Ren could see it in their eyes.
That instinctive urge to bow.
To straighten their backs, clasp their fists, and speak solemn words about kindness and debts.
To swear, with all the ceremony a sect could muster, that they would never forget this grace even if ten thousand years passed.
It was the proper thing to do.
It was also exactly the kind of distance he didn't want.
So before anyone could find the right ceremonial phrasing, he smiled.
Not the distant smile of a lofty senior.
Not the cold smirk of an overlord.
Just that relaxed, infuriatingly casual curve of lips that had already caused so much trouble on Divine Phoenix Island.
"If you all keep looking at me like that," Ren said lightly, "I'm going to start blushing, you know."
The words dropped into the charged silence like a pebble into a hot spring.
Ripples spread.
A few disciples choked on their own breath.
A core elder's shoulders twitched.
Even Mu Fengxian's mouth gave the tiniest traitorous quiver, as if fighting a laugh.
Mu Qianyu's lashes trembled.
She had been staring at him without realizing it—gaze fixed on his profile, on the hand still half-raised from when he had sent the Heavenly Demon Lotus pattern into their Spiritual Seas. Caught, she jerked her eyes away, phoenix flame in her meridians flaring in flustered embarrassment, as if trying to burn away the heat rising in her chest.
Mu Bingyun's cool gaze flickered, a hairline crack appearing at the corner of her eyes. The Blue Luan Saintess' composure didn't shatter—but it swayed, just slightly, like ice under a spring wind.
Mu Xiaoqing actually made a tiny squeaking sound, then immediately coughed to smother it, ears burning red above her collar.
Even Mu Yuhuang—Island Master, Saintess' master, Vermillion Bird ruler of this island—felt her composure slide a few inches out of reach.
What… blushing…?
This kind of person, who could casually control Fire Laws and hand them to others as if he were passing out sweets, saying he would "blush"…?
"…You—" Mu Fengxian snorted, tapping her cane once against the floor to hide the amusement in her tone. "Your mouth is still as cheap as ever."
Ren turned his head slightly, eyes curving.
"If I don't say something like this," he said, "you'll all start thinking I'm some distant Heaven you should worship from below. That would be troublesome."
He let his gaze move slowly across the hall.
The disciples didn't dare breathe.
"Listen carefully," he added.
The teasing faded for a heartbeat. His voice dropped, softer, sinking into the bones of everyone present.
"What I gave you today isn't a favor that forces your heads down," he said. "It's a road. Walk it well. That's enough thanks."
Mu Qianyu's heart clenched.
Those were the words she had been preparing—not to speak aloud, but to carve into her Dao heart: that Divine Phoenix Island owed him a debt, that they would never be able to repay this kindness even if they offered the entire South Sea.
He cut through that entire knot with a single line.
A road.
Walk it well.
She lowered her eyes.
Her fingers curled at her sides, nails biting into her palm. In her Spiritual Sea, the sleeping lotus above her Vermillion Bird fire pulsed—steady, deep, like a distant Heaven's heartbeat.
No one in this hall would ever forget this day.
No matter how lightly he spoke.
At Ren's side, Qin Xingxuan let out a quiet breath she hadn't noticed she was holding.
Ren's eyes slid sideways, warmth flickering in their depths for a brief instant as they met hers.
He didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
From this day onward, the island's sky would not be the same.
...
After that day, changes swept across Divine Phoenix Island like a tide of vermillion fire.
At dawn, when the first Fire origin rose from the depths of the South Sea, it no longer simply flowed into the great island-guarding formations and dispersed through the Vermillion Bird totems.
It brushed against lotuses.
They weren't visible to ordinary eyes. But in the Spiritual Seas of thousands of disciples, faint dark-rainbow blossoms now hovered above oceans of flame and ice.
The effect, at first, was subtle.
A junior outer disciple sat cross-legged in a modest training courtyard, her Vermillion Bird true essence circulating in the pattern she'd practiced since she was twelve.
