The heavy doors of the council hall opened, and Haotian and Lianhua entered together. Their steps were steady, but the power radiating from their bodies could not be hidden. The aura of the Soul Transformation Realm shimmered faintly around them, majestic yet controlled.
The Sect Master sat at the head of the hall, the elders flanking him. Haotian expected stern questions, even suspicion. Instead, the Sect Master's lips curved into a rare smile.
"Haotian. Lianhua. At such a young age, the two of you have already stepped into the Soul Transformation Realm. This is unprecedented in our sect's history. Truly… a cause for celebration."
A murmur of agreement spread among the elders, their gazes no longer scrutinizing but admiring. One elder leaned forward. "Geniuses such as you two cannot remain as mere disciples or even captains of a faction. No—our sect must recognize your place."
Another elder added firmly, "With your strength, talent, and the respect you already command, it is time. We propose that both Haotian and Lianhua be promoted as elders of the Burning Sun Sect."
The words hung in the air like thunder. Even Haotian, so often calm and composed, blinked in surprise. Beside him, Lianhua's lips parted slightly in shock. Elders? The two of them? At their age, such a thing was unheard of.
They turned their heads, eyes meeting. For a long breath, neither spoke. Then slowly, both smiled.
Together, they stepped forward, cupped their hands, and bowed deeply."We thank the Sect Master and the honored council for this trust. We, Haotian and Lianhua, accept."
The Sect Master's smile deepened. "Good. Then let it be declared — you are now the youngest elders the Burning Sun Sect has ever seen. May your future burn as brightly as your names."
It did not take long for the announcement to ripple through the sect. By the time Haotian and Lianhua stepped out of the hall, whispers had already started. By evening, the entire Burning Sun Sect knew.
"The youngest elders in history?""And together, no less! A couple elder pair!""With their leadership of the Raising Dragon and Phoenix Faction, this changes everything…"
The news lit fires of excitement among the disciples, stirred envy in the rival factions, and filled the neutral with awe.
Back at their estate, the Raising Dragon and Phoenix Faction erupted in cheers when the news reached them. Captains and disciples alike filled the courtyard, voices echoing into the night.
"Our leaders are now elders!""Elder Haotian! Elder Lianhua! The heavens themselves couldn't favor us more!"
Lianhua blushed at the chants, clinging lightly to Haotian's sleeve. He, however, only smiled faintly and raised a hand for silence. The pride in his gaze said enough.
The sect moved swiftly. Within two days, a grand celebration would be held for the two newly promoted elders. Banners of crimson and gold were already being hung. Dancers and musicians were being called. The treasury prepared gifts befitting their new station.
For Haotian and Lianhua, the path forward had shifted again. No longer just rising stars or faction leaders, they were now part of the sect's highest circle — its pillars of the future.
And though the celebration had yet to begin, the name of the Raising Dragon and Phoenix Faction had already reached an untouchable height.
The sect had planned for a modest but grand celebration in two days' time, yet the news of Haotian and Lianhua's ascension to elder status traveled far faster than expected.
By the following morning, messengers began to arrive. One after another, robed envoys from neighboring sects entered the Burning Sun Sect gates, their crests displayed proudly on their sleeves. Each carried letters of congratulations, yet behind the formalities their messages were clear:
They wished to attend.
The Cloudveil Spirit Sect. The Ironwood Valley Sect. The Skyshroud Sword Sect. Even minor sects and families who once held no relation to Burning Sun now sent their words.
The Sect Master listened to each report, his composure steady but his eyes gleaming. "They all wish to attend? To witness the youngest elders rise?"
The presiding elder nodded. "Sect Master, to refuse them would be seen as disrespect."
The council murmured in agreement, and soon it was decided. The celebration would be delayed five days, to allow for the guests' arrival.
The Sect Master leaned back on his seat, stroking his beard with satisfaction. "Good… good. What greater honor than to have the world's eyes turn to us?"
But as the excitement swelled, a sharp thought pierced through his joy. His hand froze mid-motion.
"The Zhenlong household…"
The chamber grew silent at those words. Even among elders, the four saint dragons were a name not taken lightly.
