The training square was silent. No laughter, no groans, no shouts of frustration. Only the sound of steady breathing as seven hundred and fifty Sovereigns stood ready, their eyes locked on the man before them.
Haotian's golden gaze swept across them. He could feel it — the tension, the anticipation, the weight of months of struggle pressing down on their shoulders.
"You've walked step by step," he said. "Two elements. Three. Six. Harmony has grown between you. But today, you reach for the summit."
He lifted his hand. Ten Daos flared around him at once — fire blazing, frost freezing, lightning splitting the sky, earth rumbling, wind howling, water flowing, wood sprouting, metal gleaming, shadow curling, light burning. All of them swirled around him in a perfect, seamless dance.
"This is what you're climbing toward," Haotian said quietly. "Ten in one. If you fall, get back up. If you break, rebuild. But today, you will try."
The disciples shouted as one, their voices echoing like thunder.
"Senior Brother!"
The square erupted.
Flames clashed with frost, lightning bent into wind, water merged with earth. Hundreds of Sovereigns poured everything they had into weaving ten elements at once.
At first, the result was chaos. Explosions shook the ground, smoke filled the air, screams echoed as disciples were thrown backward by backlashes of power. Elders scrambled to pull the wounded out while the others pressed forward.
But Haotian stood unmoving, his aura pulsing steady, anchoring them like a lighthouse in a storm.
"Don't force it!" he barked. "Let them balance themselves! Shadow is not your enemy — it needs light to exist! Metal is not rigid — wood softens its edge!"
His words cut through panic. But even with his advices, it was still hard to merge the elements. Haotian shook his head. He had to find a different way to pass on his insights. Merging multiple elements is not an easy thing.
Haotian decided to give further lectures. The Moon Lotus Disciples were mainly aligned with the yin elements, water, ice, frost. They do not have much insights in the other elements. Haotian would teach the disciples. The first task for them is to become familiar with the other elements.
The training square slowly quieted as the last surge of elemental backlash faded. Smoke still lingered in thin veils above the cracked stone, and several disciples remained seated where they had fallen, steadying their breathing and checking their meridians for damage. The air carried the faint scent of scorched metal and melting frost.
Haotian walked across the square without haste, his gaze moving from one formation to another. He did not look disappointed. He looked thoughtful.
"You're trying to climb the summit," he said, his voice calm but clear enough to carry across the square. "But some of you are still afraid of the slope."
A few disciples lowered their eyes.
He stopped before a group of Moon Lotus disciples whose auras were still edged with cold mist.
"You cultivate frost and water," he continued. "Your foundations are stable. Your circulation is disciplined. But when flame approaches, your first reaction is to suppress it."
One of the disciples spoke up, unable to hold back. "If we don't suppress it, Senior Brother, it burns through our circulation."
Haotian nodded. "It burns because you meet it as an enemy."
He extended one hand and formed a small bloom of frost. The temperature around it dropped instantly. It was clean and precise.
Then, in his other hand, he summoned a quiet flame. Not large. Not aggressive.
The frost tightened.
Several Moon Lotus disciples stiffened instinctively.
"You see?" he said gently. "Your body already prepares for conflict."
He moved the flame closer, but instead of forcing the two to merge, he simply allowed them to remain in proximity. The frost did not vanish. The flame did not explode. After a few breaths, condensation formed, and a drop of water fell to the ground.
"This is not domination," Haotian said. "It is familiarity."
He turned to face the rest of the square.
"You are attempting ten-element harmony without first understanding the temperament of each element. You treat unfamiliar Daos as obstacles instead of as principles with their own rhythm."
A lightning-aligned disciple raised his hand. "Then how do we understand what we don't cultivate?"
"You stop trying to control it," Haotian replied. "And you let it exist around you without resistance."
He lifted his hand again, and controlled elemental zones began forming across the square. Lightning crackled in contained arcs. Earth condensed into dense gravitational pockets. Wind spiraled in steady currents. Rings of flame rose at a controlled height.
"For the next three days," he continued, "there will be no fusion practice. No attempts at ten. You will enter the element you are least comfortable with and remain there."
Murmurs spread.
A fire cultivator frowned. "Remain there doing what?"
"Listening," Haotian answered.
The word was not sharp. It was matter-of-fact.
He looked again at the Moon Lotus disciples. "You will begin with fire."
