The sparring arena was silent save for the roar of qi.
Yinxue, Ziyue, and Shuyue stood side by side, their daos blazing. Sevenfold frost and time, piercing icewind, virtue-forged sword intent — each a storm in its own right, braided together into one overwhelming tide.
They struck.
Yinxue's frost domain locked the air, space warping as her time dao slowed Haotian's every step. Ziyue's icewind sword screamed in, piercing angles impossible to predict, her blades riding the currents of inevitability Yinxue created. Shuyue's sword descended with halos of Love, Loyalty, Justice, her virtue dao bearing down like judgment itself.
The disciples gasped, voices trembling.
"That's unstoppable!"
"Even Senior Brother can't—"
Haotian moved.
No spear, no weapon. Only his body.
His hand rose, palm slicing through the air like a dragon's claw. A single sweep unraveled Yinxue's frost storm, his qi surging in golden ripples that shattered her time distortion. He pivoted sharply, his elbow smashing through Ziyue's piercing blades, each arc of wind dissipating against the iron of his body.
Shuyue's sword fell.
Haotian stepped forward and caught it in his bare hand. Metal screamed as sparks erupted — but his skin did not bleed. His golden eyes glimmered as he murmured, "Virtues carry weight… but your heart must balance them."
With a twist, he redirected her blade and sent her stumbling back, her halos flickering.
The crowd erupted in disbelief.
"He caught it with his hand—!"
"His body's harder than steel!"
The sisters pressed again.
Yinxue's sevenfold dao condensed into a singular blade, tearing open the ground with space-time fractures. Ziyue's thrust shot through the opening, perfectly timed, while Shuyue's virtue aura locked the battlefield, making escape feel impossible.
Haotian's lips curved into a faint smile.
"Good coordination. But still…"
He slammed his foot down. The ground fractured, golden dragon qi erupting upward. His fist met Yinxue's blade, scattering it into frozen shards. His palm struck Ziyue's thrust, breaking its momentum and sending her skidding backward. His shoulder rolled into Shuyue's pressure, dispersing her aura like mist in the sun.
The arena shook. The disciples clutched the barrier formations to keep from being blown away.
Haotian straightened, golden light still coursing across his skin, the Undying Dragon Body Sutra resonating at its 12th stage. He spread his hands calmly, without weapon, without adornment.
"Remember this. A spear may break, a sword may shatter. But as long as your dao and your body remain unyielding…"
He closed his fists, qi exploding outward in a dragon's roar.
"…you are the weapon."
The disciples fell to their knees, overwhelmed by the weight of his presence. Yinxue, Ziyue, and Shuyue stood together again, their hearts pounding, their faces flushed with equal frustration and awe.
Even without Fenlong Spear, Haotian had dismantled them — not with dominance alone, but with patience, precision, and the truth of his own dao.
The next morning dawned calm, frost glittering on the peaks of the Moon Lotus Sect. Disciples assembled for their morning cultivation when a shadow passed over the arena.
A low hum followed.
Every head turned upward.
A massive ship of black steel and engraved jade descended slowly through the clouds, its surface glowing faintly with arrays older than most had ever seen. Dragon-carved figureheads jutted from its prow, their mouths releasing streams of cloud to cushion its landing.
Gasps rippled through the disciples.
"A… a flying ship?"
"Impossible — only the Central Continent sects have such things!"
"Then why is it here?!"
The vessel stopped above the main plaza, floating silently, the pressure of its presence pushing the younger disciples to their knees.
The sect gates opened in answer to its descent. Envoys in silver-trimmed robes walked down a glowing gangway of light, their steps deliberate, their expressions calm. At their forefront was a middle-aged man with sharp brows and an aura of supreme arrogance, the insignia on his chest gleaming — a stylized lotus wrapped in flame.
Yinxue stepped forward with the elders, her eyes narrowing as she recognized the emblem.
Her voice dropped, cold and cutting. "The Origin Alliance."
The disciples whispered in shock.
"The Origin Alliance… here?"
"They only concern themselves with the Central Continent. Why would they come to the North?"
Yinxue's brow furrowed deeply. Her mind raced. The Origin Alliance — the ancient coalition of sects that dictated rankings, bestowed recognition, and controlled access to Central Continent resources. They had remained unchanged for centuries, their influence unquestioned.
