The day after the captain ceremony, the Raising Dragon and Phoenix grounds bustled like a city come alive. Disciples, factionless recruits, and allies gathered in ranks beneath the six-story pavilion, excitement burning in their eyes.
Haotian stood at the front field with Lianhua at his side. Behind them, the 20 captains — the guards and the fourteen — fanned out to take command.
"Today," Haotian's voice cut through the air, "we leave behind celebration. You are soldiers of the Raising Dragon and Phoenix now. Discipline will forge you. Unity will carry you. Your captains will shape you. Begin."
The order rippled outward like a spark into dry grass.
Wei Jian's Squad
His booming voice carried over the clash of training weapons. "Shields up! Stand like walls!" His squad fumbled at first, shields clashing unevenly, but Wei Jian threw himself into the line, showing them how to lock tight. Sweat poured from his brow, but the disciples found themselves drawn to his raw, unyielding presence.
Su Ming's Squad
No shouting here — only calm, deliberate instruction. "Strike. Stop. Again. Watch the rhythm." He corrected stances with quiet precision, and though his disciples grumbled at his silence, soon their attacks flowed like clockwork, steady and efficient.
Qin Yao's Squad
Yao barked orders like a seasoned commander. "Left flank forward, right hold position!" Her squad moved as if on a battlefield, practicing feints and counter-charges. Disciples outside her group whispered at her sharpness — few had expected her to rise so quickly.
Cheng Rui's Squad
Where others drilled sternly, Rui's laughter carried. "Miss again? Good! Better to miss now than on the battlefield!" His squad's spirits stayed high despite bruises. Even when illusions of failure haunted them in sparring formations, he teased them into perseverance.
Meanwhile, the six guards spread their influence as anchors.
Lanyue turned her team's drills into flowing dances, teaching speed and evasion.
Yuerin made hers practice defensive lines, soothing and correcting with patience.
Zhanfeng turned the field into fire and shouting, demanding explosive attacks.
Jianhong's calm earth-solid training built resilience through heavy sparring.
Xuanming drilled precision cuts until sparks flew from clashing blades.
Shuyin, gentle but firm, pushed her squad to blend offense with healing — to protect while striking.
The field became a storm of motion. Squads rose, faltered, collided, recovered.
Haotian walked among them, Fenlong Spear resting lightly in his hand. He corrected stances, whispered encouragement, and — when a squad faltered — demonstrated himself, his spear weaving arcs so swift the air cracked.
Lianhua watched with quiet pride, stepping in to support female disciples who faltered under pressure. Her words steadied them: "Strength is not only in muscle — it is in heart."
By sunset, the grounds were littered with exhausted disciples, sweat dripping from every face. But their eyes shone. The Raising Dragon and Phoenix Faction was no longer just a name — it was a living, breathing force.
Haotian gathered them once more.
"This is only the beginning. Captains, lead them. Make them strong. Our faction will be more than numbers — it will be unity."
The cheer that followed shook the pavilion walls.
High above the training grounds, where the pavilion rooftops caught the last hues of sunset, the Sect Master stood with his hands folded behind his back. From this vantage, the entire field lay visible: rows of disciples moving in rhythm, captains barking commands, and the storm of sweat and spirit qi that marked the birth of a new power within the Burning Sun Sect.
The hall behind him murmured with restless voices. The elders had gathered — some grim, some amused, all watchful.
Elder Huan's brows knitted tightly. "This faction of his… it is not like the others. Look at the discipline, the structure. Twenty captains? A dual-command system between Haotian and Lianhua? Even the guards take orders from him without hesitation. It feels less like a faction… and more like a sect of its own."
Another elder, stroking his beard, sighed. "Indeed. Factions are meant to temper disciples, not rival the sect itself. The Raising Dragon and Phoenix — what an audacious name."
Elder Zhao chuckled, though unease edged his tone. "And yet, no one can deny the results. In mere months, their ranks swell, their training bears fruit. Even the weakest disciples are hardening like tempered steel. Tell me, which faction in history has advanced at this pace?"
