Chapter 204: Silverblade Peak II
A few minutes later, Zhou Wen returned with a pair of Outer Court Disciple uniforms in hand—perfectly folded inside a transparent wrapper.
He handed them over with the most genuine smile he had managed all morning, then raised a hand to shield his mouth, eyes darting sideways before he leaned in.
"Young Master, this uniform I gave you is special. Not everyone gets to enjoy such a privilege."
"Special how?"
"Shh." Zhou Wen pressed a finger to his lips. "Lower your voice." Another sideways glance—satisfied that no one was paying attention, he continued. "This uniform is made from spiritual thread and fabric with high spiritual energy conductivity. It absorbs damage without tearing—won't split from excessive training, won't snag on thorns or branches in the wild, won't fade from washing. It's far superior in quality to the standard issue and doesn't collect dirt easily."
He paused, his smile softening into something almost flattering. "Speaking of washing—I brought two instead of one, so you can use them interchangeably. Someone with your talent shouldn't be confined to a single uniform."
"Oh." Su Tianhao glanced at the bundle. Sure enough, there were two. He placed them into his spatial ring and turned back to Zhou Wen with genuine gratitude.
"Thank you."
He knew Zhou Wen likely had his own reasons. But he was grateful regardless.
"Hehe, don't mention it, Young Master." Zhou Wen laughed sheepishly, running a hand through his curly hair. "Just don't forget me when you enter the Inner Court someday."
"Tch." Su Mei clicked her tongue. "There it is. Finally showing your true colours."
Zhou Wen shrugged and turned to Su Tianhao, waiting.
"Don't worry. I know how to repay a favour."
"Good, good." Zhou Wen clapped his hands together with visible satisfaction. Then he retrieved two blue tokens from his storage pouch and held them up between two fingers.
"Silverblade Peak or Jadeclaw Peak?"
"Silverblade," Su Tianhao answered without hesitation.
"Already expected that." Zhou Wen cast a sidelong glance at Su Mei. She scoffed and looked away.
"Here." He extended one of the tokens. "That marks you as an Outer Court Disciple of the Silverblade Peak."
Su Tianhao accepted it and ran his thumb across the surface. His golden eyes narrowed. Tiny runic patterns were engraved into the material—barely visible to the ordinary eye, but clear enough to his perception. Boldly etched into the face in silver was a three-pointed blade: the top point needle-sharp, the two lower points flaring outward at the base like the spread of a wing. This was the Silverblade Peak insignia—the three points representing speed, precision, and clarity. At the centre, the Qingyun Sect's own insignia was inlaid with careful detail: a mountain peak wreathed in rising mist, a sword planted at its summit.
"Take your time with it," Zhou Wen said. "That token isn't just your identity—it's how you redeem Cloud Points as well. Don't lose it."
With that, he turned, walked back to his counter, settled into his chair, and picked up the erotic novel without a moment's hesitation.
"That bastard," Su Mei gritted her teeth.
Su Tianhao glanced at her with a small smile. He had no idea what history lay between them—some personal grievance, clearly. He decided to test the waters.
"Maybe he's not so bad."
"Hmph!" Su Mei snorted—but the sharp retort he had half-expected never came. She turned away without another word. That was answer enough.
---
After leaving the Distribution Hall, Su Tianhao noticed Su Mei's irritation slowly fading—as if the open air itself had a calming effect on her. Or perhaps she simply preferred not to carry it.
"You never told me you were in the Azure Cloud Ranking," he said, hoping to pull her forward.
Su Mei blinked, then looked at him sideways. "I sent you a letter last year. I wrote that I'd broken into the Outer Court's top ten." A pause. "It's the same thing."
"I suppose you're right."
A brief silence.
"Do you want to see the ranking list? The Azure Cloud Stele isn't far from here."
"Maybe later."
---
They made their way back to the stairways. Multiple broad flights curved away on either side—some veering right toward Silverblade Peak, others left toward Jadeclaw. Su Mei chose one of the rightmost flights without hesitation and Su Tianhao followed.
The climb was unhurried. Outer Court Disciples moved past them in both directions, most of them recognising Su Mei immediately. "Senior Sister"—the greeting came repeatedly, from different faces, in different tones, each one accompanied by a small respectful nod before the disciple moved on.
Between the stairways, waterfalls stood like natural pillars—some carved from the mountain itself, others clearly shaped by human hands long since forgotten. Their water shimmered with a faint blue-white luminescence, spirit energy lacing every drop, and the mist they cast into the air made the climb feel less like ascending a mountain and more like moving through something alive.
Then they reached the top.
Su Tianhao stopped.
He had expected another stretch of mountain—perhaps wider, perhaps more cultivated. What he had not expected was this.
Cobblestone stretched outward before him in neat, winding rows, each piece weathered smooth by centuries of disciple footfall. No dirt, no roots, no loose gravel—just a continuous sea of grey-blue stone that gleamed faintly under the pale mountain light, set tight enough that a loaded cart could roll across without a single jolt. Buildings rose on either side, layered into the slope in terraced formations. Low, uniform structures with slate roofs and whitewashed walls lined a broad central avenue, their gates each bearing the Silverblade insignia. Training halls, food stalls, herb shops, laundry yards—all of it arranged with the quiet efficiency of a settlement that had long since outgrown the word.
"This—" Su Tianhao let out a slow breath. "We just walked into a city built on a mountain."
"Each stairway leads to a different level of the Peak," Su Mei explained. "We came up through the entertainment section."
