Ren waited until Mu Fengxian's last syllable faded.
Then he flicked his fingers.
The projection sky rippled.
The image of Profound Province, of Yin-Yang Profound Palace's broken heart, and of the burning Vermillion Bird slowly dissolved. The massive split-screen faded, the far-off heavens pulling away, Paths straightening, distance reasserting itself.
The South Horizon sky returned.
Above Seven Profound's mountain, only clouds remained.
The weight did not.
The silence was so complete that the faint rustling of phoenix feathers and the soft crackle of residual flame on Divine Phoenix's side sounded like thunder.
Ren exhaled once, slowly.
A lazy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
He turned, his gaze sliding along his women and disciples.
Mu Qianyu, still flushed from burning the three traitors to ash, stood at his side. His arm was already around her waist, hand resting comfortably on her hip as if it belonged there. Her Vermillion Bird flames had not fully calmed, eyes still bright with lethal satisfaction.
Mu Bingyun's ice-blue gaze was distant and sharp, frost aura quietly climbing higher as she imagined what it would be like to turn such annihilating power on the South Sea Demon Region itself one day.
Mu Qingyi's calm mask had cracked slightly, a faint, fierce light burning in her eyes—ambition, awe, and the clean satisfaction of following the right person.
Mu Xiaoqing's fingers trembled just once before she clenched her fists, the image of Xing Yan being crippled under her hand and of Mu Fengxian burning an entire palace searing itself into her Dao heart.
Behind them, Murong Zi, Bai Jingyun, Qin Xingxuan, Na Yi, Na Shui, and the other disciples looked at their master and their phoenix sovereigns with a single, unified thought:
This is their master.
Before the silence could settle, Ren moved.
Not in any grand way.
He just lifted his head a fraction, as if remembering something he'd forgotten on the way out of a tavern.
His gaze passed once more over the shattered Yin-Yang platform, the drifting ash, the faces frozen between terror and disbelief…
…and slid lazily to Thundercrest Sect.
Lei Jingtian's spine jolted.
The thunder marks hidden in his bones twitched, every instinct screaming at him to flee, to kneel, to beg—anything.
At his side, Lei Mubai's lips were bloodless, eyes fixed on Ren as if staring at a living calamity.
Ren looked at them the way a man might look at a stain on his sleeve.
"Right," he said lightly. "Almost forgot."
The air tightened.
"You two…" His eyes narrowed the slightest bit, amusement fading to something cold and distant. "Are an eyesore."
Lei Jingtian's heart lurched.
True essence crashed through his meridians, thunder sound roaring in his ears. In that instant he wanted to shout, to argue, to throw Thundercrest's name and their backing and all the South Sea Demon Region's promises into the air like shields.
Not a single word made it to his tongue.
Ren snapped his fingers.
It was a soft sound.
The world answered like a struck bell.
Heaven-Piercing Martial Intent stirred; an invisible spear-line ran through the mountain, straight through Lei Jingtian and Lei Mubai. Heavenly Demon Lotus petals flickered in the void, dark-edged and faintly iridescent, settling on their bodies like falling snow.
The thunder Laws in their dantians shivered.
The lotus petals turned.
Lei Jingtian's body froze in place.
His eyes went wide. In them, lightning flared once, wildly, as he tried to gather all his true essence in one desperate surge.
It never formed.
His flesh broke apart soundlessly, as if it had been nothing more than a layer of dust spread over a statue. Layers of ash peeled away from bone, then bone itself crumbled into fine gray powder.
Beside him, Lei Mubai didn't even manage a thought.
One heartbeat he was there—a once-proud Thundercrest young master, the man who had once dared to propose marriage to Divine Phoenix Island's Vermillion Bird princess.
The next heartbeat, he was an outline of dust in the air.
Thunder pattern robes dimmed, then disintegrated with him. Their life-blood, their thunder true essence, their nascent Life Destruction possibilities—all of it fell apart into drifting motes that the wind scattered over Seven Profound's mountain.
