High above, the phoenix ship finished its descent.
Scarlet and ice-blue flame streamed from its flanks, sweeping out in a vast, wing-shaped arc. The twin seas of fire and frost folded inward, condensing into a bridge of flame and ice that stretched from the ship's prow toward the Seven Profound Valleys' main guest platform.
Where that bridge touched down, lotus lines appeared in the air—dark, rainbow-rimmed petals blooming silently, then sinking through stone and array light alike.
Seven Profound Valleys' formation masters blanched.
They saw it.
Their grand defensive array, the proud central formation that had guarded this mountain for hundreds of years, had not been broken.
It had been overlaid.
Phoenix-lotus patterns threaded through their own lines, adjusting nodes and channels with casual precision. Origin energy that had once flowed according to Seven Profound's will now curved along unfamiliar paths, as if someone had quietly reached into the sect's chest and rearranged its heartbeat.
"Impossible…"
"This… this is—"
The lead Array Elder's voice died in his throat.
Then they appeared.
The phoenix ship's protective radiance peeled back.
First came the tide.
Two figures stepped to the front of the descending bridge, phoenix robes billowing in arcs of crimson and ice-blue flame.
Mu Yuhuang.
Mu Fengxian.
They walked side by side, a single step ahead of the other elders—two sovereign flames given human form.
Mu Yuhuang's Vermillion Bird aura burned with a deep, steady radiance. Behind her, a phoenix totem shimmered faintly into view—feathers traced with thin lines of wind and thunder Law, every plume engraved with hidden runes. Her gaze, once weighed down by the burdens of a fourth-grade sect, now carried a calm, unshakable sharpness that made even visiting Sovereigns feel their hearts tighten.
Mu Fengxian's presence was… something that didn't belong to the old South Horizon.
The last time most elders had seen Divine Phoenix's high ancestor, she had been a stern, aging matriarch—a blade whose edge had been worn thin by sacrifice and time.
Now, a woman at the peak of her prime walked beside Mu Yuhuang.
Her hair flowed down her back like a dark waterfall touched by scarlet strands, each filament reflecting phoenix fire. Her skin held the clear gloss of carved jade. In her eyes, dim dark-gold phoenix patterns turned slowly, like totems hidden behind the pupils. Three cycles of Life Destruction—burned through under the guidance of Heavenly Demon Lotus and grandmist—had incinerated every trace of decline.
The pressure pouring from her body answered the whispers before any elder could.
"That's… Divine Phoenix's high ancestor?"
"She truly crossed another Life Destruction?"
"Her aura… it's almost like—"
Their words frayed into silence beneath that invisible weight.
Behind those two, the second row stepped down.
Mu Qianyu's Vermillion Bird flames flowed around her in red-gold waves, strands of violet thunder flickering in the depths of her aura. Beside her, Mu Bingyun's presence was like drifting snow under high winds; ice Laws hummed beneath her skin, cold light condensing and dissolving along her sleeves.
Mu Qingyi stood between the two like a storm brought into perfect balance—ice, wind, and thunder braided together in her reforged spirit body. Her true essence circulated with terrifying stability, as if each breath opened and closed a miniature world.
Mu Xiaoqing walked half a step behind them. The shy junior the South Horizon Region once overlooked was gone; her Revolving Core foundation now burned with refined fire, wind, and thunder, all honed under Ren Ming's Heaven. Every step she took left a faint afterimage of flame and wind in the air.
On the flanks, the storm's vanguard appeared.
Murong Zi strode forward with her spear resting casually on her shoulder, a dark-rainbow lotus faintly visible on her back to those with keen senses. Bai Jingyun walked opposite her, sword at her waist, aura quiet and deep. Fire Martial Intent coiled around her like a red-gold halo that only enemies would truly perceive.
Qin Xingxuan's spear rested lightly in her hand, her eyes as calm as still water. Beneath that calm, a sharp edge lay hidden—the same spear edge that had already punched through the Sunfire Sect's core disciples and arrays as if they were thin paper.
Na Yi and Na Shui followed, their auras intertwined like opposites balanced on a knife's edge. Na Yi was compressed earth and steady rivers, an immovable mountain. Na Shui was wild storms and crashing waves, a violent tide. Together, they gave the sensation of a continent's weather bound into two human forms.
To either side of that line, Ling Sen and the Heavenly Abode disciples descended.
Spears, swords, and fists were all wreathed in faint lotus petal afterimages. The strange footprints of Heaven-Piercing Elemental Canon twisted space around Ta Ku's fists; Heaven-Piercing Martial Intent left thin marks in the air around Zhou Yan's sword arcs. Their realms were "only" mid Houtian, but every meridian had been reforged by modified Heretical God Force and Heavenly Demon Lotus. Their foundations pulsed with such density that Revolving Core elders unconsciously furrowed their brows.
