The announcements had barely settled into ink and stone before waves of response surged across the mainland. From the throned palaces of the great clans to the whispered alleyways of rogue sects, all now looked toward Kun Island not with contempt or caution, but with unease and awe.
In the capital of the Radiant Lion Court, the imperial council convened under high banners. Dongfang Ruixian, fresh from the summit, reported Su Mengtian's decisions in precise detail. The council chamber remained silent for a long stretch, until Elder Dongfang Heng, patriarch of the imperial bloodline, leaned forward on his lion-carved throne.
"The boy has declared sovereignty."
"Not in name, but in deed," Ruixian confirmed. "His architecture, laws, martial structure, and inter-realm policy exceed even some regional dynasties. And with the inclusion of the tenth Hall, the cavalry core, and the dimensional sanctum…"
Dongfang Heng narrowed his eyes. "It is an empire in all but name."
The council murmured. The rise of a single cultivator, even one of Mengtian's prowess, could be explained away as the wave of fortune. But this? A self-sustaining, multilayered realm with internal governance, external trade isolation, and ten loyal Hallmasters? That was a political shift.
"Do we move against him?" asked General Yu, one of the younger strategists.
"No," Heng answered firmly. "Not yet. You do not challenge a rising dragon while it is still learning to fly—you let it fly too close to the sun."
Across the Eastern Seaboard, the Tang Clan convened within their tide-borne fortress. Lord Tang Wushen, his long hair flowing like dark ink over tide-colored robes, stood before a map. His fingers traced the now-confirmed three-zonal structure of the Realm of the Heavenly Spear Alliance.
"Tharnholt... Elorome... Mistvale... Ashveil. Even the names have weight. These are not mere settlements; they are symbols."
His daughter, Tang Lianhua, heir to the clan, stepped beside him. "He has built an ideological wall as much as a physical one. The four towns at the perimeter welcome refugees and beastkin—a subtle insult to us."
"Because we failed them."
"Because he claimed them."
Meanwhile, within the Celestial Snow Pavilion of the Bai Clan, the high towers of ice sang under polar winds. Bai Feng sat in meditation, but the scrolls before him lay open. A detailed report, handwritten in imperial shorthand, described the structure of the Inner Zone and the regiments of each Hall.
"A regiment per Hall," he whispered. "A city per Hallmaster. A realm supervised not by a council of equals but by a centralized state. Clever."
He sipped his tea, snowflakes melting on the porcelain.
"He has created internal competition through structure, not through blood. This will forge loyalty faster than chains."
In the deep south, where the flames of the Crimson Flame Clan of the Feng family lit volcanic cliffs, Elder Feng Huoxian grimaced before a blazing map of Kun Island.
"This realm is not just defensible," he growled. "It is layered. A shield wall. Each city has four gates, but the Hallmasters' regiments are local and loyal. He controls communication through the State of Records, trade through the Truehold Bastion, and even spiritual matters through the Shrine of Echoing Souls."
His second son, Feng Lieren, crossed his arms. "And their missions and martial growth through the Pavilion of Missions and the Battle Arena. It's a martial state disguised as a sanctuary."
"And that is the most dangerous kind."
The Shi of the Crystal Pavilion convened under mirrored vaults, their discussions more arcane than political. They studied the Sanctuary of Eternal Remembrance and the Tower of Order and Judgment, impressed by the symbolic and structural unity of remembrance and law.
"It is the first time we see these two ideas paired structurally. Mengtian binds memory and justice into civic strength."
In the Jin family's Golden Chamber of Commerce, dozens of advisors convened to evaluate the implications of the Truehold Financial Bastion.
"We are locked out," one financier said.
"Not just us. Everyone. Even the Hallmasters are forbidden from trade outside."
"Then we must go through the Bastion—but their regulations will be brutal."
"Or unpredictable."
"Which is worse."
In every power center, advisors scrambled. Maps were redrawn, potential alliances reconsidered. Some proposed infiltration. Others discussed marriage alliances or diplomatic tokens. But no matter the method, all understood one thing:
Su Mengtian had not just taken Kun Island. He had created something new. Something stable. Something that could no longer be ignored.
Back on Kun Island, within the Realm of the Heavenly Spear, Mengtian sat with Yueying in the upper pavilion of the still-constructing Heavenly Soul Palace. Blueprints hovered before him, not on paper, but in qi-infused crystal light. Xu Tian adjusted layers of atmospheric flow to refine the Palace's wind current system, while Yue Mei reviewed the new list of spiritual artifacts to be stored in the Library of Treasures.
Kaisen entered, his presence confident yet deferent. He offered a crisp report scroll from the Emberlance Phalanx.
"Solara's Edge is already fortified on three sides. The fourth is still exposed to leyline turbulence. We'll need the Astral Command to stabilize it."
Mengtian nodded. "Xuan Le is already on it."
He passed the scroll to Yueying, who glanced through the contents.
"Kaisen, the cavalry you're assembling…you plan to incorporate elemental synchronization?"
"Yes. Dawnriders won't just be fast; they'll ride with nature's pulse. Storm hooves. Flame antlers. Wind-backed acceleration."
"Your Hall will be the blade of maneuver warfare, then," Yueying smiled.
"That's the plan."
Elsewhere, within the capital Tianzhen City, the State of Records convened its first supervisory session. Representatives of the ten Halls stood as observers while the Directors of the Eight Departments gave their initial briefings.
The Pavilion of Missions reported over two hundred open assignments.
The Battle Arena, even unfinished, had seen forty sanctioned duels.
The Library of Treasures confirmed storage of twenty-one ancient relics and over two hundred rare texts.
The Tower of Order and Judgment issued its first binding decree: that all inter-Hall disputes must go through arbitration, not battle.
The Sanctuary of Beasts had tamed and placed six rogue spirit beasts into roles of service.
The Shrine of Echoing Souls had initiated eight new bloodline awakenings, including one double-awakening by a hybrid descendant of a fallen beastkin tribe.
The Sanctuary of Eternal Remembrance unveiled the names of one hundred and twelve fallen cultivators, etched into starlit crystal walls.
And the Truehold Financial Bastion confirmed its first approved contract: a single export agreement to a neutral broker for surplus metal ore—reviewed, taxed, and controlled entirely within the Alliance.
None of these developments escaped the notice of the outer factions.
The Long Clan, masters of the Dragon Soul lineage, sent a missive. Acknowledgement of sovereignty. A request for peaceful resource exchange. And—though phrased subtly—an offer for a marriage alliance.
The Tang Clan sent a scholar emissary to study the Library of Treasures.
The Jin Family, through shadow agents, attempted to infiltrate the Bastion's trade regulations but were caught and expelled without fanfare.
Su Mengtian took it all with the composure of one who had long expected every step.
"They will come," he told Yueying one night. "All of them. Not with swords, but with gifts. Not with armies, but with merchants."
"And some with blades wrapped in silk."
"Let them. We have walls, laws, loyalty—and time."
Yueying looked to the horizon from their terrace, where the lights of the ten cities glowed like a constellation on earth.
"The world does not know what we are yet."
"Good," Mengtian whispered. "Let them wonder."