Far overhead, Thundercrest's distant Thunder Soul shuddered.
Hairline cracks spread through it like spiderwebs, its lightning dimming as if a candle-flame had been exposed to a storm.
On Thundercrest's platform, the remaining elders' legs gave out almost in unison.
They fell to their knees, foreheads almost touching the stone.
None of them even dared to shout "Sect Master!"
They didn't dare breathe loudly.
The echo of that finger snap seemed to hang over the mountain, pressing against eardrums, against Dao hearts, against the thin shell of courage the weaker ones still had left.
Ren exhaled slowly, as if blowing away a bit of dust.
"That's better," he said.
He wasn't speaking loudly, but the mountain carried his voice like a transmission jade. Every sect heard him.
He turned slightly, hands sliding back into his sleeves, posture easy, as if the deaths of two top Thundercrest figures were beneath notice.
His gaze swept the platforms again.
Deep Earth Sect.
Sunfire Sect.
Arctic Ice Palace.
Verdant Wood Sect.
Golden Bell Mountain.
Storm Valley.
Thundercrest's shaken remnants.
Seven Profound Valley.
Everywhere his eyes passed, people stiffened like they'd been brushed by invisible blades. True essence contracted on reflex; even Life Destruction experts found their breathing a fraction shorter.
Ren smiled.
"From today onward," he said, tone mild, "there's really only one choice on this mountain."
The Laws overhead stirred.
Fire, wind, thunder—the very elements seemed to lean in to listen, an unconscious response to the Heaven coiled behind him.
"Either you submit to Divine Phoenix Island." His eyes half-lidded, lazy. "Or you get wiped out. Simple as that."
The words weren't shouted.
They didn't need to be.
Heaven-Piercing Martial Intent seeped into every syllable, threading it through the mountain's formations, through the bones of the platforms, through every jade slip in every elder's sleeve.
Deep Earth Sect's underground hall masters felt their earth fields tremble.
Sunfire Sect's elders had the illusion that an invisible hand had dipped into their core furnaces, weighing the worth of their flames.
Arctic Ice Palace's ice-robed masters felt cracks race through invisible ice walls they'd always believed unbreakable.
Verdant Wood Sect's sacred trees rustled uneasily, ancient roots shivering.
Golden Bell Mountain's immortal bells hummed with a discordant note, as if warning of a disaster no barrier could block.
Storm Valley's wind towers groaned, their hurricanes whimpering like tamed beasts.
Thundercrest's elders pressed their foreheads to the stone, thunder true essence shrinking back until even a mortal might have mistaken them for ordinary men.
Seven Profound Valley's elders—
They simply stood.
Faces bloodless.
Hearts pounding.
No one spoke.
No one dared test whether Ren Ming was joking.
Ren let the silence sit for a moment.
Then his gaze swung to Great Zen Temple's platform.
Yuan Kong felt it hit him like a hammer.
His Buddha light, already strained, almost went out.
Ren's eyes were calm, even faintly amused—as if he were curious how much pressure a monk could withstand before cracking.
"Yuan Kong," he said.
The young monk's throat spasmed.
He pressed his palms together, fingers slick with sweat inside his sleeves.
"This poor monk… is here," he managed.
Ren smiled at him.
"Go back to your temple," he said, tone still light. "Tell Whitebrow and the others something for me."
Yuan Kong's heart pounded so hard he could hear blood rushing in his ears.
Ren's gaze didn't waver.
"Tell them I don't care about Great Zen Temple's heritage," Ren said. "I don't care how long you've squatted on that mountain, how many Buddhas you worship, how many Life Destruction elders you've tucked away."
His voice lost its warmth.
"If they try to scheme against me, I'll destroy them."
The words were flat.
Not angry.
Just… factual.
Yuan Kong's mouth went dry.
The beads at his wrist trembled.
Ren tilted his head, smile sharpening.
"And if they decide to be 'smart' about it," he added, a casual drawl slipping into his speech, "if they think they can play clever little games behind the scenes…"
His fingers snapped again.
