Deep within the core sanctum of the Heavenly Soul Palace, Su Mengtian sat cross-legged, suspended in absolute stillness. His spiritual sea shimmered around him like a starlit ocean. Hovering in perfect spheres above the sea, ten divine abilities pulsed with ancient energy—each a crystallized echo of bloodlines so ancient they defied time.
The first four orbs belonged to the Ancestral Void Ape God—the Throne of the Gilded Shackles, Duskhollow Fenrir: Oath of the Crimson Hunt, Solar Serpent Incantation, and Crown of the Faceless Seraph.
The next three were the proud inheritance of the Thunder Guardian Dragon—Aegis of the Stormbound Warden, Heaven's Judgment Pulse, and Draconic Tempest Resurgence.
The final three, majestic and limitless, were of the Kun-Peng bloodline—Heaven-Treading Voidshift, Abyssal Swallowing Domain, and Astral Sovereign: Heaven-Treading Ascension.
The ten divine abilities shimmered in celestial alignment, orbiting Su Mengtian's meditating form in solemn rhythm.
But something was wrong.
A rumble shook the spiritual sea.
Su Mengtian's closed eyes twitched, then opened.
Massive waves erupted from the tranquil surface, disrupting the orbital paths of the abilities. Cracks began to spread through the edges of the spiritual sea, like a mirror fracturing beneath unseen pressure. Su Mengtian's body trembled.
"No...!"
His voice echoed in the spiritual world.
The divine abilities were rejecting each other.
Not from malice.
But from nature.
Each bloodline's inheritance was trying to establish dominance. Their spiritual frequencies collided like mismatched notes in a symphony, forming discordant resonance.
The Void Ape sought control with binding chains of sacrifice. The Thunder Dragon resisted with noble wrath and protection. The Kun-Peng defied all hierarchy, flying freely through the astral sky.
Su Mengtian felt his core tremble.
Pain spread from within—not physical, but spiritual. The strain of holding together the unstable resonance chipped at his soul. Even his life energy began to burn to maintain cohesion. His cultivation base cracked.
He tried to bind them. He tried to subdue them. He even tried to seal the orbs individually.
Nothing worked.
"If this continues... I'll be crippled. No, worse. I'll cease to exist as myself."
Blood trickled from his mouth in the real world.
Within his spiritual sea, the waves swelled into a storm. The divine orbs clashed in the sky like ancient celestial bodies at war.
Then—
A thought.
A memory.
Su Mengtian remembered an image. From his past life. A photograph taken by a satellite—a solar system.
At the center was the Sun. Around it, planets of different sizes and natures orbited in perfect harmony.
And in that moment—Su Mengtian understood.
His breath steadied. He floated upward from the storm, his will consolidating into radiance.
"I've been trying to dominate them... when what I need is to harmonize them."
Su Mengtian placed his palm at the center of his chest.
Golden light erupted.
His Spiritual Essence condensed into a radiant sphere, becoming a miniature sun at the core of his sea.
The ten divine orbs paused.
Drawn.
Like moons to a gravity well.
And Su Mengtian whispered:
"Let this be the axis of my cultivation. My core. My Dao."
His spiritual sun pulsed gently.
Each divine ability, each star of power, began to move.
Not at random.
But in deliberate orbits.
He started calibrating.
The Throne of the Gilded Shackles needed to orbit closest—it was the foundation, born of pain, carrying the greatest spiritual weight.
The Crown of the Faceless Seraph followed—mysterious and untouchable, it rotated counter to the others, like a dark moon of negation.
Aegis of the Stormbound Warden established a mid-tier orbit—its stabilizing nature balancing the volatile core energies.
Duskhollow Fenrir and Solar Serpent Incantation shared a twin orbit—opposing yet complimentary, one of shadowed vengeance, the other of blazing revelation.
The Kun-Peng abilities rotated further out, unbound by traditional orbits. Heaven-Treading Voidshift spun in elliptical paths, while Astral Sovereign moved with erratic grace, yet always returned.
He studied their interactions.
He adjusted their orbital speeds. He calculated their alignment angles. He refined the distance between spheres to reduce spiritual tension.
Each divine ability emitted harmonic frequencies, and Su Mengtian slowly aligned them into a divine chord.
When the orbits synchronized...
His spiritual sea fell silent.
Then sang.
A low, thrumming hymn of power—a vibration that resonated with the Dao itself.
Su Mengtian's fractured soul began to mend. His life energy stabilized. His cracked cultivation base restructured itself into something stronger—more refined.
The core spiritual sun spun slowly at the center, absorbing ambient resonance from the orbiting abilities and redistributing it through a circuit.
His divine powers no longer fought.
They danced.
His consciousness expanded.
He could feel each ability not as a weapon, but as a celestial concept, a law in motion. The Solar Serpent whispered truths in flame-tongues. The Faceless Seraph reflected identities lost to history. The Thunder Dragon's aegis stood like a fortress in his heart.
And the Kun-Peng...
It smiled.
A galaxy now resided in his soul.
And Su Mengtian, once a mortal reborn from the ashes of war, became its sovereign.
Outside, the sealed cultivation chamber began to quake with divine pressure. Runes flared. The Heavenly Soul Palace trembled slightly, though no one dared approach.
Inside, Su Mengtian exhaled.
The ten divine spheres circled his luminous spiritual sun in divine rhythm. He lifted his hand, and they pulsed in unison.
Harmony.
Balance.
Power.
He smiled faintly.
"This... this is the path only I can walk."
He had forged a cultivation method of his own.
Su Mengtian decided to name this newly developed scripture The Celestial Orbit Codex of Daoic Harmony.
