Beware Of Chicken v7c41: Sunrise and Sunset

Young Master Chen Yang of the Framed Sun Sect occupied the prime location inside the Sect's enclosure, gazing upon the vast silhouette of the Dueling Peaks. Enveloped in fog and blurred by the downpour, it still held onto its astonishing splendor. A lone mountain divided in half, with the Earthly Arena positioned between the summits. Atop it loomed the Thunder of the Earth—a colossal gong that, during daylight, resembled a small sun in its brilliance.

Yang attuned himself to the soft patter of rain dripping from the pavilion's roof and drew in a profound breath, contemplating the mountain just as his forebears had done. This pavilion was constructed to grant an ideal vantage of the peak. No barriers hindered the sightline, and as the sun dipped below the horizon, anyone seated on this bench could watch it glide seamlessly through the split in the mountains, until the Thunder of the Earth swallowed it whole.

The Dueling Peaks served as an arena for battles, a spot to hone one's abilities. Yet beyond that, everyone knew it symbolized harmony. It had been erected to honor their ancestors uniting as a single nation.

It was that sight which had moved Yang’s ancestor above all else. A fresh beginning, bordered by a marvel born of their collective effort, standing as a testament to their lasting solidarity and tranquility.

However, his ancestor's original residence lay on the mountain's opposite flank, positioned to greet the sunrise. In the Great Ruination, the manor was relocated, shifting from dawn to dusk. The vibrant glow of morning morphed into the somber crimson of dying coals. The symbolism faded; their focus twisted from the scene's significance to the cultivation prowess on display.

Thus, the radiance of a new day became a muted ring of flames. A confined inferno, not the free-flowing promise it once evoked. It suited their plight, Yang reflected, given how far their Honoured Ancestor had witnessed their decline.

Their legacy lacked the dramatic upheavals of other sects'. Their founder matched precisely the figure the Sect had anticipated. Chen Xan was a peerless poet—initially a state bureaucrat, then elevated to Chief Poet under Lord Xiaoshi. Many of his compositions endured, even the hidden ones. Beyond his masterful verses, their progenitor delighted in, frankly, poetry centered on bodily matters.

Verses he recited to Lord Xiaoshi, who burst into laughter, as captured repeatedly in the Sect’s memory crystal.

For the Framed Sun Sect, adaptation required minimal change; merely the discovery that their essence leaned more toward light than pure fire. Their ancestor wielded a brush in his techniques, sketching light across the world like an artist's palette. His scripted words sprang alive in streams of Auric Ink, embodying his intent.

To date, only Yang had succeeded in tracing a lone streak of gleaming gold, an effort that left him collapsed and exhausted. Even so, among his entire Sect, he progressed the most.

In the midst of the winter Qi anomaly, a barrier in a neglected storage chamber's basement shattered unexpectedly, revealing one of Honoured Ancestor Xan’s brushes inside. The handle stretched as long as Yang himself and as wide as his waist. No one had dared contact the relic yet. It still harbored traces of his Qi.

Yang frequently pondered whether their ancestor would approve of their current pursuits with the Azure Alliance.

He let out a sigh at his drifting thoughts. Distraction plagued him. And for a straightforward cause.

Master Rou was nearing.

That phrase echoed across all sects in the Azure Hills, putting every group on high alert, readying themselves in hopes of earning the privilege to host Master Rou. The moment he entered the Grass Sea, sects scrambled for final preparations.

Cai Xiulan learned only that he would surely grace the Hermetic Iron Sect and the Grand Ravine Sect. Destinations for others hinged purely on his caprice.

Yang doubted the man would grace them at all, despite—or maybe because of—their proximity to the Dueling Peaks. He might skip them altogether, deeming a detour unnecessary.

But just as that notion crossed Yang's mind… a surge erupted. A burst of Profound Realm Qi, soaring high above. Instantly, the whole Sect sprang into motion. Those who had lingered in meditation or anticipation dashed into the rain, eyes fixed skyward.

Clouds swirled tumultuously, and the heavens parted.

Descending from there came a dragon.

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"We humbly thank your Master for the great respect he has shown us, and bid him welcome to our home; let no door be barred to him, and let none obstruct his path," the Sect Master of the Framed Sun Sect concluded the customary phrase, inclining his head before the dragon.

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Yang could merely gape at the noble creature… before his gaze lifted once more to the flawless circle etched in the clouds. Sunlight poured through, bathing the Sect in a radiant aura.

His sole notion was that this defied his imagined version of the dragon.

Chen Yang enjoyed the rare honor of friendship with Image Master Yun Ren and his sibling Gou Ren. It was those two who ignited his recent fervor. They had clashed as allies during the Dueling Peaks clash against the Shrouded Mountain Sect, and nowadays he often shared ales with Gou Ren. Lacking the Image Master's expertise, Gou Ren still proved adept, and they relished discussions on capturing scenes. By the heavens, Yang had even earned a promotion from such gatherings, sparking a talk with the Grand Marshal. Chen Yang now held the title “Historian of the Dueling Peaks Restoration”, ensuring his image records would endure for posterity.