And yet… why here? Why now?
The envoy leader stopped at the plaza's center. His gaze swept across the disciples, dismissive, until it settled on Yinxue. His lips curved faintly in a smile that was neither kind nor warm.
"Moon Lotus Sect," he announced, his voice carrying with practiced weight. "By decree of the Origin Alliance, we have come to deliver judgment and recognition. Your sect has risen too swiftly. The Alliance has taken notice."
Murmurs exploded through the disciples, faces pale, hearts racing. Recognition — or judgment?
Haotian appeared behind Yinxue, his golden eyes narrowing as he watched the envoy carefully. The disciples immediately steadied, their fear giving way to resolve as their pillar arrived.
But inside, Yinxue's heart remained cold.
The Origin Alliance never moves without reason. If they've come here, to us… something larger is at play.
The envoy's voice echoed across the plaza, each syllable sharp as if carved into stone.
"Moon Lotus Sect," he intoned, "your rise has been unprecedented. In mere years, you have reshaped the balance of the northern continent. The Alliance has deliberated."
He raised his hand. The sigil of the Origin Alliance shimmered into existence above him, blazing gold against the morning sky.
"By decree of the Central Continent Origin Alliance, your sect shall be raised in rank."
The disciples gasped, the sound rippling through the crowd like thunder.
"You shall henceforth be recognized as the Head Sect of the Northern Continent. All other sects within these lands shall fall under your shadow. Your authority is absolute."
A roar of disbelief and awe filled the courtyard. Some disciples dropped to their knees in tears, others clasped hands over mouths, trembling at the words.
But the envoy did not pause.
"In addition," he continued, his tone still cool, "the Origin Alliance extends to you an invitation to the Tournament of Arms."
Silence fell, thick and heavy.
The envoy's smile curved faintly as his gaze swept the disciples' faces. "This tournament shall be held on the Central Continent, a display of might and cultivation where all sects are measured. It is a gathering of prodigies below the Sovereign Realm. Each major realm shall have its own bracket — Foundation, Core Condensation, Dao Comprehension, Soul Transformation, Saint Realm. Strength, speed, and dao comprehension will be tested before the eyes of all continents."
Murmurs exploded in the crowd.
"The Tournament of Arms…!"
"That's a legend—"
"No northern sect has ever been invited—!"
The envoy raised his hand again for silence.
"There will also be events beyond combat," he declared. "Forging. Alchemy. Formations. It is not only a test of blade and dao, but of art and creation. A display of which sects can forge the greatest talents under heaven."
He lowered his hand, voice dropping to a final decree.
"You will attend. Failure to appear will be taken as refusal of recognition — and forfeiture of your new rank."
The words settled like a mountain.
The disciples stood frozen, hearts pounding. The pride of ascension, the dread of responsibility, the awe of an invitation to stand before the world itself — all clashed within them.
At the forefront, Yinxue's gaze narrowed, sharp as ice. She had lived long enough to know nothing from the Alliance came without cost.
And beside her, Haotian's golden eyes gleamed faintly.
A tournament for the world's prodigies… and a test of alchemy and forging?
His lips curved into a faint smile.
"…Interesting."
The moment the Alliance envoys departed, silence hung over the sect. It was as though no one dared breathe, the weight of the decree still pressing down like a mountain.
Then the whispers began.
"They… they made us the head sect of the North…"
"A tournament… against prodigies from the Central Continent?!"
"The Sovereign Realm excluded? That means— Dao Comprehension, Soul Transformation, even Saint Realms will be fighting!"
"Forging and alchemy too! We'll be compared against the greatest in the world…"
Voices rose into a storm. Some disciples' eyes blazed with excitement, their blood boiling at the chance to prove themselves. Others trembled, fear stark on their faces. The Central Continent was a place of legends — how could they, Northern cultivators, compare?
The training grounds filled with chaos. Spars broke out on the spot, disciples clashing with reckless fervor. Others sat in meditation, frantically pushing at bottlenecks. Elders barked orders to restrain them, but the frenzy only grew.
