CHAPTER 43: CHAPTER 43 - REVEALING MY SECRET

Disciples who’d been leaning forward aggressively suddenly found reasons to examine their tea cups or adjust their robes.

Zhang Mei glided over to our table with practiced grace, her movements suggesting both martial training and political sophistication.

"Please, honored guests, allow me to offer you proper refreshment." She gestured, and a serving disciple approached with a tray of fresh tea—not the standard brew, but something that shimmered with spiritual energy.

"Spirit Blossom tea," she announced proudly. "A specialty of our sect, brewed from leaves that grow only in the highest meditation gardens. It’s said to enhance clarity of thought and spiritual insight."

I studied the offered cup, my enhanced senses picking up layers of complexity in both aroma and energy signature. The base was definitely Spirit Blossom—expensive, potent, legitimately beneficial for cultivation. But underneath...

There. A subtle addition, masked by the tea’s natural properties. Not poison—too crude for someone of Zhang Mei’s sophistication. More likely a truth serum or emotional enhancer, something to make me more talkative and less guarded.

"How thoughtful," I said, accepting the cup with appropriate gratitude. "Though I hope you’ll forgive me if I seem cautious. Recent experiences have made me... selective... about what I consume."

Zhang Mei’s smile never wavered. "Of course. A wise man learns from experience." She lifted her own cup in a small salute. "To new friendships and mutual understanding."

The pavilion watched with held breath as I raised the cup toward my lips. Even the morning birds seemed to pause in their singing, as if nature itself was interested in the outcome.

I inhaled the aroma deeply, made appreciative sounds, then paused just before drinking.

"You know," I said conversationally, "this reminds me of a story. Would you mind if I shared it?"

Zhang Mei’s eyes flickered—just for a moment—but she nodded graciously. "Please. We’re always eager to learn from the wisdom of our elders."

I set the cup down gently, not having tasted a single drop.

"There was once a merchant who specialized in exotic teas. He traveled far and wide, collecting the rarest blends, learning the secrets of master brewers. Eventually, he became so skilled that he could identify any tea’s components with just a single sniff."

The pavilion was completely silent now, every ear strained to catch my words.

"One day, a rival merchant invited him to sample a new blend—something unprecedented, he claimed. The tea master sniffed the cup and immediately recognized seventeen different ingredients: black tea from the northern mountains, jasmine from the western provinces, ginseng root aged exactly seven years..." I paused, letting my gaze sweep across the gathered disciples. "And just a pinch of Clarity Moss, harvested during the full moon for maximum potency."

Zhang Mei’s composure cracked just slightly. Clarity Moss was exactly what she’d used—a rare ingredient that lowered mental defenses while enhancing emotional response. Expensive, subtle, and nearly undetectable unless you knew what to look for.

"The tea master complimented his rival on the excellent blend, then politely declined to drink it. ’Why?’ asked the rival. ’Because,’ said the tea master, ’I prefer my clarity to come from meditation, not moss.’"

I lifted the cup again, swirled the liquid thoughtfully, then poured it slowly onto the ground beside our table. The expensive Spirit Blossom tea darkened the wooden planks, steam rising like accusations.

"Magnificent aroma," I said pleasantly. "Truly exceptional craftsmanship. My compliments to the brewer."

The silence stretched so long it became uncomfortable. Then, slowly, Zhang Mei began to laugh.

It started as a quiet chuckle, building into genuine amusement that transformed her entire demeanor. The calculating mask slipped, revealing someone who could appreciate being outmaneuvered with style.

"Brilliant," she said, raising her own cup in a proper salute this time. "Absolutely brilliant. I haven’t been countered so elegantly in years."

The tension in the pavilion shifted, confusion replacing hostility as disciples tried to process what had just happened.

Zhou Fatty spluttered indignantly. "You... you just wasted Spirit Blossom tea! Do you have any idea how valuable that was?"

I turned to him with mock sympathy. "Oh dear. Are you concerned about the expense? Perhaps you could ask your family to cover the cost. I’m sure daddy’s money stretches to replacing a single cup of tea."

His face went purple with rage, but before he could respond, Zhao Ling stepped forward again.

"Clever words," she spat, "but words don’t change facts. You’re still a failed emperor playing dress-up, hiding behind stories and tricks because you have nothing real to offer."

The insult was carefully crafted—questioning my identity, my abilities, and my worth in terms that couldn’t be easily deflected with humor.

I stood slowly, my reformed body moving with predatory grace that made several disciples step back instinctively.

"Nothing real to offer?" I asked quietly. "How interesting. Tell me, Inner Disciple Zhao, what have you offered the sect lately? What great achievements mark your path to enlightenment?"

She lifted her chin defiantly. "I’ve contributed to seventeen research projects, maintained archives of ancient texts, and provided historical analysis for—"

"Busywork," I interrupted gently. "Useful, certainly, but hardly groundbreaking. Now let me tell you what I’ve offered in the last week alone."

I gestured to Mei Ling, who stepped forward with quiet dignity. "This young woman was Foundation Establishment when she met me. Go ahead, tell them your current cultivation level."

Mei Ling’s voice carried clearly across the pavilion. "Early Core Formation."

Gasps rippled through the gathering. Advancement from Foundation to Core Formation typically took years, even for talented cultivators with excellent resources.

"And this," I nodded to Lin Yue, "was a skilled archer with Peak Foundation cultivation. What’s your status now?"

"Late Core Formation," Lin Yue replied, her warrior’s presence suddenly much more noticeable to the assembled disciples.

The gasps became murmurs of disbelief. Two rapid breakthroughs, achieved in days rather than years, suggested cultivation methods far beyond normal sect teachings.

"But surely," Zhao Ling said desperately, "such advancement came at a cost. Forced breakthroughs often result in unstable foundations, spiritual damage—"

"Test them," I suggested calmly. "Both of them. Right here, right now. Compare their spiritual foundations to any cultivator of equivalent rank in your sect."

Zhang Mei leaned forward, professional interest overcoming political caution. "That’s... that would be highly irregular. But if you’re willing to submit to examination..."

"Absolutely," I replied. "Though I’d suggest having your most skilled formation masters conduct the tests. Wouldn’t want anyone to claim the results were biased."

The pavilion erupted in whispered conversations as disciples debated this unprecedented offer. Testing a cultivator’s foundation was intimate, revealing, and potentially dangerous if mishandled. For outsiders to volunteer for such scrutiny spoke either to confidence or madness.

Jian Wei chose that moment to finally speak up, his voice carrying across the gathering with practiced authority.

"This is all very interesting," he announced, rising from his table with theatrical gravity, "but perhaps we’re being distracted from more important questions." His gaze fixed on me like a predator selecting prey. "Such as how these alleged ’breakthroughs’ were achieved. What methods were used? What prices were paid?"

The implication was clear—he was suggesting something improper, possibly demonic cultivation or forbidden techniques that traded long-term health for short-term power.

I smiled at him with genuine warmth. "An excellent question, Jian Wei. I’m surprised it took you so long to ask."

His eyes narrowed at my familiar use of his name, but he pressed forward. "Well? What’s your answer?"

"Simple," I replied. "Dual cultivation."