The fifth day of the Moon Lotus Sect's new training cycle dawned with a crisp chill, the morning sky lit by streaks of pale fire as the sun rose over the mountains. On the vast training grounds, formations pulsed to life, creating an arena large enough to hold hundreds. Mist rolled across the field, carrying with it the excitement of the sect's first official sparring day.
Rows of disciples stood ready, their eyes burning. When Haotian gave the signal, they stepped into the arena in pairs. Blades rang, qi roared, and dao concepts collided like storms.
The majority wielded familiar paths — sword, frost, ice, and water. Their fights were clean, direct, sharp with cold intent. Frost-swords clashed with ice-barriers, water whips split against frozen shields, sword-light pierced through falling snow.
But among them, the minority daos added diversity: ice lightning, frost wind, strength, moonlight, mist. Their battles were unpredictable. One disciple's blade crackled with arcs of frozen lightning that shattered an opponent's frost wall in a blinding flash. Another blurred into a streak of cold wind, cutting in and out of sight before her partner could track her movements. A strength cultivator crushed ice walls with her fists, each strike booming like a war drum. Moonlight daos shimmered, weaving illusions into the sparring. Mist daos cloaked entire sections of the arena in a veil of white, forcing opponents to fight by instinct.
And then, there were the rarities.
A disciple ignited frostfire, a paradox of flame and ice, her strikes searing and freezing at once. The spectators gasped at the destructive beauty, frost and flame spiraling together. But above even these shone the sect's pinnacles — Yinxue and Ziyue.
Meanwhile, at the edge of the field, Shuyue sat beside Haotian. Her dark eyes followed every battle with fierce attention as he explained softly at her side.
"See the way she flows," Haotian said, pointing to a frost-wind cultivator. "The dao of wind enhances movement — but her flaw is hesitation. She moves fast, but strikes late. Remember: speed without resolve is wasted."
Shuyue nodded quickly, committing every word to memory.
Haotian's voice lowered as he pointed elsewhere. "That one uses ice lightning. She strikes with force, but fails to conserve energy. Power without control burns itself out. Your dao of emotions will demand balance — compassion when striking, justice when holding back. Learn to temper."
Shuyue's brows furrowed, her fists clenched, but her eyes never left the sparring ground. She studied each battle as though her life depended on it.
Then came the match the entire sect had waited for.
Yinxue versus Ziyue.
The arena fell silent as the two stepped into place. Mist curled at their feet, the air itself trembling as dao resonance rose.
Ziyue struck first — a blur of speed, her violet eyes gleaming as ice swords formed in volleys, propelled by wind until they screamed through the air like arrows. Each one cut faster than the last, the battlefield flashing with streaks of frozen light.
Yinxue did not flinch. She raised her hand, and with a single gesture, a wide field of frost bloomed outward. Ice lotuses erupted from the ground, each one sharp as a blade, forming a shifting barrier that flowed with her will. The field both defended and retaliated, cutting down incoming swords while lashing out with crystalline spikes.
Ziyue blurred again, her wind acceleration shattering the distance, her sword a streak of white lightning as it sought the narrowest openings. Yinxue answered with sweeping arcs, her frost expanding and contracting in waves, sealing gaps before they could be pierced.
The disciples roared with awe.
Every clash was dazzling — Ziyue's speed like a storm of blades, Yinxue's control a tide of frost that advanced and receded in perfect rhythm. Each strike forced the other higher, sharper, faster.
At the edge, Shuyue's breath caught. "They're… equal."
Haotian's lips curved faintly. "Equal, yes. But for different reasons. Yinxue's strength lies in control. Ziyue's in speed. To surpass, each must learn from the other. Remember this, Shuyue. Even a sister's dao can temper your own."
In the arena, the battle reached its crescendo — frost exploding into the air as wind-swords shattered it apart, then reformed, then shattered again. Neither yielded. Neither broke. When Haotian finally raised his hand to end the spar, the entire sect erupted in cheers.
Two peaks, standing side by side. And one younger sister, still learning — but her path had only just begun.
The arena that had thundered with duels now lay quiet, transformed into a hall of reflection. Where once frost and lightning had split the air, now only the scratch of brushes on paper echoed.
Each disciple sat cross-legged, a lacquered writing board across their laps. Before them rested fresh parchment and ink prepared at dawn. Haotian had ordered it himself:
"First, write," he had said. "Before you speak, record. Reflection begins with ink, not words. For memory fades, but records endure."
The disciples obeyed. One by one, their brushes moved.
They wrote their strengths and weaknesses as revealed in the spar. They listed what their dao had shown them, and where it had failed them. They wrote what they saw in their opponent's dao — strengths to admire, flaws to exploit. They recorded insight gains, new understandings, sudden sparks glimpsed in the heat of combat. Each scroll became a mirror of their inner world.