In the central plaza, Haotian appeared with Yinxue, Ziyue, and Shuyue at his side. His golden eyes swept the sect once, and silence crashed back over the grounds as if a tidal wave had washed over them.
Yinxue stepped forward first, her voice cold and steady, cutting through the disciples' panic. "Enough. Compose yourselves. Frenzy and fear are useless. The Alliance's decree is a trial, not a punishment. We will not shrink from it."
Ziyue's eyes narrowed, her sword aura flaring as she spoke. "Do not forget — in just two years, you have all touched daos and physiques rivaling other continents. You are not weak. You are Moon Lotus disciples. This is your chance to prove it."
Shuyue, usually quieter, raised her voice too, her cheeks flushed but her resolve clear. "Yes, the Central Continent is powerful. Yes, they look down on us. But that only means we have more to gain when we stand before them and show that the North cannot be ignored."
The disciples straightened, their fear tempered by the words of their elders.
Then Haotian stepped forward.
His presence alone was enough to steady the storm. His eyes swept the sea of faces — some nervous, some determined, some still shaking.
"The Alliance has given us recognition," he said calmly. "But do not mistake it for kindness. They wish to test us. To measure us."
He paused, his voice deepening.
"Good. Let them."
A wave of qi rippled outward, pressing into every disciple's bones.
"You have two years before this tournament. Two years to sharpen your dao, your body, your spirit. Train as if the world itself were your opponent. Because it will be."
The disciples trembled — but now it was not from fear. It was from the fire kindling in their chests.
Haotian's lips curved faintly. "You are the Moon Lotus Sect. Head of the North. Let the world see what that means."
The plaza erupted. Cheers, shouts, vows of determination. Disciples raised swords to the sky, fists clenched, tears streaming, voices uniting.
The frenzy had become focus.
The preparations had begun.
After the frenzy of the Origin Alliance's decree, calm returned to the mountains — but it was the calm of a blade honed to its sharpest edge.
Yinxue convened a council with Haotian, Ziyue, Shuyue, and the elders. Together they set the strategy.
"No more reckless breakthroughs," Yinxue decreed, her voice iron. "All disciples will hold at Peak Dao Comprehension Realm. This will ensure that, when they fight, they will dominate others in their bracket."
The elders nodded, relief mixing with pride. The logic was clear: to advance now would waste their greatest advantage.
Haotian, however, leaned back with his usual faint smile. "Then let the others fight. As for me… I'll enter every bracket they allow. Not only combat. Forging. Alchemy."
The room stiffened.
"You would… challenge the Central Continent's smiths and pill masters as well?" one elder asked.
Haotian's golden eyes gleamed. "Of course. I want to see the techniques of the so-called center of the world. I want to know if they can show me something I haven't seen before."
His words rang with quiet certainty — not arrogance, but the unshakable curiosity of a cultivator whose dao was boundless.
In the following months, the sect transformed again.
The disciples trained with frightening focus. Every day they sparred, meditated, etched insights into jade slips, refining their daos again and again until their spirit cultivation reached the razor edge of Peak Dao Comprehension.
Body training did not falter either. With Haotian's pills designed for each stage of the Undying Dragon Body Sutra, they broke into the ninth stage, flesh and bone resonating like tempered steel.
Among the elders, progress burned even fiercer. Yinxue's sevenfold dao shone with terrifying clarity. Ziyue's icewind sword, sharpened with piercing, could split the air itself. Shuyue's virtues had grown to four, her Justice dao now strong enough to lock an opponent's intent mid-strike.
And at night, behind closed doors, Haotian continued to teach them time and space, weaving their insights into harmony. Each session pulled them further from mere talent into inevitability.
By the end of the first year of preparation, every elder and disciple of note stood at Peak Dao Comprehension Realm. The sect's strength was no longer rising like fire — it had solidified into a fortress of frost.
Word spread quickly.
Envoys arrived from neighboring sects, their robes humble, their voices deferential. One by one, they knelt before the Moon Lotus Sect.
"The Origin Alliance has named you the head sect of the North," they said. "We, too, shall bow. Let us be your subsidiaries, that we may share in your shadow and protection."
The plaza that once rang with laughter and gossip now rang with vows of loyalty. Sect masters who once schemed against the Moon Lotus now offered tribute. Their disciples pledged to obey Moon Lotus decree.