"If the descendants of the Zhenlong line are to be celebrated before the eyes of the world, then we dare not neglect their ancestors. Should word reach them after the fact…" The Sect Master shook his head, a bead of sweat on his brow. "We cannot afford that mistake. If they descend in fury, no defense we raise could withstand it."
He rose to his feet. "Send word immediately. Dispatch our fastest messenger hawks. Tell the Zhenlong household that their descendants, Haotian and Lianhua, are to be honored. They must know they are welcome."
The elders bowed in unison. The order was carried out at once.
With the delay, the Burning Sun Sect threw itself into preparation. Courtyards were draped in crimson banners. Lanterns were strung from pavilion to pavilion, glowing like falling stars at night. Musicians rehearsed, and disciples polished their weapons and robes until they gleamed.
The Raising Dragon and Phoenix Faction itself became the center of attention. Their disciples were seen training harder than ever, their pride swelling. Rival factions, though envious, could not deny that a tide had shifted.
"Two elders at their age… what foundation could rival that?" one muttered.
"They're not just rising stars anymore. They've become pillars," another answered bitterly.
In private, the Sect Master looked out from his balcony over the bustling preparations, his heart thrumming with excitement and caution.
"If the world comes to witness, then Burning Sun shall not be diminished." His gaze sharpened toward the horizon. "But if the Zhenlong household answers… then this celebration may become the most fateful day in our sect's history."
The following morning, just as the sect's preparations reached their peak, the heavens split open with a thunderous boom.
Four streaks of light cut across the sky, blazing brighter than meteors. Every disciple and elder froze, gazes snapping upward as the spiritual pressure rolled down like a mountain. The banners that had just been hung snapped in the wind, and lanterns rattled violently in their frames.
Boom!
The four figures landed at once in the heart of the Burning Sun Sect courtyard. Dust and qi exploded outward, forcing disciples to stagger back. But Haotian and Lianhua stood their ground, their eyes lighting up with recognition and joy.
Together, they stepped forward and bowed deeply.
"Welcome back, Ancestors!"
Yangshen was the first to move, a booming laugh spilling from his chest. "Hahaha! Good! Very good!" He strode up to Haotian and, without ceremony, reached out and ruffled his hair until it was an absolute mess. "Look at you, boy! Already grown into a man, yet I still see the brat who used to sit cross-legged trying to copy my spear drills."
Haotian gave a helpless smile, but warmth filled his heart.
Meanwhile, Lianhua found herself swept into the arms of Yuying and Meiyun. The two ancestresses hugged her close, their smiles like blooming flowers. But as they pulled back, both pairs of sharp eyes flickered with sudden realization.
Yuying's gaze narrowed. "You anchored him, didn't you?"
Meiyun's lips curved into a knowing smirk as she nudged her sister. "Hah! Look at her, sister — of course she did. And judging by her glow… she didn't just anchor him. She took my advice from last time and cooked the rice together with him, hm?"
"Ancestors!" Lianhua squeaked, her face blazing crimson. Steam practically poured from the top of her head as she waved her hands in panic. "Please stop…"
The courtyard filled with laughter. Yuying and Meiyun doubled over at her reaction, clearly delighted with their teasing.
Yangshen and Jinhai, however, were studying Haotian with more serious eyes. The boy they had trained now stood before them not just as a man, but as a cultivator radiating power far beyond his years.
"Hmm. Your aura…" Jinhai frowned. "Soul Transformation Realm? Already?"
Yangshen's eyes sharpened. "Impossible. Unless…" His gaze flicked between Haotian and Lianhua. "You didn't—dual cultivate again, did you?"
For a split moment, the courtyard seemed to still. Haotian's lips pressed into a thin line as he raised a hand quickly, forestalling Yangshen from saying more.
But Jinhai's brow only furrowed further. "Must be. No other way for your cultivation to rise so quickly. Hmph, reckless brats…"
Across from them, Yuying and Meiyun turned to Lianhua, their expressions caught between surprise and delight. The younger woman's face, still flushed crimson, said all that needed to be said.