The air was silent but alive, hundreds of minds distilling battle into wisdom.
Only after the last brush was set aside did Haotian gesture for them to speak.
The first to rise was a Sword Dao disciple. She bowed, scroll in hand. "I wrote that my strength lies in momentum, but my weakness is dependence. My insight is that patience can sharpen my sword. My opponent's dao of frost showed me that waiting can be deadlier than rushing."
Murmurs rippled through the circle.
A Frost Wind cultivator spoke next. "My record shows my strength is speed. My weakness is hesitation. My insight is that my dao falters not because it is weak, but because I am. My opponent's dao of strength showed me decisiveness."
Then came others. Ice Lightning disciples confessed their power was great but unstable. Moonlight Dao practitioners admitted their illusions were fragile when their hearts wavered. A Strength Dao disciple admitted her fists crushed barriers but faltered against swift opponents. Each reading from their scrolls, each laying bare the truths they had sealed in ink.
The rarities spoke as well.
A Frostfire disciple's voice trembled as she read: "I forced flame and frost to obey me, and I nearly lost control. Yet in that chaos I saw harmony. Fire sharpened frost, frost clarified fire. Perhaps my path is not conflict but balance."
Haotian inclined his head. "Correct. Two forces do not always destroy. Sometimes they define each other. You have glimpsed the Dao of Balance."
Finally came the duel that all had watched.
Ziyue rose, her violet gaze steady as she read from her scroll. "My strength is speed. My weakness is waste. My insight: Wind accelerates me, but without control, I burn qi needlessly. My opponent's dao of frost taught me that speed must learn rhythm, or it will scatter."
She sat, and Yinxue rose next. Her black hair framed her calm face as she unrolled her parchment. "My strength is control. My weakness is reliance. My insight: wide-field frost is powerful, but rigidity breeds stagnation. My opponent's dao of wind and ice taught me that decisiveness pierces hesitation."
The two exchanged faint smiles — rivals, yet mirrors.
Haotian rose last. His golden eyes swept the circle of disciples. "This is why I asked for all of you to write. When you return to your scrolls months from now, you will find seeds you overlooked today. Seeds that will become dao tomorrow."
The disciples bowed low, their scrolls cradled like treasures.
At the edge of the circle, Shuyue tucked her brush into its case. She had not sparred, but her scroll brimmed with notes — not only her own reflections, but Haotian's teachings, and the emotions stirred by her sisters' words. Already she could feel it: every confession, every weakness laid bare, was part of her Dao of Emotions.
And she vowed quietly: I will master them all.
The seventh day dawned colder than the rest, the sky above the sect washed in silver mist. In the great training grounds, hundreds of disciples and elders gathered in orderly rows. Today was not sparring, nor reflection. Today was something far older, far more sacred.
At the center stood Haotian, calm, golden eyes gleaming with quiet weight. Yinxue, Ziyue, and Shuyue sat at the front, their expressions solemn.
Haotian raised his hand, and silence swept across the field.
"Today we begin the cultivation of the Undying Dragon Body Sutra."
His voice carried, low and steady.
"The immortal path is not built on spirit alone. Spirit is vast, yes — but it fades without a body strong enough to house it. Immortality requires both: spirit and body, refined together. Yet for countless ages, body cultivation has been abandoned."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the rows of women, their eyes intent.
"Do you know why? Because every true body cultivation path has carried the same flaw: the Tribulation of Death and Rebirth. To shed the mortal shell, the cultivator must die once — and be reborn. For most… that rebirth never comes."
Gasps rippled through the disciples. Even elders paled.
Yinxue's lips moved faintly, whispering words she had once read in buried records: "Rebirth from death…"
Haotian nodded. "Correct. That was the cost. That is why sects abandoned the body. But I tell you now — the Undying Dragon Body Sutra has been corrected. I have reforged it with my own hands. You will not face death. Instead, your body will be tempered in cycles, harmonizing with yin and yang until the mortal shell becomes eternal."
The courtyard stilled. Fear gave way to awe.
"Line up," Haotian said simply.
They obeyed. Disciples and elders alike formed straight ranks, hearts racing. Haotian walked among them, his fingers glowing faintly with golden light. One by one, he touched their brows — and with each touch, the sutra bloomed in their minds. A lattice of dragon-scales, channels, and rings of resonance etched themselves into memory.
After the last disciple was given the technique, Haotian returned to the center. "Sit. Begin."
They obeyed. Hundreds sank cross-legged, their breaths synchronizing.
The sutra stirred.
Their bodies resonated with tranquility, no pain, no tearing. It was as though their flesh sang with harmony, their bones vibrating like strings of an ancient zither. The qi in their meridians intertwined with their blood and marrow, reshaping silently.
Minutes stretched into hours. Then, all at once —
Boom.
