The autumn wind was high, and the evening colors were fully dyed.

In the small courtyard pavilion, although not all the members of the sect had arrived, it was still a small gathering.

Cui Hao was dressed in an exceptionally formal and luxurious white robe, showing a rare serious expression. He sat cross-legged in the center of the courtyard, with a guzheng placed in front of him. His technique was skillful and graceful, the melody progressing layer by layer, with a harmonious arrangement.

Lin Luoyu held a teacup, her gaze constantly suspicious as she observed Cui Hao, who truly had a knack for this—had someone swapped out their Fifth Junior Brother?