No lightning.
No flame.
Just a soft crack that made Yuan Kong's heart jump into his throat.
"That's instant death," Ren finished.
Somewhere far away, atop the Great Zen Region's endless steps, bells tolled faintly—an echo that existed only in the minds of the trembling monks present, but it felt real enough.
Yuan Kong swallowed.
His palms were soaked inside his sleeves, but he didn't dare wipe them. He forced his voice out past a throat that felt like it had been scorched.
"…This monk will…" His voice cracked. He steadied it with effort. "…faithfully convey your words."
Ren's smile returned, easy again.
"Good."
He let Yuan Kong go with his eyes, as if dismissing a minor errand runner, and turned his attention back to the rest of the mountain.
"Deep Earth Sect," he said.
Their patriarch jolted as if stabbed.
"Sunfire Sect."
A flame-robed old man flinched so hard his chair creaked.
"Arctic Ice Palace. Verdant Wood Sect. Golden Bell Mountain. Storm Valley. Thundercrest's… leftovers. Seven Profound Valley."
He didn't bother to name titles.
He just watched them, one by one.
The mountain seemed to hold its breath.
"Submit," Ren said lightly. "Or don't."
The smile that followed didn't reach his eyes.
"If you choose 'don't'…" His shoulders lifted in a small shrug. "You've seen what happens."
Deep Earth Sect's patriarch didn't even hesitate.
"Our Deep Earth Sect…" his voice shook, but he forced it steady, bowing from his seat so low his forehead almost touched his knees, "…is willing to submit to Divine Phoenix Island and Senior Ren. From now on, we will follow Divine Phoenix's decrees."
One jade slip after another flared within his sleeves, orders already racing toward their underground halls.
Sunfire Sect's patriarch moved almost at the same time.
"Sunfire Sect also submits," he said quickly, fire robes rustling as he stood and bowed deeply toward Divine Phoenix's platform. "From this day, Divine Phoenix Island is our overlord."
Arctic Ice Palace's chief elder stood, snow-white robes trembling.
"Arctic Ice Palace…" For a brief instant, pride warred with fear in her eyes. Then, remembering Bai Jingyun's sword gliding through her best ice, remembering the Vermillion Bird that had crushed a fifth-grade sect's heart, she bowed. "…is willing to submit to Divine Phoenix Island."
Verdant Wood Sect's ancient patriarch's back had already bent under the weight of years. Now, it bent further.
"Verdant Wood Sect submits," he rasped.
"Golden Bell Mountain submits."
"Storm Valley submits."
Thundercrest's remaining elders pressed their heads even lower to the stone.
"Thundercrest's survivors…" The eldest among them forced the words out, each one scraping his throat raw. "…submit to Divine Phoenix Island."
Jiang Huan didn't hesitate at all.
He bowed until his old bones creaked.
"Seven Profound Valley," he said hoarsely, "submits to Divine Phoenix Island from this day forth."
On every platform, jade slips lit up as elders sent frantic orders back to their sects and kingdoms—changing allegiance, rewriting oaths, tearing up old agreements and replacing them with new ones centered around a single blazing name.
Divine Phoenix Island.
Ren snorted softly.
"That's fine," he said. "We can talk about all the formalities later."
Paperwork, seals, oaths, messengers—none of that interested him in the slightest. Once he had declared his orders, such details were like ripples after a boulder fell into a lake.
He turned his back on the kneeling sect masters and terrified monks without a second glance.
On Divine Phoenix's side, the phoenix flames seemed suddenly warmer.
He looked at his women.
"Alright," he said, voice easing into something almost lazy again. "Our island's the overlord here now. Let's get going."
The casualness of it rippled through the group in different ways.
Murong Zi snorted outright, her spear resting against her shoulder, lips twitching.
"So we crush a fifth-grade sect's heart," she muttered under her breath, "and it's 'let's get going.'"
Na Yi's lips curled in a quiet grin, eyes bright with fighting spirit that hadn't yet cooled. Na Shui exhaled slowly, tension loosening from her shoulders, a faint, rueful laugh slipping out.