Today, something changed.
True essence that had always flowed like warm water now carried weight, as if grains of molten ore had been mixed into it. The familiar loop turned, and the moment it brushed the phantom lotus, its trajectory bent just enough to find a smoother path.
Movements that had always felt slightly stiff suddenly slid into place. Bones and tendons remembered a better posture. The disciple blinked, startled, as the bottleneck she had been quietly dreading for half a year loosened by a hair's breadth.
She didn't know why.
She only knew that when she exhaled, the fire in her meridians burned a shade purer.
Deep within the inner island's flame caverns, an elder who had been seated in seclusion for decades stirred.
His Revolving Core realm had long since stabilized; the wall between him and Life Destruction felt like a mountain of divine bronze.
Today, as Fire origin gushed through the veins of the island and seeped into the caverns, it brushed against the lotus pattern Ren had carved into his Spiritual Sea.
Old injuries that had never fully healed itched, then eased.
Meridians hardened by years of high-pressure cultivation softened just enough to drink in more flame without cracking. The "mountain" in front of him did not vanish—but for the first time, he saw tiny ledges, handholds where none had existed before.
The elder opened his eyes, pupils reflecting the glow of distant lava lakes.
"…What kind of monster art is this…" he whispered, voice hoarse with awe.
In the Vermillion Bird Faction's main practice fields, lines of phoenix-robed disciples swung their swords and spears.
Every arc of a blade left behind a faint, dark-rainbow afterimage that only those sensitive to Dao could see. Each strike seemed to weigh a little more, push a little deeper into the surrounding space. Whirlwinds kicked up by spear thrusts carried a hint of grandmist heaviness; flames dancing along sword edges looked cleaner, stripped of unnecessary noise.
On the Blue Luan training grounds, cold-blue flames that had always been aloof and proud now flowed with a deeper, more ancient chill.
Mu Bingyun stood at the edge of one of those fields, blue robe fluttering lightly in the wind. Her gaze, calm and collected as ever, followed the movements of her faction's Saintess-level geniuses as they circulated the Heavenly Demon Lotus patterns through Blue Luan ice-flame.
Under the lotus' influence, their cold no longer only froze flesh and blood.
It brushed against concepts.
Within a small scope, speed slowed. Momentum thickened. Even time itself seemed to hesitate for half a breath at the edge of their flames.
Divine Phoenix Island's old foundation—already extraordinary among fourth-grade sects—was being quietly remade.
Saint beast cries echoed faintly over the inner island. High above, a Vermillion Bird and a Blue Luan traced slow circles in the sky, their bloodline flames and ice responding instinctively to the new currents of Dao.
It wasn't just the island.
Ren didn't walk his path alone.
...
A few days after the Heavenly Demon Lotus Art descended, space split open above one of Divine Phoenix Island's outer perches.
The grand formation stirred. Phoenix cries echoed as island-guarding restrictions flared, vermillion glyphs rising from the sea like pillars of fire.
For an instant, elders moved. A flash of Divine Phoenix aura rose as killing intent sharpened.
Then Mu Yuhuang's command voice rolled through the inner island, calm and unhurried.
"Withdraw. They are guests."
The restrictions calmed.
Through that rift in space stepped five familiar figures.
Murong Zi came first, wearing a battle robe still bearing faint traces of spear scars and charred patterns from previous training. Her eyes were sharp and bright, phoenix-like, carrying the untamed edge that had once scared half the Seven Profound Martial House's elders.
Her presence was like a spear thrust at the sky—straight, unyielding, daring the heavens to block it.
Beside her walked Bai Jingyun, sword at her waist, aura restrained and clear. Her beauty wasn't as flamboyant as Divine Phoenix's Saintesses, but there was a quiet steadiness to it—like a sword standing in a snowstorm, refusing to rust.
Her gaze swept once across the island with the calm of someone used to observing battlefields, not admiring scenery.
