Yin-Yang Profound Palace's situation was far uglier.
Smoke still rose from the ruins of their main hall.
The central yin-yang diagram carved into the mountain had been burned beyond recognition. Dual cultivation towers lay cracked, their obscene carvings melted into formless stone.
In the heart of the sect, the Vermillion Bird mark still floated above the shattered hall—a ghostly afterimage of Mu Fengxian's flames that refused to disperse, as if her will had scarred the very space.
Every time a disciple looked up and saw that burning shadow, their knees wanted to buckle.
Within a heavily warded side hall, elders gathered.
Many bore burns hidden beneath their robes; some leaned on crutches, true essence still unstable.
"Xing Ji and Xing Can…" an elder whispered, voice hoarse. "Their injuries…"
"Life Destruction foundations nearly shattered," another elder muttered bitterly. "Even with all our resources, they may never fully recover. They cannot show their faces for some time."
"They cannot show their faces," a third elder said coldly, "and we cannot show our backs."
Hatred burned in the room, thick and choking.
Divine Phoenix Island.
Ren Ming.
Mu Fengxian.
Names that tasted like ash.
Yet when one old elder—his beard singed, his eyes bloodshot—spoke of revenge, his voice died halfway through the word.
He remembered the Vermillion Bird ripping through their sect-protecting arrays like paper.
He remembered the moment the yin-yang domain had collapsed, not under force, but because its Laws had been… ignored.
"We choose survival," the elder who oversaw their external affairs said at last, each word squeezed out between clenched teeth. "For now."
His hands tightened on the armrests until the wood creaked.
"We will submit to Divine Phoenix Island on the surface. We will send tribute. We will swallow this humiliation."
He paused, hatred twisting his features.
"But we will not forget."
He didn't say what they would do.
He didn't need to.
Every elder in the room thought the same thing:
One day, if Ren Ming stumbled… if his Heaven faltered… if a crack appeared…
They would gladly pour all their venom into it.
But for now, Yin-Yang Profound Palace bent its proud neck.
Jade slips raced across provinces.
In the South Horizon Region, in the Profound Province, even in far-off Divine Kingdoms, people murmured:
"Yin-Yang Profound Palace submitted."
"If even a fifth-grade sect has to bow…"
"The South Horizon Region… has a new overlord."
And in the deep South Sea, where demonic mists rolled like living things, in a palace carved from black crystal and bone, Xuan Wuji listened.
The jade slip in his hand flickered with scenes: a Vermillion Bird burning through palace arrays, the ruins of Yin-Yang Profound Palace, sects kneeling one after another.
Beside him, Xuan Yuqie's beautiful face was unreadable, demonic charm coiled around her like silk.
"So," she said quietly. "Our little project moved too slowly."
Xuan Wuji's fingers tightened around the jade slip until cracks formed.
"The Great Zen Temple. Yin-Yang Profound Palace," he said, voice low. "Those were the blades we meant to guide toward Divine Phoenix Island when the time was right."
He exhaled, a cold, dark breath.
"Now one chooses alliance and caution. The other chooses submission."
He closed his eyes for a moment.
In his mind, he saw the Demon God Imperial Palace—its sealed doors, the great opportunities within. He saw the South Sea Demon Region's carefully woven web of influence, threads reaching toward Divine Phoenix Island, toward the human sects, toward future wars.
Ren Ming's shadow cut through that web like a knife.
"This person walks a path that does not care about 'powers' and 'alliances,'" Xuan Wuji said slowly. "He treats sects like stones on the roadside."
Xuan Yuqie's lips curved in a faint, dangerous smile.
"I like him," she murmured.
Xuan Wuji gave her a flat look.
She laughed softly, throwing her hair back.
"Relax," she said. "I like him the way one likes a good calamity. He makes the world interesting."
She stepped closer, eyes narrowing.
"But even a calamity can be guided," she murmured. "Sometimes."
Xuan Wuji fell silent.
Around them, the demonic sea boiled quietly.
At last, he shook his head.
"For now, we stay hidden," he said. "We gather information. Every battle, every display of his Art, every change in Divine Phoenix Island's foundation—I want it recorded."
He looked toward the dark waters, gaze deep.
"We find a way to cut him," he said softly, "or a way to use him."
General Clan representatives—shadowed figures in the hall—bowed and vanished, their clan arts carrying them into the deep sea, into cities, into human sects as hidden eyes and ears.
The South Sea Demon Region did not step onto the board openly.
They slipped into the depths instead.
Waiting.
Watching.
Scheming.
Days later, the roaring storm outside had calmed.
