Haotian studied the three sisters quietly as they stood in his lab. Their eyes betrayed more than words — worry, tension, the faint shadow of sadness beneath their discipline. Shuyue fidgeted, her lips parting as if to speak but never daring. Ziyue's gaze flickered, sharp as ever but softened at the edges. Yinxue alone kept her poise, though her hands trembled faintly within her sleeves.
Haotian smirked. "So tense. So worried." He spread his hands across the scrolls. "This—" he tapped the inked lists of herbs, "—this should be enough. With these resources, I will complete the pills and perfect the Sutra. That much, I promise."
He paused. His golden eyes gleamed as he looked back at them. "But before I go… I will make certain that none of you miss me."
The sisters blinked in confusion, their brows furrowing.
Before they could ask, Haotian raised his hand. Space itself folded. The walls of the alchemy chamber dissolved, replaced with the polished warmth of his private quarters. The bed loomed behind them, vast, veiled in silk, carved with frost-lotus sigils.
With a casual flick of his wrist, he drew them in, the three sisters stumbling together as the floor rippled beneath them. A twist of his palm, and the soundless barrier rose, cutting the chamber off from the outside world.
Haotian's lips curved. "Now… it's time to make sure you don't forget me."
Yinxue's mask of composure cracked first. Her lips curved into the faintest of smiles as she untied her sash. Ziyue let out a sharp laugh, her violet eyes gleaming, before slipping her robes from her shoulders. Shuyue's cheeks flushed crimson, but she followed her sisters' lead, biting her lip as she bared herself.
Then Haotian stepped forward.
The night stretched long. Cries and moans rose within the barrier, sealed away from every ear but theirs. Frost shivered against flame, breath tangled with silk, and bodies twined in endless rhythm until moonlight surrendered to dawn.
By morning, the three sisters lay unconscious, their bodies curled peacefully, utterly spent. Yinxue's arm draped protectively across Shuyue, Ziyue's hand still faintly clutching the sheets.
Haotian rose, golden eyes softening as he looked at them. With a wave of his hand, he shifted space once more, carrying each to her own chamber, laying them upon their beds. He lingered only briefly, watching their steady breaths, before leaving without a sound.
Outside, he summoned a disciple. "Inform the assembly. Yinxue, Ziyue, and Shuyue will not attend this morning. Nor will I. The Sect Master will explain."
The disciple bowed quickly. "Yes, Senior Brother."
Haotian gave a faint smile, then lifted his hand. Space bent. The air cracked like glass.
In a blink, he was gone.
Again and again, he appeared miles away, each step folding space, each breath carrying him further east. Time itself seemed to bend around his stride, hours collapsing into minutes as mountains and rivers blurred beneath him.
The western continent stretched wide, but his path was straight and unwavering.
Toward Yuluong.
Toward the Azure Dragon Sky Sect.
And toward the family he had not seen in too long.
Space rippled one last time before Haotian slowed, the long ridges of the Azure Dragon Mountains rising before him. Clouds coiled like dragons across the peaks, and in the heart of the range, the colossal gates of the Azure Dragon Sky Sect loomed into view.
The moment his figure appeared on the horizon, watchtowers flared with recognition. Bells rang out, deep and rolling, echoing through the valley.
"Open the gates!"
A tide of disciples surged forward, robes rippling in azure and white. Their voices rose in unison as they recognized him.
"Saint Son!"
"The Savior of the Azure Dragon Sky Sect!"
Their cheers shook the stones themselves. Even the great dragons carved into the gate seemed to stir in reverence.
Haotian descended slowly, golden eyes warm. Though his aura could have smothered the mountain, he cloaked it, greeting them with a friendly smile.
"It's been a while," he said lightly, his voice carrying calm warmth. "You've grown stronger since I last saw you."
The disciples bowed low, some kneeling outright, their eyes shining with reverence. They remembered the night he had ended the demonic invasion, the figure who had stood alone against chaos and saved them from ruin. To them, he was no longer just a prodigy — he was legend.
Haotian walked past them without the weight of pride, his steps unhurried, his tone easy. "I've returned to meet with the Sect Master. There are matters I must discuss regarding resources — rare ingredients I will need. And I'll be checking our vaults to see if pill reserves need to be restocked."
The disciples nodded eagerly, some already running ahead to announce his arrival.
By the time Haotian entered the inner gates, elders had gathered at the steps of the central hall. Their expressions lit with joy and relief.
"Haotian…" one murmured, awe still in his voice.
"Saint Son," another said firmly, bowing low.
