The Immortal Gate stood as one of the few havens of stability in these turbulent times. Naturally, it had flourished—but today, its inner sanctum was under strict lockdown. Xie Yingying placed a small porcelain vial at the center of the chamber.
"Has the Grand Elder finally returned?"
Tian Yinzi gazed at the vial with emotion. Su Min was the epitome of a hands-off leader, rarely spending time within the sect.
"I wonder if she obtained the final heavenly treasure A perfected Five Elements Holy Body—only two have been recorded in history."
Xie Yingying didn't respond. Such was the life of a cultivator, especially one like Su Min, whose path was fraught with challenges.
Her absence was, in a way, a necessity.
Then—
Boom!
The sky split with a thunderous crack, the force of it shaking the clouds apart. A blinding light tore through the sect's protective formation without resistance, not shattering it but passing through—like a blade slipping cleanly through silk.
And then, she appeared.
A single figure descended from the sky, her robes flowing like waterlight, silver embroidery catching the sun with quiet brilliance.
Su Min had returned. Wearing immaculate white robes etched with intricate patterns, the craftsmanship precise down to each hem. It wasn't gaudy. Nothing about her ever was. But that made her all the more arresting. The robe did not cling, but it suggested strength beneath its folds. Its design balanced purity and command, modesty and danger. Something about it said she did not need to reveal her skin to make the world kneel.
Her presence felt otherworldly, not fragile but unreachably distant—like a figure painted across the heavens, half-legend, half-myth. She did not descend like a person but arrived like a truth the world had simply forgotten. There was a weightlessness to her steps, as if gravity bent out of reverence rather than force. The air around her shimmered faintly, distorted not by heat but by the sheer tension of time itself brushing against mortal reality.
She was ethereal, yes, but not in the way of delicate maidens in stories. Her beauty was not designed to soothe. It commanded stillness. It demanded awe.
"Finally back. I'd rather die than do another interstellar voyage. That shit was not livable."
And with that single grumble, the illusion cracked. The celestial grandeur, the immortal mystique—it all collapsed under the weight of her very mortal irritation. The figure who had descended like a living myth was suddenly just Su Min again, complaining like someone fresh off a bumpy ride.
"..."
Silence.
Xie Yingying stared, then slowly raised a hand to her face, covering her eyes like she could block out the secondhand embarrassment. She exhaled softly through her nose, as if trying to will the moment into silence.
Su Min. Daughter of the Minister of Rites. A young lady once groomed to host poetry salons, recite the Four Classics from memory, and glide through halls with the elegance expected of highborn daughters.
Not curse interstellar travel like a mercenary just back from a losing war.
She had known it was foolish to hold on to that image, but some part of her still wanted to see it—grace, refinement, composure. The kind of woman who moved through the world with the quiet pride of old nobility.
But no. Su Min had never played her role the way others wanted her to.
She cursed when she felt like it, fought like she had nothing left to lose, and spoke with the cutting clarity of someone who had set every etiquette scroll on fire and dared heaven to object.
And maybe that was why she was so unforgettable.
Still, Xie Yingying couldn't pretend to be surprised. Su Min's reputation for verbally dismembering her enemies was legendary. Male cultivators, in particular, rarely escaped unscathed. She didn't just insult them—she went straight for the crotch, with precise and ruthless aim.
She had seen it herself, back during their Foundation Establishment days, when Su Min mocked a Corpse King's missing parts with terrifying poise. And again in the Ancient Battlefield, when she crushed a Divine Transformation cultivator's ego by diagnosing his impotence mid-fight.
Tian Hao had once summed it up best: "She doesn't debate. She castrates."
Xie Yingying let out another breath, somewhere between a sigh and a reluctant laugh. Exasperation and admiration warred quietly in her chest.
"You're back. There's something we need to—"
Thud.
Before Xie Yingying could finish, Su Min collapsed face-up onto the floor.
"Ah?!"
A rare crack of alarm slipped through Xie Yingying's composure as she rushed to Su Min's side, kneeling swiftly. Her hands moved with precision, checking for wounds, pulse, breath, but after a tense moment, she exhaled in quiet relief.
No injuries. No backlash. Just… exhaustion.
Deep, soul-level exhaustion.
Decades of traversing the void demanded absolute focus. Even for a Dao Comprehension expert, maintaining such mental strain for so long was debilitating. She had fallen into a deep sleep, something Su Min hadn't done since reaching the Golden Core stage.
Xie Yingying stared at the sleeping face in front of her—serene, barely frowning, as if even unconscious she carried her pride. A faint warmth bloomed in her chest, complicated and sharp.
"Of course you'd come back like this."
"Sect Master, the Grand Elder—is she...?"
"She's fine," Xie Yingying replied without turning. Her voice regained its usual calm, but the tightness at its edges betrayed something deeper. "She's just tired. Crossing the void is too much for a Dao Comprehension cultivator.."