Bai Jingyun only shook her head, black hair brushing her cheeks, the faintest ghost of a smile at the corner of her mouth.
Qin Xingxuan's gaze was steady and deep, spear calluses faintly whitening as her grip tightened for just a moment. Awe and a sharper determination burned together in her eyes.
The Mu women's reactions were more… complicated.
Mu Qianyu's cheeks were still tinged with color. The Vermillion Bird flames in her eyes hadn't fully faded, and the memory of Ren's mouth on hers before she burned three elders to ash still warmed her skin. At his words, she sighed softly, but the sound was helpless and fond.
"…You make it sound so simple," she murmured.
Mu Bingyun's cool, blue gaze drifted over the trembling platforms, the empty space where Yin-Yang's delegation had been, then back to Ren. She exhaled, a faint cloud of cold mist leaving her lips, and shook her head in quiet disbelief.
Mu Qingyi pinched the bridge of her nose, but failed to hide the light in her eyes.
Mu Xiaoqing's heart was still pounding. Her master tossed out "we're the overlord now" like he was commenting on the weather. She swallowed hard, then smiled despite herself.
Behind them, disciples from Divine Phoenix Island and Seven Profound Martial House all stood a little straighter, eyes shining, chests tight.
Mu Fengxian snorted.
Her phoenix eyes curved in a smirk, lips tilting upward with the confidence of someone who had just burned a fifth-grade sect and found it… insufficiently satisfying.
"We are leaving just like this?" she asked, voice dripping with amused disbelief. "No more drama? No more old monks and so-called righteous sects to slap around?"
Ren chuckled.
He stepped closer to her, his presence warm, familiar, the faint scent of phoenix flame and lotus still clinging to him.
"We got what we came for," he said, grin easy. "No point hanging around gloating. That's a waste of time. Let's go home."
At this moment, Mu Yuhuang's gaze swept the mountain once more.
The daughter of Divine Phoenix Island had seen countless storms—political, martial, internal and external. None of them had felt like this.
She inclined her head.
"En," she said simply.
Vermillion Bird flame blossomed around Divine Phoenix's platform and the Phoenix ship in the sky.
Crimson, gold, and faint violet fire rose in a great tide; phoenix cries echoed across the mountain. Ren's Heaven-piercing spear-intent threaded through the flames, twisting them into orderly streams.
Divine Phoenix's disciples, Martial House disciples, and his women stepped onto those streams as if they were solid paths. The flames wrapped around their feet, carrying them upward.
The phoenix fire surged.
In a sweep of crimson wings and dark lotus glimmers, Divine Phoenix Island's people vanished into the sky.
They left behind silence.
And panic.
The instant the last trace of phoenix flame faded, the mountain exploded into motion.
Seven Profound Valley's elders began shouting orders, sending disciples racing to reinforce formations, to comfort the terrified younger generation, to send apology letters and oaths racing toward Divine Phoenix Island's Immortal Island.
Thundercrest's kneeling elders scrambled to their feet, faces ghost-pale, thunder true essence crawling in their veins like frightened worms. Already, they were calculating which ancestral tablets had to be moved, which treasures had to be offered up, which political ties had to be severed to prove their loyalty to their new overlord.
Deep Earth Sect's representatives whispered in tight circles, already arguing over which of their underground mines would be "donated" to Divine Phoenix.
Sunfire's elders huddled together, muttering about sending their most talented juniors to Divine Phoenix Island as guest disciples, hoping to buy goodwill with potential sons-in-law and daughters-in-law.
Arctic Ice Palace's ice-robed women stood very still, frost forming on their sleeves as they silently promised themselves: they would never again look down on that "remote" Vermillion Bird island.
Verdant Wood, Golden Bell, Storm Valley—all of them scrambled, sending jade slips, drafting pledges, reshaping the map of their hearts around a new central sun.
And above them all, the Great Zen Temple's monks watched.
