Chapter 9: The Envoy's Arrogance, The Dragon's Gaze
The Flying Spirit-Boats hovered over the Ye Clan estate like massive, gilded vultures. Their hulls were engraved with defensive runes that shimmered with a haughty, golden light, projecting a shadow that blanketed the Great Plaza. From the lead vessel, a staircase of solidified light descended, and a middle-aged man in extravagant silken robes stepped down.
This was Envoy Cao, a mid-level official from the Imperial Censorate. Behind him walked four armored bodyguards, their auras vibrating at the peak of the 9th stage of Body Refinement—half-step into the Spirit-Sea.
"Where is the boy, Ye Chen?" Envoy Cao's voice was thin and piercing, carrying the practiced disdain of a man who believed the Capital was the center of the universe and everywhere else was merely dirt. "Does he think that by killing a local elder, he has become a king? To the Empire, the Ye Clan is but a grain of sand."
The Ye Clan disciples, still reeling from the events of the Awakening Ceremony, looked up in a mixture of fear and resentment. They had just found a leader, and already the Empire was moving to suppress him.
"The Patriarch is in the Ancestral Hall," Ye Ling said, stepping forward. Her voice was steady, though the pressure from the Envoy's bodyguards made her breath hitch. "He is currently consolidating his cultivation. You will have to wait."
"Wait?" Envoy Cao laughed, a shrill, ugly sound. "The Emperor's decree does not wait for a provincial brat to finish his nap. Guards, clear the path. If the girl resists, break her legs. We shall see if this 'Golden Qilin' has the courage to face the law."
As the guards stepped forward, their heavy boots cracking the courtyard stones, the doors of the Ancestral Hall didn't just open—they vanished.
A wave of cold, pressurized air erupted from the darkness of the hall. It wasn't the heat of fire or the sharpness of wind; it was the absolute, crushing weight of a "Sea."
Ye Chen walked out.
His aura was no longer the turbulent, raw energy of the Body Refinement stage. It was deep, silent, and terrifyingly vast. Every step he took left a faint, frost-like crystallization of gray energy on the ground. The Spirit-Sea Realm was a threshold that many spent fifty years trying to cross; Ye Chen had crossed it in minutes, and his "Sea" was forged of Chaos.
[Ding! Detection: Host is facing 'Imperial Suppressors'.]
[Status: Hostility 85%.]
[New Passive Active: 'Sovereign's Aura' - Effect doubled against those who serve a rival throne.]
The four bodyguards stopped dead in their tracks. Their faces, previously masks of cold indifference, suddenly contorted in pain. They felt as if an invisible mountain had been dropped onto their shoulders.
"You... you've reached the Spirit-Sea?" Envoy Cao stammered, his arrogant smirk flickering. "Impossible. You were a waste three days ago. What demonic pill did you take?"
Ye Chen didn't answer with words. He looked at the Envoy, and his silver-gray eyes pulsed.
"Ancestral Dragon-Soul Sutra: Intent Crush."
Envoy Cao felt a roar echo inside his very soul. It wasn't a sound, but a vision of a colossal dragon looking down at him as if he were a speck of dust. The Envoy's knees gave out, and he hit the stone floor with a dull thud, his expensive silks tearing on the rubble.
"You speak of the law," Ye Chen said, his voice quiet but reaching every corner of the plaza. "But in the North, the Ye Clan is the law. My father bled for this Empire while you were sipping tea in the Capital. If the Emperor has a decree, he can send someone with a spine to deliver it. Not a barking dog."
"You... you dare insult the Censorate?!" Cao wheezed, his face turning a mottled red. "The 'Puppeteer'—I mean, the High Chancellor—will hear of this! You will be hunted!"
Ye Chen's eyes narrowed. The Puppeteer. The Envoy had let the name slip in his panic.
"So, the High Chancellor is the one holding the strings," Ye Chen whispered. He walked until he was standing directly over the kneeling Envoy. He reached out and gripped the man's chin, forcing him to look up. "Go back to your Master. Tell him that the audit of the Ye Clan is closed. And tell him that if he wants to play with the North, he should come himself. I'm tired of killing his messengers."
Ye Chen flicked his wrist, and a blast of Chaos energy sent the Envoy and his guards flying back toward the light-staircase.
"Leave," Ye Chen commanded.
The Flying Boats didn't linger. Seeing their leader humiliated and sensing the terrifying aura of a Spirit-Sea master, the pilots turned the vessels around in a panicked retreat.
Ye Chen stood in the center of the plaza, watching them vanish into the clouds. He knew this wasn't the end. The High Chancellor would send an army next. But by then, Ye Chen wouldn't just be at the 1st stage of the Spirit-Sea.
"Ling'er," Ye Chen called out.
"Yes, Patriarch?"
"Gather the clan's resources. Every spirit stone, every pill, every herb. We are moving to the Forbidden Frozen Wastes."
The crowd gasped. The Wastes were where his father had disappeared—a place of death and ancient curses.
"The Capital thinks they can siege us here," Ye Chen said, his gaze fixed on the northern horizon. "But I'm going to find the man who gave them the right to try. It's time to bring the War God home."