Silverbell had the air of a goddess unsullied, her skin fair as snow, and she kept her hands primly on her lap as she stared at Maron fixedly.

"If memory serves, I should be meeting your sect's chief, Mr. Maron. Or perhaps he's dismissive of my disposition as chief of the Martial Alliance, which explains his absence?"

Her words were sharp despite her unsullied appearance. Her voice was cool as spring, and it left Maron's face stiffening right then, even as he forced a smile. "That's not true, Lady Silverbell. My father has always secluded himself in his residence for his routine, but he recently got hurt and is recuperating. He also delegated his duties to me—"

"In that case, I shall come back another day." Silverbell rose to her feet right then, ready to leave.

Maron quickly stopped her, flashing an apologetic smile. "Please, Lady Silverbell. It doesn't mean we don't have any champions to represent us just because my father is hurt."

"Really?" Silverbell stopped, saying quietly, "You know the rule. Your champion must last twenty strikes against me to earn a place in the Martial Alliance. However, I've never sensed the presence of anyone who would last five strikes from my sword, and you only get one chance, so you'd do well to be prudent."

How dare you belittle

his mind, he was not about to pass

South Sea had helped them fight for this chance. And Maron had every intention to use this

would gain access to the alliance's resources, while Sage Lake Sect would

Thirdly...

subtly ogled Silverbell's lofty demeanor and

wait to

other women the instant he laid eyes on her—they were all mundane in comparison to her, and

smiled. "The elders of my sect drilled overnight to cast a combat ward. They may be personally lacking to you, but if they

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