"…Yes," Meiyun murmured, a slow grin tugging at her lips.
Lianhua covered her face with her hands and groaned.
The four ancestors exchanged glances. Pride, amusement, and a touch of exasperation shimmered in their eyes. Their descendants were reckless… but also brilliant.
And the celebration was only just beginning.
The morning sun had barely crested the horizon when a thunder of hooves rolled across the earth. Dust rose like storm clouds, banners snapped in the wind, and the Burning Sun Sect's disciples froze as a great entourage approached the sect city.
At its heart was an army clad in gleaming armor, the dragon-banner of the Zhenlong Household rippling proudly above their ranks. The pressure of their formation alone felt like a mountain pressing down; every step of their horses resounded with the weight of centuries of dominance.
At the head rode Wukang, his presence upright and steady, the kind of authority that needed no words to enforce. Beside him, his son Wuhen sat tall on his own horse, eyes sharp, the younger generation's strength radiating with pride.
Behind them rolled carriages, silken curtains veiling the elegant figures within. One opened slightly as the party slowed at the sect gates, revealing the delicate features of Qirou. Another carriage door swung wider, and Ruolan stepped gracefully to the edge, her gaze immediately searching for someone.
The army itself halted outside the sect city, encamping with flawless discipline, but the carriages and mounted leaders continued. The Sect Master of Burning Sun Sect, robes immaculate, personally led the elders to the gates. He bowed low.
"Welcome, honored guests of the Zhenlong Household. The Burning Sun Sect is humbled by your presence."
Wukang inclined his head faintly, his expression neither cold nor warm. "You have tended well to our descendant. Today, we have come not to test you, but to celebrate him."
Within the sect's inner grounds, accommodations had already been prepared. The air grew taut with anticipation until at last, Haotian and Lianhua arrived.
The moment Ruolan saw them, her composure broke. She hurried from her carriage and wrapped Haotian in a firm embrace, eyes shining with a mix of disbelief and joy. "Haotian… you've grown so much. I can hardly recognize the boy I once knew."
Her embrace shifted, pulling Lianhua close as well. "And you. The ancestors spoke of you when they returned from the auction years ago. I approved of you then—and now, seeing you together, I am glad I did."
Lianhua flushed, bowing her head respectfully, though her lips curved with a shy smile.
Haotian's siblings stepped forward one by one, each carrying both formality and affection in their tone.
His eldest brother, Haoran, clasped his shoulder firmly. "So, little brother—already an elder, and with such a partner. You've walked far ahead of us." Yet the warmth in his eyes betrayed no resentment, only pride.
His second brother, Haoxuan, grinned widely. "Finally! I don't have to keep hearing Father and the elders sigh about when you'll grow into your name. Seems you've surpassed even their expectations."
And his elder sister, Haoyue, pulled him into her arms without hesitation. "I worried for you often, Haotian. But now I see… I needn't have. You've found your path, and someone to walk it with you. That is all I ever wished for."
Their words, though couched in humor or formality, all carried the same unshakable undercurrent: approval.
The message was clear. Both Haotian and Lianhua had the blessing of the Zhenlong family.
The Burning Sun Sect disciples whispered in awe. Never before had such figures darkened their gates. And now, they weren't just guests—they were here to celebrate their Haotian and Lianhua.
The celebration was no longer simply sect-wide. It was becoming something that might echo across the cultivation world.
The next day, the sect gates shook with the thunder of hooves. An army bearing the blazing banner of the Zhenlong Household stretched across the horizon, disciplined lines of armored soldiers forming a wall of steel outside the Burning Sun Sect city.
At the front rode two figures on horseback. One was a man with sharp, proud eyes, his bearing that of authority and command—Wuhen, head of the Zhenlong Household. Beside him, carrying the weight of history in every movement, sat an older man with silver-streaked hair and an aura like a slumbering dragon—Wukang, son of Yangshen and Yuying, and Haotian's grandfather.
Behind them rolled two elegant carriages. Within sat Qirou and Ruolan, one the dignified first wife and Haotian's mother, the other warm-eyed and smiling, the gentle stepmother who had long embraced Haotian as her own.