Haotian inclined his head respectfully, but his smile remained friendly, unassuming. "I've troubled you again, Elders. Forgive me. I'll speak with the Sect Master first before I settle. These matters cannot wait."
The grand doors to the Azure Dragon Hall creaked open, light spilling across the stone courtyard. The Sect Master awaited him within, already rising from his seat.
The time had come for Haotian to explain his purpose: the ingredients for the Undying Dragon Body Sutra's pills, and the preparations for the battles yet to come.
The great doors of the Azure Dragon Hall shut with a hollow boom as Haotian stepped within. The chamber stretched vast and austere, its pillars carved with soaring dragons, jade veins glowing faintly in the stone. At the far end, upon a raised dais, sat the Sect Master of the Azure Dragon Sky Sect — robes flowing like a storm, eyes as sharp as a drawn blade.
When Haotian approached, the Sect Master rose from his seat. For a heartbeat, his usually unreadable face cracked, shock flickering in his eyes.
"…Your cultivation."
The elders flanking him stiffened. They too felt it — the sheer density of Haotian's presence, restrained yet vast. And more than that, the golden gleam in his gaze, deep and endless.
"Those eyes," the Sect Master said quietly. "What dao have you touched…?"
Haotian bowed faintly, his tone calm, measured. "I walk the Dao of the Universe."
A ripple of stunned silence swept the hall.
Haotian continued, voice even. "It is a dao vast and difficult. I chose it not for ease, but for necessity. To understand all, one must walk the path of all. But understand — what you see is only a shadow. There are secrets I will not reveal, for they do not serve the sect's safety to know."
The Sect Master studied him for a long moment, then inclined his head. "Even half-hidden, your dao exceeds what we once imagined."
Haotian exhaled softly, letting the matter drop, and unfurled the scroll he had carried. "I have come with requests. Ingredients are needed for the Undying Dragon Body Sutra, the body-cultivation method I now teach. Without them, the path remains incomplete. Ebon marrow lotus. Dragon's vein stone. Celestial bone coral. And more, if the vault still holds."
The Sect Master extended his hand, and an elder moved quickly to take the scroll, eyes scanning the lists. Murmurs rippled through the hall — shock at the rarity of some, awe at the vision behind them.
Yet Haotian was not finished.
"One more matter," he said, golden eyes narrowing slightly. "The Moon Lotus Sect. As of today, they have over seven hundred and fifty Dao Comprehension cultivators."
The words slammed into the chamber like thunder.
The elders erupted in disbelief. "Impossible!"
"Seven hundred?"
"A sect cannot raise such numbers!"
The Sect Master silenced them with a raised hand, though even his lips tightened. "And you are certain, Haotian?"
Haotian nodded. "I trained them myself. Mass cultivation, shared dao resonance, the Moon Lotus Codex integrated with their bodies. They stand at Dao Comprehension. Their Sect Master, Yinxue, commands them well. And they are loyal beyond breaking."
The elders exchanged grim, stunned looks. One whispered, "We have… fewer than fifty in Dao Comprehension. Six in the Saint Realm. Against them—"
"They are a hegemony now," another elder finished hoarsely.
The Sect Master sat slowly, his hand pressed to his chin. For the first time in decades, the mask of calm authority faltered. His gaze on Haotian was sharp, but beneath it lay awe.
"Seven hundred and fifty…" he murmured. "The balance of the world tilts."
Haotian folded his hands behind his back, his expression unreadable. "Which is why I came. To prepare. To arm us. To ensure that when the demons arrive, we do not fall as others will. I do not bring this news to boast. I bring it to warn."
The hall fell silent, heavy with the truth of his words.
The Sect Master finally nodded. "Very well. The vault will be opened to you. Take what you require. And rest, Saint Son. You have returned not only as our savior, but as our warning."
Haotian inclined his head with a faint smile. "I only do what must be done."
The echo of footsteps filled the stone corridors as Haotian walked, flanked by two Azure Dragon elders. Torches flared along the walls, each burning with dragonfire rather than oil. Layer after layer of formations hummed overhead, their light weaving into barriers as ancient as the sect itself. The air grew thicker the deeper they went, a weight of qi pressing down like the gaze of a slumbering beast.
At last, the doors opened.
The Azure Dragon Vault spread out like a mountain hollowed into treasure. Rows upon rows of jade shelves glowed faintly, each laden with herbs, minerals, and precious artifacts. Cauldrons sealed with formation locks rested in alcoves, and pill furnaces hummed softly in the far chamber. The smell was thick — sharp herbs, metallic minerals, and the faint sweetness of refined elixirs.
The elder gestured proudly. "Saint Son, the vault stands open to you."