Behind them, Divine Phoenix's elite disciples flooded out in a steady tide. Flame, frost, and lightning braided with lotus lines flowed through their meridians. Every breath they took pulled heaven and earth's origin energy into patterns that did not belong to Seven Profound Valleys.
At the center of it all, walking a step behind Mu Yuhuang and Mu Fengxian, was a man in simple phoenix robes.
Ren Ming.
His hands were tucked lazily into his sleeves. His posture was relaxed, shoulders loose, as if this grand procession were nothing more than a stroll through his own courtyard. His features were handsome but not ostentatious; his dark eyes were half-lidded, making it hard to tell whether he was bored or quietly entertained.
A faint smile curved his lips.
On the surface, he did nothing.
Yet as Divine Phoenix's feet touched down on Seven Profound's main guest platform, Heavenly Demon Lotus patterns quietly bloomed beneath them. Dark petals rimmed with a soft rainbow unfolded one after another, then sank into the stone like ink spreading through paper.
The world shivered.
The Five Element Region's sects felt their hearts skip a beat.
On Yin-Yang Profound Palace's side, the yin-yang field surrounding their platform twisted—just for an instant. It was like a painting of black and white being crumpled by an unseen hand, then flattened again. The field smoothed out a moment later, but its foundation lines had shifted subtly.
Even the monks of Great Zen Temple fell completely silent. The soft chanting in their throats went still as they watched the lotus lines merge with Seven Profound's formations.
On the host platform, Jiang Wuji's mouth had gone dry.
As the weakest among today's peak powers, Seven Profound Valley could barely breathe under this pressure.
Ren's gaze drifted over the gathering below, unhurried.
He saw the Thundercrest disciples who refused to meet Murong Zi's eyes, shoulders unconsciously hunched, Thunder Souls in their bodies trembling at the memory of a spear that had split their sect's main peak.
He saw Sunfire's elders, their flames burning a fraction too hot, as if they were trying to roar away their fear.
Deep Earth's hall masters sat like boulders… but their fingers dug into their armrests. Arctic Ice Palace's envoys wrapped themselves in icy auras, their cold qi bristling defensively. Verdant Wood Sect's people were pale and trying very hard not to look nervous. Golden Bell Mountain's elders had their eyes closed, listening for shifts in the "bells of destiny" they believed in—and hearing only the discordant hum of lotus lines threading through the mountain.
His gaze skimmed across Yin-Yang Profound Palace's platform.
He glanced toward Great Zen Temple's monks and saw Yuan Kong watching him, not with hatred, but with that distant, measuring look one gave to a new, dangerous scripture.
They actually came in person, Ren thought lazily.
Originally, he'd planned something very different.
Teleport in without any flare.
Drop straight onto the central arena like a stone into a still pond. Let the ripples spread slowly, let his disciples grind themselves against Seven Profound's formations as a whetstone.
Simple. Efficient.
Then he'd thought of Thundercrest's fractured Thunder Soul.
He thought of Murong Zi's spear splitting mountains, Bai Jingyun's blade cutting frost in half, Na Yi and Na Shui turning proud sect training fields into trembling mud and shattered stone. He thought of Sunfire elders coughing blood, of Deep Earth grandmasters watching their defensive walls crumble like dried clay.
He thought of the South Sea Demon Region's emissaries whispering in the dark.
Of Mu Chihuo's traitorous heart.
Of the rumors already coiling through the South Horizon Region—about a "demonic" man with brazen arts, someone who crushed sect foundations and made Sovereigns kneel.
If the South Sea Demon Region wants to paint me as the storm, he had mused two nights ago, lying on the broad branch of a phoenix tree. Mu Qianyu had been draped across his chest, phoenix robe loosened, breathing slow and relaxed as she half-dozed. Then I might as well make landfall properly.
Let Divine Phoenix Island rise as the dominating faction of the South Horizon Region here, in one single stroke.
It would make crushing the South Sea Demon Region later much simpler.
It would also give his women something entertaining to play with.
When he'd spoken that thought aloud, Mu Qianyu's soft laughter had brushed his chest like feathers.
Mu Yuhuang's phoenix eyes had brightened, battle intent lighting their depths.
Mu Fengxian had tilted her head, the corner of her mouth hooking up into a rare, sharp smile. "Then we shall burn away the fog for you," she had said quietly. "Leave the small things to us."
Murong Zi, Bai Jingyun, Qin Xingxuan, Na Yi, Na Shui, Mu Bingyun, Mu Qingyi, Mu Xiaoqing—every one of them had responded with the same eagerness. They wanted to display the foundations he'd helped them build. They wanted to stand at his side and make the world remember their names.
Now, standing on Seven Profound's main platform, Ren could feel that eagerness coiling beneath the surface like thunder.
He let it hang in the air for a long moment.
