The Azure Sky Sect had finally returned to its normal state—

which, in this particular sect, meant mildly confused but pretending everything was fine.

Li Ming sat cross-legged beside the lotus pond, practicing the fine art of not practicing.

For the first time in weeks, there were no Evil Path debates, no demonic paperwork, and no explosions being politely called "breakthroughs."

Peace.

Terrifying peace.

Bai Guo hovered overhead. "Descendant, you're staring at the water again. Trying to comprehend reflection dao?"

Li Ming shook his head. "Just wondering how long until the universe interrupts me."

Right on cue, thunder cracked across a cloudless sky.

A golden scroll shot down from the heavens like an offended comet and embedded itself in the courtyard flagstones with imperial authority and terrible aim.

---

Lan Yue appeared in a shimmer of azure light, her robes pristine, her expression carrying that calm only women who routinely save idiots possess.

She eyed the smoking crater. "Did you offend Heaven again?"

"Not recently," Li Ming said. "This feels more… bureaucratic."

Lan Yue stepped closer, reading the glowing seal.

Her eyes widened. "This is a Royal Edict."

Bai Guo gasped. "Ooooh, you've been drafted!"

Li Ming sighed. "I was hoping for conscription into sleep."

She unrolled the decree and read aloud:

> By order of His Imperial Majesty, cultivators of renowned repute are invited to the Royal Cultivation Banquet in celebration of the Empire's harmony and the recent stabilization of the Evil Path alliance.

Attendance is mandatory.

Appropriate attire required.

Please refrain from collapsing minor heavens during conversation.

Lan Yue looked up. "It's official. You're famous."

Li Ming stared at the parchment like it had personally betrayed him. "So the reward for not destroying the world is… dinner?"

"An Imperial dinner," she corrected.

"Meaning twice the flattery and half the food."

"Meaning," she said, "you'll behave."

Bai Guo snorted. "He never behaves. That's his cultivation method."

---

By the next morning, the sect courtyard buzzed with rumors.

Disciples whispered as Li Ming walked past in his azure-and-black robes, polishing his token of invitation like it might explode (because it probably would).

"Is he really going to the capital?"

"They say the Emperor personally requested him!"

"I heard they're giving him a title!"

"I heard they're building extra insurance around the palace just in case."

Lan Yue fell into step beside him, arms folded. "You'll represent the sect this time, along with a few elders. Try not to offend any dukes."

He looked genuinely worried. "What if the dukes offend me first?"

"Then smile. Politely."

"That's… not my strong point."

"Then fake it," she said dryly. "Think of it as another dao—'the Dao of smiling.'"

Li Ming frowned. "That sounds harder than demonic balance."

---

At the gate, an imperial carriage waited—gilded, ostentatious, and humming faintly with spiritual bureaucracy.

The imperial courier bowed. "Esteemed guests, the Emperor awaits."

Lan Yue gave Li Ming one last look, half warning, half affection.

"Remember, this isn't a sect sparring ground. Words can cut deeper than swords in the capital."

Li Ming smiled faintly. "Good. I've been meaning to test that theory."

She sighed. "You're impossible."

"Statistically," he said, stepping into the carriage, "that's accurate."

The doors closed. The carriage rose into the sky on golden light, leaving the Azure Sky Sect shrinking beneath them.

Bai Guo perched on the roof, screaming into the wind, "To glory or immediate political disaster!"

Inside, Li Ming leaned back, eyes half-lidded.

"Same thing, really."

The imperial skyline began to gleam on the horizon.

The banquet awaited.

And somewhere in the capital, dozens of nobles were unknowingly about to regret sending that invitation.

---

The Imperial Capital stretched beneath them like a painting someone had accidentally over-polished.

Golden roofs gleamed under the sun, spirit beasts pulled carriages made of jade and bad decisions, and banners fluttered proudly—each one proclaiming, "The Empire Is Doing Just Fine, Please Ignore the Smoke."

As Li Ming's carriage descended, a fanfare of trumpets blared so loud that even Heaven flinched.

A line of armored guards stood at attention outside the Grand Eastern Gate.

Each one radiated aura strong enough to flatten a mountain boar, yet they all wore identical nervous smiles—the expression of men forced to welcome a man who once made gravity democratic.

An elderly eunuch approached, robes immaculate, hair arranged with enough precision to make spatial formations weep.

He bowed deeply. "Honored Envoy of Azure Sky Sect, I, Eunuch Zhao, humbly welcome you on behalf of His Imperial Majesty."

Li Ming returned the bow, smooth and measured.

Then Bai Guo landed on his shoulder and ruined the atmosphere completely.

"Wow," the bird whispered, staring at the palace towers, "how many taxes died to build this?"

Zhao twitched. "...Quite a few."

---

They were escorted through the avenue of golden trees, past noble carriages, merchants, and gawking commoners whispering rumors.

"Is that the Azure Sky envoy?"

"The one who tamed the Evil Academy?"

"No, no, that's the one who made Heaven issue an apology memo!"

Li Ming pretended not to hear, though his faint smirk betrayed him.

He turned to Lan Yue, who walked beside him in flowing azure robes, calm but alert.

She whispered, "They're watching your every move. One wrong gesture could be interpreted as arrogance."

He nodded. "So… like cultivation, but with gossip qi instead of spiritual qi."

"Exactly," she said grimly.

---

At the top of the marble stairs, they reached the Hall of Celestial Concord—a hall so enormous it could probably file its own taxes.