Na Yi followed, tall and still, presence like a mountain covered in pines. True essence rolled within her meridians like distant thunder, but her eyes were tranquil, reflecting fire seas and cloud-wreathed pavilions without ripples.
Na Shui, shorter and bright-eyed, tried to stand with proper martial dignity—and failed, just a little.
True essence in her meridians thrummed, eager and joyful, like a puppy trying to hold a serious expression.
Ren stood at the center of a receiving platform, a lazy smile touching his lips as he watched them emerge.
"Welcome," he said. "To Divine Phoenix Island."
His voice rolled across the platform, neither loud nor pressured, but it seemed the very stones underfoot leaned in to listen.
Divine Phoenix disciples whispered.
They recognized some of those faces—from projections of Acacia Peak's destruction, from rumors that had spread secretly through their ranks.
South Horizon's monsters.
The women who had stood beside a man who tore Extreme Xiantian elders apart with one hand.
Murong Zi's gaze swept the sea of red and blue robes, the Vermillion Bird and Blue Luan totems carved into the pillars, the faint heat seeping up from the formations beneath their feet.
She clicked her tongue softly.
"…Not bad," she said, hands on her hips. "If the Seven Profound Valleys saw this place, they'd probably vomit blood on the spot."
Na Shui's eyes sparkled.
"Flames everywhere," she whispered, almost bouncing. "And they all have such pretty hair…"
Na Yi's lips curved, just a hint.
Bai Jingyun's gaze, more reserved, slid once toward Ren.
He caught it and smiled, the line of his mouth softening.
"Divine Phoenix Island will be your home for a while," he said to them, but his voice carried across the platform. "Treat it well. Let its fire temper you. And don't bully their disciples too much."
Murong Zi snorted.
"No promises," she said.
The Divine Phoenix girls who heard that line bristled for a heartbeat, phoenix flames rising in their meridians.
Then Ren's next sentence fell.
"…Unless they ask you to, of course."
Na Shui burst into laughter on the spot.
Several phoenix-robed disciples flushed to the tips of their ears, suddenly unable to meet the eyes of these "small kingdom" women whose auras didn't feel small at all.
That was how it began.
...
Murong Zi's spear Dao, refined through Ren's modified Chaotic Virtues Combat Meridians, Heaven-Piercing Elemental Canon, and Heavenly Demon Lotus Art, met Vermillion Bird spear arts in the sparring fields.
Her strikes fell like meteors, not simply fast but inevitable—space folding subtly around each thrust, choosing the shortest path between intent and target. Each impact shook the air, knocking sparks loose from Vermillion Bird flames and mixing them with her own thunder-laced fire.
Bai Jingyun stepped into the Blue Luan training grounds with her Snow Sword, trading blows with core disciples whose ice-flames had been sharpened by Heavenly Demon Lotus patterns. Sword-light drew latticework in the sky, each line carrying quiet killing intent.
Where her sword passed, heat and cold twisted, Vermillion and Luan Laws braided together for a moment before parting.
Na Yi walked into body-tempering caves with Divine Phoenix elders, letting compressed fire origin hammer against her bones. Her frame, forged through Ren's modified paths, endured calmly. As she guided the lotus patterns through her meridians, her body "remembered" every pressure and turned it into Dao fruits in bone and tendon.
Na Shui cheerfully threw herself into basic forms with younger disciples, laughing as she corrected stances and footwork. Her foundation, carved by Ren's hands, let her movements flow like water over stone—every playful spin and step hiding ruthless efficiency.
Within days, the female disciples of Divine Phoenix Island—especially those of similar realms—had surrounded these newcomers.
Murong Zi's ferocity made them bristle… then secretly admire.
Bai Jingyun's stubborn quiet drew their respect.
Na Yi's calm gave their restless hearts a new anchor.
Na Shui's bright, straightforward devotion to Ren made more than a few feel a strange, complicated envy… and an even stranger sense of camaraderie.
They were all, after all, people whose lives had turned because of one man's arrival.
