The Everlasting Courtyard was quiet.
The storm Ling Feng had thrown across the Mortal Emperor World was still raging far away—Ancient Kingdoms nursing broken True Gods, Heavenly Guardians reduced to ashes, Azure Mysterious and Brilliance choking on their own shame—but up here, within Heavenly Dao Academy, the air was like still water.
Magu sat beneath an old pine whose roots had drunk the rise and fall of epochs. The rough stone table between them had seen generations of so-called geniuses come and go, had watched Immortal Emperors sit here as youths and pour tea for their teachers.
She had watched more than that.
She had watched ages.
For someone like her, the destruction of a Ancient Kingdom should have been nothing more than a ripple on a distant pond.
And yet—
"I was watching," Magu admitted at last.
Her voice was soft, but in that courtyard, it carried like a bell.
"At Tiger Howl's destruction. When you dragged Ancient Kingdoms to their knees."
The pine-needle scent of the courtyard mixed with the faint steam from her tea. Her gaze, which had once watched Immortal Emperors contest Heaven's Will, lifted and met the man across from her.
Ling Feng.
His seat was casual to the point of sacrilege—one leg stretched out, one propped up, elbow hooked on the back of his chair as if this place were a roadside teahouse instead of one of the human race's oldest foundations. But no array in the academy rejected him. The Dao in the old stones did not reject him.
If anything, they were… listening.
"You are not walking the Path of the Grand Era or the Path of the Heavens," Magu said slowly. "Your Dao… is completely foreign."
Ling Feng's lips curved, lazy and amused.
"That's one way to put it."
Her tone did not change. Only the weight behind it deepened.
"You killed two Heavenly Guardians of Ancient Kingdoms across distance," she continued. "Without Heaven's Will. Without using an emperor's weapon as a crutch. And you did it casually."
Those Heavenly Guardians had not been weaklings. They had sat at the apex of their kingdoms, bearing secret arts and imperial inheritances, walking half a step into the shadow of undyings.
He had pointed… and they had died.
"If that hand turned toward Heavenly Dao Academy one day…" she said.
Ling Feng finished the thought for her, utterly unbothered.
"The academy would break," he agreed. "Sure. If I really wanted to erase it, I could do it."
Any other ear—any other generation—those words would have fallen like thunder.
Magu's eyes narrowed a fraction.
She had seen many arrogant ones. Heaven's Will candidates that dared to provoke Immortal Emperor lineages. Emperors who looked down from nine heavens and called the world an ant hill. Even those people did not speak like this in front of her.
"And yet," she said, "you are here. Drinking tea with the academy's ancestor in her own courtyard. You have not made any move against the academy's heritage. You even reinforced its defenses and smoothed its alliances."
She thought of how the Eastern Hundred Cities had shifted these last months: Heavenly Dao Academy's name quietly woven tighter with Lion's Roar, with Bao Yun, with minor sects that had once stood alone. The invisible net he had laid, overlapping with the academy's own foundations.
Ling Feng shrugged, lightly.
"That's what you really want to ask, right?" he said. " 'What does this foreign monster want with my academy?' "
Magu did not deny it.
"I am Heavenly Dao Academy's old ancestor," she answered simply. "Regardless of personal feelings, I must know your intentions."
Ling Feng leaned back, chair creaking faintly under him, eyes drifting up to the square of sky framed by old roof tiles. Clouds moved slowly there, unhurried, like years drifting past.
"My intentions, huh…"
He let the silence breathe. Pine needles rustled. Somewhere far below, academy disciples sparred, their shouts faint as if from another world.
Then he grinned.
"Honestly? I'm greedy," he said. "I like pretty views, good tea, and women who can kick arrogant geniuses in the face. I want to travel the Nine Worlds, see what's on the other side of the river of time, and stomp any old monster who thinks they can use my people as stepping stones."
His words were crude by the academy's standards, but his tone was light, almost conversational—this was not boasting, just a man listing preferences.
He turned his head back toward her.
"And right now, your academy is a good stage for that," he continued. "You've got talent, portals, old friends in many places. The stargates might be broken, but all the pathways that matter still pass near here. If I help you, it helps me. If I protect you, I get a stable base to work from."
