"Master, I believe I can surpass the younger generation of the Central Plains," Qiao Zhi said with calm conviction, her back straightening as a quiet intensity lit her gaze. Her voice carried confidence—not born from arrogance, but from precision and clarity of self-awareness. "Three months is more than enough time for me to reach the Central Plains. Why not let me see for myself just how strong they are?"
Mu Jun remained silent for a moment, her fingers tapping lightly against the lacquered table as she contemplated. "You may have reached the ninth rank," she replied slowly, "but your combat experience is still shallow. Do not underestimate them. There are those in the Central Plains who've trained their foundations to the extreme. Even eighth-rank cultivators there have been known to cross realms in battle."
"I've sparred with you, Master," Qiao Zhi said with a faint smile. "Even if I cannot win, I am confident I can retreat safely. And I doubt any of them surpass your strength."
