Chapter 287: Chapter 287 Silver
"Not just your strength, but your spirit. The Raven Clan owes you a great debt, Riley. But I’d like to think that this meeting is more than repayment—it’s the start of a connection between equals."
Riley nodded, meeting his gaze. "I agree. Power is fleeting. Connections, when genuine, can last far longer than lifespans. I’ve seen that truth in both the lower realm and this one."
Lance smiled, then lifted his cup. "Then let this be the first of many toasts—not just as cultivators, but as allies."
They clinked cups and drank.
Nearby, Evangeline observed quietly, a smile on her lips but a complex expression in her eyes.
She had orchestrated this meeting to bring harmony, but as she watched the two most powerful men in the clan speak as equals, she realized something unexpected—their Raven clan was indeed lucky to have pulled in a strong ally like Riley.
As the feast continued, the stars turned slowly above, casting their light over the Immortal Raven Clan.
The echoes of laughter, music, and gentle conversation lingered in the air.
And beneath it all, the beginning of new bonds quietly took root—bonds that would shape the future in ways none of them could yet foresee.
***
The feast was a resounding success—and it showed no signs of ending anytime soon.
Laughter rang out from every corner, mingling with the clink of goblets and the rich aroma of roasted meats and fragrant wines.
The grand hall pulsed with life.
Cultivators from every corner of the world, both young and old, mingled freely—sharing stories of glory, exchanging Dao insights, and simply enjoying the rare occasion of peace.
The Immortal Raven Clan had outdone itself.
Everyone was either smiling, laughing, or deep in conversation, and the warmth in the air was almost tangible.
Servants moved gracefully between tables, refilling cups and offering fresh delicacies, while musicians played harmonious tunes from a raised platform, their notes weaving a melody that calmed the heart and soothed the soul. It was a gathering worthy of legends.
But even amidst such revelry, something else was stirring—something unscripted.
"Since we’ve had our fill of food and wine," came a soft voice, almost too quiet to hear over the festivities, "how about a bit of exercise, fellow Daoist Riley?"
The speaker was Lance Raven, his tone light and respectful, but his words carried weight.
He didn’t raise his voice, yet the reaction around him was immediate.
Conversations died down, laughter softened, and even the music seemed to fade slightly.
The guests, especially those attuned to subtle shifts in the atmosphere, leaned in with curiosity.
Riley turned toward him, smiling faintly. He had been enjoying a particularly sweet fruit, but now he set it aside.
"Exercise, huh?" he replied with a light chuckle. "What did you have in mind, fellow Daoist Lance?"
"I hope I don’t come across as presumptuous," Lance said, cupping his fists in polite salute, "but I would like the honor of exchanging pointers with a disciple from the mythical Abode of the Ancient One."
A hush fell over the area. Though Lance’s tone was humble, his words were bold.
Few would dare suggest such a thing in the middle of a grand feast, and fewer still would do so with a smile on their face.
But Lance was not just anyone—he was a true immortal, one of the few who could say such words without arrogance.
Riley met his gaze, eyes gleaming with amusement.
"You’re not being presumptuous at all. In fact, I think that sounds great." He stood up, brushing off his sleeves.
"Honestly, I’ve probably gained weight from all these banquets. I’ve been eating more than cultivating lately. A little movement will do me some good."
Lance smiled and rose as well, his golden robes shimmering like sunlight rippling across water. "Then shall we?"
The two immortals turned away from the feast. Without fanfare or words, they vanished—disappearing from the hall in the blink of an eye, leaving behind only a soft breeze in their wake.
For a moment, silence reigned as guests exchanged wide-eyed glances.
"Did you hear that?"
"They’re really going to spar?"
"An exchange between true immortals...!"
Almost instantly, many cultivators stood up, eager to witness the upcoming battle.
True immortal duels were exceedingly rare, and when they did happen, they were usually far from public eyes.
This was not an opportunity to be missed.
The feast had only just reached its peak, but now, a different kind of excitement began to stir in the hearts of all who attended.
