Within the guest hall, Xiao Zhan and the three elders were conversing in a most fervent manner with the strange old man. Yet there was something clearly hard to voice weighing upon this visitor, for every time a sentence reached his lips, it seemed to slip back down with a helpless sigh—and at such moments, the haughty young lady seated at his side could not keep from casting him a sideways cross glance.
Xiao Yan listened idly for a while, then shook his head in boredom.
"Xiao Yan-gege, do you know who they are?" Just as he was drowsy enough to doze off, his companion Xun'er, without moving her eyes from the ancient tome whose pages her slender fingers had once again turned, smiled lightly.
"You know?" Xiao Yan turned his head with surprise.
"See the silver sword wreathed in cloud embroidered on the cuff of their robes?" Xun'er smiled.
"Oh?" His heart stirred. Xiao Yan's gaze went to the three visitors' sleeves, and true enough, there it was—a cloud-shaped silver sword.
"They're people of the Cloud Mist Sect?" Xiao Yan whispered in astonishment.
Although he had never been out in the world to train, Xiao Yan had read about this sword sect in more than a few books. Wutan City, where the Xiao Clan made its home, belonged to the Jia Ma Empire. The city ranked among the empire's great metropolises only because it sat back against the mountain ranges of magical beasts—yet even so, it lingered at the very bottom of that list.
The Xiao Clan carried no small weight in Wutan City, though it was hardly alone. Two other great clans held strength comparable to the Xiao family, and the three had schemed and clashed openly and in secret for decades without ever tipping the balance. Wutan City itself, sprawling and prosperous at the foot of the beast-haunted mountains, fed a constant stream of herbs and beast cores and spirit fruits through its markets—wealth enough to sharpen a hundred rivals' appetites, wealth that had to be guarded by wits as much as by fists.
And over it all ruled the Jia Ma Emperor and his court, their reach long but their eyes turned mostly upon the capital. In such a setting, a clan like the Xiao family could rise or fall on the strength of a single generation's talent.
If the Xiao Clan was a minor tyrant of Wutan City, then the Cloud Mist Sect Xiao Yan had just named might well be called a tyrant of the entire Jia Ma Empire! The gulf between them was a chasm—the kind of gulf that separated a ripple from a tidal wave, the kind that had never once been crossed. No wonder even his usually stern father spoke of the name with such awe, treading his words as if they were broken ice.
Yet the thought only sharpened Xiao Yan's curiosity. What business could a sect of that towering stature possibly have with a family like the Xiao Clan? His mind turned over the possibilities one after another—an inheritance dispute? A request for aid? A test from some old master seeking a disciple? None of them fit. His eyebrows knit together as silence stretched on.
"What business would they have with our clan?" Xiao Yan asked in a low, puzzled voice.
The slender fingertip tracing the page paused, and Xun'er fell silent for a while before she spoke. "Perhaps it concerns Xiao Yan-gege."
"Me? I've never had any dealings with them." At this, Xiao Yan started, then shook his head in denial.
"Do you know that girl's name?" Xun'er cast a calm, sidelong glance at the haughty young lady across the hall.
"What?" Frowning, Xiao Yan pressed her.
"Nalan Yanran!" A faint, strange expression crossed Xun'er's little face as she slanted a look at Xiao Yan, whose body had gone stiff.
"Nalan Yanran? The granddaughter of Nalan Jie, the Lionheart Marshal of the Jia Ma Empire? The one… the one I was betrothed to in the womb?" Xiao Yan's face had turned wooden.
"Te-hee. Back then, grandfather was a sworn, life-and-death friend of Nalan Jie, and it happened that you and Nalan Yanran were born in the same year. So the two old gentlemen settled the match. But a pity—three years after your birth, grandfather died of grievous wounds suffered in a duel with an old enemy. And as time passed, the ties between the Xiao and Nalan clans gradually thinned." Xun'er paused, looked at Xiao Yan's wide, staring eyes, and could not help but chuckle. "That old fellow Nalan Jie is not only proud and unbending by nature, he sets an enormous store by his word. That marriage was one he accepted in his own mouth, and so no matter how poor Xiao Yan-gege's reputation has grown these past years, he has never sent anyone to break it."
"That old man really is stubborn—rather endearingly so." Listening to this, Xiao Yan could not keep from shaking his head with a smile.
"Nalan Jie holds absolute authority within his clan; nothing he says is ever openly defied. He dotes on his granddaughter Nalan Yanran dearly enough, but having him open his mouth to dissolve the marriage would be quite difficult." Xun'er's beautiful eyes curved in mischief. "But five years ago, Nalan Yanran was taken in as a direct disciple by the sect master of Cloud Mist Sect, Yun Yun. And in those five years, she showed such extraordinary talent in cultivation that Yun Yun grew utterly devoted to her… When a person gains the power to change their own fate, they will rack their brains to be rid of everything they dislike. And, most unfortunately, Xiao Yan-gege's marriage to her is precisely the thing she dislikes the most."
"You're saying she's come here to break off the engagement?"
His face hardened, and in his heart a surge of fury welled up. He felt the sting most keenly, however, precisely because he was no longer the boy he had once been. Three years ago, when his talent had still blazed, such an affront would never have been dared—now that he had fallen, they came to snatch away even the hollow title that remained his. It was not that Xiao Yan resented Nalan Yanran's contempt itself; to be honest, though the girl across the hall was lovely, he was no lecher ruled by his loins. Even if the two could not be wed, so be it—Xiao Yan would not fuss over it. Nor did he cling to this marriage for any hope of her hand; the bride-to-be had never once laid eyes on him, and he had not the faintest feeling for her. What galled him beyond measure was the manner of it—the way she dared to send her own people to his door, through his father, to have the matter settled in so high-handed a fashion.
He shook his head, yet his face had suddenly darkened, for under the young lady's steady stream of prompting looks, the old man had finally risen to his feet, and his every gesture said that the true purpose of this visit was about to be spoken.
"Hmph. Using the Cloud Mist Sect to pressure my father? This Nalan Yanran plays a shrewd game indeed." A cold, furious sneer rang out in Xiao Yan's heart.