Inside, noble representatives and sect elders had gathered around the banquet dais.

There were flowing silks, jewels, incense, and the unmistakable stench of overconfidence.

A court official announced with booming voice:

> "Presenting Li Ming of Azure Sky Sect, bearer of the Heavenly Peace Seal, victor of Elegant Malevolence, and temporary bureaucratic miracle!"

Silence followed. Then, whispers.

Li Ming stepped forward, offering a polite clasp of hands.

"Greetings, honored guests. I assure you I'm only temporarily miraculous."

A few nobles chuckled nervously.

A few didn't understand and clapped anyway.

One fainted, possibly from existential dread.

---

The Emperor himself sat atop a dais of white jade, robed in gold, with an expression that could only be described as "endlessly patient because it's being painted right now."

He gestured lazily. "Rise, honored cultivators. Tonight we celebrate the Empire's balance between sect and court."

Li Ming bowed again. "Then I'll do my best not to unbalance it."

The Emperor smiled faintly. "So the tales of your wit are true."

"Unfortunately," murmured Lan Yue beside him.

---

Dinner began.

At least, that's what the scroll had called it.

To Li Ming's eyes, it looked more like a strategic meeting disguised as a food crisis: a hundred dishes, each with three names, zero seasoning, and one moral lesson about moderation.

He poked the nearest platter. "What is this?"

A servant answered proudly, "Imperial Cloud Fish, sir. Caught from the ninth heaven, steamed in lightning essence."

Li Ming chewed thoughtfully. "Tastes like air."

Lan Yue elbowed him. "Behave."

He nodded. "Of course. I'll eat quietly."

He did not eat quietly.

---

Halfway through the feast, the Minister of Rites, a tall man with the expression of someone permanently allergic to joy, stood up.

"Honored Li Ming," he said, voice as smooth as a dagger in polite conversation, "we have heard many tales of your… unconventional philosophy."

Li Ming blinked. "All of them true, most of them accidents."

The hall tittered. The minister smiled thinly. "Indeed. Yet, I wonder — how does a man who preaches balance justify turning the Evil Path righteous?"

Li Ming set down his chopsticks.

The room quieted, sensing blood.

"Simple," he said calmly. "They were unbalanced."

The minister frowned. "You mean morally?"

"No," Li Ming said. "Dietarily. Too much darkness, not enough sunlight. I prescribed morning tea."

Lan Yue covered her face.

Bai Guo puffed proudly. "He means they were vitamin deficient in virtue!"

The minister's smile twitched. "A cultivator of humor, I see."

"Only on weekdays," Li Ming replied.

Even the Emperor laughed at that—softly, like a thundercloud trying not to show favoritism.

---

As the laughter faded, another noble rose—Duke Shen, famous for his temper and beard (in that order).

He slammed his hand on the table. "Balance? Virtue? You mock the Empire's traditions!"

Li Ming tilted his head. "Not mocking. Testing."

"Testing?!"

He nodded. "Everything needs stress-testing. Including tempers."

"You—!" the duke began, but stopped when the Emperor raised a hand.

The ruler regarded Li Ming for a long moment.

"Tell me then, cultivator. In your philosophy, what is the Empire?"

Li Ming thought for a moment, gazing at the hall of gold and banners, at the nobles whispering like birds around a feast.

Then he said softly, "A formation."

The hall stilled.

He continued, "Every person, every law, every lie, every truth — a rune in a vast array.

But an array only functions if energy flows evenly. When too many take and too few give, the pattern burns out."

The Emperor's eyes narrowed, intrigued. "And your solution?"

Li Ming smiled faintly. "Maintenance. Regular cleaning. Less ego buildup in the meridians."

The Emperor laughed — genuinely this time.

"Well said. Even a formation of mortals must be maintained."

Duke Shen, however, looked like he'd swallowed a sword. "You dare lecture His Majesty?!"

Li Ming turned to him. "Oh, I was lecturing you. His Majesty just listened better."

Gasps rippled through the court. Lan Yue audibly whispered, "I warned you."

---

By the end of the banquet, the nobles were whispering furiously.

Some called Li Ming a genius, others a heretic, and a few just wanted dessert.

When the last toast was made, the Emperor rose.

"Li Ming of Azure Sky Sect," he declared, "though your words are reckless, they carry wisdom.

Henceforth, the court shall recognize you as—"

He paused, reading from a golden slip that had clearly been written by a bored celestial scribe.

> "—The National Disaster of Honor."

The hall exploded into applause and confusion.

Bai Guo's jaw dropped. "You got knighted for being a problem!"

Lan Yue muttered, "That's… accurate, actually."

Li Ming accepted the medal — shaped like a flaming scroll — with perfect serenity.

"It's an honor," he said, "to be officially inconvenient."

---

When the ceremony ended and the hall emptied, Lan Yue turned to him, half in disbelief.

"You insulted the court, corrected the Emperor, and somehow got rewarded."

Li Ming smiled faintly. "Balance achieved."

She sighed. "One day that luck will run out."

He looked up at the imperial moon shining through the golden latticework.

"Maybe. But until then…"

He flicked the medal, which glowed faintly in protest.

"…I'll cultivate prestige the same way I cultivate chaos."

"Recklessly?"

"Efficiently," he corrected.

And somewhere in the palace corridors, an imperial scribe was already updating the Empire's record:

> Li Ming, Azure Sky Sect — honored by decree.

Title: National Disaster of Honor.

Classification: Hazardous yet inspiring.

To be continued...

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