The grand auction stage slowly shifted into its second life. The Solaris Jadeheart Fruit was secured in the veiled woman's hands, but the sect had prepared for the aftermath. Attendants moved gracefully through the square, guiding high bidders and invited guests toward the Emberlight Hall, a vast, lantern-lit reception space overlooking the inner market.
Inside, the air was thick with the scents of aged tea, honey-wine, and warm spiced dishes. Round tables filled the hall, each ringed by a shifting mix of merchants, cultivators, and minor nobility, all murmuring in low tones. Every group seemed to speak of alliances, rumors, or the next treasure that might surface in a Burning Sun auction.
Haotian moved through the room like a blade sheathed in silk. To one group of merchant princes, he was a polite young craftsman representing his sect's artistry. To a rogue cultivator with eyes like a hawk, he was merely a man exchanging courtesies. But behind his calm expression, the Eyes of the Universe took in the subtle flickers—coded gestures, hidden looks, the way certain voices dropped when mentioning the fruit or its buyer.
Near the eastern balcony, Haotian passed a tight knot of Azure Wind representatives speaking to a middle-aged man in travel leathers. Their words were light, but the intent was sharp—complaints about "sect monopolies" and "goods that should be shared with the cultivation world" told Haotian all he needed to know. That sentiment could be used as justification for interference.
At a table closer to the hall's center, two veiled envoys of the Frostpetal Immortal Pavilion sat apart from the crowd, their expressions unreadable. Haotian caught only a brief exchange—"…if the boy forged even half of what was offered today…""…then the Burning Sun Sect has a far deeper vault than they showed."
Near the far wall, a pair of plain-clothed men drank heavily and laughed too loudly, their words slurring just enough to hide meaning from casual ears. Haotian, however, heard the weight under the mirth: "…Iron Tiger won't swallow this… either they buy next time, or they take."
He filed it all away, weaving a map of intentions in his mind.
The Sect Master moved through the hall as well, but unlike Haotian, he made no effort to conceal his presence. His aura alone kept the more brazen schemers cautious. Occasionally, he would glance toward Haotian, a silent confirmation that both were reading the same currents.
As the night deepened, deals were struck in quiet corners—merchant contracts to secure future pavilion sales, discreet promises of political support in exchange for "early notices" of rare items, and thinly veiled offers from wandering cultivators hoping to apprentice under the sect's forging and alchemy masters.
By the time the last lantern was dimmed, the sect's coffers were swollen, its reputation sharpened to a new edge—and Haotian's ledger of possible threats and allies was twice as long as it had been that morning.
He left the hall with the Sect Master, both walking in silence until they reached the inner gates. Only then did the Sect Master speak.
"You saw them all."
"I did," Haotian replied. "Some will knock. Some will try to break the door."
The Sect Master's smile was thin. "Then we'll make sure the hinges hold."
Haotian was already planning the next steps—fortifying the pavilion's security, forging specialized gear for the Six Elemental Guards, even quietly marking a few routes for "unexpected" strikes against future threats—when the air over the Burning Sun Sect suddenly thundered.
Four streaks of light tore across the sky, the sheer force of their approach cracking the clouds like glass. Their descent churned the qi in the air so violently that market banners flapped like they were in the middle of a hurricane. Conversations died mid-word. Chopsticks froze in mid-air. Even the Pavilion's cats stopped licking their paws.
BOOOOM!
The four figures landed as one, the shockwave whipping through the courtyard hard enough to rattle the tiles.
Haotian's head snapped up—his expression shifted from alert readiness to wide-eyed joy. "Ancestors!"
The Sect Master, however, went pale. His lips moved soundlessly. His knees almost gave way, and for a brief moment he clutched his own robe like it was the last lifeline between him and fainting dead away.
Yangshen, Yuying, Jinhai, and Meiyun stood before them, grinning like they had just returned from a vacation that involved burning down someone else's capital. Their sheer presence radiated the kind of pressure that made seasoned elders shuffle awkwardly, suddenly very interested in their shoes.
Haotian ran forward, bowing respectfully. "What brings you here?"
Yangshen threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing through the entire sect like a war drum. "We heard there was an auction here! Thought we'd come see if the Burning Sun Sect had any treasures worth our coin." He glanced around, then jabbed a finger straight at Haotian. "Also came to check on my great-grandson!"
The Sect Master's eyes bulged so wide it looked like they might roll out.
