The procession didn't descend the mountain path for long before Elder Zhantian raised his hand. With a simple flick of his sleeve, the air shimmered — and from the distortion emerged a colossal vessel of polished jadewood and gleaming spirit-metal, sails glowing faintly with azure inscriptions.
The Burning Sun disciples gasped from afar.
"A flying ship!"
The elders of the delegation stepped aboard without ceremony, but Haotian and Lianhua lingered at the gangplank, their eyes wide with barely restrained wonder.
"It… flies?" Lianhua whispered.
Haotian smirked. "Clearly. But I didn't expect it to be so… beautiful."
As if in answer, the runes along the hull pulsed, and the ship began to rise, cutting through the clouds with stately grace. Wind whipped around them, carrying the sharp scent of sky itself.
Zhantian appeared, his hands clasped behind his back. "The journey to the Azure Dragon Sky Sect will take two days of steady flight. Your accommodations have been prepared — a private chamber, naturally. You are a couple; I trust you won't mind sharing."
Haotian and Lianhua exchanged a glance. Both blushed faintly, but neither objected.
"For now," Lianhua said softly, "let's see the skies."
Hand in hand, they circled the deck, watching mountains shrink to tiny emerald ridges below, rivers twinkle like threads of glass, and entire sects become mere specks beneath the passing clouds. For a time, they were silent, overwhelmed by the vastness of the world opening around them.
But the Azure Dragon Sky Sect delegation had miscalculated something.
That night, when the moon was high and the ship quieted into the rhythm of its flight, the silence was broken.
"Ah—Haotian—!""Don't stop—keep going—!"Laughter. Moans. Rhythms that had nothing to do with the rocking of the ship.
The corridors echoed with every sound of their Union of Dual Souls Sutra. A disciple in the next room pressed a pillow desperately over his ears. Another muttered, "Elders of Burning Sun? More like… dual-cultivating demons…" Someone else staggered to the deck, slammed his head against the railing, and groaned, "Knock me out. Please."
By the second cycle, a core disciple screamed, "Make it STOP!" only to be shushed by a senior who had given up and stuffed cotton in his ears.
Zhantian himself sat cross-legged in his chamber, expression stoic — except for the faint twitch in his brow. Finally, with a long sigh, he channeled chi to seal his hearing meridians entirely. I escorted prodigies, not a storm of bed-thunder.
When morning came, the delegation gathered for breakfast on the main deck. Half of them had dark circles under their eyes, movements sluggish, teacups trembling in weary hands.
Haotian and Lianhua emerged from their chamber positively glowing, their steps light, their faces refreshed with the unmistakable shine of post-cultivation vigor.
Haotian tilted his head. "Hm? Why do they all look like they've been cultivating for three nights straight?"
Lianhua whispered, "Maybe they trained too hard in the night?"
They both frowned sympathetically at the groggy cultivators, just as Zhantian's cough thundered from behind.
Turning, they found him standing stiffly, hands clasped behind his back. His eyes were steady, but his voice was pitched low and firm.
"…Next time, a little modesty. You kept everyone awake."
Haotian froze, and Lianhua's face turned scarlet as steam practically rose from her hair.
"I—we—" Haotian stammered."We're sorry!" Lianhua bowed so fast her forehead nearly hit the deck.
Zhantian exhaled long and deep, as if purging the memory from his soul. "Just… keep it contained to your chamber wards in the future."
Behind him, one exhausted disciple muttered, "Or toss them overboard…"
The morning after their unintended "night-long performance," the flying ship drifted smoothly across a sea of clouds. The crew moved about with sluggish dignity, their eyes bleary, yet the runes along the hull pulsed strong as ever.
Haotian and Lianhua, meanwhile, were fresh as dawn itself. They stood at the railing, the wind brushing through their hair, looking every bit the picture of radiant cultivation youth.
Lianhua leaned against Haotian's shoulder. "The sky… it feels endless."
Haotian smiled faintly. "That's because for the first time, we're not looking up at it. We're standing in it."
Their words would have sounded poetic — if not for the disciples behind them suppressing yawns so wide they nearly unhinged their jaws.
Meals aboard the ship were meant to be formal, but the atmosphere at lunch carried the heaviness of a funeral. Core disciples poked halfheartedly at their spirit rice, some using chopsticks to prop their eyelids open.