He tapped his chest with two fingers, casually.
"But I'm not interested in wearing your hat," he added. "I'm not here to be your sect master or your hidden ancestor. I'm too lazy to run a school. I'd rather spend my time in the warmth of my wives than in meetings arguing about tuition slots."
The corner of Magu's mouth twitched, almost against her will.
This tone… it was unlike the cold, aloof Immortal Emperors who had once walked through Heavenly Dao Academy. Unlike the heaven-seizing monsters who would turn entire regions into slaughterfields just to temper their Dao.
Unlike even that man from the past who had guided her down the Eternal Physique path.
"Many have made promises before," she said quietly. "They claimed to protect the academy. To use it as a 'stage' without harming it. In the end, their dao hearts changed."
Geniuses, kings, Heaven's Will candidates—at first they bowed and called the academy their root. Then, as their power swelled, they tried to drag it along their path, to force the academy itself to bend.
Ling Feng's eyes softened.
"Yeah," he said. "Words are cheap."
The lazy cadence of his voice smoothed, turned calm.
"That's why I didn't come earlier," he admitted. "I knew you were watching from the start. When I stepped into the academy. When I opened the Realm God's cage. When I started dragging outside trouble into the Eastern Hundred Cities—your gaze was there."
He met her eyes head-on.
"Instead of giving you pretty promises, I figured I'd let you watch," he said. "Watch me build. Watch me protect. Watch who I kill, who I spare, who I take in."
Magu's Eternal Dao Heart sifted through his words, weighing them against what she had seen.
He had sheltered Chi Xiaodie and Lion's Roar when they were about to be crushed. He had taken responsibility for the chaos he caused, cleaning up blood with his own hands. He had never once targeted Heavenly Dao Academy itself.
"You can keep watching," Ling Feng said. "If one day you decide I'm dangerous to the academy, you can come and fight me."
His grin turned wicked, eyes brightening with honest anticipation.
"Honestly, I kind of want to trade blows with a Grand Completion Eternal Physique," he mused. "Would be fun. But the collateral damage would be a bit troublesome, so let's save it for later. Maybe the Tenth World. I want to see how powerful these Immortal Emperors really are when I punch them in the face."
For an instant, Magu saw it: a distant battlefield under an unfamiliar sky, a foreign Dao colliding with the boundary-defending power she had once woven, worlds cracking underfoot. The idea would have been madness from anyone else.
From him, it was spoken with no arrogance, no fear—only genuine curiosity.
"You are confident," she observed.
"I have reason to be," he answered without hesitation. "But I'm also not stupid."
He gestured vaguely toward the academies, pavilions, lecture halls spread like stars across the mountain.
"Heavenly Dao Academy is one of the oldest pillars of the human race," he said. "It's been here since long before I showed up. It'll still be here after I leave for other worlds."
He folded his arms loosely, posture lazy, expression oddly earnest.
"So for now, take it this way," he said. "I'll protect your juniors. I'll clean up a few messes that are too big for them. I'll drag in opportunities when I feel like it. In exchange, you don't have to like me. Just… don't get in my way when I'm looking out for my people."
"And your 'people' include Lion's Roar, Bao Yun, Cleansing Incense," Magu murmured, voice unreadable.
"And your academy, yeah," Ling Feng replied simply.
Silence descended.
Not the heavy, suspicious kind. The contemplative kind.
The steam rising from Magu's cup curled between them like a small, lazy dragon, then faded into the air.
At last, she shifted her gaze away from the foreign anomaly in front of her and out toward the courtyard she had founded so long ago.
"Fine," she said.
Ling Feng blinked.
"That's it?" he asked, amused. "No oaths, no conditions? Just 'fine'?"
"I have watched more than you know," Magu replied softly. "I have seen many events. Many dao hearts. I recognize stubbornness when I see it. You will not bend easily. Pressuring you will only create unnecessary conflict around the academy."
She set her teacup down with a small, decisive sound.
"I will continue to observe," she added. "If your actions remain as you claim… then there is no need for this old one to interfere."
Ling Feng's smile returned, lazy and bright.
