Upon hearing this, Yang Jing gave a slight nod. "In that case," he said calmly, "I'll head up first and wait for them."
The two disciples immediately stepped aside, gesturing for him to proceed. "Senior Brother Yang, please," they said in unison.
Without another word, Yang Jing started up the mountain path toward the summit of Feather Peak.
The path wasn't steep. Lush vegetation flanked both sides, and morning dew clung to the leaves, trembling slightly with his every step. The crisp scent of plants and soil filled the air.
Sun Ningxiang stood at the base of the peak, watching Yang Jing's receding figure as he ascended the mountain path one step at a time. Her delicate brows furrowed slightly, and an undeniable tension crept into her expression.
Over the past few days, she had heard numerous rumors about the sect's top prospect. She knew that once someone secured that position, the sect would pour all of its core resources into their development.
