A cold ray of light flashed in the heavens as the first rays of dawn spilled over the roofs of Tian Xiang.
The Aristocratic Hall's courtyard seemed to glow in that golden brilliance, and with it came the arrival of the great families.
The first to appear was the Dugu Family.
Today, they announced their arrival with thunder. Eight burly riders on mighty steeds, their armor gleaming and their bearing like spears pointing skyward, swept into view. Their gallant spirit surged like a tide, each man resembling a mountain of steel.
At their head was none other than Dugu Wudi himself, his presence vast, like a war god descending to earth. Around him rode his seven towering nephews, each a hero, each a brute of unmatched strength.
Together, they were like eight black bears who had caught the scent of fresh honey, their aura shaking the air.
At the center of their formation was a small green palanquin. From its carved jade door, a figure slowly emerged.
Dugu Xiao Yi's entrance was like a sudden spring breeze that softened the iron air. Her eyebrows curved like distant hills under the morning light, her almond-shaped eyes shimmered with life, and her cheeks were faintly flushed like the blush of peach blossoms. She carried a purity that dazzled the eyes. It was fresh, delicate, and brimming with youthful charm.
The men outside collectively drew a breath; here was one of Tian Xiang City's peerless beauties, stepping into the world like a jewel unveiled.
Had Jun Mo Xie been present, his eyes would surely have shown surprise.
The tempestuous, fiery girl who once kicked and cursed him daily had transformed into a fairy-like maiden, whose every gesture exuded grace and sweetness.
It was truly miraculous!
At the end of the flower-flanked path, Jun Wu Yi awaited their arrival.
The Third Master of the Jun Family sat tall and straight in his wheelchair, his posture as rigid as a blade, his aura calm yet commanding. His black robes were simple but immaculate, his facial features sharp and chiseled as if carved by a divine craftsman. Though his body bore scars of fate, his faint smile softened his edges, casting a noble dignity around him. Behind him, a white-robed youth quietly pushed the chair, unhurried and respectful.
"Elder Brother Dugu," Jun Wu Yi cupped his fists, his tone warm, his smile carrying traces of long-buried emotion. "You have arrived."
"Younger Brother Jun!" Dugu Wudi swung off his horse with a booming laugh, his strides like rolling thunder as he advanced. "Your Jun Family is opening a hall that shakes the entire capital, how could I not come to support you? But why trouble yourself to greet me personally? I could have walked in freely... we are no strangers, after all!"
"There is no harm in greeting an honored guest. But in Tian Xiang, Elder Brother is the only one who truly deserves such courtesy. How could I neglect my duty when you arrive?" Jun Wu Yi's smile deepened. His eyes gleamed faintly, the warmth in them genuine, yet tempered by years of restraint.
"Ha! Third Brother Jun, you honor me far too much!" Dugu Wudi's voice cracked with joy, his eyes reddening faintly. He suddenly stepped forward, nudged aside the white-robed youth behind the chair, and declared heartily, "Let me! Today, I will push my younger brother inside with my own hands!"
The white-robed youth quietly yielded, while Jun Wu Yi leaned back slightly, allowing it. For a man once revered as the 'God of War' to sit so calmly while another general pushed him… the sight itself was poignant beyond words.
The two men moved forward together, their laughter mingling under the morning sky.
Around them, the air seemed to thrum with emotion. Onlookers saw not two noble families exchanging courtesy, but two iron-blooded titans of Tian Xiang, now side by side once more.
Dugu Wudi's booming laughter suddenly hitched. He tilted his head, wiping the corner of his eye with his broad hand, hiding the tears that had welled up in his tiger-like eyes.
'Today… he called me elder brother again.'
Ten years of silence, of guilt, of unspoken resentment swept away with a single smile, a single word.
'No regrets remain in this life,' He thought, his chest swelling with warmth.
The courtyard's flowers seemed brighter, the air fresher.