Haotian stepped forward. His golden eyes swept the space, his senses unraveling the inventory in a single breath. A faint crease formed on his brow.
"…The pill reserves have lowered."
"…The pill stock has dropped."
The elder escorting him lowered his head. "Yes. Since you first created the Crystal Vein Pill less than a year ago, the sect has relied heavily on it. Training, breakthroughs, healing — disciples consumed them faster than expected. What began as millions has fallen to only several hundred thousand."
Haotian walked toward the sealed jade chest and lifted its lid. The faint glow of the pills within flickered weakly against his gaze. He exhaled, then shut it again.
"It was expected," he said calmly. "The Crystal Vein Pill was never meant to sit idle. But even so, your reserves are too low for what's to come."
Haotian's gaze softened. He moved silently to one of the great jade chests and placed his hand on it. The faint fragrance of the Crystal Vein Pills rose to meet him, weaker than it should be. He closed the chest and turned back to the elder.
"I will take the herbs I need for my refining," he said evenly. "But before I leave, I will also restock these vaults. Especially the Crystal Vein Pills. The disciples should not suffer for lack of them."
The elder's eyes widened. "Restock…? Saint Son, are you saying—"
Haotian inclined his head. "Yes. I will refine them myself. Inform the Sect Master of my intention. I will see to it before I visit the Zhenlong household."
The elder bowed deeply, his voice unsteady with relief. "Your generosity will not be forgotten."
Haotian gave a faint smile, but his golden eyes lingered on the shelves one last time. "This is not generosity. This is necessity. A sect that cannot sustain its foundation will not endure the storm that comes."
With that, he selected the sealed containers of Ebon Marrow Lotus, Dragon's Vein Stone, Celestial Bone Coral, and a dozen other rare herbs. The vault's light caught on the edges of his eyes, gleaming like molten gold.
When he turned, the elder was still bowing. Haotian only waved a hand gently. "Rise. And prepare the pill cauldrons. Tonight, we work."
Then he walked toward the exit, his steps echoing against the ancient stone.
Soon, he would stand again in the Zhenlong household.
Soon, he would see Lianhua.
And his son.
The Azure Dragon Alchemy Hall stood tall, its vaulted ceilings supported by dragon-carved pillars, the air heavy with the faint fragrance of herbs steeped into the very walls. The cauldrons of countless masters lined the hall, each glowing with old arrays, their surfaces blackened by centuries of flame.
That evening, word spread quickly: Haotian had entered the alchemy hall.
Disciples and elders crowded the outer ring, whispering in awe, their voices hushed as though they stood before an altar. Some had been there the first time he refined the Crystal Vein Pill less than a year ago, the moment he had created what became the sect's most vital resource. Others had only heard the stories — stories they thought were exaggerated.
Now, they waited.
At the center of the hall, Haotian stood with calm composure. His robes trailed in faint golden light as his Eyes of the Universe shone. Before him, instead of a cauldron, he laid out bundles of herbs — crystalline roots, mineralized blossoms, dragon-vein stalks, and veins of marrow lotus.
An elder frowned in confusion. "No cauldron?"
But already, Haotian moved.
With a flick of his fingers, golden threads of dao light shot out, wrapping the herbs. One by one, their essences were pulled free — liquid light rising like streams into the air. Instead of smoke or residue, every trace of impurity dissolved under his control, leaving only pristine essence glowing like stars.
Gasps filled the hall.
"He's extracting… without flame."
"No… no cauldron at all—"
The essences swirled above him, a sphere of mingled light forming, the colors of every herb fusing in harmony. The sphere pulsed, throbbing like a living heart.
Then Haotian inhaled. His chest expanded, his qi resonating with the sphere — and with a sharp exhale, he spat the massive essence orb into hundreds of smaller spheres, each one perfectly balanced, identical in weight and glow.
With a sweep of his hand, glowing runes unfolded into the air — his own Primordial Harmony Refinement Technique. Each rune etched itself into a sphere. Cracks of light shivered across the orbs as they condensed.
In less than two breaths, the first pills fell, gleaming like polished crystals.
564 pills.
The disciples gasped aloud.
"Impossible… more than five hundred from a single batch!"
"Last year… it was less than half that…"
"And he did it in under two minutes!"
But Haotian wasn't done.
His golden eyes glowed brighter, his hands spreading as he summoned even more herbs — enough for five entire batches at once. Essence ripped free in great rivers of light, flooding the air, coiling into a single colossal orb that filled the ceiling of the hall with brilliance.
"Five… five batches in one refinement?!" an elder stammered, his knees trembling.