The Sect Master finally turned, his gaze sweeping across them all. His expression was calm, but his eyes gleamed with quiet calculation.
"You fear his ambition," he said simply.
The words silenced the room.
Elder Huan was first to speak again. "Ambition unchecked can fracture a sect. His captains follow him, not us. The disciples chant his name in the halls. If he wished to split off tomorrow, he could take half the sect with him."
Another elder, more cautious, countered: "But ambition also strengthens. The Burning Sun has grown more in these months than in the last decade. Our disciples walk taller, our reputation with other sects has soared. The name of Haotian spreads like wildfire — and with it, our sect's name."
The Sect Master closed his eyes briefly, then reopened them with a faint smile. "Both of you are correct. Haotian is a storm. To resist him will break us. To guide him may elevate us. The question, my brothers, is whether we are wise enough to walk with a storm at our side."
A hush followed. Some elders shifted uneasily. Others bowed their heads in thought.
At last, the Sect Master's tone hardened. "For now, let him build. Let him believe the council watches with approval. We will continue to observe. When the time comes, should this dragon outgrow its cage, we must decide whether to shackle it… or ride its wings."
Below, the cheers of disciples erupted again, shaking the windows of the council hall. The elders exchanged glances — half proud, half fearful.
And in the Sect Master's heart, one truth settled like stone:
The Burning Sun Sect would never be the same again.
The training grounds of the Raising Dragon and Phoenix Faction had become a spectacle that drew eyes from every corner of the sect. Even wandering elders, passing with the detached dignity of years, would slow their steps and linger at the edges to watch. The mountain air rang with the rhythm of discipline: the synchronized stomp of boots striking earth, the clash of steel on steel, and the sharp commands that cut through the wind.
Squads moved as one, weaving their formations across the fields like patterns etched into the ground itself. Lines broke apart and rejoined in fluid arcs, dual formations spiraling through the dust, each maneuver echoing with purpose. Sparks leapt as blades crossed, the sound carrying out into the cliffs like rolling thunder.
The twenty captains had grown into their roles with startling swiftness, their leadership stamped clearly into the identity of each squad. Lanyue's disciples cut across the field like windblades, their footwork a blur of unpredictability, steps as elusive as shifting currents. Yuerin's lines flowed with quiet resilience, their defense rippling into counterattacks that turned pressure back on the enemy in seamless waves. Zhanfeng's squad carried the ferocity of a storm, striking with burning aggression that demanded attention at every clash. Jianhong's disciples stood like mountains, absorbing momentum and redirecting it until their enemies broke themselves against stone. Xuanming's squad drilled their precision to perfection—each cut measured, each strike sharp enough to split a falling hair. Shuyin's disciples embodied balance itself, their formation breathing between offense and defense, healing and striking, a living rhythm of life bound into combat.
Among the newly risen fourteen, their growth carried no less brilliance. Wei Jian's walls of shields no longer bent—they stood as fortresses, unbreakable even under crushing weight. Qin Yao's battlefield drills had expanded into full campaigns, maneuvers complex enough to mimic the chaos of true war. Su Ming's quiet rhythm forged his squad into a machine, each step and strike timed so perfectly it seemed they moved to an unheard melody. And Cheng Rui's laughter—bright and irrepressible—echoed even through exhaustion, lifting spirits and pushing his disciples to strike harder, endure longer, and never yield.
Each captain had begun to leave their mark. What had once been a collection of squads now carried distinct identities, forged through sweat, will, and relentless training.
Haotian stood at the edge, his spear in hand, gaze like fire sweeping over the field. He rarely interrupted, but when he did—when his spear danced through a formation—the drills erupted into chaos. Captains barked orders, disciples tightened their ranks, and sweat poured as they struggled to hold cohesion against the storm of his strikes. It was no shame to falter; even the strongest captains strained under his assault. Yet each clash with him left the squads stronger, their unity hardened like tempered steel.