On Divine Phoenix Island, the sea of fire under the main island burned with a steadier, deeper glow. The core arrays hummed with new patterns—lotus lines and phoenix feathers braided together, thunder runes singing faintly.
In a high pavilion overlooking the Sea of Flames, warm wind stirred red curtains.
Ren reclined on a long couch, one arm propped behind his head.
Mu Qianyu sat half-leaning against his side, her long red hair spilling over his chest like a fiery waterfall. Every now and then, her Vermillion Bird flame would ripple in response to some thought, bringing with it a faint scent of scorched air.
Mu Yuhuang sat at a nearby table with Mu Qingyi, scanning jade slips that reported how swiftly each sect was bending knee, what tributes they were sending, which kingdoms were already trying to curry favor now that Divine Phoenix Island had become overlord of an entire region.
Mu Bingyun stood by the balcony, gaze distant as she watched phoenix phantoms dive through the Sea of Flames.
Mu Fengxian lounged with her legs crossed, her young features amused, the pride of three Life Destructions and a world-burning Vermillion Bird still simmering quietly under her skin.
Other women drifted in and out—Murong Zi popping in to pester Mu Yuhuang with questions about which sect they'd smack next, Na Yi and Na Shui returning from drills with disciples, Bai Jingyun and Qin Xingxuan murmuring together over spear patterns and sword diagrams.
The atmosphere was… comfortable.
Powerful.
Dangerous, to outsiders.
But to those in the pavilion, it felt like a courtyard on a lazy afternoon.
Ren's fingers idly traced circles on the back of Mu Qianyu's hand.
She pretended not to notice. The faint tremble of her eyelashes said otherwise.
"So," Mu Fengxian drawled at last, swirling a cup of fragrant wine. "Overlord of the South Horizon Region. How does it feel?"
Ren faintly smiled. "A bit too simple. Would be fun for a little bit more resistance."
Mu Fengxian laughed.
"That is what you get," she said, "for stepping onto the stage and stomping so many faces at once."
Ren smiled.
"Worth it," he said simply.
He let his head tip back against the couch, eyes half-closing as he listened to the distant rumble of the Sea of Flames, the soft rustle of robes, the quiet breathing of the women around him.
He could have stayed like that for a long time.
But a thought flickered through his mind.
A memory.
The Holy Demon Continent's distant storms.
The Asura Divine Kingdom.
Not the kingdom itself, at first.
The women.
Sharp, cruel, proud flowers raised in blood and darkness, with blades hidden beneath their beauty.
He remembered what would one day come for them if he did nothing.
An image rose uninvited: those proud women cornered, forced to kneel, lives twisted until the best choice left might be to cut them down.
He didn't like that image.
At all.
His eyes opened.
If he was going to overturn this world and the realms above it, he might as well pick up the interesting people along the way.
Otherwise, what was the point?
He turned his head toward Mu Yuhuang and Mu Fengxian, toward Mu Qianyu in his arms, toward Mu Bingyun at the balcony, toward the other women moving in and out like shifting stars.
"Mm," he said.
Mu Qianyu tilted her head up, sensing the shift.
"What is it?" she asked softly.
Ren smiled at her, hand tightening briefly on her waist.
"I'm going to step out for a bit," he said.
That drew every gaze in the pavilion.
Mu Yuhuang set her jade slip down.
Mu Bingyun turned fully from the balcony, thin veil of ice light in her eyes.
Mu Qingyi paused mid-sentence.
Murong Zi, who had been sprawled across a chair in a way that would have made ordinary elders choke on their tea, straightened with interest.
"Step out?" Mu Yuhuang repeated, brows arching. "Where to?"
Ren stretched lazily, the movement making the couch creak.
"Bring back some special people," he said.
The words were simple.
The implications… obvious.
Mu Fengxian snorted almost immediately.
"Special people?" she echoed, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You mean women."
Ren chuckled.
He didn't deny it.
His smile turned softer, eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief.
"If they weren't special," he said, "I wouldn't bother going personally."
Murong Zi whistled low.
Na Yi rolled her eyes; Na Shui elbowed her sister's side, lips twitching.
Bai Jingyun sighed in that tiny, put-upon way she had when her master was being shameless again. Qin Xingxuan hid a smile behind her hand.
Mu Qianyu's cheeks flushed, but she didn't pull away from his arm.
"…You really can't sit still," she murmured, tone half-complaint, half-helpless fondness.
Mu Bingyun's gaze sharpened.
"These 'special people,'" she said slowly. "They're from where?"