Then he moved.
He didn't explode with a terrifying aura. He didn't unveil Heaven-Piercing Martial Intent or let the lotus tattoos on his skin bloom in full.
He simply took one step forward.
Heaven and earth seemed to lean closer.
Jiang Wuji drew in a breath, ready to speak.
He never got the chance.
Ren's voice slid over the mountain, light and unhurried, but leaving no space for interruption.
"Since everyone's here," he drawled, "let's skip the boring part."
The words were simple.
They landed like stones dropped into a still lake.
Every Sovereign on Seven Profound's side felt their hearts pause.
"Guest Ren," Jiang Wuji said with a stiff smile, forcing courtesy through clenched teeth. "As the hosts, we should—"
Ren didn't look at him.
His gaze slid past the Seven Profound elders, sweeping over Thundercrest, Sunfire, Deep Earth, Storm Valley, Verdant Wood, Golden Bell Mountain, then finally resting on Yin-Yang Profound Palace and Great Zen Temple.
His smile deepened by a fraction.
"From this point on," he said, still as casual as if they were talking about weather, "any disciple under my banner is superior to those of the same generation from your fourth-grade sects."
He hadn't raised his voice.
Yet the mountain carried every syllable to the furthest peak.
Nobody could react when Ren continued to speak.
"Even your fifth-grade sects," he continued, his eyes brushing past the Xing couple and Yuan Kong without a hint of flattery, "can't compare."
There was no gloating in his expression.
No raging arrogance.
Just a calm, matter-of-fact certainty, like someone describing sunrise.
"As for Seven Profound Valley," he added at last, glancing down at Jiang Wuji. "A third-grade sect…"
He seemed to genuinely consider it for a moment.
Then faint disdain curled his lips.
"There's nothing to compare."
Silence.
For a heartbeat, the entire mountain range forgot how to breathe.
Then, everyone reacted all at once.
"You—!"
A Deep Earth elder lurched to his feet, true essence rumbling under his skin like an awakening earthquake.
Before he could speak, his Sect Master raised a hand and pressed down, fingers trembling.
"Sit," the Sect Master said hoarsely.
Sunfire's Great Elder's face flushed crimson, flames boiling under his skin.
On Thundercrest's side, Lei Jingtian's fingers sank into his armrest so hard the wood shattered with a dull crack, arcs of purple lightning crawling madly over his knuckles.
On Yin-Yang Profound Palace's platform, Xing Zizzan's eyes sharpened like drawn blades.
"Too arrogant," one of their disciples ground out between clenched teeth. "Does he think the entire South Horizon Region revolves around his little island?"
Great Zen Temple's monks exchanged quiet looks. Yuan Kong's hands remained folded, but his thoughts churned.
The South Sea Demon Region will not let this pass, he thought. Neither will many others.
On Seven Profound's host platform, Sovereign tempers boiled.
Jiang Huang's aura surged, then was forced back down. The other Sovereigns' eyes grew dark; anger, humiliation, and fear twisted together in their chests.
But none of them acted.
They remembered Acacia Peak.
They remembered the Acacia Faction annihilated in a night, Ouyang Shenxiu's corpse cooling on shattered stone, the kneeling figures of Seven Profound's Sovereigns, their own meridians groaning beneath Heaven-Piercing light they still hadn't fully recovered from.
No matter how their pride howled, a deeper instinct whispered one warning:
"Do not move first."
Around them, the other sects watched with a mixture of secret glee and sharp apprehension. Under any other circumstance, seeing Seven Profound forced into such a corner would have been a delightful spectacle.
Today, no one felt like laughing.
The one who moved… wasn't a Sovereign.
It was a young man.
He stepped forward from among Seven Profound's disciples.
Black hair, long and unbound, snapped in the thin mountain wind. A greatsword rested quietly on his back. His aura was restrained to the extreme, all sharpness sealed beneath a calm exterior.
He stood there, and it was like a sword drawn halfway from its sheath.
"Jiang Baoyun…" someone whispered. "Sword Faction's chosen…"
In Sky Fortune Kingdom, that name had once been synonymous with "peak of the younger generation." In Seven Profound Valley, he had condensed his sword heart atop mountains steeped in kendo, tempering his blade beneath gale and thunder.
At his own Valley, he had watched a stranger erase Sovereign-level sword intent with a single line of rainbow light.
That day, his path had shifted.
For four months since then, he had climbed.
Sword domains that tore his flesh when he faltered.
Weight pillars that strained his meridians until they screamed.
Sword intent rivers that sliced at his soul.
While others saw only the result, they did not see the countless times he had spat blood on those ancient stones, the number of days he had walked with broken bones and still continued forward.
Now, he stepped to the edge of Seven Profound's platform and cupped his fists toward the main arena.