Lianhua moved differently. She was less storm and more steady flame. Her presence among the younger disciples was quiet but transformative. She adjusted stances, corrected footwork, and whispered encouragement in tones that settled nerves and ignited determination. Where Haotian tested their strength, she gave them belief. Under her touch, backs straightened, eyes sharpened, and voices rose louder in their calls.
The Raising Dragon and Phoenix Faction was no longer learning to walk. The first hesitant steps of its infancy had long passed. Now, it gathered momentum, its heartbeat echoing across the mountain like a drum of war. It was no longer crawling toward its future—It was beginning to run.
Time passed like flowing water. The Raising Dragon and Phoenix Faction had grown from promise into power.
The management structure solidified:
Every captain now had a vice captain at their side, carefully chosen from the most promising disciples.
Team leaders rose beneath them, responsible for squads of twelve.
Missions — once the duty of captains — were now regularly assigned to these teams, giving every disciple both responsibility and opportunity.
The faction was like a small sect within a sect, yet no one could deny its order and efficiency. Even rival factions begrudgingly admitted that no other group could match their organization. Collaboration missions with other factions began as training, but soon evolved into genuine partnerships — strengthening bonds across the Burning Sun Sect rather than dividing it.
The disciples themselves were the clearest measure of success.
Once-scattered factionless recruits now wore the faction's crest with pride.
Their cultivation advanced steadily thanks to structured training, access to spirit stones, and pill allocations.
New applicants queued at the gates, eager to join.
Haotian and Lianhua, freed from the burden of managing the day-to-day, now focused on higher matters.
Haotian oversaw resources, refining pills and forging weapons when needed, ensuring the treasury never ran dry. The faction's coffers brimmed not only with spirit stones but with weapons and medicines tailored for their disciples.
But he wasn't alone — pill refiners and blacksmiths within the faction now formed an artisan circle, their skills honed under his guidance.
Together, they had built more than a faction. They had built a foundation.
When Haotian walked the pavilion halls, disciples straightened in respect, their voices rising as one:
"Captain Haotian!"
When Lianhua passed, their cheers were softer but no less fervent:
"Lady Phoenix!"
The Sect itself felt the shift. Whispers filled the elder halls — the Raising Dragon and Phoenix Faction was no longer just a promising unit. It was a predominant force in the Burning Sun Sect.
And at its heart, Haotian and Lianhua stood not as overburdened leaders, but as cultivators once again free to pursue their path — while their captains carried the weight of the faction on their backs.
The Raising Dragon and Phoenix grounds slept in silence, but within the private estate's inner courtyard, the air was anything but still.
Inside the protected chambers, Haotian and Lianhua sat across from one another, their qi flowing in harmony. The Union of Dual Souls Sutra guided their breathing, their energy merging and circling between them like two rivers entwining into one greater tide. Sweat clung to their skin, muscles tensing and releasing with each cycle of cultivation.
On the sixteenth cycle, their resonance reached its peak. Yin and Yang blazed like twin stars, their qi surging into a storm. Both their bodies trembled as the barrier that had long pressed against their cores suddenly shattered.
A wave of golden and crimson light erupted through their meridians. Their spirits burst upward into new realms of clarity. Their bodies tempered under invisible flames, bones cracking faintly before reforging stronger.
Together, they stepped into the Soul Transformation Realm.
Had they not been careful, the surge would have rattled the entire sect. But Haotian's foresight saved them — layers of formations shimmered and swallowed the disturbance. The world outside remained unaware, while inside, a tempest raged and remade them.
Lianhua's voice broke the silence, her tone hushed but trembling with exhilaration."Haotian… we did it."
Haotian reached across, brushing his hand against her cheek, his eyes alight with the universe. "Together. Always."
Her blush deepened, but her qi flared in playful defiance. And so, their night did not end with their breakthrough.