A tide of resonance washed across the training grounds. Every disciple's aura shifted, their flesh subtly hardened, their qi circulation refined. Their eyes snapped open with astonishment.
"The first stage…" someone whispered. "We… broke through."
Then came another shock.
Haotian, too, was cultivating.
Golden light coiled around his body, his presence surging, scales of pure energy flashing faintly across his arms before vanishing. The women stared in awe. They had never once seen him cultivate — and the sight shook them to their cores.
When he opened his eyes, he chuckled softly. "Surprised? You shouldn't be. I am only at the sixth stage of fifteen stages. Of course I must cultivate, just as you do."
The admission stunned them. If even he was still walking this sutra, then its depth must be unfathomable.
Haotian rose smoothly. "Well done. You broke through quickly. But remember, your yin bodies have already been tempered through the dual cultivation sessions. This gave you an advantage. Your progress will remain faster than others would dream."
He paused. Then, without warning — he vanished.
In the next instant, he reappeared before an elder. His fist slammed into her stomach with a dull thud.
Gasps tore through the crowd.
The elder staggered, her face twisting with pain. She clutched her abdomen — then froze. Her eyes widened. There was… no pain. Her body felt unshaken, stronger than before.
"What… what was that?" she breathed.
Haotian bowed his head slightly. "Forgive me. That punch was equivalent to the full-force strike of a Nascent Soul Realm body cultivator."
The field erupted in stunned voices.
"Impossible…"
"Just at the first stage?"
"No pain?"
Haotian's voice cut through the shock, calm but edged with pride. "Yes. Even at the first stage, your bodies no longer register the pain of such attacks. As you advance through the sutra, you will not only endure — you will surpass. At the upper stages, you will regrow limbs. And at the peak… even rebirth from a single drop of blood will be possible."
Silence followed, heavy as mountains.
The disciples stared at their hands, their bodies, trembling at the realization. Their path forward had changed forever.
And in that silence, awe shifted into fire. Determination flared in hundreds of hearts at once.
The Moon Lotus Sect had gained not only a thousand swords of dao — but a thousand bodies of dragons.
The next morning, the bathhouse glowed once again with the mingled light of the Source Crystal and Frost Vein. Mist curled heavy across the steaming pools as hundreds of disciples gathered, robes folded neatly aside. The concealment and soundless formations activated, sealing the chamber in an endless veil of white fog.
Haotian stood at the center, calm yet commanding. His voice carried evenly across the bathhouse.
"Today, we continue mass dual cultivation. But this time, you will also circulate the Undying Dragon Body Sutra. While your yin and yang energies merge, temper your bodies as well. The Sutra will help counter the overwhelming pleasures of dual cultivation. If you endure, both body and spirit will grow together."
The women nodded, though uncertainty flashed across many faces. They knew the intensity of dual cultivation already. Adding body refinement would not be easy.
The session began.
Haotian pressed his palm to the Source Crystal, infusing his yang qi. The pool shimmered, sending waves of yin-yang resonance flooding through the water. The disciples gasped softly, their bodies tensing as they circulated the Sutra in rhythm with their cultivation.
At first, their tempered bodies resisted. The Sutra spread tranquility, dulling sensation, granting clarity. Their faces remained calm, their breaths steady.
Then Haotian's golden eyes narrowed, and he lifted a hand.
A pulse of dao surged outward.
Suddenly, the resonance in the pool spiked — the pleasures of dual cultivation tripled, then doubled again, until every disciple felt it blaze through their marrow at sixfold intensity.
Gasps broke. Some bit their lips, others clawed at the water's edge. A chorus of muffled moans and laughter spilled into the mist. They clung desperately to the Sutra, but their bodies trembled under the overwhelming storm of sensation.
"Endure," Haotian's voice echoed calmly, though his lips quirked faintly. "This is the test. Let the Sutra temper you, even when pleasure tries to shatter your mind. Forge yourselves."
The minutes stretched into hours.
One by one, the women faltered. Some slumped against their flagpoles, trembling. Others slid into the water, eyes rolling back, lost to unconsciousness. A few, laughing through tears, whispered Haotian's name before collapsing into bliss.
By the end, the bathhouse looked like the aftermath of battle. Dozens of disciples staggered on shaking legs, their bodies wobbling as they leaned on each other.
At the front, Yinxue and Ziyue emerged side by side, their composure battered. Their voices murmured in unison, low and sharp.
"…He increased it."
"…Six times the intensity…"
"…Cruel…"
Both sisters glared at Haotian with flushed faces, though beneath their protest was grudging respect — and perhaps, the faintest glimmer of laughter.
Others were not so lucky. Several had fainted outright and had to be carried from the bathhouse by their sisters.
And among them was Shuyue.
Her slender body floated gently near the pool's edge, her cheeks flushed pink, her lips curled into a blissful smile. Even in unconsciousness, her voice murmured faintly:
"Haotian… don't… it tickles…"
But when Yinxue bent to check her, her aura flared.
