Is that your junior sister? Truly youthful and unspoiled."
Song Hong’s expression hardened, and he replied, "She is merely a junior sister of mine, leaving the sect for the first time, with immaturity and no ill intent in her words. Should there have been any impropriety, I ask Daoist Chou not to hold it against her."
Chou Kun chuckled softly, his handsome face lighting up with an elegant smile. "Daoist Song overthinks; I would not take such matters to heart."
Song Hong nodded silently, cupped his hands again in resignation, and retreated dejectedly.
In the distance, a group of female disciples from the Chenxiang sect continued to watch with shimmering eyes. The Shaoqing Sect truly lived up to its reputation as the premier Great Sect of the Xuanmen in East Splendor Continent, commanding awe-inspiring authority. Merely by sending forth a True Disciple, there was no one bold enough to challenge them.
Although Chou Kun’s cultivation was only at the Xuan Guang First Realm, there were certainly people in the audience capable of surpassing him. Yet, despite their silent dissatisfaction, none dared risk offending the Shaoqing Sect. Thus, they all resigned themselves to endure.
From within the pavilion, Zhang Yan gazed outward and smiled faintly. "Only seven thousand Spiritual Shells? If no one else dares to make a move, I shall take this Spirit Grass."
Jun Ling’er gasped, her face betraying a worried expression as she stammered, "Immortal Guest, that’s the Shaoqing Sect..."
Zhang Yan glanced at her briefly, shook his head, and then rose to stride out toward the pavilion terrace. He swiftly removed the Prohibition and stepped outside.