"Good enough for me."
He rose in one smooth motion.
"Next time," he said lightly, "I'll bring better tea. Maybe some wine. We can discuss the Dao properly."
Magu glanced at him, an indecipherable light rippling at the bottom of her ancient eyes.
"Very well," she said. "This old one will be waiting."
He turned to go—
Then paused at the threshold of the courtyard.
"Also," he added over his shoulder, voice carrying a trace of mischievous warning, "don't be too surprised if your academy's juniors start getting a bit… crazier. I tend to inspire that."
Magu actually let out a tiny, almost inaudible breath of laughter.
"Everlasting Courtyard has seen much madness," she replied. "A little more will not break it."
"Then I'm looking forward to our next meeting," Ling Feng said, genuine warmth threaded through the lightness.
He stepped forward—
—and vanished.
Space did not tear or scream. It simply folded. The courtyard swallowed his presence like a stone sinking beneath still water.
Only quiet remained.
Magu sat alone again, fingers lightly tapping the rim of her cup.
Foreign Dao.
Foreign will.
Yet when she extended her senses through the academy's grand formations, through the sect-protecting patterns carved into the mountains, the traces he had left in the academy's foundations were not corrosive. They intertwined with the academy's own Dao, reinforcing instead of devouring.
"In this Era…" she murmured, "…what exactly are you planning to carve out, Ling Feng?"
The Eternal Physique's eyes closed slowly, sinking into contemplation as time flowed around her like a river she had long since learned to ignore.
...
When Ling Feng emerged from the fold in space, he was no longer in the Eastern Hundred Cities.
Chaos lines twisted once, twice—then straightened.
He stood above a mountain that every sect in the Grand Middle Territory now treated like an ancestral tablet.
Cleansing Incense Ancient Sect.
Once, this place had been a faded name on old scrolls, a declining sect forgotten by the world. Now, the old halls had been renewed; the worn drums and cracked plaques replaced; the ancient river of fate flowing beneath the mountain pulsed with new vitality.
Rumors about "the sect that raised the True God–Slaying Demon" moved across taverns and ancestral halls alike; juniors who had once scoffed at an unkown junior now spoke of him with awe, elders whispered his new title with caution.
Ling Feng didn't bother walking through the gate.
Space folded again.
One moment he was hanging above the clouds; the next, he stood in a quiet pavilion on the highest peak overlooking the sect.
Here, the wind was clear and sharp, carrying the scent of pine and ink.
Su Yonghuang sat alone at the stone table, back straight as a sword, phoenix eyes lowered to the bamboo slips in her hands. No attendants. No elders. Just her, the storm of reports, and the weight of responsibility.
The slips detailed the current chaos of the Mortal Emperor World: Azure Mysterious and Brilliance Ancient Kingdom licking their wounds while nursing hatred; Immortal lineages convening in secret to discuss what to do about the anomaly named Ling Feng.
When his aura touched the peak, she felt it instantly.
Her fingers tightened around a bamboo slip, knuckles whitening.
"You're—"
She didn't get to finish.
In two steps, he crossed the distance and wrapped his arms around her from behind.
It was not a sneak attack. Not a sudden pounce.
His movements were deliberate, slow enough that if she had wanted to, she could have stood, slipped away, summoned sect-protecting formations to politely escort him off the mountain.
She did not.
For a heartbeat, Su Yonghuang's body tensed like a bow drawn to its limit. Years of sect master dignity screamed at her: this is improper; you are Cleansing Incense's pillar; you cannot simply melt because a man appears.
Then… the string loosened.
She exhaled—very quietly—and let herself lean back into his chest.
His scent wrapped around her. Sunlight on steel.
"Yonghuang," he said near her ear, voice low and steady. "I missed you."
Her heart skipped.
"You…" She forced her tone into something resembling sternness, though it came out softer than she liked. "You caused such a storm. Tiger Howl's destruction, Azure Mysterious, Brilliance—two True Gods dead, countless Paragons crippled. The entire Grand Middle Territory is in upheaval. And the first thing you say is—"
"That I missed my wife?" he cut in, shameless.
Her cheeks heated instantly.