Ren's eyes turned distant for a heartbeat.
"A kingdom far from here," he said. "On a land the South Horizon hasn't seen yet."
He glanced around at the women in the pavilion.
Vermillion Birds, sword demons, spear prodigies, fist monsters, phoenix sovereigns, devils from other worlds.
His grin widened.
"I'm greedy," he said. "I can't help myself sometimes."
Mu Fengxian snorted.
Mu Yuhuang shook her head, lips curving.
"You really are shameless," she said.
"Mn." Ren didn't deny that either.
Mu Qianyu sighed, fingers curling into his robe.
"…Come back soon," she said quietly.
The simple request held layers—desire, worry, possessiveness, trust.
Ren's gaze softened.
He leaned in and kissed her.
Not a quick brush.
His hand slid up to cup her cheek, thumb stroking the edge of her jaw. His lips pressed to hers, warm and sure, drawing a quiet breath from her lungs. Vermillion Bird flame stirred, but remained obedient, wrapping them in faint warmth instead of flaring outward.
When he finally let her breathe again, Mu Qianyu's eyes were a little dazed, her cheeks faintly pink.
He moved from her to Mu Bingyun, fingers skimming along the curve of her waist as he pulled her closer for a deep, lingering kiss that left frost melting on her lashes.
Mu Yuhuang accepted his kiss with the calm of an empress and the quiet hunger of a woman who had long since stopped pretending she was above such things. Her hands tightened briefly in his robes.
Mu Fengxian scoffed when he stepped in front of her, but she tipped her chin up anyway. The once-aged ancestor, now young again, tasted of phoenix fire and long-buried loneliness burned away. His lips on hers were gentle, then just a little rough at the end, drawing a low, involuntary sound from her throat that made her glare and blush all at once.
He kissed Mu Qingyi, Mu Xiaoqing, Murong Zi, Qin Xingxuan, Bai Jingyun, Na Yi, Na Shui—each kiss tailored, teasing, shameless, claiming and reassuring in the same breath.
Finally, he stepped back to the center of the pavilion.
His smile was relaxed.
His eyes were very sharp.
"I won't be long," he said. "Try not to overthrow any more regions without me."
Murong Zi grinned.
"No promises," she said.
Na Yi cracked her knuckles, smirking.
Na Shui laughed under her breath.
Mu Yuhuang rolled her eyes.
"If anyone comes knocking," she said dryly, "we will remind them who their overlord is."
Mu Fengxian smirked.
"And if any old monks or righteous sects get ideas," she added, "we will burn them a little. Consider it… maintenance."
Ren chuckled.
"That's my phoenix," he said.
He stepped away from the couch, away from the warmth of the pavilion, into the open air of the balcony.
The Sea of Flames roared far below.
He lifted his hand.
Space shivered.
Thin lines of lotus and spear-inteth, turning it into something like a corridor through nothingness.
Ren stepped forward.
For a moment, he stood half in Divine Phoenix Island's warm light, half in the cool, colorless glow of his own road.
He looked back over his shoulder.
His women watched him.
Some with worry.
Some with trust.
Some with badly concealed excitement at what new storms he would bring back with him.
He gave them that easy, teasing grin.
"Try not to miss me too much," he said.
Mu Fengxian scoffed at him.
Mu Qianyu glared at him with wet eyes.
Mu Yuhuang shook her head, but her lips curved.
Mu Bingyun's fingers tightened on the balcony rail for a heartbeat before she let go.
Then Ren Ming turned his head.
His gaze locked on a point far, far beyond the horizon—past the South Sea, past demon regions, past continents.
Toward the Asura Divine Kingdom.
He took one step.
The world around him folded as he vanished.
....
Space folded.
One step carried Ren out of Divine Phoenix Island's pavilion and into a different sky.
The world shuddered around him as his road cut through the void—lotus lines and spear-intent threading reality into an invisible corridor. Then the corridor ended.
Ren Ming stood above a blood-colored sun.
Clouds here were dark, streaked with a faint metallic sheen. Far below, an endless land of demonic palaces, black fortresses, and blood lakes sprawled out like a cruel painting. The air itself tasted of killing intent and resentment—thick, heavy, barbaric.
Asura Divine Kingdom.
Ren exhaled once, quietly.
"Mm. Fits the reputation."
His spine tingled.
Inwardly, the Immortal Soul Bone stirred.
The world's noise dimmed. The roar of demonic rivers, the pulse of killing formations, the chaotic surge of a million demonic martial artists—everything became threads, concepts, lines of Dao. What was wild and tangled to others was, to that bone, a simple equation waiting to be solved.
