Junior Disciple

Chapter Seven

The next day, at Qingxiao Peak's martial training grounds.

Hundreds of disciples stood scattered around the edges, forming a crowd. On a high platform at the center, a row of luxurious and exquisitely decorated chairs stood with draped curtains surrounding them—this was the seating area for the elders, immortal lords, and personal disciples from each peak.

Yu Qingwei was among them.

He sat on a chair adorned with crimson phoenix feathers, occupying the foremost seat reserved for the personal disciples of the peaks.

A tiger-skin drum echoed loudly, and shouts came from below.

A faint wave of spiritual energy rippled through the air. A stern-looking peak master waved his sleeve, causing the silver bells hanging from the curtains to ring crisply, completely isolating the spiritual energy and muffling the noise from below.

"This setup is quite thoughtful," remarked a young man lazily, yawning as he toyed with a folding fan.

The surroundings were equipped with transmission stones directly connected to the stage, ensuring that the activities on the platform could be heard clearly by those inside.

The stern-faced elder behind Yu Qingwei snorted coldly, "Naturally, it took my Lieyun Peak disciples several days to arrange this."

A soft chuckle came from nearby. "Spent several days on this, and this is all you came up with?"

The stern elder immediately barked, "Feng Huai, what are you saying?!"

Yu Qingwei turned his head to see who had laughed—it was none other than Elder Feng Huai, the master of Fu Zhu.

The coldly arrogant man with slightly upturned eyes made no attempt to conceal his disdain for the middle-aged elder's aesthetics. He poked at the dangling head of a beast above. "This tiger-skin chair still reeks, and this spirit beast's head hanging above mine... What, are we supposed to look up and have a chat with this beast head for entertainment?"

The stern-faced elder let out a huff through his nose. "It's not impossible."

Feng Huai was about to retort with a sneer when the fan-wielding young man chuckled to mediate, "Oh, come on now, the crimson phoenix feather chair looks pretty good, doesn't it? There's still something commendable here, Feng Huai, so don't say too much."

He pointed with his folding fan to the chair beneath Yu Qingwei.

Yu Qingwei nodded slightly. Indeed, the chair he sat on was the only one among them that could be considered luxurious and elegant.

However... He raised an eyebrow and glanced at the nervous disciple beside him, whose leg was shaking. He distinctly remembered seeing this disciple replacing the original chair with this crimson phoenix feather one.

Sure enough, the middle-aged elder frowned deeply and muttered, "That's odd, I remember..."

"Old man, my disciple's about to take the stage. Stop distracting me from listening to what's going on." Just as he was about to realize something, Feng Huai spat out a sunflower seed shell, shoved the elder aside, and craned his neck toward the platform.

"Who are you calling old?! Feng Huai! Don't think that just because you're the youngest among the elders and peak masters, no one will argue with you!"

"..."

The two began bickering loudly, successfully diverting attention from the matter.

The disciple beside Yu Qingwei turned to him, grinning sheepishly.