"…Who is your wife?" she snapped reflexively.
"You," he said, without even a pause.
He loosened one arm just enough to turn her slightly, so he could see her face.
Those phoenix eyes that had weighed sects, emperors, and calamities were steady as always—but today, there was a crack in the composure, a warmth she hadn't managed to bury since that day in the treasure hall, when he'd declared Cleansing Incense's golden era and kissed her in front of everyone.
"I should have been more attentive," he said.
He watched the flicker of her eyes, the way her lips pressed together.
"Running around ancient burial grounds, bullying True Gods, flirting with academy girls…" he continued, tone drifting into self-mockery, "…and leaving my sect master-wife alone up here with a pile of paperwork. That one's on me."
"Stop talking nonsense," she protested, but the words lacked real bite. "I am handling sect affairs. This is my duty. I have no time to think about such—"
He leaned in and stole the rest from her lips.
The kiss was not hurried.
Not a brief, staking-a-claim brush like before.
It was deep and steady. As if he had taken all the storms he'd caused outside—the collapsing grottos, the erased Heavenly Guardians, the roars of despair from Ancient Kingdoms—and folded them into something warm and unwavering, pouring it into her through that contact.
Su Yonghuang's mind, used to untangling schemes and Imperial politics, went blank.
Her hands, which should have pushed him away, curled into his robes instead.
Time in the pavilion blurred.
The wind outside shifted. Clouds drifted lazily across the sun. Somewhere down the mountain, disciples moved through their daily routines, unaware that on the highest peak, their sect master Su Yonghuang was being kissed until her carefully maintained composure shattered into scattered, burning fragments.
When he finally drew back, both of them were breathing a little heavier.
Su Yonghuang's face was flushed to the tips of her ears.
"You…" she managed, voice barely above a whisper. "You dare…"
"I do," Ling Feng said softly. "And I'll keep daring, as long as you don't actually tell me to stop."
Her gaze trembled, then flickered away toward the horizon, as if the far line of mountains could lend her some of their chill.
"You caused a storm that will shake the Grand Middle Territory for a generation," she said, clinging to safer ground. "Azure Mysterious Ancient Kingdom and Brilliance Ancient Kingdom will bear resentment that will fester."
Ling Feng waved a hand lazily.
"If they're smart, they'll keep their tails tucked for a while," he said. "If they're stupid… I'll step on them again. That's their problem."
"Do not be so careless," she scolded, instinctively returning to the role of sect master. "Hatred festers. They will send lackeys, stir up trouble in the shadows, probe at Cleansing Incense, at Lion's Roar, at your academy—"
He cut her off the only way guaranteed to derail her arguments: by pulling her down to sit directly in his lap.
"Ling Feng—!" she hissed, mortified. "This is the main peak!"
"So?" He rested his chin lightly on her shoulder, one hand drawing soothing circles along her back. "I already laid formations that can seat any overconfident relic before he finishes raising his hand. You saw them before. I'm upgrading them."
"…Upgrading?" she repeated despite herself.
He nodded.
"Heavenly Dao Academy's getting a will-guard on the level of a Legendary Godking," he said. "Lion's Roar and Bao Yun too. As for Cleansing Incense—"
His eyes glinted, the casual surface giving way to something cold and sharp.
"Here, I'll leave something a bit more… hands-on," he said. "If some Virtuous Paragon thinks he can stroll up the mountain and throw his weight around, my will can slap him into blood mist from across the world. If a Godking dares to step, he'll still end up the same mist on the stones."
Su Yonghuang stared at him.
She believed him.
Not because he bragged—but because every time he had promised destruction before, he had delivered.
Her shoulders, which had been carrying the weight of sect, enemies, and future all at once, loosened a fraction.
"…Even so," she murmured, voice softer, "you should not be so quick to throw yourself into danger. You are Cleansing Incense's pillar as well. If you fall—"
He pressed his forehead lightly against hers.
"Hey," he said.
The simple word sounded strange in this ancient mountain air, yet it fit him perfectly.
"I'm not planning to die," he murmured. "I haven't even taken you on a proper trip yet. That brings me to why I'm here."