Their cultivation did not stop. The Sutra's pull was irresistible, binding them in body and spirit. One cycle became two, two became five, until they lost count — until at last, thirty-three cycles had passed.
Each cycle magnified their bond. Their moans and whispers filled the chamber, voices trembling with both strain and pleasure. The intensity sharpened with every repetition; sweat poured from them like rain, their bodies glistening under the candlelight.
But the rewards were undeniable: their qi pools expanded into oceans, their meridians widened to rivers, their physiques tempered until they gleamed like jade refined in fire.
When at last exhaustion forced them to rest, Haotian and Lianhua lay entwined, hearts pounding in unison. Both had climbed a summit few would dare to dream of — and they had done it together.
When dawn broke, they emerged from their quarters hand-in-hand. Their hair was damp, their faces flushed, but their aura betrayed them. The calm, commanding presence of Soul Transformation cultivators radiated from them, impossible to hide.
Disciples they passed froze mid-step. Some bowed instinctively, others stared in awe. Whispers bloomed like wildfire.
"They broke through again…""Together?""How can they advance so quickly?"
By the time Haotian and Lianhua sat for breakfast, the rumors had spread across the faction like an uncontrollable blaze. By noon, it had reached the upper halls. By afternoon, it reached the Sect Master.
The sun was descending when a messenger arrived at their pavilion gates. His face was taut with urgency as he bowed low.
"The Sect Master summons Haotian and Lady Lianhua. The Council awaits."
Haotian and Lianhua exchanged a glance. Her eyes still glowed faintly, fierce with the new power of her realm. His own aura pulsed like restrained lightning. Together, they rose.
Hand in hand, they walked toward the council hall, their steps measured, their hearts steady.
Behind them, their faction disciples whispered with reverence. Ahead, the elders of the Burning Sun waited with questions and suspicion.
The storm of revelation was about to begin.
The Raising Dragon and Phoenix estate was cloaked in silence, but within Haotian's quarters, the air trembled with power.
Lianhua was straddling Haotian, her palms pressed against his chest, her body rising and falling in rhythm with his breath. The Union of Dual Souls Sutra guided them, weaving Yin and Yang into a spiral of cultivation and intimacy. Their qi pulsed together, forming endless cycles of resonance.
Moans and whispered vows escaped between them as their cultivation deepened, every movement drawing their spirits closer. The sutra grew sharper with each repetition, the energy between them mounting until it felt as though the heavens themselves waited for this moment.
On the sixteenth cycle, the balance broke.
Lianhua's cry split the chamber as silver light burst from her core, her body arching as qi thundered outward. Beneath her, Haotian's dantian erupted in golden arcs, lightning crackling along his skin. Their energies collided in a blinding vortex—then fused.
A tidal wave of qi flooded their meridians, bones shuddering as they reforged, muscles tempering under the invisible flames of transformation. Spirit and body alike ascended in unison.
Together, they had broken through into the Soul Transformation Realm.
Had it not been for Haotian's foresight, the sect would have shaken under the release. But the layered formations he'd carved held firm, trapping the storm inside their chamber. Outside, the night remained calm. Inside, heaven and earth had shifted.
Lianhua collapsed against him, gasping, her face flushed with exertion and triumph. "Haotian… we did it. Together."
Haotian brushed his hand across her cheek, his eyes glowing faintly with the galaxies of his universe gaze. "Always together."
But their night did not end there.
The sutra pulled them onward, their qi refusing to rest. Their bodies pressed together as the energy surged, cycle after cycle.
One became two. Two became five. Soon, they had lost count until they realized—thirty-three cycles had passed.
Their moans grew louder, sharper, filling the chamber as they pushed themselves to limits neither had ever known. Sweat poured from their bodies, dripping onto the bed, the floor, each droplet sizzling faintly as their qi burned hotter.
Every cycle expanded their qi pools, widening their meridians until even hidden channels opened. Their physiques tempered further with each surge, muscles refined into jade-like hardness, skin glowing with immortal luster.
