At the Blood Stream Sect's Elder Headquarters, a long oval table dominated the grand stone chamber. Seated around it were figures of considerable influence sect elders, each with their own ambitions, grudges, and alliances.
Tension crackled through the room as two elders raised their voices, their argument echoing against the carved walls. One was a tall man with white-blond hair tied into a neat topknot, his pale eyes icy with rage. The other, a short, sharp-featured woman with jet-black hair, slammed her hand on the table.
"This Wei Feng!" the man growled. "No one ever dared to touch my sons. And now he's beaten both? He deserves exile!"
"At the very least," the woman added, voice shrill with indignation, "he should be locked away in the punishment dungeons. That brute's a danger to sect order!"
The other elders around the table exchanged tired looks. These two were well known for their noise and their entitlement. The rest had grown used to ignoring their tantrums.
At the head of the table, raised slightly above the others, sat three elevated seats reserved for the leaders of the sect's three mountains. Yet only one of the chairs was occupied. Lounging in the central seat was the master of the Pill Mountain a rotund, soft-spoken man known for his alchemical brilliance and his harem of wives, several of whom stood silently behind him, adorned in fine robes.
He sighed deeply, as if bored with the squabble. "Technically… he is exiled," the Pill Sect Master said with a knowing smile. "Did none of you notice where I exiled him to?"
The elders paused.
The master continued, voice light but laced with meaning: "To Talisman Island."
A beat passed.
And then the room stirred.
"That cursed island?" one elder scoffed. "Hah! That place has a 99% death rate."
"It's nothing but a wasteland full of failed cultivators and madmen relying on cheap talismans!" another barked. "No true disciple ever returns from there."
The pair of previously irate elders finally looked satisfied, as if justice had been served. "He's as good as dead, then," the woman said with a smirk.
But another voice spoke up, this time with confusion. "Didn't… the Sword Saint's son go there as well? The sword prodigy, Zhu Zongying?"
At this, the Pill Sect Master's expression changed. The smugness faded into a furrowed brow. "Yes," he admitted, quietly. "He did."
He looked thoughtful, even troubled, for once.
"He was adamant," the Pill Master continued. "Insisted on going. Didn't even ask permission just left. I don't know why. And frankly… I'm not sure his father does either."
A silence settled over the room. For once, even the bickering elders had no retort.
Somewhere out there, on an island shrouded in mist and danger, two young men with very different pasts Wei Feng and Zhu Zongying were walking into the unknown.
At the exact moment when the clash of Qi between Wei Feng and Zhou Kai reached its quiet peak, the ship abruptly came to a halt. The sudden stillness seemed to slice through the tension.
Wan Ya, as poised as ever, gave Zhou Kai a sideways glance and said plainly, "Our stop is here. Stop playing around and let's go."
Zhou Kai turned back to Wei Feng. His expression remained unreadable, but his voice carried something heavier. "I had a few things I wanted to talk to you about. But... it seems the timing isn't right."
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked off with Wan Ya. Wei Feng snorted and made his way to the edge of the ship.
Below them was a stretch of land cloaked in thick, restless fog. An island hidden and half-swallowed by mist emerged in fragments beneath the clouds. Its silhouette was faint, but carried an eerie weight.
Zhu Zongying returned to his usual lazy demeanor, arms folded behind his head as he leaned next to Wei Feng.
"We're leaving the Zhou Mainland behind," he said. "This stop's just for bounty hunters. That island down there? Most people don't even know it exists. Only those with the right strings pulled ever set foot on it. My old man once told me it belonged to the 'old witch of Heart Mountain.' Whatever that means."
As they talked, the girl from earlier the one who had been quietly reading walked over. Without hesitation, she slipped her arms around Wei Feng's, pressing her chest against him with the casual confidence of someone used to being looked at.
"And who might you be?" she said, her voice light but laced with curiosity. "You're quite the character, aren't you? Making an enemy out of Zhou Kai and still breathing? That's rare."
Wei Feng looked like he'd rather vanish into the mist below. He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. Even though he had seen bloodshed, this kind of attention still felt strange.
The white-haired young man, not far away, stood frozen with a clenched jaw. His eyes were glued to the scene, his fists tight with fury. When the girl leaned her head gently on Wei Feng's shoulder, that was the last straw. He turned sharply and walked away without a word.
Still clinging to Wei Feng, the girl murmured softly, "Sorry... I only did this because my childhood friend's obsession with me is starting to become dangerous. I don't know how to deal with it anymore."
She sounded genuinely downcast. But Wei Feng, while sympathetic, remained unmoved. "Nice lady... but if you're done, would you mind letting go now?"
Her cheeks flushed red as she stepped back quickly, clearly embarrassed. Zhu Zongying, watching from the side, burst into laughter. The sound cut through the last of the tension like a breeze.