And Ren… did not idle.
He spent his days with his usual brand of Dao.
Among his women.
...
Ren's popularity among the female disciples, which had already risen after the Lantern-Heart Flame Diagram, exploded.
At first, it was subtle.
A few Saintess-level girls from the Vermillion Bird Faction would "just happen" to finish their cultivation cycles near the time he usually returned to his courtyard, lingering at the stone path that connected his residence with Mu Qianyu's.
Then it spread.
Outer and inner disciples began volunteering for duty shifts anywhere near the Guest of Fire's area.
Sector clean-up, formation inspection, herb-delivery to nearby pavilions—tasks previously seen as mundane chores suddenly became sought-after assignments. Some elders, bemused, found themselves flipping through duty rosters and wondering when, exactly, a patrol near Ren's courtyard had become more popular than meditating in a fire chamber.
The small path that wound past his courtyard—once quiet, lined with flame shrubs whose leaves burned with a soft glow—gradually turned into one of the liveliest areas on the inner island.
Girls passed by in twos and threes, ostensibly on their way to training grounds or scripture pavilions.
They slowed just slightly when they approached his gate.
Sometimes on purpose.
Sometimes without realizing it.
They bowed politely if they saw him, faces composed as proper disciples. Once they walked past, more than a few turned their heads to steal another glance at his back.
Some fantasized—ashamed yet unable to stop—about what it would be like to receive direct guidance.
Some imagined a hand on their wrist, a thumb brushing their pulse as he adjusted their breathing, the way he had with Mu Qianyu or Mu Xiaoqing.
Ren noticed.
Of course he noticed.
The way Spirit Sense had once swept battlefields now casually skimmed the courtyard path, catching whispers, quickened heartbeats, the tiny fluctuations of flame in their meridians when they passed his presence.
He chuckled to himself more than once.
Sometimes, when a particularly brave girl slowed in front of his gate for the third day in a row, he would call out lightly.
"Junior sister," he'd say, tone mild. "If you walk that slowly every day, your foundation's gonna fall behind the others."
The disciple would jolt, whirl around, and bow so quickly she nearly knocked her forehead into the stone.
"Ye-yes! Guest—no, Senior Ren! I—I was just…"
"Enjoying the fire?" he suggested lazily. "Good habit. But enjoy it while cultivating, you don't want to fall behind, right?."
He'd smile, eyes curving, and lift a hand in a small wave.
She would flee, Vermillion Bird flames flaring wildly in her meridians, heart pounding against her ribs—only to return the next day, walking half a step faster, face red, eyes brighter.
He teased them, but never cruelly.
He laid the roads.
They had to walk.
The ones he gave his time and arms to, though… were fewer.
...
Mu Qianyu changed.
The Saintess of Divine Phoenix Island had always carried herself like a Vermillion Bird in human form: burning, proud, distant from the mundane.
Even when she had leaned against him in the courtyard that first night, her body had held a faint stiffness born from years of self-control.
Now…
They sat again beneath the vermillion-tinged sky, Divine Phoenix fire in the distance turning the clouds into molten gold.
Mu Qianyu's back was against his chest.
Not rigid.
Not forced.
Her shoulders rested naturally against him, the curve of her spine fitting into the line of his body as if it had been measured there. Vermillion Bird fire surged within her meridians, then calmed, each breath syncing more closely with the circulation paths Ren had drawn for her.
His hands moved slowly.
One rested on her lower abdomen, fingers spread just above her dantian, feeling the Revolving Core's spin. The other pressed lightly between her shoulder blades, thumb brushing along a meridian knot he was smoothing out.
"Here," he said softly. "This bend is still stuck in the old Divine Phoenix habit. Let it follow the lotus instead."
Mu Qianyu's eyes were half-closed.
She could feel it.