"Jiang Baoyun," he said. His voice was not loud, but it carried clearly through the mountain air. "Sword Faction. Willing to accept the challenge."
There was no trembling in his tone.
No forced bravado.
He simply stood there, as steady as the sword on his back.
On the host platform, Jiang Huang's lips moved soundlessly.
"Baoyun—"
Jiang Baoyun didn't look back.
He had not stepped out for favor or for sect glory.
He had stepped out because there was a blade in his chest that refused to remain sheathed.
Ren's gaze slid to him.
He looked the young swordsman over like a smith judging newly forged metal.
Half-step Houtian.
Sword Intent condensed so tightly it pressed faintly on the surrounding air. A nascent sword domain coiled around his bones, heavy and profound. Behind him, the vague shadow of a sword-shaped soul flickered—the embryonic trace of a Sword Spirit Body.
Good Martial Heart, Ren mused. Wrong timing.
In another set of heavens, another path, this youth might have stood at the very front of his generation, peerless beneath the skies of his small world.
Under Ren's shadow, it was still not enough.
His smile curved a little.
"You're willing?" he asked.
Jiang Baoyun met his eyes.
His chest rose and fell one steady time.
"If we do not step forward at times like this," he said softly, "then what meaning does the sword we've cultivated have?"
Some of the Sword Faction's older elders trembled at those words. Their weathered hands tightened on their scabbards.
Ren's amusement deepened.
"Not bad," he said. "Your heart's in a good place."
He didn't mock.
He simply turned away.
His gaze passed over Murong Zi's resting spear, Bai Jingyun's quiet, burning eyes, Qin Xingxuan's still water calm, Na Yi and Na Shui's storm-laced presences. Then it stopped on a young man in Heavenly Abode robes.
Zhu Yan.
Zhu Yan stiffened.
He had not expected to be chosen.
In his heart, he knew where he stood among Ren's disciples.
Murong Zi and Bai Jingyun, with their Azure True Dragon Infinity Seeds and complete cultivation systems, were like monsters in human form. Qin Xingxuan's spear had already suppressed core disciples of fourth-grade sects. Na Yi and Na Shui's fists and blades carried storms that could crush sect masters in frontal clashes.
He was… not like them.
Mid Houtian.
He walked the modified Heretical God Force path, Lantern-Heart Flame Diagram and Heaven-Piercing Elemental Canon etched into his meridians. His combat strength had leapt to early Revolving Core, far beyond anything he had once dared imagine—but he understood very clearly: within Ren's Heaven, he was not at the apex.
Which was exactly why Ren raised a hand and pointed.
"One move," Ren said, tone calm, eyes steady. "Go."
Zhu Yan swallowed.
The old Zhu Yan—the proud chief disciple of a minor region—would have bristled, would have felt slighted.
The Zhu Yan whose Dao Heart had been shattered and reforged under that man's hand, who had watched him split worlds and bend sects, simply drew a slow breath. Heat quietly rose through his meridians, Fire Laws humming as they recognized the man who had once dragged him half-dead out of a burning trial.
He stepped forward.
"Understood," he said.
He didn't ask for reassurance.
Ren didn't offer any.
They didn't need it.
The dueling arena's formation lines lit up as the two young men descended.
Seven Profound Valley had poured centuries of wealth into that platform. Geniuses from four- and five-grade sects had traded blows there. Its stone had drunk the blood of prodigies and madmen alike.
Today, dark lotus lines spread across its surface like ink on silk.
Each petal bloomed over Seven Profound's original patterns, then sank deeper, twisting the flow of origin energy into something new. The arena's energy, once tuned perfectly to Seven Profound's Dao, now bent toward a foreign Heaven.
Array Faction elders felt it clearly.
Their proud array was being used as a whetstone.
Every current of energy was being hooked, redirected, and fed into someone else's Dao.
Their teeth ached.
Jiang Baoyun walked to one end of the arena.
Zhu Yan walked to the other.
For a time, they simply faced each other.
Wind tugged at Zhu Yan's sleeves. Flame flickered behind his eyes—red-gold, like a spark catching along a line of dry tinder.
Across from him, Jiang Baoyun's hand loosened on his sword's hilt.
He bowed.
"Please," he said simply.
Zhu Yan cupped his fists in return. "Please advise."
If one ignored the thunderous presence of Sovereigns and sect masters, the silent pressure from dozens of sects, the watchful eyes of the South Horizon Region and the Five Element Region… it could almost have been an ordinary spar between two martial artists.
Then Jiang Baoyun reached over his shoulder.
His fingers closed around the hilt of his greatsword.
Metal rasped softly as he drew.
A cold, restrained sword light quietly birthed itself into the world, thin as a line and sharp enough that some of the weaker Xiantian elders felt their skin sting.
The sword cleared its sheath.
The first note of sword song rang across the mountain.