It wasn't long before the elder returned.
In his hands, he held a small porcelain cup.
Yet what sat within it was anything but ordinary.
The liquid shimmered like molten gold, its surface swirling slowly, thick with spiritual energy.
It radiated a gentle but undeniable heat, like a sun compressed into liquid form.
Even from a distance, many of the disciples could feel their Qi reacting, their cores tightening instinctively in defense.
The whispers around the teahouse had died long before the elder stepped through, but now, as he walked forward with steps, a silence fell so heavy that even the wind dared not disturb it.
Every eye followed that cup.
Some inner disciples leaned in without realizing, their bodies tense.
A few outer disciples stopped breathing entirely.
Even the servers had frozen in place, holding trays mid-step, watching the moment unfold.
The elder finally reached Hei Long's table and, without a word, gently placed the cup down before him.