One brave disciple whispered, "Senior Brother, I—I don't think I can survive another night…"
His friend gave him a flat look. "Then you should've cultivated deafness like Elder Zhantian."
Another muttered darkly, "If they go for thirty-three cycles again, I'll jump off this ship myself."
Across the hall, Haotian spooned soup into Lianhua's bowl, his expression utterly untroubled. "This is good. Cultivation food is surprisingly tasty."
"Yes," Lianhua agreed sweetly, glowing in a way that made the exhausted disciples grind their teeth.
By afternoon, the tension on the ship began to soften. The disciples found themselves stealing glances at the couple, whispering behind hands.
"They look so… refreshed.""As if… cultivation really is what they were doing.""…Don't say that. I'll start imagining things again."
Zhantian appeared once more, robes pristine, expression carved in stone. He addressed the gathered disciples and elders.
"Remember this voyage is a test of your discipline as much as theirs. Maintain your focus."
But the elder's voice carried a tiny flicker of weariness, and everyone knew — even a Saint-realm sect couldn't insulate them from that kind of nightly thunder.
As the second day passed, the ship sliced through streaks of lightning and seas of white mist. Haotian and Lianhua spent most of it on the deck, watching the heavens. Occasionally, Haotian whispered explanations about formations powering the sails, while Lianhua teased him softly about his "obsession with glowing runes."
By sunset, the ship glided beneath a canopy of stars, its hull bathed in silver light. The delegation gathered quietly, the exhaustion fading into anticipation.
Tomorrow, they would arrive at the Azure Dragon Sky Sect.
And that was when the real realization would strike everyone: just what kind of monsters these two were becoming.
The flying ship descended through a sea of golden clouds. Below, mountain peaks pierced the heavens like dragon's fangs, wrapped in a constant flow of spiritual qi so thick it shimmered as mist. The Azure Dragon Sky Sect unfurled itself in layers — terraces of jade palaces, crystal towers, and training fields carved into the mountainsides. High above it all loomed the Main Dragon Hall, a citadel etched with runes so ancient they glowed even in broad daylight.
Disciples of the sect rose into the skies in formation, their robes flowing like waves of blue. They formed a living pathway of qi to greet the ship, chants rolling like thunder:
"Welcome the delegation! Welcome the chosen disciples of the Saint Dragons' bloodline!"
Haotian and Lianhua stepped to the railing. The sunlight painted them in gold, their auras refined and brimming, and for a moment even seasoned elders faltered.
"Are they really only Soul Transformation realm…?" one Azure Dragon disciple whispered."They look like immortals descending," said another, almost reverently.
The ship landed upon the great plaza, and the delegation disembarked. Elder Zhantian led Haotian and Lianhua down first. The sect master of the Azure Dragon Sky Sect himself, an imposing man whose presence carried the weight of a mountain, awaited them. His smile was regal, but his eyes shone with keen curiosity.
"You have journeyed well," he said. "Welcome, Haotian. Welcome, Lianhua. From this day forth, you are of our Azure Dragon Sky Sect."
The words were met with cheers, but among the younger disciples, murmurs quickly spread.
As Haotian and Lianhua bowed deeply, their aura flared in unison, controlled yet uncontainable. A deep, vibrant resonance rolled out from them — their qi cycles harmonized in a way no one had ever felt before. The plaza grew unnaturally silent.
"Do you… feel that?" one elder muttered. "Their yin and yang… it's fused."
Another elder's eyes widened. "No, not fused — refined. This isn't natural dual cultivation. This is—"
His voice trailed off.
On the sidelines, disciples gawked."No wonder they always look so radiant.""Wait—don't tell me that glow isn't just metaphorical—""Shh! You'll get us killed—"
Even Zhantian, stoic as stone for the entire trip, gave a discreet cough, his face twitching. For the first time, the sect disciples around him understood. His silence on the flying ship wasn't respect… it was survival.
Finally, an elder whispered what everyone dreaded to say aloud:"They're breaking realms… through perfected dual cultivation."
The words spread like wildfire through the plaza. Gasps rippled outward. Some disciples flushed red, others turned green with jealousy. Rival delegations that had lingered from the Burning Sun Sect celebration clenched their fists — the rumors had been true.