The disciples could barely breathe as the orb fractured into countless smaller ones. Haotian's runes cut through the air like constellations, binding each into perfection. Light burst outward — and when it faded, the floor was covered in trays of newly-born pills.
2,200 Crystal Vein Pills.
In a single refinement.
The hall fell deathly silent, broken only by the sound of elders' pounding hearts.
By the end of the day, Haotian had repeated the process again and again. Each time faster, sharper, more efficient. By nightfall, the vaults had been replenished with over four million Crystal Vein Pills.
The disciples stared at the mountain of glowing jade bottles stacked to the ceiling, their mouths dry, their spirits trembling.
"This… this output is not human."
"He is not an alchemist… he is a sovereign forge."
"With him… we will never lack foundation."
Haotian brushed his sleeves, calm as ever, though a faint smile tugged his lips. "The sect stands stronger when its roots are fed. These pills will carry you forward — to the battles to come."
The hall erupted in bows, knees slamming against the floor as every disciple and elder lowered their heads.
"Saint Son! Saint Son! Saint Son!"
Their voices shook the heavens.
The Azure Dragon Sect's central hall still hummed with residual energy when Haotian stepped forward. His robes trailed softly, the faint glow of pills still clinging to his presence like drifting embers.
He bowed slightly toward the dais. "Sect Master, Elders… thank you. For your trust, your support, and for keeping this sect strong while I was away. I leave now to see my family — but I will return when the world needs me."
The Sect Master inclined his head, though his gaze lingered on Haotian's golden eyes. "You have already given more than any could expect, Saint Son. Go. The path ahead belongs to you."
Haotian smiled faintly, then raised his hand.
The air cracked like glass. Space folded inward.
Before the elders could react, his figure dissolved into golden ripples, vanishing from the chamber without a trace.
Gasps broke the silence.
"He… bent space."
"Without array, without talisman…"
"That was not teleportation. That was pure dao."
Even the Sect Master's brows tightened, though awe gleamed in his eyes. "Haotian… how far have you truly walked?"
But by then, he was already gone.
The world twisted.
A single step carried Haotian across mountain ranges, rivers, and endless valleys. When the distortion settled, he stood before the familiar gates of the Zhenlong household.
The guards froze as his figure appeared in a ripple of golden light. Then, wide-eyed, they dropped into bows, voices trembling.
"Young Master Haotian!"
"He has returned!"
Haotian smiled warmly, his tone gentle. "It's been too long. You've done well guarding this home."
One guard hurried to escort him inside while the other sprinted ahead to report. The household stirred like thunder, lanterns flaring to life as servants poured into the courtyards.
"He's back!"
"The Young Master has returned!"
The Zhenlong halls, so often quiet in recent months, shook with joy.
His father, Zhenlong Wuhen, strode forth first, his eyes fierce with pride and relief. Qirou, his stepmother, followed, her smile bright though her eyes glistened. His mother, Ruolan, pressed her hands together, trembling with emotion. Behind them came his brothers, faces lit with awe.
And then —
Lianhua emerged, her arms cradling a small bundle swaddled in silk. At her side walked his sister Haoyue, her presence steady, eyes softened with warmth.
"Haotian…" Lianhua's voice trembled. Her gaze shone brighter than the lanterns as she stepped forward.
In her arms, the baby stirred. Tianlan, no longer a newborn but not yet walking, blinked up with clear eyes, curious and innocent.
Haotian's golden gaze softened. He reached out, gently brushing the child's cheek with a hand that had shattered demons and bent space itself. The baby giggled, tiny hands clutching at his finger.
A smile broke across Haotian's face, warm and unrestrained.
Behind them, the air shifted once more.
Then, a deeper presence descended.
The air thickened, shimmering with ancient might as four vast auras appeared at once. The gathered servants and disciples dropped to their knees, trembling under the weight.
Yangshen. Yuying. Junhai. Meiyun.
The Four Saint Dragons — Haotian's ancestors. Their forms radiated timeless majesty, eyes burning with wisdom and bloodline power that had once shaken continents.
"Haotian," Yangshen's voice rumbled like thunder over mountains.
"You carry our legacy," said Yuying, her gaze proud yet softened with warmth.
Junhai folded his arms, lips curling into a rare grin. "And you have surpassed even our expectations.
"Meiyun's voice was softer, yet cut through the air with clarity. "The blood of Zhenlong rises again."
Beside them, his grandfather Wukang laughed heartily, tears shimmering in his eyes.
The courtyard was filled with power, pride, and unity — saints and ancestors, elders and children, all gathered in a single moment.
And at the heart of it all stood Haotian, smiling as he finally returned home.