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 sects 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.”

Damn you, woman! How dare you belittle Sage Lake Sect!

Though Maron was cursing Silverbell endlessly in his mind, he was not about to pass up on a chance to join the Martial Alliance.

Maron had every intention to use this opportunity to prove that he was superior to

the alliance's resources, while Sage

Silverbell's lofty demeanor and her perfect

not wait to taste

in other women the instant he laid eyes on her—they were all mundane in

a combat ward. They may be personally lacking to you, but

cast it. Show

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