The two men spoke cheerfully, voices ringing with unfeigned delight, but beneath their words was a heavy sentiment only they could understand.
Jun Wu Yi's faint smile was not merely politeness, but it was forgiveness.
Dugu Wudi's broad back trembled faintly with joy, but it was release.
And thus, with laughter and with tears concealed in rough palms, the unease of ten years was dissolved.
Ten years of iron-blooded resentment melted by one smile.
The seven burly, ox-like men of the Dugu Family stood as still as statues, their usual rough-and-tumble laughter absent. The air itself seemed to weigh upon them, pressing their chests heavily. They deliberately restrained even their breathing, afraid that the faintest sound might disturb the quiet current of emotion flowing between the two sworn brothers.
These were men who had once carried the glory of the entire Tian Xiang Empire upon their shoulders, who had fought so that others could sleep in peace.
Yet now, they remained wordless, reverent witnesses to something greater than war itself.
Dugu Xiao Yi's small fists trembled as she rubbed her reddened eyes, unable to stop the sobs escaping her lips. She was still too young to truly comprehend the depth of that camaraderie, that iron oath between men.
But she understood her father, and she knew that the shadow that had haunted his heart all these years.
Her father, Dugu Wu Di, the man who had cut down foes like wheat before a scythe, was a straightforward warrior who had lived without regrets. Or so the world thought. In truth, there had always been a thorn lodged in his chest, an unspoken ache he never confessed.
Jun Wu Hui!
Every year, without fail, on the day of Jun Wu Hui's death, Dugu Wu Di would drink until his mighty body could no longer stand. He would throw aside his dignity, his strength, his status as the undefeated general of the empire, and weep until the heavens themselves might mourn with him. His roars of grief would echo through the mansion like a wounded beast, unrestrained, inconsolable.
The number of tears shed in his lifetime could be counted on a single hand, except when it came to Jun Wu Hui.
Many nights, Xiao Yi had secretly watched her father retreat into his study, only to find him seated before a single sword, the blade that Jun Wu Hui had once gifted him. He would sit there for hours, stroking its cold edge, sighing with a sorrow that pierced deeper than any wound.
And yet today, after all these years of silence and torment, that heavy knot in his heart was suddenly unraveled, not by grand speeches or solemn oaths, but by a single, simple smile from Jun Wu Yi.
The tears that spilled from Xiao Yi's eyes now were not merely sorrow, but relief, joy, and awe. 'How could she not weep? How could she not be moved to her very core?'
The Dugu Family's solemn arrival was soon followed by others.
One after another, pillars of Tian Xiang appeared: first the Song Family, then the Tang, and the venerable Meng Family.
Each arrived precisely at the appointed hour, their carriages gleaming, their entourages grand.
Across the street, the famed Magnificent Jewel Hall also opened its doors. From within stepped Xiao Han and Mu Xue Tong, their white robes pure as freshly fallen snow, their cold figures like distant stars. Between them walked the delicate beauty Han Yan Meng, her flower-like grace drawing countless gazes.
Then, a rumble shook the street.
The clatter of hooves thundered like war drums as an imposing bronze-colored chariot charged into view, pulled by four pairs of ferocious Xuan Beasts, their coats gleaming, their breath steaming in the air.
Each beast was a Level Four creature that ordinary nobles could only dream of possessing.
A golden chrysanthemum, radiant and full-bloomed, adorned the chariot's crest, glowing with an otherworldly brilliance. Around it rode eight horsemen clad in armor, their mounts stamping proudly, their eyes like hawks scanning the crowd.
The Murong Family had arrived.
On the surface, their influence seemed a step behind the Li Family's soaring dominance, or the military might of the Jun and Dugu Families.
But in truth, the Murongs were one of the oldest roots in Tian Xiang's soil, deep, resilient, and impossible to dislodge.
Most importantly, the Murong Family alone held an honor no other house could claim: a marriage tie with the Imperial Family itself.
The crowd parted instinctively, and no one dared ignore the might of the Murong.
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