She brushed Su Min's hair from her face, fingers lingering longer than necessary. "Her spiritual foundation is rock-solid. Prepare the resources we've gathered. Once she recovers, she can attempt a breakthrough to mid-stage Dao Comprehension."
Su Min's progress didn't surprise her. Despite being an alchemist, Su Min had never relied on cultivation-boosting pills. She had resisted the temptation of rapid advancement, ensuring an unshakable foundation.
"Understood."
Tian Yinzi bowed and departed.
Xie Yingying carefully gathered Su Min into her arms, holding her close as she stood. She was lighter than expected—thinner, perhaps. It stirred a frown she didn't let anyone see.
She carried her through the winding corridors without a word, her steps soundless, steady. The quarters had been cleaned just the day before—she'd insisted on it, though no one had dared ask why.
Inside, the bed was already made, the silks scented faintly of osmanthus and the herbs Su Min preferred. Xie Yingying laid her down slowly, almost reluctantly, adjusting the pillow beneath her neck with practiced care. She covered her with a single light quilt, fingers brushing the edge like she meant to tuck her in but thought better of it.
Then she sat beside her, saying nothing. She then reached out, took Su Min's hand in her own, and held it loosely between her palms. Just for a moment.
Just until the trembling in her chest calmed.
After all, she was finally here.
And for the first time in a hundred years, Xie Yingying allowed herself to rest, too.
Thus, Su Min's return was marked by quiet simplicity.
A week later, Su Min awoke, refreshed.
"Oh, you're up. Did you get the last heavenly treasure? Show me what a perfected Five Elements Holy Body looks like."
Xie Yingying's voice greeted her the moment she opened her eyes.
"Of course! I missed you so much—!"
Su Min lunged forward, burying her face in Xie Yingying's chest and nuzzling like an over-affectionate cat.
"Did the void scramble your brain?"
Xie Yingying stiffened but resisted the urge to punt her across the room.
"Sigh..."
Su Min exhaled deeply. She kept her voice bright, casual. "No brain-scrambling. Just figured I'd test if you're real or a very vivid illusion conjured by my lonely mind."
She laughed softly, as if it were a joke. But her arms lingered. Her fingers curled tighter in Xie Yingying's robes before she forced them to relax.
Though she had lived for centuries, with many of those years spent in the silent stillness of cultivation, this journey had been something else entirely. The void wasn't tranquil; it was sterile, empty, endless. There were no stars, no wind, no heartbeat but her own. Just darkness, and time stretching until she lost all sense of it.
She hadn't spoken a word for years. She hadn't needed to, there was no one to hear.
But now—
Xie Yingying's voice had been the first sound to pierce that silence. Familiar, unchanging. It had felt like a thread tossed across an endless abyss, and Su Min clung to it like a lifeline.
"I mean," she added, glancing up with a grin that didn't quite reach her eyes, "you could at least act moved. I braved the void for you."
Xie Yingying looked at her, expression unreadable, somewhere between exasperation, concern, and something quieter beneath. She said nothing at first.
But her hand lifted. Hesitated.
Then settled gently on Su Min's back.
She didn't speak, but the gesture said enough. "I'm here. You made it back."
Su Min didn't push. She couldn't. Because if she did, the humor would crack, and everything she kept buried might spill out. So instead, she leaned against her just a second longer—quietly soaking in the warmth, the rhythm of a steady breath, the grounding weight of someone else.
She hadn't realized how much she'd missed it.
How much she'd missed her.
Finally, Xie Yingying spoke—quietly, as if afraid that saying too much would unravel them both.
"You've been through a lot."
She had watched Su Min laugh, tease, act like her usual unbothered self, but she wasn't fooled. Not when her grip had trembled for just a moment. Not when she lingered in her arms a heartbeat too long. Not when her eyes, though smiling, held a kind of weariness no sleep could fix.
There was no dramatic outburst, no grand declaration. Just those quiet words, offered with rare tenderness and understanding.
"It wasn't that bad," Su Min said lightly, tilting her head as if weighing the memory on a whim. "Just a mildly hellish void-crossing, a deathmatch with a Mahayana-level Fallen, and… picked up a disciple somewhere along the way. You know, standard interdimensional vacation itinerary."
"What?"
Xie Yingying's eyes widened. A Mahayana Fallen? Even Jiang Xi, dead for who-knew-how-long, could probably annihilate her—a mid-stage Dao Comprehension cultivator—without breaking a sweat.
And Su Min had fought one?
"Relax." Su Min chuckled, trying to deflect the storm brewing behind Xie Yingying's eyes. "Peak early-stage Mahayana Not on the same level as Jiang Xi or the Great Desolate Holy Body that Tian Hao encountered."
Su Min waved it off, though the thought of that battle still unnerved her. Had the Blood Demon reclaimed his weapon, she'd have been in real trouble.
