A Calculated Pressure

Given the other party’s directness, it was clear they possessed a considerable degree of certainty.

Hailing from a humble mortal village herself, Zhao Luo knew the Immortal Alliance consistently championed its role as protector of all under heaven.

Thus, both on a personal and official level, she harbored a strong desire to accept this proposition.

This undertaking promised immense merit, capable not only of somewhat redeeming the Immortal Alliance’s tarnished reputation in both the immortal and mortal realms, but also of adding a remarkably brilliant line to her personal record, and perhaps even significantly benefiting her cultivation.

Yet, as the words hovered on her tongue, Zhao Luo found herself hesitating.

She recalled the rather intriguing admonishments from several influential figures within the Alliance before her departure, coupled with the increasingly awkward, even subtly ostracized, predicament of her own faction within the Alliance, stemming from certain unspecified reasons…

Should she rashly commit, she risked not only failing to mobilize the necessary resources but also inadvertently entangling this benevolent endeavor in unwanted disputes.

A flicker of struggle crossed Zhao Luo’s face, eventually settling into a trace of bitterness as she spoke with palpable difficulty: “Sword Venerable’s compassion for all beings is truly admirable, and I hold immense respect for it. Both ethically and rationally, the Immortal Alliance ought to lend its full support to this matter. It’s just…”

She paused, carefully selecting a more tactful phrasing: “It’s simply that the Alliance has been deeply engrossed in mundane affairs of late, making the immediate deployment of personnel and coordination of resources rather challenging. Furthermore, this matter is far-reaching, with all arrangements involving numerous Pavilion Masters, which could potentially lead to significant delays. As a junior with little influence, I truly dare not rashly give my assent, for fear of impeding the Sword Venerable’s crucial endeavor.”

Lowering her gaze, she dared not meet Mo Tingbei’s eyes, her heart heavy with guilt.

This amounted to an almost explicit refusal.

A pity, Mo Tingbei mused.

Though he felt a faint twinge of reluctance, the ominous premonition that lingered in the depths of his mind, coupled with the shadowy force daring to plot a ‘red dust enlightenment’, compelled Mo Tingbei to proceed with his original plan of pressuring the envoy.

He secretly transmitted a message to Jiang Jinyue.

A sudden warmth breathed against his earlobe: “Since Senior Brother yearns for me, why are you alone in a room with this particular young lady? Could it be that you’re once again intent on flirting?”

Jiang Jinyue’s rather petite form had, unnoticed, come to rest against his side.

Her voice remained uninflected, making her true intentions difficult to gauge, yet her choice of words carried a distinctly playful, almost storybook quality, as if she were merely jesting.

Yet, in the depths of his perception, an unseen presence seemed to be subtly warning him, advising extreme caution in his reply.

He calmly lifted his gaze towards Zhao Luo across from him, only to find her expression utterly normal. Shielded by a Golden Core Dao Lord’s divine abilities, she had completely failed to see Jiang Jinyue’s arrival or hear the voice so close at hand, her eyes betraying not the slightest tremor.

He pondered whether his Junior Sister had gradually stabilized her cultivation or perhaps undergone a shift in her mindset, for she now seemed to increasingly delight in subtly manifesting her divine abilities in his proximity.

Perhaps it was merely a small, willful indulgence on her part.

Mo Tingbei did not expose her.

Perhaps, deep within his own heart, a certain reluctance also lay concealed.

Alas, his fortune in this life was meager; how could he possibly bear to receive such profound favor from a beauty?

Mo Tingbei turned to Jiang Jinyue, a hint of helplessness in his gaze: “How could a man on the brink of death harbor such thoughts? When, in my entire life, have I ever indulged in the charms of women?”

Jiang Jinyue offered a soft hum in response, yet her heart was beset by a peculiar contradiction.

While she certainly didn’t wish for her Senior Brother to be a philanderer, a part of her simultaneously harbored a faint hope that he might, just a little, covet beauty.

Mo Tingbei, of course, remained oblivious to the turmoil in Jiang Jinyue’s heart.

His tone subtly stern, he transmitted back: “This individual possesses a truly sincere heart, unlike the high-ranking officials within the Immortal Alliance who already betray the signs of parasitic decay. Should we let her slip away, the next envoy will likely be an unimpressionable, seasoned veteran. This is an opportunity not to be squandered.”

“During these private discussions, an element of surprise, coupled with a display of might and an appeal to righteousness, might swiftly dismantle her psychological defenses and allow us to achieve our objective more quickly.”