Haotian and Lianhua themselves? They simply stood side by side, hand in hand, their expressions calm, almost innocent.
Lianhua gave a soft smile to Haotian. He gave a faint, mischievous one back.
It was the smile of two people who knew.
After a long silence, the Azure Dragon Sect Master threw back his head and laughed.
"Hahaha! As expected of descendants of the Four Saint Dragons! If the heavens themselves chose to grant you such a method, then who are we to stand in the way?"
His laughter turned into booming applause, echoed by the elders and disciples alike.
From that moment, the secret was no longer a secret. Everyone knew. Haotian and Lianhua had stepped into the sect not merely as new disciples — but as the couple destined to redefine cultivation itself.
And deep within their hearts, every disciple thought the same thing:
May the heavens help us… they're unstoppable.
The great dragon bells of the Azure Dragon Sky Sect chimed as Haotian and Lianhua were officially welcomed inside. Disciples stepped aside respectfully as the couple walked up the marble causeway leading deeper into the sect grounds, the azure banners swaying in the mountain winds above them.
The Sect Master himself — Long Tianzhao, a towering man whose presence seemed to merge with the very qi of heaven and earth — led the procession. Every step he took seemed deliberate, carrying the weight of centuries of cultivation.
"Your arrival has stirred the sect," he said with a deep chuckle. "But as the descendants of my old comrades, the Four Saint Dragons, you are to be treated with the honor due your bloodline. The Azure Dragon Sky Sect will not fail its friends."
Behind Haotian, whispers rippled among the gathered disciples."They're already glowing again—""Quiet, you fool! Do you want to end up sparring Elder Wei-style?""Glowing? They look like walking spirit furnaces…"
Tianzhao ignored the chatter. With a simple gesture, he called over a robed elder.
"Elder Qingyuan, you will show them around. Ensure their residence and privileges are properly prepared."
"Yes, Sect Master," the elder said with a bow, already eyeing Haotian and Lianhua as though they were rare treasures.
The sect master then dismissed the rest of the disciples with a wave. The plaza emptied quickly, though not without lingering, envious glances. As Tianzhao turned to leave, he paused.
"Haotian," he called out, his voice like thunder across the courtyard.
Haotian instinctively straightened. "Yes, Sect Master?"
Tianzhao smirked faintly and flicked his wrist. A small, leather-bound tome shot through the air, arcing straight toward Haotian. He caught it smoothly, his brows raising as he turned it over.
The title shimmered in gilded script:
The sect master's smirk grew into a knowing grin, but he said nothing. With only a chuckle under his breath, he turned, his azure robes billowing as he strode away.
For a long second, the courtyard was silent.
Then Haotian blinked at the book. His lips curved slowly into a grin.
"…He knows."
Lianhua's face went bright red. She covered her cheeks with both hands. "Haotian! Even the Sect Master…!"
Haotian couldn't help it. He laughed, deep and free. "This is a great gift for us, Lianhua. Think of it — no more keeping the entire sect awake."
She swatted his arm, flustered. "Y-you make it sound so casual—"
But even she couldn't stop the smile tugging at her lips.
Elder Qingyuan led them up winding jade stairs, past meditation gardens, training fields, and halls lined with statues of dragons in every stance of power. He explained each section of the sect patiently, though even he struggled to keep his eyes from drifting back to the golden aura that clung to the couple like a second skin.
At the highest terrace below the Dragon Hall, Qingyuan stopped before a sprawling residence. It was a palace in miniature — its own courtyard, private training fields, a pill furnace hall, and even a small pond fed by a stream of spiritual qi.
"This," Qingyuan said, bowing, "will be your home here. It is equivalent to the quarters of a core disciple, but the Sect Master has instructed that additional formations be set for your cultivation… comfort."
Haotian coughed, hiding a smile. Lianhua was already turning pink again.
That evening, a group of inner and core disciples came to greet the new arrivals. They were proud and polite, but their curiosity burned like wildfire.
"You must be Haotian," one said, bowing deeply. "And Lady Lianhua. The sect has spoken of you without pause since the announcement."
"Yes," another added quickly. "We welcome you… truly. But if I may… is it true you two…"
Their words trailed off awkwardly. No one dared say dual cultivate, but the air was thick with the question.