Yinxue accepted them coldly, Ziyue with sharp-eyed disdain, Shuyue with visible awkwardness. Haotian only smirked faintly, his golden eyes amused.
So the North bends.
The Moon Lotus Sect had become not merely a rising star, but the center of a continent.
And beyond the sea, the Tournament of Arms drew closer with each passing day.
The moon was high when Haotian stood alone in the alchemy hall, scrolls and diagrams scattered across the tables. Jade slips glowed with calculations of force resistance, elemental balancing, and resonance arrays. His golden eyes traced every line, not with the excitement of theory — but with the weight of necessity.
The disciples of the Moon Lotus Sect had reached the limit of what they could do for now.Their spirit cultivation stood at the razor edge of Peak Dao Comprehension Realm.Their bodies, under his guidance, had reached the ninth stage of the Undying Dragon Body Sutra.They could still polish their dao, they could still spar, but advancement had slowed to a crawl.
There was nothing left to give them — except what he could put into their hands.
His gaze drifted to the ceremonial robes folded on a rack nearby. Moon-white, trimmed with silver threads, light and graceful. Beautiful, yes — but weak. Their protection was negligible. They were robes of symbolism, not war.
Even with their bodies tempered, even with their daos sharpened, they would enter the Tournament of Arms against the prodigies of the Central Continent wearing cloth that could not withstand a Saint Realm's casual strike.
That was unacceptable.
Haotian clenched his fist, a faint flare of golden qi shimmering across his skin. They need weapons. They need armor. Not mere cloth, but something that can withstand the flames of battle. Something that can guard their yin bodies against the onslaught of yang qi that will strike them down otherwise.
He turned his eyes eastward, toward the horizon.
The Northern Continent was rich in frost-iron, glacial jade, and cold-veined ores. But these were all yin-elemental by nature. Forging armor from them for women whose bodies already harmonized with yin would create imbalance. Instead of protection, it could lead to stagnation.
No — they needed fire. Yang-imbued ores, flame-born crystals, volcanic steels. Armors forged to counterbalance their natural affinity, to temper their defenses with fire's resilience.
The Eastern Continent.
Its volcanic mountain ranges, its rivers of molten earth, its deep mines of crimson steel — there lay the resources he needed.
The next morning, the sect gathered in the plaza as Haotian stood before them. His robes were travel-worn already, his qi gathered close to his body. Yinxue, Ziyue, and Shuyue stood at the front, worry plain in their eyes.
"I will be traveling," Haotian announced, his voice calm but resonant. "Our cultivation has reached a point where spirit and body must slow. To push further recklessly is to risk collapse. But there is another path we must walk — equipment."
He gestured to the disciples' robes. "You wear cloth that is light, but fragile. Against the best of the Central Continent, it will not suffice. I will forge armor and weapons worthy of you."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
Yinxue's eyes narrowed. "Forge for the entire sect… Haotian, do you mean—?"
He nodded once. "I will borrow the forges of our subsidiary sects. But their resources are insufficient. The North is steeped in yin. What I need… is fire."
Ziyue's hand tightened on her sword hilt, her gaze unblinking. "You mean the East."
Shuyue's lips parted, worry flashing in her eyes. "You'll leave… alone?"
Haotian looked at them — at all of them — and smiled faintly. "The sooner I go, the sooner I return. The Eastern Continent is vast. It may take months. But the tournament is a year away. There is time."
The disciples exchanged uneasy glances, their faith unshaken but their hearts heavy.
Yinxue finally stepped forward. "You're doing this for us."
Haotian chuckled softly, his golden eyes warm. "And for me. I want to see what I can create. What kind of armor can be born from fire and frost, from yin and yang together. When you step into that arena, the world will not only see your dao — they will see the proof of what we built here."
He turned his gaze eastward again, the first rays of dawn breaking over the mountains.
"Wait for me. Train. Sharpen your daos. When I return, I'll bring you armor that no Central prodigy can break."
The plaza erupted with vows, the disciples' voices rising as one, echoing off the mountains.
But in the eyes of Yinxue, Ziyue, and Shuyue, there was no cheer — only quiet determination to stand strong until he returned.