The lotus that had appeared above her phoenix sea in her Spiritual Sea now pulsed faintly, its petals dipping every time his will brushed against it. Under its influence, her Vermillion Bird fire rotated in a slightly altered pattern—no longer just surging forward, but folding, compressing, carrying a hint of grandmist weight.
She drew a slow breath.
"…Like this?" she asked quietly.
His fingers pressed a little more firmly at her back.
"Good," he murmured near her ear. "Let it sink. Don't rush the breakthrough. Make your body remember this path first."
Her lips parted.
She could feel how easily he could turn this gentle guidance into something more.
The hand on her abdomen was broad and warm, his true essence present but restrained. The one on her back steadied her, pulling her subtly into his chest every time her flames threatened to surge out of control.
Once, the thought of being held this intimately—under her own sect's sky, under formations she had commanded—would have made her push him away on instinct.
Now…
She leaned back.
Just a little more.
His chest rose against her shoulders as he breathed, the rhythm slow, steady. She felt it. Matched it.
"At this rate," he said, voice low, "your next Life Destruction will be a lot easier than you think."
Mu Qianyu's heart skipped.
"…You make it sound simple," she muttered, trying to hide the tremor in her voice behind sarcasm.
"For you," Ren said, smiling against her hair, "it is simple."
The hand on her abdomen shifted.
Not downward.
Not improper.
Just… closer.
Close enough that she became acutely aware of every thread of true essence passing through his palm, of the way his own core's presence wrapped around hers without overwhelming it.
Her cheeks burned.
He didn't push further.
Ren was shameless—but not crude.
He knew how to flirt with a woman whose entire life had been built on duty. He knew how to let his presence sink into her Dao without cracking her pride.
Sometimes, when Qin Xingxuan, Murong Zi and the others were present, he would draw Mu Qianyu into his chest under the guise of adjusting her breathing. Qin Xingxuan would sit nearby with her spear across her knees, lips curved in a small, knowing smile. Murong Zi would roll her eyes and look away, only to glance back a moment later.
Sometimes, when it was only the two of them, when night had fallen fully and phoenix cries had faded into the distance, Mu Qianyu would hesitate for a long time at the edge of propriety…
…and then, finally, exhale and settle.
Once.
Just once, for now.
In his lap.
Her robe pooled around her legs as she perched sideways across his thighs, back still against his chest, his arm looped securely around her waist. Her hair fell over his shoulder, dark silk against the pale of his fingers where they rested just beneath the swell of her ribs.
She had nearly bolted.
Instead, she stayed.
Because when she circulated the Heavenly Demon Lotus Art like that—wrapped in his arms, Vermillion Bird fire guided by his breath, lotus petals brushing against the outline of his Heaven—her entire cultivation path felt as if it had finally found its correct orbit.
Her Saintess' Dao heart, once a lonely flame, now leaned quietly against a Heaven that refused to stand on an altar.
...
Mu Bingyun took longer.
The Blue Luan Saintess was calm, cold, collected—her ice-flame carried aloofness as instinctively as she breathed.
She requested instruction in a way that avoided any hint of undue closeness.
"Guest of Fire," she said one afternoon, standing before him in the Blue Luan training grounds, blue robe rippling like a lake. "My Blue Luan ice-flame has reacted strongly to the lotus pattern. I would like your guidance in controlling the shift."
Her words were formal, distance properly maintained.
Her eyes, however, were just a fraction too steady.
Ren tilted his head, gaze sliding over the training ground.
Here, the air was cool.
Blue flames danced between carved Luan totems, their chill refining instead of burning. Under the Heavenly Demon Lotus' influence, those flames had begun to sharpen—not just freezing flesh, but nibbling faintly at speed and intent.
"Mm," he said. "All right. Show me."
Mu Bingyun nodded once.
She stepped forward, raised a hand, and sent a stream of Blue Luan ice-flame curling into the air.
It spiraled outward, forming a ring around them. Within that ring, temperature dropped sharply. Frost crystals formed midair, then shattered as flame brushed them aside.
Ren watched, eyes half-lidded.