Haotian only smiled, that calm, maddeningly confident smile. "It is true," he said simply, "that we cultivate together."
Lianhua nearly fainted from embarrassment.
The disciples stiffened. Some flushed red, some green. Others coughed violently to cover their reactions.
One muttered under his breath, "I knew it… the glow wasn't just natural…"Another groaned, "We're doomed. No amount of closed-door cultivation will catch up to that."And yet another whispered bitterly, "At least if they keep glowing like that, we'll save on torches…"
Haotian and Lianhua entered their new quarters that night, the Soundless Formation already inscribed across the walls by sect craftsmen.
Haotian chuckled as he set the book aside. "Now, at last, we won't disturb anyone."
Lianhua, still red, muttered softly, "If the formations hold."
The glow of their qi shimmered against the windowpanes. Somewhere outside, a disciple prayed that the formations were strong enough.
That first night in their new Azure Dragon Sky Sect residence, Haotian and Lianhua stood side by side, gazing around at the grand pavilion that now belonged to them. The glow of formations shimmered across the walls, golden runes interlocking like a celestial net. At the center pulsed the most important array of all — the Soundless Formation, the Sect Master's wordless gift.
Haotian ran a hand along one glowing inscription, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Now we can cultivate without restraint."
Lianhua's cheeks flushed instantly, but she smiled, knowing exactly what he meant. "Let's see if it truly works."
And so they began.
Inside the sealed space, the Union of Dual Souls Sutra unfolded in full resonance. Yin and yang flowed like rivers in flood, colliding and merging, amplifying each cycle of qi until their very bodies thrummed with light.
Their moans, laughter, whispers of love, urgent calls for "faster," and cries of "I'm nearly there!" all reverberated through the room — yet beyond the soundless barrier, not even the faintest ripple escaped.
Cycle after cycle passed, their resonance climbing higher, the merging of bodies and spirits creating waves of radiance that lit the chamber like dawn. By the 41st cycle, the flames of passion and cultivation both reached their peak. At last, only ragged breathing filled the room, two figures collapsing against one another, tangled together in exhaustion and satisfaction.
Lianhua lay draped across Haotian's chest, her hair spilling like silk. He wrapped his arms around her, both of them glowing faintly with the golden aura of newly refined yin and yang. For a time, they simply breathed in unison, hearts steadying, spirits tethered more closely than ever.
When the doors of their residence finally opened, Haotian and Lianhua stepped out together, hands intertwined, their glow so brilliant it was as though the morning sun itself had descended early.
Across the courtyard, disciples shielded their eyes."By the heavens—did the sun rise twice today?""No, fools, it's them again…""I thought the Soundless Formation would help us!""It did," another whispered hoarsely. "It kept the sounds away… but nothing could hide that glow!"
Even Elder Qingyuan, who had come discreetly to check on the new arrivals, stood frozen. He rubbed at his temple. The Sect Master will need to be informed… again.
Haotian only smiled, utterly calm, as if nothing unusual had happened. Lianhua, still glowing and utterly red in the face, tried not to meet anyone's eyes.
The sect grounds buzzed like a disturbed beehive. Rumors spread faster than wildfire:"They must have cultivated all night!""No… forty cycles at least, I swear it!""Forty? You underestimate them! Look at their glow — that's at least forty-one!"
And thus, the legend of Haotian and Lianhua's Soundless Dawn began its first day in the Azure Dragon Sky Sect.
The night after Haotian and Lianhua's arrival had already passed into sect rumor. Within the sealed walls of their residence, no sound was supposed to escape. Yet the Azure Dragon Sky Sect was not a place of ordinary silence—its elders had ears sharpened by centuries, and its formation halls hummed with resonance at the faintest ripple. Though no disciple dared speak aloud of what they suspected, in the upper tiers of the sect's grand pavilion, the elders convened.
The Sect Master, Long Xuanhai, sat at the head of a crescent table carved from dragonbone. His expression was unreadable, though the faint twitch at the corner of his brow betrayed his struggle. Behind him, incense coils released a thin smoke that drifted like coiling azure dragons toward the rafters.