Hours passed aboard the drifting sky vessel, the vast clouds below casting endless shadows on the sea of fog beneath.
For some reason, Mu Qingling stayed glued to their side, trailing behind Wei Feng and Zhu Zongying as if she belonged there. Wei Feng, ever quiet and thoughtful, rarely spoke his eyes fixed on the horizon, mind elsewhere.
Zhu Zongying, on the other hand, had no such restraint. He told stories, sometimes wildly exaggerated, of slaying dragons and charming beauties from one sect to another. His words were so animated, even the reserved bookworm Mu Qingling found herself laughing covering her mouth with her sleeve, trying in vain to hide her amusement.
Then came a sudden jolt.
The ship shuddered, and its titanic weight groaned through the deck as it came to another abrupt stop. Once again, the sheer mass of the flying vessel made the moment feel heavy and important.
The trio stepped outside.
Before them lay another island shrouded in mist but emanating an odd, divine glow.
Mu Qingling closed her book and spoke, eyes locked on the island below. "This is God's Island. Legends say the people born here are the descendants of the very deity who created our world. They're born in Foundation Establishment. No training needed they just grow stronger with age. Some live thousands of years, untouched by time."
Wei Feng blinked once. Then, without looking at her, muttered, "Alright, enough Wikipedia."
Both Mu Qingling and Zhu Zongying turned to him with puzzled expressions.
"Wi… what?" Zhu Zongying asked, clearly lost.
Wei Feng waved it off. "Never mind."
Before the moment could settle, a presence approached.
The white-haired young man appeared, as if out of thin air. He walked with determination, eyes locked on Mu Qingling. "Come," he said, voice softer than expected. "Our destination is here. Remember, I only selected this bounty because it allows for two. I thought of your safety."
His eyes held the gleam of unspoken affection. Wei Feng visibly grimaced.
Mu Qingling turned her face away, voice sharp. "I'm not going with you. I'm staying with them."
The white-haired man's expression collapsed. His steps grew heavier as he approached, each thud echoing with anger. Then, without warning, he seized her arm too hard.
"Ow!" Mu Qingling cried. "Let go. I don't want to go!"
Wei Feng remained still. Emotionless. He had only just met this girl there was no obligation. But then he glanced sideways at Zhu Zongying.
The sword prodigy had already straightened, expression cold. His playful demeanor vanished. Twelve meridians lit up across his body, radiating pressure like an approaching storm.
"Gods," Wei Feng muttered, rubbing his temples. "He's exactly like the old man… always playing hero."
The aura crackled.
The white-haired youth flinched, clearly overwhelmed by Zhu Zongying's presence but tried to hold his ground. "Back off! This doesn't concern you! If she doesn't come, I'll take one of your limbs!"
Before Zhu Zongying could act, a sigh escaped Wei Feng's lips. He reached out and stopped him with a hand on the chest.
"I'll deal with this guy."
The words weren't loud. But they were firm.
Zhu Zongying looked at him, surprised.
Wei Feng stepped forward, his eyes as calm as still water, yet something behind them felt... dangerous.
The white-haired youth scowled, blood simmering just beneath his skin. Then he let out a laugh short, bitter, and dripping with disdain.
"Who are you supposed to be? I'm Lu Tianhai. Rank One of Heart Mountain. Just breathing the same air as me is already an insult."
Wei Feng furrowed his brow.
"Chuunibyou," he muttered.
Lu Tianhai blinked, confused. "What?"
He didn't get the chance to ask again.
Wei Feng stepped in like a ghost his footwork sudden and clean. A Muay Thai knee cracked against Lu Tianhai's nose, sending him stumbling back. Before he could recover, a jab snapped his head sideways, and a straight punch followed, right into the gut.
Crack.
Blood sprayed. Lu Tianhai reeled, stumbling back, hand clutching his face the bridge of his nose crooked, broken.
But what stunned him wasn't the pain. It was the weight of the blows.
What the hell…? he thought. This guy's not even using qi. Just his body… how are his strikes this heavy?
Wei Feng stood still, rolling his shoulder.
"Now," he said calmly, "how much do I owe you for the air I breathed?"
Lu Tianhai's fingers trembled as he wiped blood from his lips. His eyes flared with rage.
"Remember my name," he spat. "Lu Tianhai. A dead man deserves to know who ended him."
He took a step forward and released his qi.
A sudden burst wild and oppressive.
Ten meridians lit up across his body. The deck beneath them creaked under the pressure.
Wei Feng didn't flinch, but his gaze sharpened.
Same number of open meridians.
That should've brought him relief.
It didn't.
A voice echoed in his mind A man who wins tournaments at ten meridians isn't normal. He's dangerous.
Wei Feng shifted his stance slightly. Calm. Focused.
But this time, cautious.