"I wanted to let you rest longer, but... we need you to handle something."
"Oh?"
Looking at Xie Yingying, who smiled bitterly with a look of heartache after hearing what she said, Su Min was stunned for a moment.
"A clan from beyond the stars has laid claim to two of our provinces. Those lands contain spiritual veins critical for our sect's resources—enough to support both of us until the Unity stage."
"Excuse me?"
Su Min's face darkened.
"Who the hell dares touch my turf?"
Advancing in the Dao Comprehension stage was already harder than Divine Transformation. Every step forward was a struggle—and unlike Yao Xian'er or the little monk, she wasn't recultivating.
She needed every resource she could get.
And now someone was stealing them?
But—
"Where's the Golden Crow?"
"The Golden Crow is a divine beast. While powerful, directly intervening in human conflicts is risky. Unless outright provoked, she won't act."
Xie Yingying's tone was resigned.
"Tch."
Su Min understood. When she had annihilated Future Maitreya Mountain, she had stood on moral high ground—allowing the Golden Crow and Dragon Maiden to act without hesitation.
But this was different.
Historical records spoke of an ancient war—one spanning millennia—where humanity had clashed with nearly every divine beast race. In the end, humanity outlasted them.
Not through superior strength, but sheer endurance.
Since then, divine beasts had avoided interfering in human affairs.
"What's this clan's strength? You couldn't suppress them?"
"An Imperial Clan."
Su Min's eyebrow twitched.
Of course. The continent's five super-sects all had Emperors in their lineage, and her own sect leaned on the Golden Crow's prestige. But that number was laughably small. The Golden Core Heavenly Rankings alone listed over a dozen Emperor-level legacies.
Many Imperial factions must have fled beyond the stars.
Still—
"Do they think I'll back down?"
"How strong are they?"
"Three Dao Comprehension experts—one at mid-stage. Worse, they possess an Emperor's ancient scriptures and an Imperial Artifact."
"So what? They wouldn't dare use it recklessly."
Su Min sneered.
Her battle with the Bloodfiend Old Demon had reshaped a planet's surface. While the Heavenly Continent was far sturdier, an Imperial Artifact's power could still devastate entire regions.
The collateral damage would be unforgivable. Even cultivators—hardly paragons of morality—wouldn't tolerate such indiscriminate slaughter.
"Announce my return to the world. None of these factions—native or celestial—will dare act now. Crushing them will be trivial."
Su Min's smile was icy.
She was certain no other alchemist of her caliber existed among these returning clans. The Age of Dharma's End had seen to that. Moreover, their arrival did have one benefit: the Fallen's influence would shrink further.
In the game's lore, the Fallen had been relegated to background mentions. Now, it seemed their suppression had been tied to these clans' return.
But this was only the beginning.
The true threats—the Mahayana-level Fallen—had yet to make their move.
"Understood."
Xie Yingying nodded and left.
Su Min settled into meditation. Though her gourd had sustained her during the voyage, decades of strain had left subtle imbalances in her body, something she refused to tolerate.
A week or two of adjustment would suffice.
Meanwhile, news of Su Min's return spread like wildfire.
Her motives weren't purely defensive, however.
A century had passed.
It was time to reap the leeks.
While the sect had stockpiled resources, Su Min needed rare materials, especially for her cauldron's upgrades.
As expected, her announcement sent shockwaves through every faction. More importantly—they knew about Tian Hao's lover. A Dao Injury that even a seventh-tier high-grade pill had healed.
Seventh-tier high-grade.
Though not eighth-tier, with only a handful of Unity-stage experts active, Dao Comprehension cultivators were the true powerhouses.
And Su Min's pills were lifeblood to them.
She herself had suffered countless injuries, but as an alchemist, she'd always recovered. Most Dao Comprehension experts lacked that luxury. Many bore accumulated wounds, some even carried Dao Injuries from failed law comprehension.
Thus, within three days of the announcement, the Eastern Mulberry State was flooded with visitors. Factions both native and celestial arrived bearing gifts, desperate for Su Min's favor. Some were willing to bankrupt themselves for a single pill.
But not everyone was celebrating.
"That woman is back, and she's making a spectacle of it. A seventh-tier high-grade alchemist would've been a VIP even in that era."
A group of grim-faced figures gathered in a lavish hall. Among them was the very young master who had harassed Xie Yingying.
His companions—all Dao Comprehension experts—radiated oppressive auras.
In the modern world, any one of them would be a hegemon.
Now, they felt only dread.
Su Min's influence was undeniable. One word from her could crush their clan. But those lands were their ancestral home, the foundation of their lineage.
"What now? Open conflict is suicide."
The two elders glared at the Young Master Yao. Their clan's return had immediately run into a brick wall.
Who could've predicted a monster like Su Min would emerge from this backwater?