Ren let his soul spread.
The Immortal Soul Bone drank in the Asura Divine Kingdom's Dao.
He tasted the Demonic Path Laws threaded through the land.
He tasted the Giant Demon bloodline's brutal force in the depths.
He tasted something else—sharp, cold, pure—like a needle of violet lightning buried in darkness.
Extreme Violet Dantian. Heavy Darkness Law. Young, but already cutting its way through the world.
Ren's lips curved.
"Found you."
The Immortal Soul Bone focused.
Across the vast kingdom, thousands of lights flickered in his perception—Divine Sea whirlpools, Life Destruction cores, Revolving Core cyclones, the guttering sparks of lower-realm martial artists. He sifted through them as easily as choosing items on a shelf.
There.
In a training ground layered with blood arrays and killing formations, a young woman sat cross-legged in meditation.
Her dantian burned like a violet star, wrapped in layers of ferocious darkness. Her aura was sharp, proud, refusing anything that tried to press down on her.
Second stage Life Destruction.
Situ Yaoyue.
Ren's smile deepened, but he didn't speak her name aloud.
Instead, the Immortal Soul Bone turned again, now following another flavor.
A halberd.
Not a physical weapon—though he sensed the Forsaken Blood Halberd's murderous chill somewhere in this land as well—but a path. A slaughtering method that turned every life taken into blood seals, etching them into the soul and Laws.
The Great Desolate Halberd Art.
Its core principle unfolded in his mind as if someone had opened a book to the last page.
Slaughter as road.
Blood essence as script for Law.
Each kill not just the end of a life, but a mark carved onto the Dao itself, condensing into a Blood Drinking Seal that could be triggered to explode with power.
Ren didn't close his eyes.
He simply let the Immortal Soul Bone move.
Every halberd arc ever performed in this kingdom by someone who'd touched that art left a trace in the world. Sparring in palace courtyards. Training in demonic fields. Executions at altars. All of them had written faint lines into the surrounding Laws.
The Bone read those lines and inverted them back to their source.
Concepts clicked together.
Killing patterns aligned.
An entire cultivation method and its halberd moves condensed in his soul, stripped of waste, reduced to their pure destruction path.
He rolled his shoulder once.
"Not bad," he murmured. "Crude, but honest."
Now—time to make sure the neighbors didn't eavesdrop.
His gaze lifted, looking beyond the Asura Divine Kingdom's borders.
Sublime Smelting Divine Kingdom.
Nine Furnace Divine Kingdom.
Seven Star Divine Kingdom.
Top powers of the Central Region, each with deep foundations and terrifying peak figures standing just half a step away from the highest heavens of this continent.
Ren didn't intend to erase them.
Not yet.
His women would find this world boring if he knocked over all the biggest pieces by himself.
He lifted his hand.
Behind him, petals opened.
Not fire, not light—lotus petals of dark-rainbow Grandmist, unfolding across his back, his arms, his shoulders. Each petal was a point where his Heaven met this world's Dao, a joint where he could twist everything if he wished.
His mobile Heaven descended.
Not all of it—just a slice.
Enough to cover the entire Asura Divine Kingdom like an invisible dome.
Outside the dome, the world remained normal.
No wave reached Sublime Smelting's molten fields.
No ripple touched Nine Furnace's endless cauldrons.
Seven Star's star arrays didn't twitch at all.
Ren's Heaven settled, quiet and absolute, cutting Asura Divine Kingdom off from the rest of the world like a sealed jar.
"Alright," he said softly. "Stage set."
Then he stopped restraining himself.
His aura unfolded.
It didn't explode outward in a flashy column of light. It simply… appeared, like a forgotten mountain range revealing itself inside the kingdom.
Weight fell.
Demonic path martial artists across the land stiffened.
In countless training halls, Revolving Core and Life Destruction cultivators felt their killing intent gutter. Techniques they'd practiced since childhood shivered inside their meridians like small animals sensing a primordial predator.
In the Giant Demon Minor Realm, where the Asura Divine Kingdom's core inheritance slumbered, the ground shook. Enormous stone demons carved into mountainsides seemed to wake—their eyes flickering with a strange light as Ren's Heaven brushed their stone souls. Blood pools boiled, formations trembled, and ancient arrays humiliated by this silent suppression resonated with an unknown Dao, half-worship, half-fear.
In training grounds, younger juniors clutched their chests, gasping.
Some fell to their knees without understanding why.
Others stared up at the sky with wide, disbelieving eyes, feeling as if something vast had placed its foot on their backs and told them to bow.