The courtyard went dead silent. Then came the gasps.
"Wait… the Zhenlong Household… the Four Saint Dragons?!""The Four Saint Dragons are here?!""HIS great-grandson?!"
Within seconds, every elder from every visiting sect was scrambling forward, tripping over their own robes in their rush to bow. A Bloodshade Moon Sect elder even tried to bow twice before realizing no one else was doing it, then pretended he was adjusting his belt.
One rogue cultivator in the back whispered, "Do you realize… if they sneeze, they could level an entire sect?"
Another slapped him on the shoulder, dead serious. "If they sneeze, the sneeze might start its own sect."
Yangshen grinned like this was all perfectly normal. "Well? Which one of you lot is the Sect Master? I need to know whose auction I'm about to make very interesting."
The Sect Master stepped forward, managing a stiff bow. "It is an… immense honor to welcome the Four Saints of the Zhenlong Household." His voice was steady, but his inner thoughts were screaming: I DID NOT SIGN UP FOR THIS—
The political ripple was instant and devastating. Rival sect elders who had spent the auction quietly plotting the Burning Sun Sect's downfall suddenly looked like they had swallowed live wasps. Plans that had taken months to weave crumbled to ash in the time it took for Yangshen to point at Haotian and call him "family."
Haotian, still smiling, thought to himself, Well… I guess that solves the whole 'people-trying-to-kill-us' problem.
The Sect Master, now barely containing his glee, also realized the golden opportunity—he hadn't needed to reveal Haotian's heritage himself… the Four Saint Dragons had done it in the most dramatic way possible.
This was no longer just a sect with a rising genius. This was a sect with a direct bloodline tie to four living legends. Anyone dumb enough to move against them now might as well pre-dig their own grave… and possibly their neighbor's.
Yangshen looked at Haotian, winked, and said in the most casual tone imaginable, "Well then, let's see what you've got for us to buy. Hopefully you're not selling any junk."
Yangshen's booming voice had barely faded when Haotian, still grinning, said, "The auction? It's… already over. You're too late."
For a heartbeat, silence. Then thunk—black lines metaphorically rolled down Yangshen's face like someone had drawn them there with an ink brush.
"…What?"
From beside him, Yuying was already laughing, covering her mouth with one hand while her eyes sparkled with pure mischief. "I told you, Yangshen—we'd be late. We heard about the auction three hours ago. Did you think you could outfly a rumor?"
Yangshen muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "In my day, rumors took weeks to get anywhere."
Haotian chuckled, clasping his hands respectfully but unable to hide his amusement. "It's still good to see you, Ancestors. The auction may be over, but the pavilion is still open. If you'd like, I can give you a private tour."
That was all it took.
"Lead the way, great-grandson!" Yangshen barked, instantly regaining his usual swagger. "If we can't buy the best, we'll look at the best and complain until someone sells it to us."
The crowd parted like the seas, not just from respect but from self-preservation. The thought of standing in the way of four Saint Dragons on a shopping trip was the kind of thing that made even the most arrogant elders suddenly remember they had other business elsewhere.
They entered the Burning Sun Pavilion, the main hall buzzing with leftover energy from the auction. Merchants and sect envoys froze mid-step as they recognized the newcomers, whispers flaring like sparks. The Four Saint Dragons… inside the pavilion…
Halfway through the first floor, Lianhua appeared, her steps light but quick. She'd clearly heard the news—her eyes lit up when she saw Yuying and Meiyun. She hurried over, dipped into a graceful bow, and greeted warmly, "Ancestors."
Yuying's stern poise softened instantly as she reached out, letting Lianhua link her arm through hers. "Child, you've grown more radiant since we last met," she said, her voice warm with genuine affection.
On Lianhua's other side, Meiyun allowed her to take her arm as well, though her smile curved with a teasing edge. Her gaze drifted deliberately toward Haotian before returning to Lianhua. "Radiant indeed… and is that the glow of cultivation progress, or perhaps something more personal?"
Yangshen, pretending not to listen, was absolutely listening, his shoulders shaking faintly from the effort of holding back laughter. Jinhai, on the other hand, muttered to himself about how "young love should be treated with discipline, not gossip," while quietly edging closer so he wouldn't miss a single word.
Haotian sighed—but it was the kind of sigh that hid a smile. "Ancestors… the pavilion's this way. We'll start with the first floor's open goods, then move to the higher floors where the best work is displayed."