The disciples gasped. Shuyue's qi had surged into new territory — her cultivation no longer within the Core Condensation realm.
She had broken through into the Initial Stage of Soul Transformation Realm.
Cheers erupted from the disciples, even as their bodies shook with exhaustion. Shuyue's dao had blossomed under the crucible of body tempering and overwhelming sensation.
Haotian chuckled softly, folding his arms as his golden eyes swept across them all. "Well done. You endured. You advanced. And this is only the beginning. With each session, your bodies will harden. What once overwhelmed you will become fuel for growth."
The women, still wobbling, bowed as best they could. Even in their weakness, their hearts blazed stronger than ever.
The ninth day broke with calm routine. The disciples scattered across the sect, their breaths weaving frost into the morning air. In the courtyards, rows of women sat cross-legged, circulating the Moon Lotus Codex. For the first time, they began to merge its flows with their chosen daos — sword-light flickered with frost resonance, wind sharpened into cutting arcs, mist coiled tighter with patience and control. The sect's resonance vibrated through the mountains like a hidden song.
But in the alchemy wing, Haotian was nowhere near the training fields.
The lab glowed with dim lanterns, scrolls scattered across every surface. Formations hummed, feeding steady flame into a dozen pill cauldrons, each bubbling with experimental mixtures. Haotian's hand moved with precision, inscribing new symbols on parchment, crossing out others, redrawing arrays again and again.
"The Undying Dragon Body Sutra has fifteen stages…" he muttered to himself, golden eyes sharp with focus. "Each one requires tempering at a deeper layer. Bones, blood, marrow, nerves, skin, scales. Ordinary pills cannot keep pace. They need… reinforcement."
He set aside one scroll, then reached for another, listing herbs and minerals. His brush wrote quickly: Ebon marrow lotus… Dragon's vein stone… Celestial bone coral… He frowned, tapping the parchment. "None of these exist here, on the western continent. I'll need to return to the Western Continent. The Azure Dragon Sky Sect has stores."
The day passed without him leaving the lab.
By evening, the three sisters — Yinxue, Ziyue, and Shuyue — left their own training and gathered in the bathhouse, expecting Haotian. But the pools were quiet, the Source Crystal pulsing alone. A glance was exchanged; something was off.
They hurried to his chambers. Empty.
Finally, they found him.
The alchemy lab doors slid open, revealing chaos. Scrolls lay stacked in heaps, diagrams of body meridians etched onto the walls, cauldrons bubbling with half-finished mixtures. At the center stood Haotian, hair slightly loose, brush in hand, muttering over yet another parchment.
"Haotian…" Yinxue's voice carried both relief and reproach.
He looked up, surprised. "Ah. You found me."
Ziyue stepped closer, violet eyes narrowing. "What are you doing? You vanished the entire day."
Haotian set down his brush, exhaling. "I was… preparing. The Undying Dragon Body Sutra will take you all far. But it is incomplete without proper aids. I've been designing pills — one for each stage. Pills that will temper the marrow, blood, and skin in harmony with the sutra."
Shuyue's eyes widened. "Pills… for each stage?"
"Yes," Haotian said, nodding. "But the resources I need aren't here on this continent. They don't exist here. Only the Azure Dragon Sky Sect has them in supply."
He reached for the nearest parchment and read off a list. "Ebon marrow lotus, Dragon's vein stone, Celestial bone coral. Without them, the pills remain theory."
The three sisters fell silent, realization dawning.
"You intend to return…" Yinxue whispered.
Haotian's golden gaze softened. "Yes. To the Azure Dragon Sky Sect. And while I am there, I will visit my family. Lianhua… and my son."
Shuyue's breath caught. She had heard of them but never seen them. Ziyue's brows furrowed, emotions flickering across her face. Yinxue, though calm, lowered her eyes, her hands tightening faintly at her sides.
The silence stretched until Yinxue finally spoke, her tone carefully level. "So soon. You will leave the sect, even with enemies watching us."
Haotian smiled faintly. "I won't be gone long. And the sect is stronger now than any enemy dares challenge. With you three here, and seven hundred Dao Comprehension experts, the Moon Lotus Sect is untouchable."
Ziyue folded her arms, biting back a sharper retort. Shuyue looked conflicted, torn between admiration and a new, sharp ache. Yinxue's expression softened only slightly, but her black eyes betrayed something unspoken.
Haotian set his brush down and moved closer, placing a hand gently on Yinxue's shoulder. "This is not abandonment. This is preparation. When I return, we will not just cultivate the Sutra — we will forge an immortal path."
The sisters nodded, but none smiled. His words carried resolve, but also a reminder: no matter how vast his power, Haotian's heart belonged not only to the Moon Lotus Sect… but also to the family waiting for him far away.