And through it all, they clung to one another, their whispers breaking between cries:
"Don't stop…""I'm almost there…""Together—always together."
When at last exhaustion claimed them, they collapsed in each other's arms, breathless, trembling, and utterly changed.
When dawn came, Haotian and Lianhua stepped from their quarters hand in hand.
Their faces were flushed, their hair damp, but what betrayed them was the aura of Soul Transformation cultivators. It radiated unconcealed, powerful and commanding. Even the casual way they walked could not hide it.
Disciples they passed stopped mid-step, staring wide-eyed. Some bowed immediately, others whispered in disbelief.
"They… broke through again?""Both of them, together?""How is this possible?"
By the time they sat for breakfast, the whispers had already grown into wildfire. By midday, the entire faction knew. By afternoon, the story had spread to the upper sect halls.
The Sect Master and elders did not miss such news.
That afternoon, a messenger arrived at their pavilion gates. His expression was tense, his bow low and respectful.
"The Sect Master summons Haotian and Lady Lianhua. The Council awaits."
Haotian and Lianhua exchanged a glance. Her eyes still glimmered faintly with silver light, her newfound strength brimming. His own aura crackled beneath his calm, restrained but undeniable.
He squeezed her hand, and she nodded back, steady.
Together, they walked toward the council hall — two cultivators whose path now stood beyond the expectations of their peers.
Behind them, the Raising Dragon and Phoenix disciples whispered with reverence. Ahead, the Sect Master and elders waited with questions.
The storm of revelation was about to begin.
By the time Haotian and Lianhua left their pavilion that morning, the atmosphere of the sect had already changed.
Disciples clustered in groups, whispering, eyes darting toward the couple as though witnessing the impossible. Their presence alone carried a weight that forced even senior disciples to step aside.
"They broke through… both of them?""It hasn't even been half a year since the Raising Dragon and Phoenix Faction was founded!""This is beyond ordinary cultivation speed. It's like watching legends walk past us."
Some disciples spoke in awe, their admiration plain. Others murmured in disbelief, struggling to accept what their senses told them.
Within their own ranks, the Raising Dragon and Phoenix disciples felt as though they were walking beneath a new sky. Their captains and squad leaders gathered, bowing when Haotian and Lianhua passed.
One whispered, "If our leaders can soar so quickly, what excuse do we have? We must work harder."Another clenched his fists. "This faction will become the pillar of the Burning Sun Sect. Just watch."
Laughter and teasing followed too, directed more at Lianhua than Haotian:"Lady Lianhua, you're glowing again!""Did Senior Brother keep you awake cultivating all night?"
Her face burned crimson, but she didn't scold them—she simply hid closer against Haotian's arm. He, in turn, gave the crowd a faint glare, enough to silence the chuckles before they went too far.
But outside the faction, envy festered.
Captains of other sect factions gathered in their halls, voices laced with bitterness."Two breakthroughs at once? Hmph. They must be hiding some forbidden method.""No one can rise like that without sacrificing something. It's unnatural."
One rival captain slammed his fist against the table."If the Raising Dragon and Phoenix keeps this pace, the Sect Master will favor them above all. Where will that leave the rest of us?"
A subtler voice spoke from the corner:"Whether natural or not, the results are undeniable. Their disciples grow sharper, their structure stronger, and now their leaders stand in Soul Transformation. The balance of power within the sect… is shifting."
The room fell silent. Even those filled with resentment could not deny the truth.
By afternoon, the rumors had reached a fever pitch. The Sect Master and elders convened privately, their expressions shadowed. The messenger had already been dispatched.
And so, as Haotian and Lianhua made their way to the council hall, the disciples whispered behind them, rival factions fumed in their corners, and allies quietly celebrated the rise of their leaders.
The sect itself seemed to hold its breath.
For within that hall, questions would be asked—questions that could determine how the Burning Sun Sect viewed its brightest pair of rising stars.