They moved deeper inside, the air buzzing with more than just qi now. Every visitor who spotted the group was suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that the Burning Sun Sect's rising star wasn't just some prodigy—he was blood to the most feared and respected warriors in the region.
And judging by the way Yangshen was already muttering about buying everything just to "see if it's worth the hype," the political ripple from today wasn't going to be a ripple at all. It was going to be a wave.
Haotian led the way toward the back of the pavilion, past a set of carved doors guarded by two Burning Sun Sect disciples who straightened instantly at the sight of the Four Saints. The guards' bows were deep enough to almost plant their foreheads in the floor.
"This way," Haotian said, pushing open the doors to reveal a private stairwell leading up. "We'll skip the usual crowd and head straight to the top."
Yangshen grinned like a man about to rob a rival general's war chest. "Good. I was worried we'd have to shove our way through all those gawkers."
"You mean the people you terrified into silence just by walking in?" Meiyun replied smoothly.
"They should be silent in the presence of their betters," Jinhai said, his tone so solemn that Yuying rolled her eyes and whispered to Lianhua, "Ignore him. He's been like this since before you were born."
Lianhua stifled a laugh, still holding both Yuying and Meiyun's arms as they followed Haotian up the steps. Behind them, the six elemental guards trailed in a loose formation—half watching the Saints with reverence, half scanning for threats.
They emerged onto the fourth floor, the air richer here, thick with the sharp, clean scent of refined metals and treated spirit leather. Each display case and weapons rack was arranged with precision, the lighting formations highlighting every fine edge and perfect curve.
"This is where the highest-quality pieces are displayed," Haotian explained. "Some are for sale, others are reserved for commission or exchange."
Yangshen strode to the nearest rack and picked up a spear, turning it over in his hands. "Hm. Good balance. Decent weight. But…" He thrust it once into the air—WHUMP—the force rippling through the qi field so hard one of the attendants nearly fell over. "…it's not as good as what my great-grandson makes."
The attendant swallowed, half-flattered, half-terrified.
Jinhai examined a blade on the far wall with the critical eye of a man who had broken more weapons than most smiths had ever forged. "Solid work," he muttered, "but I'd still prefer my own."
Meiyun, meanwhile, wandered toward a set of armor, her hands tracing the air just above the surface without touching it. "Beautiful craftsmanship. And the warding formations are solid," she said, glancing toward Haotian. "You made these?"
"Some," Haotian replied with a small smile. "Others were made by our forging hall, using my designs."
Yuying leaned in close to Lianhua, her voice low but carrying just enough to make Haotian's ear twitch. "See? He's not just a fighter—he's building a foundation that could last centuries."
Lianhua's blush deepened, but she said nothing, her pride in him shining through her silence.
Yangshen slammed the butt of the spear back into its stand. "Alright. I've seen enough. I want a full set of your personal work—one for each of us."
"That would take some time," Haotian said evenly.
"Good," Yangshen grinned. "That means I have a reason to come back."
The attendants exchanged wide-eyed glances; the political implications were enormous. Four Saints commissioning personal gear from the Burning Sun Sect's rising prodigy? Every rival sect elder in earshot would choke on their own tea.
And Haotian could see it clearly—this tour wasn't just about showing his work. It was about letting every spy and rival quietly absorb the fact that the Four Saint Dragons weren't just visiting the Burning Sun Sect. They were walking its floors like family.
The group descended from the fourth floor, their steps echoing down the polished wood stairwell. By the time they reached the first floor, the crowd that had been cautiously milling about earlier had reformed into a loose ring, keeping just enough distance to avoid being swept up in the Four Saints' wake.
Yangshen led the way out with the casual swagger of a man who had walked victorious from battlefields and courts alike. Yuying and Meiyun followed arm-in-arm with Lianhua, chatting lightly about everything from tea leaves to armor fittings, while Jinhai kept his usual stone-faced pace—though Haotian noted the man's eyes never stopped scanning the room for threats.
The moment the Saints stepped into the open air of the pavilion courtyard, whispers became waves.
"It's true—they really came.""The Zhenlong Four Saint Dragons, here in the Burning Sun Sect…""That means Haotian's their blood.""If he's tied to them, who would dare move against this sect now?"