One of them hesitated. "Senior Brother… frost resists heat by nature."
"And heat softens frost by nature," Haotian replied. "Neither is wrong. But neither is complete."
He stepped aside.
"Enter."
After a moment, one of the Moon Lotus disciples walked into the flame ring. The heat brushed against her aura immediately, and instinct made her circulation tighten.
"Do not counter it," Haotian said quietly. "Let it touch your aura without pushing back."
Her breathing grew uneven.
"Fire is not only destruction," he continued. "It is warmth. It is movement. It prevents stagnation. If frost preserves, then warmth allows what is preserved to live."
Gradually, the tension in her aura eased. The frost did not vanish, but it stopped hardening against the heat.
Around the square, other disciples began entering their assigned elemental fields. Water practitioners stood within lightning arcs, flinching at first contact. Earth cultivators allowed wind to buffet their bodies instead of anchoring immediately. Metal-aligned disciples endured the slow pressure of condensed earth without cutting through it.
Haotian observed without interrupting.
"You want ten elements to obey you," he said after some time. "But they are not soldiers. They are principles. When you understand how they move, they no longer collide."
He did not raise his aura.
He did not demonstrate overwhelming force.
He simply remained present, steady, as seven hundred and fifty Sovereigns began learning not how to conquer the elements — but how to coexist with them.
And for the first time that day, nothing exploded.
Disciples steadied themselves. Fire that had roared out of control calmed as water tempered it. Lightning that split apart grounded itself through earth. Shadows stopped devouring, balanced by light.
Days turned into weeks. Finally, under Haotian's teachings the chaos began to shift.
One disciple shouted, "I've got it — fire, frost, and water together!" Another followed, weaving light into shadow. Groups began calling out to one another, sharing their breakthroughs, linking their insights.
The square glowed brighter with every passing hour.
By dusk, the impossible happened.
Ten Daos merged across the training ground. Not scattered, not chaotic — unified. Flames danced with frost, lightning arced through wind, light and shadow spiraled together, wood and metal intertwined, earth and water pulsed steady beneath them all.
The sky above the Pavilion lit up.
Colors surged upward, weaving into a rainbow dome that spread across the heavens. It wasn't wild or unstable — it was alive, resonating with the heartbeat of every Sovereign standing on that ground.
The disciples gasped, their eyes wide as they felt it: not just their own Daos, but the flow of their brothers' and sisters', the Pavilion moving as one body.
Haotian stood at the center, his eyes softening as he raised his hand, letting his aura rise into the rainbow sky.
"You've done it," he said. "This is the Ten Elemental Body Physique. Not mine. Yours. The Pavilion's. Remember this day — it is the day you stopped being individuals, and became one force."
The disciples roared together, their voices shaking the mountains.
"Senior Brother!"
Xiangyin stood above, her chest tight, her eyes burning. Even she — a Sovereign of generations — felt her hands tremble. Seven hundred and fifty Sovereigns, harmonized into ten elements. Even Emperors would fear this.
The rainbow sky pulsed once more, then slowly faded, leaving behind silence.
But in that silence, every disciple stood taller, their eyes brighter. They had climbed the peak Haotian had shown them.
And the world would never be the same.
The night was quiet, but Haotian's mind was not.
He stood alone at the edge of the Pavilion's highest peak, the wind tugging at his robes, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. The words of the Emperor still echoed in his mind: Immortals beyond the veil. Emperors as servants. The demon invasion—engineered, orchestrated.
He clenched his fist slowly, golden light flickering across his knuckles.
If that's true… then this war isn't just survival. It's manipulation. We're pawns in someone else's game. And the demons are just the pieces being moved against us.
Below, the Moon Lotus Pavilion slept—or tried to. Seven hundred and fifty Sovereigns now breathed within its walls, their Daos unified, their bodies tempered by his training. They had climbed farther than anyone thought possible. They weren't disciples anymore. They were a force. His force.
They're ready, he thought. If the world sees us as pawns, then we'll step onto their board—and turn the game upside down.
He exhaled, letting the tension in his chest loosen just slightly. "The Blood Trial…" he murmured aloud, his voice carried by the mountain wind. "It's time we entered it."
Behind him, Yinxue's quiet footsteps approached, followed by Ziyue and Shuyue. The three sisters didn't speak at first—they simply stood beside him, their presence grounding his storm of thoughts.
