The scent of blood and ozone, which had clung to the stones of the Qingyuan Sect for hours, was finally washed away. It was replaced by something far more potent: the rich aroma of roasted spirit beasts and the heady fragrance of thousand-year-old wine.

Lanterns, glowing with soft, warm light, hung from every eave and branch, transforming the mountain sect into a celestial palace suspended between the stars and the mortal world. The Nimbus Cloud Sea Formation, once a cage of death, now swirled with gentle, auspicious colors, reflecting the joyous lights below.

Disciples, who only hours ago had been grim-faced sentinels or terrified onlookers, now hurried through the courtyards with platters of exotic fruits and jugs of wine, their faces flushed with victory and relief. The sounds of laughter and excited chatter echoed where screams and the clash of steel had so recently reigned.

The Qingyuan Sect was celebrating.