Haotian caught sight of several disguised sect envoys exchanging stiff, hurried looks. The kind of looks that said entire plans were being rewritten on the spot. Those who had been considering challenging the Burning Sun Sect's rise were already calculating the risks of offending not just a sect, but four saints whose names still held the weight of legend.
One merchant from the Ironscale Hall bowed so low to the Saints that Haotian half-wondered if he'd be able to stand again. A robed elder from the Cloud-Splitting Sect, previously aloof, now found an urgent reason to greet the Burning Sun Sect's attending elders, all smiles and shallow flattery. Even rival factions that had been quietly aligned began subtly shifting their postures, their faces tightening with the knowledge that their entire political map had just changed.
Yangshen noticed the ripple effect and laughed under his breath, the sound carrying just far enough to make a few onlookers flinch. "Amazing how a short walk can remind people of their manners."
Yuying gave a knowing smile. "Manners… or survival instincts."
Meiyun's eyes flicked toward Haotian, her voice quiet enough for only him to hear. "You do realize this changes the game entirely? Your enemies are going to think twice… but those who don't? They'll come sharper and meaner than before."
Haotian's lips curved slightly, his gaze sweeping the crowd, weighing every shifting expression. "Then I'll just be sharper still."
The Saints moved through the courtyard like a living stormfront—no chaos in their wake, but the undeniable pressure of a force that could flatten anything in its path if it chose to. The pavilion doors closed behind them, but the murmurs in their absence only grew louder, carrying far beyond the sect's walls.
By the time they reached the sect's main road, Haotian could already feel it—the Burning Sun Sect's position had just climbed several rungs higher in the cultivation world. And with it, the weight of every eye, friend or foe, was going to follow.
By the time they reached the steps leading to the inner sect grounds, Haotian was just about to guide the Four Saints toward his courtyard for a private talk when a clear female voice rang out behind him.
"Haotian!"
He and the Saints turned as one. Striding briskly up the path were two familiar figures—Ru Mei and Yue Lan of the Cloudveil Spirit Sect. Their robes swayed in the breeze, and an older Cloudveil elder followed a step behind them, her pace measured but eyes sharp.
Yuying's gaze slid from the two girls to Haotian, then back again, her brows arching ever so slightly. Meiyun's eyes narrowed, a faint glint of appraisal there—not for the girls' cultivation, but for their proximity to her great-nephew.
The two young women stopped just in front of him, bowing with warm smiles.
"We just came from the auction house," Ru Mei said. "We heard you were still in the sect, so we wanted to see you."
"And perhaps chat," Yue Lan added, her voice a little more playful.
Haotian returned the smile easily. "You came at the right time." He gestured toward the four towering figures behind him. "These are my ancestors—Yangshen, Yuying, Jinhai, and Meiyun of the Zhenlong family."
At once, the two Cloudveil disciples and their elder dipped into deep, respectful bows. "It is an honor to meet the Four Saint Dragons," the Cloudveil elder said, voice low with reverence.
Yangshen gave a small nod, his eyes flicking to Haotian as though to say, These are friends of yours?
"Yes," Haotian said aloud. "And since we're about to tour the sect, would you like to join us?"
Both Ru Mei and Yue Lan brightened immediately, exchanging quick glances before answering in unison. "We'd love to."
None of the Saints objected—at least not aloud. But Yuying and Meiyun kept watching the pair as they fell in step near Haotian, their subtle glances darting between the girls and their great-nephew with the practiced scrutiny of women who could see through most masks.
Yuying leaned toward Lianhua, her tone casual in that deliberately not casual way. "Who are these two?"
"They're disciples from the Cloudveil Spirit Sect," Lianhua answered calmly, her smile unshaken. "We met in the forbidden realm. They're… friends."
Meiyun's lips pressed into a thin line as she murmured, "Friends? Hmph. They have the look of women who want more than friendship. Haotian already has you—why is he letting other flowers into the garden? This is unacceptable."
Lianhua only shook her head gently, her smile soft but certain. "They could never come between us. Our bond is much stronger than that."
Meiyun studied her for a heartbeat longer, then exhaled through her nose—a sound halfway between a concession and a warning. Yuying, however, smiled faintly, as if quietly pleased by Lianhua's confidence.
Haotian, entirely aware of the layered conversation happening behind him but pretending not to be, led the growing group deeper into the sect's inner grounds. The air was now heavy with more than just the political weight of the Four Saints—it carried the subtle current of shifting relationships and unspoken rivalries, all swirling under the surface.