Elder Qingyuan coughed lightly, his face caught between amusement and solemn duty. "Sect Master, I fear the new residence may require reinforcement. Last night's… cultivation session shook the resonance threads of the Soundless Formation. Not shattered—but it trembled."
Several elders exchanged looks. Elder Meiyun, her phoenix-gold robe shimmering faintly, raised a slender brow. "Trembled? I inspected that formation myself. Not even three Nascent Ancestors channeling in unison could disrupt it."
"Exactly," Qingyuan replied dryly. "Which is why we must treat this as both a warning and a gift. The descendants of the Saint Dragons are not bound by our conventional limits."
Sect Master Xuanhai closed his eyes, fingers tapping the table. "I owe debts to their ancestors. That much is true. But even so… for the formation to strain from a single night of dual cultivation—what will the future hold, if such intensity continues unchecked?"
An elder across the table cleared his throat. "If nothing else, it proves the boy's foundation is monstrous. The girl, too—her resonance intertwined seamlessly. That is not the mark of reckless indulgence, but of perfected harmony. The kind that can overturn fate."
At this, the hall fell quiet. Harmony was a word rarely spoken by cultivators. Power, dominance, supremacy—those were expected. But harmony was something rarer than heaven's lightning.
Xuanhai finally exhaled, the weight in his tone heavy yet laced with wry humor. "Very well. Let us pretend we heard nothing. The sect's duty is to guide, not to pry into the privacy of saints' heirs. Strength, even when born of passion, is still strength. From this moment on, not a single whisper of last night is to reach the outer halls. Understood?"
The elders bowed their heads in unison, though Qingyuan smirked faintly, muttering just low enough for the others to catch: "Privacy, yes. But perhaps we should allocate more resources for soundproof reinforcement. Before the disciples start thinking the sun rises twice in a single night."
A ripple of suppressed laughter traveled the crescent table. Even the Sect Master allowed himself a thin smile before waving his sleeve dismissively. The meeting dispersed.
The next morning, the sun rose brilliant over the sect's mountain peaks, scattering golden fire across tiled rooftops. Haotian and Lianhua emerged from their residence, walking side by side with a tranquility that belied the whispers they had unknowingly stirred. Lianhua's cheeks still carried the faintest blush, though her gaze was serene, her steps as light as drifting snow. Haotian's expression was calm—yet there was a sharpness in his golden eyes, as though every passing disciple, every watching elder, was already being weighed and measured.
They soon crossed paths with Elder Qingyuan, who awaited them with his hands folded in his sleeves. His smile was kindly, though his eyes carried a glint of mirth that suggested he, too, had not been deaf the previous night.
"Haotian," he said warmly, inclining his head. "I assume your first night within our sect was… satisfactory?"
Lianhua nearly stumbled at the phrasing. Haotian gave a courteous bow, neither confirming nor denying, and allowed the moment to pass.
"I wished to ask you something," Haotian said, his voice steady. "Back at the Burning Sun Sect, I accumulated a significant number of contribution points. Is there a way to convert them here? I have no wish for my efforts to be wasted."
Qingyuan stroked his beard, nodding. "Ah, that will not be a problem. Before your arrival, High Elder Zhantian sent word of the terms. If I recall correctly—the ratio was five to one, yes?"
Haotian inclined his head. "Correct."
"Then it is simple," Qingyuan continued. "Come. We shall walk to the Mission Hall and perform the conversion. From there, you may begin building your foundation in the Azure Dragon Sky Sect anew. And with your talents, I suspect it will not take long for you to eclipse even our most favored disciples."
Lianhua glanced at Haotian with a quiet smile. To her, it was almost humorous. Wherever Haotian went, the sect would bend itself to accommodate him—not out of favoritism, but out of inevitability.
The three of them set off down the jade-carved path, disciples pausing to bow as Qingyuan passed. The Mission Hall loomed ahead, a vast pavilion shaped like an open dragon's maw, its golden scales gleaming in the morning sun. Within, contribution points were weighed, exchanged, and sealed by sect decree.
As they approached, Qingyuan gestured toward the carved doors. "Here, Haotian, is where your old sect's fire will be transmuted into azure dragon scales. Let us see how heavy your legacy truly is."
The doors parted before them with a resonant hum, welcoming the heirs of Saint Dragons into the heart of the sect's system.