Yuan Kong swallowed again, the echo of Ren's voice still burning behind his ears.
Instant death.
He pressed his palms together and bowed in the direction Divine Phoenix had gone, then turned to leave. Every step felt heavier, as if the mountain itself had grown a hundred times steeper.
He carried no physical burden.
Only words.
But those words weighed more than any Buddha statue.
Far above the South Horizon Region, clouds slowly closed over the empty air where phoenix flames had soared.
The sky looked ordinary again.
The world was not.
...
In the days that followed, the South Horizon Region changed.
On maps, the shift could be drawn with a few new lines of ink.
In reality, it felt like the entire region's spine had been broken and reset.
Deep Earth Sect, Sunfire Sect, Arctic Ice Palace, Verdant Wood Sect, Golden Bell Mountain, Storm Valley, what remained of Thundercrest, and Seven Profound Valley all sent their highest elders, their most solemn delegations, their most beautifully inscribed jade oaths to Divine Phoenix Island.
They came bearing tribute—rare ores from beneath the earth, strange flames from hidden volcanoes, ice crystals formed in ten-thousand-year glaciers, ancient wood soaked in spiritual rain, bells cast from metals that sang when struck, wind stones that howled when held, thunder jades salvaged from Thundercrest's cracked Thunder Soul.
More importantly, they came bearing attitudes.
Gone were the faint airs of superiority some had once held toward Divine Phoenix Island, the quiet insistence that a fourth-grade sect should bow to the united will of several fourth-grade powers.
Now, every elder bowed low before Mu Yuhuang, before Mu Fengxian, before Mu Bingyun and Mu Qingyi.
Inside Great Zen Temple, bells tolled beneath an incense-filled sky.
Yuan Kong knelt once more in that quiet hall.
This time, his forehead pressed to the cold stone.
Across from him, the white-browed abbot's face was more solemn than before. The prayer beads in his hands moved very slowly.
"So," Baimei murmured at last, voice soft. "He can reach across provinces and cripple a fifth-grade sect's heart from another mountain."
Yuan Kong's palms still felt the ghost of sweat, even though they'd long since dried.
"Yes," he whispered.
He had watched that Vermillion Bird descend.
He had felt his Buddha heart waver.
Beside Baimei, another abbot—Konghe—sat in silence, fingers interlaced, Buddha light faint around him.
"Our Great Zen Temple has stood for countless years," one of the other abbots said quietly. "We have seen calamities rise and fall. We have faced demon disasters and spatial storms."
His gaze was heavy.
"But if we stand in front of that youth as enemies right now…"
Baimei's eyes closed briefly.
He saw it as clearly as if it had already happened:
A great Vermillion Bird shadow burning above their temple.
Bells melting.
Scriptures turning to ash.
Monks screaming as Buddha lights flickered out one by one.
He opened his eyes.
"The Great Zen Temple will not become a shield for others' schemes," he said slowly. "Not for Yin-Yang Profound Palace. Not for the South Sea Demon Region. Not for anyone."
Whitebrow nodded once.
"We will form an alliance with Divine Phoenix Island," he said. "On the surface, we will call it mutual support against demonic calamities, against foreign Daos. That will satisfy the righteous path."
He looked at Yuan Kong.
"Privately," he continued, voice a shade colder, "we will never go against Ren Ming."
There was no shame in his tone.
Only clear-eyed calculation.
"If he walks a path that threatens the heavens themselves someday, that will be for the Divine Kingdoms' great figures to handle. This temple…" He shook his head faintly. "We will not be the first to step in front of him."
Konghe exhaled slowly, Buddha light calming.
"A calamity or an opportunity," he murmured, repeating his earlier words. "Either way, we will not stand against that Heaven head-on."
Orders spread from the Great Zen Temple like invisible sutras, flowing down the mountain, through Zen City, out across the Great Zen Region:
When Divine Phoenix Island calls, answer.
When Ren Ming speaks, listen.
Do not provoke him.
Do not scheme against him.
If others try to use the temple to test him… refuse.