Silent Dao Sovereign

Chapter 8: The Three Strongest People in the Sect

[First-Person POV]

Thud!

At the final steps, I could no longer stand. My knees buckled, and I collapsed, my hands barely preventing me from falling completely.

"Why am I even doing all this?" I asked myself.

Was revenge really that important? Did my parents even want me to take back their property from their blood relatives? Who was I to decide whether what they did was right or wrong? In the end, blood runs thicker than water.

Slowly, I felt my senses slipping from my control. The world around me started to spin.

Heh!

I let out a giddy laugh, thinking the adrenaline was finally wearing off.

With the help of my arms, I struggled to my feet with great difficulty.

A hollow, gurgling sound escaped my abdomen, as if my very core was crying for sustenance.

And then, I lost consciousness.

[Third-Person POV]

Three figures appeared just in time. Strangely, though one of them was the oldest, he was also the fastest among them.

"That's why I always say you shouldn't skip meals, but you young people just don't listen."

It was an odd sight.

The other two were dressed in luxurious garments, while the old man—who looked like he had one foot in the grave—wore tattered robes, with Xu Mo's cotton cape wrapped around his frail physique.

"Ancestor, you were too harsh on this young man," Long Bai said, rubbing his head.

"No, Long Bai. What he did was necessary to shape his character," a man with an even more intimidating aura than Long Bai interjected. What was surprising was that Long Bai stood behind this figure, maintaining a foot of distance.

"..." Long Bai remained silent.

"Hahaha... You're as hyper as always." The person they called Ancestor laughed at Long Bai's reaction.

Unaware of all this, Xu Mo lay in the embrace of the Hidden Dragon Sect's strongest powerhouse. His breathing was steady, and a faint smile tugged at his lips. Xu Mo had always been this way—no matter how formidable the challenge, he faced it head-on with a smile.

To him, what use was crying over something that had already happened?

"Ancestor, let me take care of Xu Mo," the Sect Master offered, stepping closer.

The Sect Master of the Hidden Dragon Sect was a towering figure, his mere presence enough to silence a thousand voices. Clad in deep purple robes embroidered with golden dragons, his aura carried the weight of absolute authority. His face was sharp and defined, with a strong jawline and piercing eyes that gleamed like cold steel beneath heavy brows.

Unlike Elder Long Bai, whose intimidation stemmed from raw physicality, the Sect Master's dominance came from something deeper—an oppressive force that made the very air feel heavier, as if the heavens themselves bent under his will.

His long black hair was neatly tied, streaked with faint silver—a testament to both wisdom and experience. The faint scars along his knuckles and arms spoke of countless battles, each one a reminder that power was not inherited but seized.

When he stood, his posture was unwavering, exuding an unshakable dominance—not yet at the terrifying level of the sect's Ancestor, but still enough to make even the boldest inner disciples hesitate before meeting his gaze.

"Here, let him rest. Speak with him tomorrow." The Ancestor handed Xu Mo to the Sect Master before disappearing, leaving behind one final order.

The Next Day

Early in the morning, Xu Mo's consciousness stirred like a drifting ember in the wind—sluggish and uncertain. His eyelids fluttered open, greeted by the faint glow of morning light seeping through the grand pavilion doors. The air was crisp, carrying the subtle scent of sandalwood and aged parchment—foreign yet strangely calming.

But as soon as he moved, a wave of soreness washed over him. His entire body ached, his muscles tight and unresponsive, as if every fiber had been wrung dry from the relentless climb.

His stomach twisted in pain, hunger clawing at him—a stark reminder of his mortal frailty. His throat was dry, his breath ragged. He tried to sit up, only for dizziness to pull him back down. For a brief moment, confusion gripped him.

Where was he?

This was no mountainside, nor was there dirt beneath his back. Instead, he lay on polished wooden floors, smooth and cool against his skin.

Then, realization struck. He was inside the Hidden Dragon Sect. He had made it. But why was he lying here—at the entrance of the Sect Master's Pavilion, of all places? Had he collapsed? Had someone carried him here?

His mind spun with questions, but there were no answers. Only silence.

"You're awake. Come, follow me. Breakfast is ready. I'm sure you're hungry."

Xu Mo turned toward the voice.

He looked straight into the darkness, and at the very end, where a throne stood. Sunlight streamed through the open windows, illuminating the figure seated upon it. The man rested his chin on one hand, his posture relaxed yet commanding.

"S-Sect Master," Xu Mo murmured, uncertainty in his voice.

The Sect Master stood from his throne and walked to his right.

He stopped for a moment and gestured for Xu Mo to follow.

The Sect Master's Pavilion exuded an air of refined simplicity, and so did its breakfast.

A low, polished wooden table was set with steaming bowls of fragrant spirit rice, each grain glistening faintly, said to nourish both body and Qi. A plate of golden cloud buns sat beside it—their soft exteriors concealing a rich filling of sweet lotus paste.

A clay teapot released gentle wisps of steam, its spiritual herb tea carrying a refreshing yet calming aroma—a blend known to clear the mind and steady the soul. Thin slices of crystal jade fruit rested on a jade dish, their translucent form glimmering in the morning light. Their taste was a delicate balance of sweetness and lingering chill, perfect for rejuvenating the weary.

For those in need of strength, a bowl of slow-braised beast broth simmered to perfection, filled with tender cuts of mystical beast meat—said to warm the meridians and fortify the bones.

The food was neither excessive nor extravagant, yet each dish carried the essence of refinement—befitting the morning meal of the sect's highest figures.

"Eat," the Sect Master commanded. Or at least, that was how Xu Mo felt it.

His hands trembled with nervousness as he reached for the bowl of slow-braised beast broth. But as he pulled it closer, the warmth seeping into his palms, his trembling finally ceased.