Something far greater than food and wine was about to begin.
When Riley and Lance reappeared, they found themselves suspended within the silent vastness of the void.
This place was not a realm in the conventional sense—it was a fracture in the fabric of reality itself.
No stars glimmered in the distance, no winds howled through unseen plains, and no laws of nature held dominion here.
It was a realm of absolute nothingness, where time slowed and space unraveled.
For most, just existing here would tear their souls to shreds.
But for true immortals, this was the perfect battleground—free of limitations, free of consequences.
Back in the immortal realms, their presence alone could incinerate mountains, split oceans, and unmake kingdoms.
A single misstep during their exchange could cause unimaginable destruction.
Even divine artifacts or protective formations would crumble before their might.
And so, the void welcomed them—a cold, indifferent stage that could neither be harmed nor complain.
Lance floated a short distance away, golden robes still and unruffled, his hands clasped behind his back.
His long black hair flowed freely, undisturbed by wind or gravity.
His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied Riley with newfound seriousness.
"So you really are a true immortal, fellow Daoist," Lance said at last, his tone measured but touched with wonder.
"I had my doubts. I couldn’t sense your cultivation base—not even a flicker."
There was genuine astonishment in his voice now.
Among immortals, concealing one’s power to such a degree was nearly unheard of.
The higher one’s cultivation, the harder it was to suppress.
True immortals naturally exuded spiritual pressure, a subtle but undeniable sign of the immense energy they carried within.
It was like trying to hide the light of the sun with a paper lantern—impossible.
But Riley stood before him as an enigma. No pressure, no aura, no ripple in the void.
Just calm, radiant stillness.
"To mask your depth so completely... even supreme-grade divine artifacts wouldn’t be able to accomplish that," Lance murmured. "It’s not something you just stumble upon."
Riley’s smile was calm, unbothered. "It’s nothing special," he replied, as if discussing the weather. "Just a technique I picked up on a long, boring night. Has its uses."
His tone was light, but the hidden meaning was not lost on Lance.
A technique that could veil the cultivation of a true immortal?
Even the ancient clans would kill for such a thing. Yet Riley tossed it aside like a party trick.
Then silence fell between them.
The tension in the void thickened—not from hostility, but from anticipation.
Like the moment before a lightning strike, when the air becomes charged and the heavens themselves seem to wait.
They stood, still as statues, eyes locked. In that silence, there was an unspoken agreement. No words were needed.
Then—movement.
Bang!
The void convulsed.
A shockwave erupted like a tidal wave crashing through reality, sending ripples through the emptiness itself.
Lance had struck first.
His figure became a blur, surging forward with a palm strike that carried enough force to shatter stars.
Golden light streaked behind him like the trail of a comet.
But Riley was already gone.
He reappeared behind Lance, hand extended, fingers shimmering with silver light.
His strike was elegant—controlled, precise, yet so fast it defied comprehension.
The very concept of distance distorted between them, making it unclear whether a step or a thousand miles had passed.
Clang!
Lance spun midair and deflected the blow with a shimmering golden armguard, the impact sending shockwaves outward.
The space behind him shattered like glass, only to mend itself a moment later.
In the blink of an eye, the void became a storm of divine energy.
Blades of light, spears of will, fists wrapped in law and essence collided and danced.
They weaved around each other, appearing and disappearing faster than thought, exchanging dozens of strikes per heartbeat.
Each movement was a masterpiece. Each technique a revelation.
Golden feathers formed behind Lance, stretching into massive wings of condensed energy.
With a single flap, he rained down a thousand golden spears, each singing with ancient power.
Riley raised a hand, and the spears halted midair—time itself trembling under his control.
With a flick of his wrist, they disintegrated into dust, and from that dust, he formed a spear of his own, hurling it with blinding force.
Lance’s smile widened.
"You really don’t hold back," he said, chuckling, his voice echoing in the ever-expanding void.
"Wouldn’t be any fun if I did," Riley replied smoothly, eyes gleaming.