It was here that the elite of the sect gathered to "network," which was just a fancy word for comparing family wealth and cultivation bases while eating tiny portions of expensive food.
Wen Shiru sat at the head of the best table, fanning himself with lazy elegance, while Gu Zhiwei sat to his right, looking at the clouds and humming happily.
Lu Jianheng sat to his left, looking bored as he dissected a spirit-fruit with a dagger.
"The tea here is excellent today," Wen Shiru commented, swirling his cup. "Picked from the misty peaks of the Southern Continent. It aids in mental clarity."
"It tastes like grass," Lu Jianheng grunted. "Where is the meat?"
"Patience, Brother Lu," Wen Shiru smiled. "We are waiting for the rest of Class 1. Unity is important."
Suddenly, the chatter in the pavilion died.
The temperature dropped. The spirit cranes stopped flying and glided away nervously.
Xie Wangchen walked onto the terrace.