She pointed toward a distant cliff, partially veiled by cultivated trees and drifting mist. Atop it stood a wide, fortress-like structure—its walls built from dark volcanic stone, heavy and unadorned, with broad chimneys rising from its roof and the faint red glow of active forges visible even at this distance. Iron-banded doors wide enough to admit full carts were set into the base of the cliff face, and the constant low vibration of hammers—felt more than heard—carried across the air like a pulse.
"The Weapon Hall," Su Mei said. "Weapon forge in name, but there are over ten active forges inside, so the full title fits better. Had we taken a different stairway, we would have come up directly there." She glanced at him. "Be careful when navigating the sect. The stairways aren't labelled—you'll need to memorise which leads where, or you'll spend half a morning lost."
She turned and pointed to a ridge several kilometres away where a tiered pavilion rose from the mountainside in graceful, upward-curving eaves—its pale jade stonework standing in deliberate contrast to the Weapon Hall's brutish solidity. Banners of deep green hung from every level, and the air around it carried the faint medicinal sweetness of herbs being processed at a constant simmer.
"The Alchemy Pavilion. Unlike the Mission Hall and Distribution Hall, both peaks maintain their own Weapon Hall and Alchemy Pavilion. Our Silverblade Peak forges swords, sabers, daggers, halberds, spears and other bladed or polearm weapons. The Jadeclaw Peak focuses on gauntlets, armour, arm-guard talons and similar gear."
"And the Alchemy Pavilions? Any meaningful difference between the two?"
"Not in the fundamentals—both produce standard cultivation pills. Where they diverge is in training pills. Silverblade Peak prioritises clarity and speed-enhancement formulas. Jadeclaw Peak leans toward raw strength augmentation." Su Mei paused briefly. "Truthfully, the separation exists more because of rivalry than necessity. Each peak competes to recruit the stronger alchemists and craftsmen, because the peak that falls behind in production falls behind in overall strength and prosperity."
Su Tianhao let out a low whistle. "Politics."
"Functional politics," Su Mei corrected with a slight nod. "Disciples purchase pills and weapons using Cloud Points. New recruits are given a welcome allocation to start them off—but," she added, cutting him off before he could speak, "you haven't had your points allocated yet. The results of the friendly competition will determine how they're distributed. So no—not yet."
Su Tianhao closed his mouth. Nodded.
His gaze drifted back to the avenue. It was busy—disciples moving in both directions with purpose, conversations overlapping, the smell of food mixing with herb smoke and iron. But something caught his attention. Not everyone wore the Outer Court uniform. Scattered through the crowd were middle-aged men and women behind stalls, elderly figures seated in doorways, people who looked nothing like disciples and everything like merchants.
"Senior Sister—does the sect permit outsiders to set up stalls inside their territory?"
Su Mei's expression turned serious immediately. "Not a single one of them is an outsider. Every person you see here was a disciple of this sect at some point in their lives. Many of them couldn't bring themselves to leave after failing to advance—so they stayed. They trade, they rent stalls, they contribute in other ways. The more successful ones have even been granted permission to manage sect-affiliated businesses in Cloudrise and neighbouring cities."
"That's... deep."
"It goes further." Su Mei's voice carried something between pride and quiet solemnity. "Some of these veterans have built clans and settlements in the surrounding unexplored mountains of the Mistveil Range—granted permission by the sect under specific conditions. A few of those clans have flourished over the centuries, producing disciples who rose to become Outer Court Elders, even Inner Court Elders. Others faded entirely—their names swallowed by time."
Su Tianhao was quiet for a moment. "How many of those clans have actually survived?"
"Five." Su Mei raised her hand, fingers spread. "I don't know much about most of them. But the fifth—the Zhou Clan—has been in decline for some time now. Their patriarch sustained injuries severe enough to regress his cultivation base. He's stabilised, but what he lost, he won't recover."
Su Tianhao's brow shifted slightly. "Zhou Clan. Is Zhou Wen connected to them?"
"He's the patriarch's only son."
"Ah." That answered the question he hadn't finished asking earlier. The other deacons hadn't corrected Zhou Wen—not out of affection, but because the Zhou Clan's shadow still reached far enough to make correction costly.
"The Zhou Clan ranks as a third-rated force—comparable to the Su family in classification, but with considerably more influence given their sect backing." Su Mei continued, her tone flattening slightly. "It's a tragic situation, really. Elder Zhou was an Inner Court Elder before the injury. But his cultivation has since regressed to the Peak of Martial Master Realm. Zhou Wen is—well, you've seen Zhou Wen. Of his three daughters, two are ordinary. The only genuine talent in the family chose to leave."
"Leave?"
"Her name is Zhou Ling. Zhou Wen's younger sister." A brief pause. "She's currently ranked among the top ten Outer Court geniuses of the Lianhua Sect."
Su Tianhao said nothing for a moment. "Truly tragic."
"Yes."
They moved on—past the training grounds where the sounds of impact and effort carried through the open air, past the Medicine Hall with its smell of processed herbs and clean linen, past the arena where the stone seats sat empty and waiting, past the Martial Hall where technique scrolls were housed behind sealed doors. Each section announced itself differently: by sound, by smell, by the particular kind of traffic it drew.
Eventually, the avenue widened and the buildings thinned, giving way to something altogether different in scale.
The residential section of the Silverblade Peak spread before them—hundreds of acres of mountain terrain folded into a living space that bore little resemblance to the ordered streets they had just walked through.