The sect master and elders personally descended to welcome them, bowing low in respect. The Zhenlong soldiers remained stationed outside, but the family itself was ushered with honor into the sect grounds.
Haotian and Lianhua hurried forward.
As soon as the carriage door opened, Ruolan stepped down first—and without hesitation, she rushed straight into Haotian's arms. Her voice wavered.
"Haotian… you've grown so much. I can hardly recognize you."
She pulled back only to gather Lianhua into her embrace as well, her eyes bright.
"So it's true. You two… together at last. I approved of this years ago, and now I see it with my own eyes."
From the other carriage, Qirou descended with calm grace. Though her expression was dignified, her hands trembled slightly as she cupped Haotian's face.
"My son… you've carried yourself farther than even I dared dream."
Haotian bowed deeply to both of his mothers, then turned toward the men who approached.
Wuhen dismounted and strode forward, his gaze sharp as a blade. For a long moment, he simply studied Haotian in silence. Then his hand fell on his son's shoulder, firm and heavy with pride.
"Haotian. You are no longer just my son—you are now a pillar of our household."
Finally, the oldest presence came forward. Wukang, his aura steady yet vast, stepped down from his horse. His gaze swept Haotian up and down, and when he finally spoke, it was with the tone of one who had seen generations rise and fall.
"The blood of the Saint Dragons runs true. Yangshen and Yuying would have been proud."
Haotian lowered himself into a deep bow, voice steady despite the rush in his chest.
"Grandfather, Father, Mother, Stepmother… welcome to the Burning Sun Sect."
Not long after, his siblings approached in turn.
Haoran, the eldest, clapped Haotian firmly on the arm.
"You've surpassed us, little brother. But that only makes me proud."
Haoxuan, the second brother, grinned wide and gave him a playful shove.
"Finally, you look like a real man. Lianhua, take care of him—he's always been too stubborn for his own good."
Haoyue, their older sister, gathered Haotian and Lianhua both into a warm embrace.
"I always worried for you. But now I see—you've found your path, and someone to walk it with you. My heart is at ease."
Together, the family stood united in front of the sect, their reunion drawing whispers from disciples and elders alike. The mighty Zhenlong Household, bloodline of the Four Saint Dragons, had come in full recognition of Haotian's rise.
The sect's servants had prepared the pavilion with utmost care: a long table of polished spiritwood gleaming under lantern-light, its surface laden with delicacies of jade beast, lotus wine, and crystal fruits. But it was not the food that stirred awe. It was the company.
At the head of the table sat Yangshen, eldest of the Four Saint Dragons, his presence filling the room like a blazing sun. Beside him were his lifelong companions—Yuying, sharp-eyed and dignified; Jinhai, serene as an immovable tide; and Meiyun, her knowing smile carrying both mischief and wisdom. Their restrained auras bent the air, reminders of why they were still legends.
Below them sat Wukang, their son; Wuhen, grandson of the Saint Dragons and Haotian's father; and his wives, Qirou and Ruolan. Across from them were Haotian and Lianhua, seated with his siblings, all carrying the blend of awe and kinship that came with sitting among legends.
Yangshen raised his cup, his voice like thunder wrapped in warmth.
"Tonight, we do not celebrate rank nor conquest. We celebrate blood, and the legacy carried forth. From me, to Wukang, to Wuhen, and now to you, Haotian—our flame does not flicker. It grows."
Haotian bowed his head. "Ancestor, I can only strive not to shame that flame."
Yangshen's grin widened. "Strive? Hah! You've already carved your own blaze. Don't diminish it."
Meiyun's eyes softened as they lingered on Lianhua. "The blaze stands brighter because it is not alone."
Lianhua flushed faintly, her hand tightening around Haotian's under the table.
Yuying's gaze followed, sharp yet approving. "A bond forged not from convenience, but from conviction. Hold to it, girl, and you will endure even the storms this family calls fate."
Lianhua bowed her head. "I will never falter, Ancestor."