“Senior Brother’s current image as a modest gentleman might not be enough to sway this person,” Jiang Jinyue remarked, her tone tinged with playful teasing.

She then continued, “However… since Senior Brother has asked, your Junior Sister will assist you this once.”

No sooner had her words faded than an invisible spiritual pressure surged forth like an encroaching tide, instantly congealing the very air within the small pavilion.

Zhao Luo, who had been bowing her head in shame, abruptly snapped her head up, her face draining of color!

She felt an unspeakable, terrifying pressure descend from nowhere, like a mountain crushing down upon her, like an icy abyss enveloping her very being.

It instantly seized her spirit, rendering her body rigid, unable to twitch even a fingertip.

A lantern, appearing rather unremarkable at first glance, abruptly materialized within the small pavilion.

Yet, Zhao Luo could distinctly perceive that the origin of that ineffable, terrifying pressure was none other than this seemingly simple, even crude, lantern.

At the heart of the lantern, an icy-blue flame, utterly distinct from any she had ever witnessed, gently swayed, occasionally transforming abruptly into a milky white hue reminiscent of pure jade.

This scene in itself was already quite extraordinary, but what truly startled her was that the faint aura she detected emanating from this lantern bore an uncanny five-tenths resemblance to the presence she had perceived during the Golden Core Grand Ceremony, seated atop the highest cloud platform!

Tiny ice crystals would occasionally condense in the air, fluttering down like ethereal snow; then, just as suddenly, it was as if everything that had just transpired was but an illusion, leaving only a single milky-white light eerily illuminating the already bright small pavilion.

Zhao Luo could even discern the faint, ominous creaking of her own bones under the weight of this unparalleled pressure.

Mo Tingbei observed Zhao Luo’s instantly pallid face, a silent sigh of admiration for his Junior Sister’s methods echoing in his mind.

His expression, however, remained perfectly serene.

He even raised a hand to delicately brush away a tiny ice crystal that had settled upon his sleeve, his tone unwavering in its gentleness: “Envoy Zhao, you appear somewhat unwell? Is it perhaps the bitter cold of the Eastern Barrens, or are you unaccustomed to the local conditions?”

Zhao Luo’s throat felt parched, rendering her utterly speechless.

She could only stare at Mo Tingbei in abject terror, then shift her gaze to the eerie blue lantern, her fierce will to survive compelling her to frantically shake her head.

Mo Tingbei nodded with an air of understanding, his fingertips lightly tapping the tabletop.

The flame of the suspended lantern flickered subtly, and the terrifying pressure that had threatened to crush Zhao Luo receded like a tide.

Though it still permeated the surrounding air, it no longer rendered her utterly overwhelmed.

She gasped, “Hoo… hoo…”

Zhao Luo abruptly drew several ragged breaths, her back thoroughly drenched in cold sweat.

Beneath her voluminous attire, the faint outlines of certain disguised ornaments subtly became apparent.

She struggled to maintain her composure, yet when her gaze fell upon Mo Tingbei once more, her eyes held an entirely transformed expression.

“It seems the envoy has recalled something?” Mo Tingbei remarked, without looking at her.

He had long ago discerned that this individual seemed to be in disguise, yet his Dao heart had always remained steadfast; even the most exquisite beauty was, in the end, mere bones.

He truly wouldn’t be swayed by such a person.

Even taking a myriad steps back, however unparalleled her earthly beauty, how could she ever surpass the one by his side?

Jiang Jinyue inadvertently caught a fragment of Mo Tingbei’s thoughts at that moment, and a delicate sweetness permeated her heart.

The scene from the previous night resurfaced in her mind, and that forbidden thought was fanned with renewed intensity.

Mo Tingbei’s tone remained even as he picked up the teapot and poured her another half cup of tea, a beverage that, despite bearing delicate ice crystals, remained remarkably warm.

“Immortal Alliance affairs, perhaps they are not as… challenging to coordinate as the envoy suggests?”

Zhao Luo gazed at the iced tea, her fingers trembling, utterly hesitant to reach for it.

She swallowed with immense difficulty, her voice utterly parched: “Sword Venerable, please forgive me. This junior did not intend to shirk responsibility, but the circumstances within the Alliance are genuinely intricate. In certain matters, this junior, being of little influence, is indeed powerless.”

“Oh? And how exactly is it complex?” Mo Tingbei inquired, lifting his own cup to take a delicate sip.

At this moment, Zhao Luo found herself in a profound internal struggle.