The capital's defense arrays flared as one.
Crimson, black, and dark-gold formations rose over the city like layered shells—each one tuned to demonic path invasions, to Divine Sea experts, to war with other Divine Kingdoms.
None of them were tuned to this.
Alarm bells rang, deep and harsh.
Asura Divine Kingdom went to full alert.
Within the royal palace, deep beneath the towering black spires and demonic banners, a roar shook the void.
"Who dares!"
A vast demonic pressure crashed upward.
The palace doors exploded open.
Situ Haotian shot into the sky.
His battle robes snapped in the wind, every fold marked with ancient demonic totems. Eyes with double pupils glowed with imperial might—the gaze of a Divine Emperor who had carried an entire demonic kingdom on his shoulders. Behind him, the shadow of a Giant Demon reared up, blood energy towering, veins pulsing like rivers of lava.
The Battle Demon Emperor Body.
Flames of battle intent rose around him, painting the sky in blood-red and iron-gray.
An instant later, space at his side twisted.
An old man appeared, hands behind his back.
He seemed unassuming at first glance—hair white, back slightly bent—but the space around him folded inward, compressed by the aura of someone who had walked the demonic path for more years than most kingdoms existed. Behind him, a bronze giant loomed in phantom form, muscles like poured metal, helmeted head tilted slightly forward as if preparing to charge.
Small Success Bronze Battle Spirit.
On his head, a simple green hairpin flared with light.
It blurred, rippling like water, and in the blink of an eye became a long, slender spear—its aquamarine tip distorting space around it, Space Concept humming faintly at its edge.
Situ Bonan.
Old ancestor of the Asura Divine Kingdom.
From other palace halls, more figures burst out.
"It seems… we have a guest."
Situ Yaoxi's voice was low, cold.
She floated out with slow steps, her aged figure wrapped in dark robes embroidered with subtle bone patterns. Her aura was quiet, but the sight of her made Divine Sea elders straighten subconsciously. Soul force coiled around her like invisible chains, cold and sharp, carrying the scent of curses and the Monstrification Devil Art. Her cultivation had already stepped into Divine Sea; her spiritual edge felt like a blade pressed against the throat of the heavens.
Beside her, another woman emerged.
Situ Qingzhao looked like an older sister to Situ Yaoyue—features mature, eyes long and alluring, skin smooth with an ageless luster. The years she'd paid to maintain that beauty showed only in the depth of her gaze. Darkness Laws and Asura energy braided around her like silk, each strand hiding a slender knife.
Divine Sea Supreme Elder.
Below them, the air filled with the auras of the middle generation and juniors.
Situ Chuan, Situ Yangon, Situ Meiyue—Life Destruction elites, their killing intent rising despite the suppression they felt. Demon Envoys flickered into position, their presence like moving abysses. Imperial Scholars arrived in robes embroidered with obscure runes, each carrying an inheritance that could influence wars.
One particular scholar stepped forward, his scholarly features cold, his demonic aura oddly refined.
Imperial Scholar Xuan.
The Samsara Devil Arts coiled around his true essence, hinting at cycles and reincarnation.
Bi Ruyu appeared in a swirl of dark crimson light, the fierce old witch's presence stinking of curses and death. Nether Bone Claws flickered around her fingers like pale ghosts; the shadows behind her pulsed with phantom hells.
Destiny Decree top-50.
And then, the younger generation.
Situ Luosha's aura surged with Asura ferocity, his eyes bright with excitement and wariness.
Situ Meiyue's gaze was complicated, proud, defensive; beside her, other Life Destruction juniors formed a grim constellation—none daring to relax.
Finally…
Situ Yaoyue stepped into the air.
Demonic robes snapped around her slim figure, long hair flowing like black silk. Her eyes were cold, proud, indifferent to most of the elders around her—but when she looked at the man in the sky, something in her gaze sharpened.
Her dantian blazed.
Extreme Violet Dantian.
The darkness around it was heavy, oppressive, but pure—Heavy Darkness Law in its early blossoming, wrapped around that violet core like a cloak.
Ren could feel it even from here.
He smiled faintly.
The demonic sky tore once more.
Arrays behind the palace roared to life.
The full force of the Asura Divine Kingdom's heritage surged into the air, forming a vast demonic domain centered on the capital—the Giant Demon Minor Realm overlapping with the royal city, demonic statues and blood altars manifesting phantoms behind their rulers.
Under all of this…
Ren Ming floated lazily with his hands in his pockets.
His aura pressed down on the kingdom—but his expression remained relaxed, almost bored.