"Your control is already good," he said. "But the lotus is trying to teach this fire to remember a deeper cold. You're resisting it."
Mu Bingyun's brows twitched faintly.
"…If I release it fully," she said, "I am concerned that it will harm the training ground, or my own meridians."
He smiled.
"That's why I'm here."
He stepped closer.
Blue Luan disciples watching from a distance stiffened.
Mu Bingyun stood her ground.
Ren raised his hand and simply placed it over hers.
His palm was warm.
Her hand was cold.
Flames gathered between their fingers, Blue Luan ice-fire wrapping around his skin. The lotus patterns in his body stirred, grandmist-threaded Dao lines sinking into the flame without effort.
"Relax," he said, voice dropping. "Let it out. I'll catch it if it misbehaves."
She hesitated.
Then, slowly, she let go of the restraint she had been holding.
Ice-flame surged.
For a heartbeat, the training ground seemed to fall into a midwinter storm. Frost rushed along the carved Luan pillars. The air thickened, sound slowing as if it were moving through water.
The world's colors dulled—except for the blue of her flame, which shone like a shard of sky.
The lotus at her back bloomed.
Ren's hand tightened just slightly, his own Dao wrapping around hers. Grandmist currents slid into her Blue Luan fire, dragging it toward origin, letting it remember a state where "cold" had not yet become separate from "heat".
Mu Bingyun's breath caught.
Something in her Dao heart trembled.
If she had tried this alone, without the lotus, without him, her meridians would have cracked. Her realm would have become a cage instead of a platform.
Now, with his Heaven acting as a cushion and mirror, her body and soul remembered each shift and filed it away, turning danger into future security.
When the flame finally calmed, frost melted.
Mu Bingyun exhaled.
There was a faint flush high on her cheeks from exertion… and something else.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
"Don't thank me so formally," Ren replied, smile tilting. "Come by the courtyard later. We'll fix the internal circulation more carefully. Blue Luan tea goes well with iced tea."
Her lashes fluttered.
"…Iced tea?" she repeated, thrown off-guard by the mundane phrase.
"You'll see," he said.
...
That evening, she came.
Alone.
The courtyard was quiet, phoenix fire in the distance painting the sky. Qin Xingxuan, Murong Zi and the others had gone to cultivate elsewhere; Mu Qianyu was trapped in council affairs.
Mu Bingyun sat across from him at a small stone table, fingers wrapped around a cup that chilled the air around it.
He had brewed something strange.
Not spiritual wine.
Not Fire-attribute tea.
A simple, cool drink, faintly sweet, with ice cubes made from her own Blue Luan flame—crystals that didn't melt, but slowly released a gentle chill.
"…This is… unusual," she said after the first sip.
"Better than getting drunk in the middle of cultivation," he replied lazily. "And it suits you."
He reached across the table.
Not suddenly, not invading.
Just slowly, giving her all the time in the world to pull back.
She didn't.
His hand closed gently around her wrist.
The Blue Luan ice-fire there reacted, swirling around his fingers. The lotus on her back pulsed, responding to his will. He leaned forward a little, eyes crinkling.
"Your Law foundation is already good, Bingyun," he said. "But if you let the lotus guide you into that deeper cold more often, your future Blue Luan flames will be able to stall more than flesh and blood. You'll be able to slow Laws themselves within your field."
Mu Bingyun's pulse fluttered under his fingers.
She looked away.
"…You speak so casually of such a horrifying prospect," she murmured.
"I'm used to horrifying things," he said mildly. "Beautiful ones too."
His thumb brushed once against the tender skin at the inside of her wrist.
Her hand tightened on the cup.
She didn't pull away.
Later that night, when he walked her to the gate, he let his arm slide around her shoulders for a brief moment.
"Don't think too much," he said, voice low. "Just cultivate. And if your heart feels restless… come have tea."
She hesitated at the threshold.
Then, almost too quietly to hear, she answered.
"…I will."