The Celestial Orbit Codex of Daoic Harmony wasn't merely a method—it was the origin of a legacy. A scripture not just of battle, but of equilibrium.
In the ages to come, others might try to replicate it. Some might call it heresy. Others, divinity.
But none would forget the name Su Mengtian.
The galaxy-born sovereign.
The cultivator who carried ten divine laws.
The man who became his own cosmos.
Outside The Heavenly Soul Palace,
The sun stood frozen above Kun Island.
Clouds that had wandered freely across the sky just moments ago now halted in place—held in stasis as if the heavens themselves were breathless.
The Heavenly Soul Palace, nestled within the heart of the Eternal Aegis Ridge, shimmered like a celestial furnace. Pillars of light danced from its roof, drawing lines across the sky that pulsed with divine resonance. The runes etched into its crystalline walls burned with ethereal gold, casting long shadows across the onlookers gathered below.
Xu Tian, the First Guardian of Kun Island, stood with arms crossed, his gaze locked on the sky above the palace. A line had formed between his brows—a rare display of concern from the usually serene overseer.
"...No ordinary barrier-breaking," he muttered to himself, though his voice echoed like a whisper across space. "His spirit pressure has vanished from the mortal spectrum. And yet… I feel as though I am standing in the presence of a star being born."
He clenched his palm tightly.
"Just what did the boy touch?"
Across the Grand Courtyard, the Ten Hallmasters stood in a solemn arc, each cloaked in their respective robes, their expressions vastly different—but all shaken.
Ji Yeyan of the Hall of Shadows narrowed his eyes as dark threads of shadow unraveled around him.
"Even I… cannot sense the pattern of this energy," he whispered. "It does not hide. It transcends."
Rao Lin of the Hall of Valor let out a low whistle, his massive arms folded across his broad chest. "He's not just pushing through a realm. It's like he's—rewriting one."
Inara of the Hall of Ironblood sat cross-legged on a floating boulder, arms wrapped in golden battle seals. Her lips parted. "His spiritual sea must be reshaping itself… or else, something inside him is."
Baojin of the Hall of Aegis looked up with reverent eyes. "That protective essence… it's ancient. No technique I've ever learned ever matched that kind of defensive pulse. It's not just a breakthrough—something is synchronizing."
Kai Chan of the Hall of Echoes was visibly trembling, the bells on his sleeves ringing without wind. "I can hear something. Not sound. Not thought. Harmony. But the source… it's too far above to reach."
Xiaoyun of the Hall of Wyrmcallers gently touched the wyrm pendant around her neck. "Even my wyrms… are bowing in silence. He's not just rising. He's orbiting."
Lan Qiu of the Hall of Tempests scowled. "Every time I look into the sky, I feel like lightning should strike—but it doesn't. It's like the storm itself is kneeling."
Yue Mei of the Hall of Luminous Veil placed her hand over her heart. "What radiates from the palace is not light. It's alignment. He's forming something that… doesn't belong to our records."
Xuan Le, master of the Hall of Astral Command, was staring at the star map hovering above his wrist, eyes wide. "Even the astral ley-lines are shifting slightly… The stars above Kun Island have adjusted their rhythm."
Kaisen, Hallmaster of the Hall of Dawnriders, his golden armor aglow with resonant energy. He looked on with the solemnity of a general and the awe of a student. "Whatever he's touching in there… it's going to change the future of this alliance."
Not far from them, the Eight Department Heads, each governing a critical division of the Heavenly Spear Alliance, had arrived at the perimeter. They said nothing. Their lips were sealed, but their knees were weak. Some had broken into cold sweat, unsure why a cultivation breakthrough was producing such pressure.
One, the head of The Tower of Order and Judgement, whispered with barely controlled fear, "I cannot even detect his spirit root signature. It's like… he's evaporated from the mortal spectrum."
At the edge of the square, near the sacred flame braziers, stood Bai Yueying.
Clad in her black and silver battle robe, the same she had once worn to defy fate for him, she watched the golden beams of light spiral upward from the palace dome.
She didn't speak.
But her eyes shimmered with wetness.
Even from here, she could feel his breath.
Not on her skin—but in her soul.
"Do it," she murmured. "No matter what you face in there… I'll still be waiting."
At the highest terrace, far above the crowd, two figures stood silently, Su Leilong and Long Xuimei.
The father's fists were clenched behind his back, his eyes fixed firmly on the blazing Heavenly Soul Palace. The storm behind them rolled, but he did not budge.
"He's reaching a peak no one expected," Su Leilong muttered. "But it's not just strength… I feel like he's birthing a path."
Long Xuimei's hand trembled as it hovered over her chest.
"No…" she said softly, her eyes reflecting starlight. "He's not just walking a path. He's creating a heaven of his own."
Around the grand platform and inner sanctum, disciples, guardians, outer hall cultivators, and even celestial envoys had gathered. They stood in rows, backs straight, eyes wide.
Some knelt.
Others wept.
None knew why they cried.
It wasn't sadness.
It was gravity.
They could not explain it—but they knew.
Something legendary was happening behind those sealed doors.
Something that would one day be carved into tablets of memory and taught across generations.
Yet no one—not even Xu Tian, not Yueying, not Su Leilong himself—could imagine the truth:
That behind the veil of light, Su Mengtian had not merely broken through—
He was weaving a new Dao.
One forged from ten divine authorities.
One modeled after the celestial harmony of galaxies.
One that would one day come to be known as the Celestial Orbit Codex of Daoic Harmony—a scripture not born from inheritance, sect, or divine legacy, but purely from one soul's original comprehension.
And thus, as the sky trembled and the earth knelt,
The world stood at the edge of a new era—
…and didn't even know it had begun.