Finally, Yinxue asked softly, "You've decided."
Haotian nodded. "The Emperor's words made it clear. The invasion isn't just demons—it's strings pulled from beyond our world. If we stay idle, we're waiting to be sacrificed. If we step forward… we seize the right to choose our own fate."
Ziyue's eyes flickered with a hint of unease. "The Blood Trial is chaos. Even Emperors lose disciples to it."
Shuyue, ever bolder, smirked. "Then let the chaos meet us. The Pavilion isn't just another sect anymore."
Haotian's golden gaze swept over them, firm and unshaken. "The Moon Lotus Pavilion is ready. We've trained. We've forged. Now we step into the Blood Trial stage—not to be sacrificed, but to carve our own mark into this war."
The sisters said nothing, but their eyes told him enough. They would follow, no matter where the path led.
Haotian turned back toward the horizon, his decision final.
The Pavilion's rainbow sky had shaken the world—but soon, the Blood Trial would know their name.
The Pavilion square was filled with Sovereigns. Seven hundred and fifty cultivators stood shoulder to shoulder, their robes snapping in the wind, their auras steady and controlled. Not long ago, such a gathering would have been impossible. Now, it was the new reality of the Moon Lotus Pavilion.
Haotian stood at the front, hands folded behind his back, his golden eyes scanning the sea of disciples. He let the silence stretch, heavy and unbroken, until every gaze was fixed firmly on him.
"You've all climbed higher than anyone thought possible," he said at last, his voice ringing across the mountain. "You've tempered yourselves, endured failure, bled for every step. Now you stand as Sovereigns of the Ten Elements — not as scattered cultivators, but as one force."
A ripple of pride stirred among the disciples, but Haotian's gaze sharpened.
"But strength without a purpose is wasted."
The pride faltered. Silence returned.
Haotian straightened, his aura flaring, not with aggression but with unshakable resolve. "Our purpose is clear. The Moon Lotus Pavilion will enter the Blood Trial of the Northern Continent."
Gasps erupted. A wave of shock swept the disciples. Even Xiangyin, standing on the dais above, stiffened at the declaration.
Haotian raised his hand, silencing the murmurs instantly.
"We go not as pawns. We go not to be sacrificed. We go to eradicate demons." His voice hardened, golden light flickering in his eyes. "And we go to take back what was ours — the Moon Lotus Sect grounds, now defiled by their horde."
The square trembled with the disciples' reaction. Whispers surged, then shouts, then a roar of voices too strong to contain.
"Senior Brother!"
Haotian lifted his hand again. The roar fell to silence.
"You've all mastered harmony. But harmony is only the beginning. In combat, you will sharpen it. In blood and fire, you will perfect the Ten Elemental Daos. That is how you ascend beyond limits. That is how you make the world acknowledge you."
For a heartbeat, silence hung — and then the Pavilion erupted.
"Senior Brother!" they roared, the sound like thunder rolling down the mountain.
Yinxue stepped forward first, frostfire dancing faintly across her palm. "Where you go, I go."
Ziyue followed, her voice calm but unwavering. "If you step into the Blood Trial, Haotian, then I will stand beside you."
Shuyue smirked, her eyes flashing with excitement. "Don't even think of leaving me behind. You'll need someone to keep you laughing when the demons run."
Their words only fanned the fire in the disciples' hearts.
Above, Xiangyin's silver eyes narrowed as she exhaled slowly. He's not just announcing a decision. He's declaring war.
Haotian looked across the sea of Sovereigns, his figure steady as a mountain.
"The Moon Lotus Pavilion marches," he declared. "And the demons will learn what it means to stand against us."
The answering roar shook the heavens.
"Senior Brother!"
The forging hall blazed with light as Haotian raised his hand. Phoenix steel, rainbow crystal, and rare ores lifted from the tables, rising into the air as if pulled by invisible strings. The weight of Sovereign metals meant nothing; they floated effortlessly above his palm.
The materials shivered, then collapsed together. A molten sphere of silver-blue light spun above his hand, rippling with metallic brilliance. With his other hand, seals flashed in swift succession. Essences drawn from herbs and crystals threaded into the sphere, streaking it with hues of frost, flame, and lightning. The colors swirled, clashed for a moment, then sank into perfect order.
