Xihong. The Tengyun market.

This place had begun as a small market where rogue cultivators traded things with one another.

But of late the crowd coming and going had suddenly grown much denser, and among them were no few of the great powers' direct line.

The upheaval that had blown up a few days ago had plainly thrown the many powers nearby into deep wariness.

That familiar tiger's roar had in all likelihood come from one of the three Dao-merging great demons of the Bright-Moon Frost Tiger clan. What nobody knew was which colossus it had crossed hands with, or what the quarrel had been about.

Two Dao-merging experts did not lightly come to blows; but once they did, it meant the state of Xihong might very well be about to change utterly.

Those who could get far away and out of it naturally fled; those who for one reason or another could not go could only huddle together for warmth like this.

In a room of one of the inns.

The door was shut fast.

A cold, clear woman in white sat by the table, her eyes resting quietly on the tea cup in front of her.

Behind her two young cultivators of no ordinary bearing stood shoulder to shoulder; by their strength and by their dress alike one could tell they were of a great sect's direct line.

"Martial Aunt Ji, by the news we have gathered, those two Dao-merging experts only crossed hands a little. They have not thrown Xihong into any real disorder, and it will not affect our asking for aid."

The Spirit-Peak Sect's Dao-son looked the steadier of the two.

The Peerless Sect's Dao-son carried a certain distress on his face, and sighed. "But it is a fact that the Xihong powers have politely refused us. I truly cannot make it out — we are all cultivators, we have the Dragon Palace as a great enemy in front of us, and instead of joining hands to resist them we attack one another without a break. No wonder the West Dragon Palace has such an…