Chapter 22 The Lantern Festival Begins to Become a Disaster

Tang Hui arrived at the rehearsal grounds fully prepared to witness nonsense.

She was still unprepared for this level of nonsense.

The formation plaza stretched across one of Qingyun Sect’s lower mountain terraces, its white stone floor carved with glowing spiritual patterns meant for the upcoming Lantern Reflection Festival. Normally the area looked elegant.

At the moment, however, it resembled the aftermath of a small war.

Several formation pillars had collapsed sideways.

Spirit lanterns floated erratically through the air.

One section of the platform was covered in ice.

Another was actively smoking.

Tang Hui stopped walking.

“…How did this happen?”

The medicine hall disciple guiding her looked exhausted already. “Senior Brother He insulted Senior Brother Fang’s lantern pairing assignment.”

Tang Hui blinked once.

“That caused all this?”

“Well…” The girl hesitated awkwardly. “Senior Brother Fang accused him of intentionally manipulating assignments to separate him from Senior Sister Bai.”

Tang Hui stared blankly at the damaged plaza.

Then at the crowd of arguing disciples nearby.

Then back at the damaged plaza again.

Cultivators truly required supervision at all times.

Around the rehearsal grounds, inner sect disciples clustered into tense groups while formation instructors struggled to restore order. The air itself still crackled faintly with leftover spiritual energy from the earlier fight.

At the center of the plaza, Lin Qingyue knelt beside an injured disciple while medicine hall students worked quickly around her.

Relief flickered through Tang Hui immediately.

At least nobody appeared seriously hurt.

Lin Qingyue noticed her arrival moments later and stood carefully.

“Junior Sister Tang.”

“You sent for me?” Tang Hui asked while stepping closer.

Lin Qingyue nodded with visible embarrassment. “The situation became… complicated.”

That was one way to describe it.

Tang Hui lowered her voice slightly. “Why am I here exactly?”

Before Lin Qingyue could answer, another voice interrupted nearby.

“Because this entire situation started with matchmaking discussions.”

Tang Hui turned toward the speaker automatically—

and immediately recognized Qin Yue approaching from the opposite side of the plaza.

Of course.

Naturally she was involved too.

Behind Qin Yue walked several older disciples overseeing the formation rehearsals, all wearing expressions somewhere between frustration and spiritual fatigue.

Tang Hui sympathized deeply.

One elderly formation instructor pinched the bridge of his nose while speaking.

“The pairing disputes have worsened every day this week.”

Another instructor added darkly, “Yesterday someone challenged three separate disciples to duels over lantern invitations.”

Tang Hui closed her eyes briefly.

The festival had not even started yet.

Qin Yue stopped beside them and folded her arms neatly within her sleeves.

“Some disciples heard rumors that official pairings might be decided soon,” she explained. “Now everyone is trying to secure their preferred partners early.”

Ah.

There it was.

Tang Hui finally understood the true problem.

Panic.

Romantic panic mixed with cultivation competitiveness.

A horrifying combination.

Inner sect disciples spent years competing with one another already—for resources, rankings, inheritances, recognition.

Now romance had become another battlefield.

Wonderful.

Just wonderful.

Tang Hui glanced across the rehearsal plaza again.

Several disciples still argued near the lantern formations while others whispered in anxious groups.

And unfortunately—

she recognized the emotional pattern immediately.

The festival itself was no longer the issue.

Uncertainty was.

Nobody knew:

* whether official pairings would happen,
* how assignments would be decided,
* or whether they would lose opportunities because someone else acted first.

Which meant emotions were escalating rapidly.

Tang Hui exhaled slowly.

Honestly, this barely resembled matchmaking anymore.

This was crowd management.

Lin Qingyue studied her carefully. “You have an idea.”

Tang Hui looked startled. “Why does everyone keep assuming that?”

“Because you make that face before saying something troublesome.”

Rude.

Accurate, but rude.

Tang Hui crossed her arms thoughtfully while observing the plaza.

The simplest solution would be cancelling official pairings entirely.

But sect elders rarely enjoyed retreating from proposals once discussions became public.

Especially when different factions were already involved.

No—

the problem needed redirecting instead.

A better outlet.

Something that reduced competition while preserving excitement.

Tang Hui’s gaze drifted toward the floating spirit lanterns overhead.

Then slowly sharpened.

Actually…

that could work.

The idea formed quickly after that.

Dangerously quickly.

Tang Hui pointed suddenly toward the rehearsal formations.

“How many lantern pairs are normally released during the festival?”

One of the instructors answered immediately. “Usually around forty ceremonial pairs.”

Tang Hui nodded slowly.

“And how many disciples actually want to participate?”

“…Several hundred.”

There it was.

Artificial scarcity.

The most reliable way to make cultivators lose their minds.

Tang Hui looked toward Qin Yue.

“The current setup creates competition,” she said. “Winning a partner becomes more important than enjoying the festival itself.”

Qin Yue listened silently.

Tang Hui continued.

“If disciples believe pairings represent status or official approval, they’ll keep fighting over them.”

One nearby instructor sighed heavily. “That much is already obvious.”

Tang Hui ignored the interruption.

“Then stop making pairings exclusive.”

The plaza quieted slightly around her.

Even the nearby arguing disciples lowered their voices.

Tang Hui stepped forward toward the damaged formation patterns beneath their feet.

“Expand participation,” she said. “More lantern formations. More group events. More open invitations instead of assigned pairings.”

Several instructors exchanged uncertain looks.

Tang Hui gestured toward the wide plaza around them.

“Right now everyone thinks they’re competing for limited opportunities.” She shrugged lightly. “So naturally they become aggressive.”

A younger instructor frowned slightly. “Additional formations require resources.”

“Not as many as repairing another broken terrace.”

Silence.

Fair point.

Luo Ming’s voice suddenly drifted from behind the crowd.

“She’s right.”

Tang Hui turned in surprise.

She had not even noticed him arriving.

Again.

This man moved through sect grounds like gossip itself.

Effortlessly.

Luo Ming stepped casually into the plaza while surveying the damaged rehearsal area with visible amusement.

“Besides,” he added, “the current atmosphere already looks ridiculous.”

Several disciples looked offended.

Gu Beichen, who had apparently arrived with him, glanced once at the collapsed formation pillars before saying calmly:

“They are fighting over imaginary assignments.”

The silence afterward felt deeply judgmental.

Tang Hui nearly laughed.

Because unfortunately—

he was completely correct.