She blinked, lashes brushing his cheek.
"…This is not about reporting on your killings?" she asked slowly.
He laughed.
"Yonghuang, if I came here just to brag about crushing two True Gods, you'd toss me down the mountain."
She snorted despite herself.
"Correct."
"Exactly." His smile softened. "I came because I missed you. And because I'm about to leave the Mortal Emperor World for a bit."
Her body tensed again.
"Leave?" she repeated. "Where?"
He leaned back slightly so she could see the light in his eyes.
"The Sacred Nether World," he said.
The name fell like a stone into still water.
Su Yonghuang's pupils shrank.
"Sacred… Nether," she whispered.
The ancestral home of the Ghost Immortal Race. One of the Nine Worlds. A world where even emperors tread carefully, where ancient tribes like the Hundred Bones Sacred Tribe and Heart Ghost Tribe walked, carrying strange, terrifying abilities.
"That is no simple 'vacation spot'," she said, voice sharpening. "Even Immortal Emperors treat that place seriously. Its Ancestral City once spoke in the name of the Ancestral Realm. How can you be so casual?"
"Because I'm not going there to die," he replied. "I'm going there to work. And to play a little."
She opened her mouth to retort—then stopped, catching the faint shift in his eyes.
"…Work?" she asked.
He didn't explain.
"Secrets," he said lightly. "I'll tell you the details when we're on the road."
Her heart stumbled over those last three words.
"…We?" she echoed, very quietly.
He smiled.
"Yeah," he said. "I came to ask if you want to go with me."
The wind seemed to halt mid-gust.
"For now," he went on, tone unhurried, "I plan to take a few people. Pei-Pei, Baojiao, Shangyuan, Jianzhen, Xiaodie, Yuxia. We'll temper their Daos, let them see other worlds, break some Ghost Immortal geniuses if they're too noisy."
His gaze never left hers.
"And you," he added softly. "Sect master. The woman who kept this sect standing when everyone else looked down on it."
Su Yonghuang's lips parted.
She had never allowed herself to consider such a thing.
She was Cleansing Incense's pillar.
She could not leave, not truly. The sect had enemies. Responsibilities. Juniors who needed guidance. There were still eyes watching from the shadows, still old debts and hidden lines.
Her instinctive refusal rose to the tip of her tongue.
"The sect—"
He cut her off again, gently this time.
"I know," he said. "You're worried. That's why I went to Heavenly Dao Academy first. I asked their elders and ancestors to smooth relations with Lion's Roar, Bao Yun, and us. They agreed."
He brushed a stray strand of hair from her cheek, fingers warm.
"The academy's roots run through the Eastern Hundred Cities and beyond," he continued. "With their backing, with Lion's Roar's prestige rising, with everyone trembling at the mention of my name, this is the most stable window Cleansing Incense has had in ages."
He tilted his head toward the mountains below, where disciples moved like tiny ants in the training fields.
"Add to that the formations I've already laid around our main gate," he reminded her. "And the will I'm about to anchor here that can turn Virtuous Paragons into blood mist if they breathe wrong… and honestly, anyone who still wants to court death while we're gone deserves it."
Her heart trembled.
"…You would go that far," she murmured.
"For you?" he said quietly. "Of course."
There was no flourish in that answer. No obvious romantic line.
Just simple truth.
He closed his eyes for a moment, resting his forehead against hers again, their breaths mingling.
"I want you with me," he admitted. "When I walk into Sacred Nether, I don't want to think, 'ah, my wife is stuck up on this mountain doing paperwork while I'm having fun.' I want you to see those ghost worlds with your own eyes. Fight beside me. Yell at me when I do something reckless."
Her breath hitched.
"You… you speak as if everything is so easy," she said, but the steel in her voice was already thinning. "As if traveling between worlds is like walking between courtyards."
"For others, it isn't," he agreed. "After the paths collapsed, even legendary masters and Divine Investiture experts who tried to force open a channel to other worlds didn't dare step through. They were afraid they wouldn't come back out."
He smiled, a touch of mischief returning to his eyes.
"But for me," he said, "with Space and Time playing nice… it really is just a slightly crooked road."