The sphere stretched, lengthened, took form. Runes burned across its body like veins of fire and ice, carving themselves into the molten glow. Sparks burst outward, scattering like phoenix feathers as the weapon solidified.
A sharp cry rang out. The first ice-phoenix sword hovered in the air, silver-blue with a faint rainbow sheen. Its hilt gleamed like feathered plumage, its body shimmered as if it were alive.
Haotian didn't pause. More spheres rose, melted, drank essences, stretched, burned, and sang into form. The air filled with the sound of newborn blades crying softly as one by one, they joined the racks — hundreds of them, glowing faintly, breathing faintly.
At the final rack, seven spheres floated before him. He wove seals without hesitation. Each sphere took on a different harmony of color. When they solidified, seven cries rang in sequence, blending together in eerie chorus. Seven blades for Shuyue, each tuned to her Seven Dao Virtues.
When the last sword settled, silence filled the hall.
The disciples gripped the rails, their knuckles white. They had watched this before, but the sight still made their hearts pound. The forging looked effortless, yet no one among them could even begin to follow the threads of what he had done.
Xiangyin's eyes narrowed, her silver lashes lowered. Her expression remained calm, but the faint crease at her brow betrayed her thoughts. Even now, I can't see it. Not the flow, not the balance. Only the result.
The swords gleamed in their racks — silver-blue bodies with rainbow sheens, hilts feathered like phoenix wings, runes pulsing faintly with light. Each one exuded presence. Each one felt alive.
The disciples swallowed hard. They didn't speak. They didn't need to. The weight of it pressed on them like a mountain.
They weren't just being given weapons. They were being measured.
resonance of their new wargear.
📖 Chapter 37: Forging the Legion
The forging hall was not quiet for long.
When the final phoenix sword was placed into its rack, Haotian did not rest. He raised his hand again, and the tables of ores, phoenix steel plates, and rainbow crystal shards lifted into the air. Dozens of Sovereigns in the hall flinched unconsciously at the sheer weight of material hanging suspended as if weightless, swirling slowly like stars in orbit.
The air pulsed.
With a gesture, Haotian collapsed the raw forms together. Silver-blue light burst outward as the metals melted into a radiant molten mass above his palm. It grew, thickened, folded in on itself as his other hand shifted through hand seals too fast to follow.
One by one, plates of armor unfurled. Chestguards took shape, shoulder plates spread like wings, gauntlets tightened into form. Runes carved themselves across the surfaces in glowing strokes, flickering between frost and fire before sinking into the steel.
Each piece gleamed silver-blue with a faint rainbow sheen, light refracting across the runes like ice kissed by dawn.
Haotian did not stop there. With another sequence of seals, long inner robes unfurled from the waist guard armor, flowing down and spreading outward like wings. The fabric shimmered faintly, woven of Dao threads, flowing behind the armor in a constant ripple of phoenix light.
Every set of armor bore a circlet of silver across the brow. At its center curved the sharp head of an ice phoenix, its eyes glinting faintly with light. From each side extended two phoenix feathers, curling upward with a gleam of rainbow sheen.
The first set of armor landed on its rack with a dull, resonant hum, as though the forge itself acknowledged its birth.
Then another.
Then another.
Hours passed. The racks filled. The hall glowed like a temple of dawn, every surface shining silver-blue, rainbow arcs shimmering faintly as if phoenix wings had filled the chamber.
The disciples gripped the rails again, unable to breathe evenly. The swords had left them shaken — but the armor pressed heavier. Together, weapons and armor weren't just equipment. They were an identity. A legion.
Xiangyin narrowed her eyes, her arms folded, her voice low enough that only the elders near her heard. Even I can't see the seams. No hammer. No furnace. No chiseling. He molds essence and form as if they were clay. This… this is not mortal forging.
When Haotian lowered his hands at last, sweat slicking his brow, the hall was lined with racks of silver-blue phoenix armor, each with its flowing waist robe, its feathered circlet, its rainbow sheen.
The armors hummed faintly in unison.
The disciples did not cheer. They only bowed their heads, hearts heavy, because they knew what they were looking at: not gifts, not treasures, but burdens.
Haotian looked across them once, his golden eyes steady, and then turned away without a word.
The Phoenix Legion had been born.