Yet that missed the mark. It simply meant Chen Yang had viewed countless captures from Yun Ren depicting the dragon grinning, scrubbing plates, or lounging while feasting. Those visuals, paired with tales from Tigu, Yin, and Gou Ren's accounts of the “lazy, gluttonous fish”, shaped his expectations… unlike this reality.

He hadn't anticipated the overwhelming splendor of encountering a dragon firsthand. Lord Wa Shi exuded power far surpassing Chen Yang's. Heavens, Wa Shi outmatched even Chen Yang’s father, Chen Tai, the Sect Master.

Yang chided himself inwardly.

Now they both eclipsed him. It irked slightly… yet resentment proved futile, for Master Rou and his followers fueled Yang's own advancement and unveiled his ancestors' splendor.

Wa Shi pondered their Sect Master’s declaration, then inclined his head. He angled his neck slightly, as though heeding a distant call.

“My Master draws near, then, to accept your hospitality,” Wa Shi announced. “He will arrive soon.”

“And we stand ready to greet him,” his father replied. “Would you care for any sustenance while we await, Lord Dragon?”

At those words, Wa Shi brightened, his dignified poise faltering briefly as anticipation lit his gaze… then the dragon caught himself, restoring his decorum.

“Please. You have my thanks,” the dragon responded, shifting focus toward the array of modest treats. The breach in the clouds widened gradually as the tempest faded—whether by nature or Wa Shi’s influence, Yang couldn't tell.

The Sect resumed their orderly vigil as the dragon inquired of a attendant about the offerings.

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The wait proved brief.

Yang, familiar with Master Rou’s aura from prior encounters, sensed it first as it enveloped them akin to the earlier gale. A mountain advanced; not with fanfare or imposition, but as if its presence was simply inevitable. No urge to dominate or overshadow—it merely existed, serene and subdued.

Then through the open portal, he spotted the carriage advancing steadily, flanked by twin likenesses of the Dueling Peaks. The authentic ones loomed afar, mirrored by their entrance.

Crafted to echo the Peaks, the primary fortifications of the walls tapered to tips, bisected by a central divide unveiling a circular portal. This design echoed across the grounds. Every doorway and casement mimicked the sun's roundness. The pale walls bore embedded golden beams radiating from portals and openings, while the pavement underfoot formed a tiled vision of a midsummer firmament.

Timeless paper mulberry trees offered shelter, ancient behemoths swaying in the wind and sporadically shedding bark for papermaking. Southern groves yielded the Azure Hills' finest paper—much claimed by them. The Sect had long cherished calligraphy as a vital craft.

Amid these stood the thirty-six Sect members alongside their almost three hundred attendants, poised in silence.

They lingered quietly. The mountain neared, accompanied by further auras. Ones in the Profound Realm. In the .

Yang gulped. They were truly stepping into a domain of giants. Master Rou’s prowess stirred their very compound. The wall embeddings flickered, as if yearning to activate, elements' hues briefly swirling within—like the seats in the Dueling Peaks. The phenomenon ebbed quickly—yet their structures appeared to extend greetings to the visitors.

The carriage crossed the threshold into the Sect, veering from the central path. The Spirit Beast yoked to it surveyed them curiously, though scant attention fell on it, for the carriage door swung wide at once.

Master Rou emerged, trailed by his spouse, Lady Meiling, cradling Tigu’s young sibling Zhuye. A woman in attendant attire followed. A striking black-and-white ensemble—and she bore resemblance to the Image Master. The last trio were evidently additional aides.

“We pay our respects to Master Rou!” they intoned together, pondering the outcome of this encounter.

"Thank you for the warm welcome, Sect Master Chen Tai," the man stated. His tone carried warmth and depth. “You have a beautiful home—and an even more beautiful view.”

Relief washed over them—and pride surged within. Master Rou had bestowed immense honor upon them! Their Sect pleased him, feeble as it seemed against his stature.

They rose from their obeisance at that signal. Yang glanced up and stilled.

Master Rou stood there, beaming. The Dueling Peaks ascended on both flanks behind him, with the sun poised right at his crown, crafting a luminous halo.

It formed an incredible frame, and Yang’s fingers acted instinctively, seizing his recording crystal and raising it before awareness struck—capturing Master Rou unasked?!

Yet the figure appeared undisturbed. He caught the gesture, met Yang's eyes directly, and inclined his head, granting assent.

…such magnanimity.

The crystal sang softly, securing the flawless image.

What an unparalleled gathering!

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I grinned for the recording device, delighted by the smooth start. My standard salutation outperformed my hopes. It amused me how effortlessly I could spark their proud smiles, but if it succeeded, who was I to complain? Reusing it for future visits would be ideal! Just express gratitude for the invite and compliment their abode!

Better acclimate, since these encounters would multiply.

And truthfully, their residence impressed. More conventional and earthly than the Ironfields, yet the absence of sharp edges, with all forms rounded and flowing, lent a striking appeal.

Washy relished his role too. Though initially lukewarm on serving as my “herald,” he now embraced it fully, realizing it involved swooping in, announcing my arrival, then indulging in novel delights until I showed.

Still, overconfidence had no place. Eventually, some host might greet us coldly… but not this time.

It soothed my tension, allowing ease as we wrapped the formalities; this visit served as rehearsal… yet no cause to slack off entirely.

Time to explore a “typical” sect in the Azure Hills.