The elder matriarch's sternness eased into something rare—a smile. "Good. Then you already understand what it means to walk with a dragon."
The laughter and warmth grew after the solemn words. Haotian's siblings offered toasts, Wuhen gave rare smiles of pride, and Qirou gently noted how much her son resembled Yangshen in his youth. Even Ruolan, soft-spoken, reached for Lianhua's hand under the table, whispering, "Welcome to our family, child."
Haotian felt his chest tighten with gratitude. For the first time, he realized his love was not just accepted—it was embraced.
Yangshen lifted his cup once more, the roar in his voice shaking the rafters.
"To the blood of dragons! To the flame that never dies! To Haotian and Lianhua, who will carry it forward!"
Cups rose. Jade struck jade. From ancestor to child, the vow of continuity rang.
Haotian sat quietly afterward, heart swelling. For the first time, the weight of legacy felt less like a chain and more like wings.
And beneath the lantern glow, as Lianhua leaned into him with quiet pride, he thought:
This is the true beginning of our era.
Five days passed in restless anticipation. The Burning Sun Sect bustled like never before—disciples scrubbing pathways until they gleamed, banners unfurled from every pavilion, and spirit lanterns drifting across the skies. Word had spread far beyond the region: the youngest elders in sect history, direct heirs of the Saint Dragons, were to be celebrated.
The morning of the festival, the horizon began to stir.
Their banners of silver mist rolled in first, carried by disciples cloaked in flowing azure robes. At their head was Yue Lan, senior sister of Cloudveil, her carriage surrounded by protective veils of drifting cloud essence. Her eyes lingered on Haotian when she disembarked, a faint smile betraying both respect and recognition.
"The heavens mark their chosen early," she said softly, inclining her head. "Congratulations, Elder Haotian, Elder Lianhua. Our sect rejoices at your rise."
Her words carried weight—formal enough for diplomacy, warm enough to signal continued alliance.
Next thundered in the Ironclad Tyrant Sect, their armored cavalry shaking the stones of the courtyard. Their disciples carried themselves like war-forged steel, and at their center marched Elder Kuang Tie, a towering man whose gaze swept Haotian like a smith judging new ore.
"Peak of Nascent… Soul Transformation already?" he rumbled. "Hnh. Not bad. Not bad at all. I will enjoy seeing whether the boy's spear roars as loud as the banners do."
A few of his younger disciples sneered at the Burning Sun disciples, but their elder's grudging acknowledgment silenced them. Respect had been forced, but respect nonetheless.
From the west came fragrance and song. The Moonlight Blossom Sect arrived with elegance, their maidens garbed in silken robes embroidered with petals that shimmered under the sun. At their head was Elder Hua Renshu, famed for his grace.
"The raising of dragon and phoenix… a most auspicious omen," he declared with a smile that was all diplomacy and half-hidden calculation. His disciples' eyes, however, were caught on Lianhua. Whispers spread of her beauty and aura, many realizing she was now far beyond them.
One by one, banners filled the skies: minor sects, allied sects, even rivals who came cloaked in courtesy but carried envy in their hearts. The Burning Sun Sect grounds, once familiar, now swarmed with dignitaries, each bowing before Haotian and Lianhua, each murmuring praise that often carried undertones of probing curiosity.
Inside the sect, reactions split sharply.
The disciples of the Raising Dragon and Phoenix Faction walked with heads higher than ever. Their captains and guards swelled with pride, knowing their faction had become a force none could ignore.
Rival factions and jealous disciples whispered poison behind closed doors. "Too fast," they hissed. "No one rises to Soul Transformation this young without trickery."
But no one dared voice it openly. Not with Yangshen himself present, not with the other Saint Dragons walking the grounds, not with the Zhenlong Household's banners fluttering side by side with the Burning Sun's.
The Burning Sun Sect had, for this moment, become the center of the cultivation world.
Haotian and Lianhua stood at the gates of the grand celebration pavilion, hand in hand, as delegation after delegation poured in. The world's eyes were upon them, and for once, neither could hide the truth.
They were no longer merely disciples, nor just faction leaders.
They were pillars.
And their era was just beginning.