Behind Ling Feng, five auras arrived like clockwork.
"You're leaving," Su Yonghuang said.
She came forward in full sect master attire—phoenix crown, robes like flowing sunlight, every inch the ruler of a great lineage. Her expression was calm.
Too calm.
The plaza before Cleansing Incense's gate was filled with morning light. Disciples in ceremonial armor guarded the gate, elders watched from the distance, and the sect-protecting formations hummed quietly beneath the stone.
Ling Feng turned, hands in his pockets, smile already playing at his lips.
"Not running away," he said. "Just a trip."
Li Shuangyan, Chen Baojiao, Xu Pei, and Bai Jianzhen stood a step behind him, all travel-ready. Their gazes were filled with expectation, fighting spirit… and something softer when they looked at him.
"The Eastern Hundred Cities is far," Su Yonghuang said slowly. "That region is the root of the human race—endless nations, ancient sects, lineages that have stood since the Desolate Era, and countless buried secrets. Even for someone like you…"
She trailed off.
She knew there was no point in saying "be careful." He would go whether she said it or not. That was his nature.
Ling Feng stepped closer.
In front of everyone.
He did not keep a respectful distance, did not bow with proper disciple etiquette.
He simply reached out and pulled her into his arms.
The disciples guarding the gate almost dropped their spears. A few younger ones choked on their breaths; even some elders twitched at the corners of their eyes.
Su Yonghuang stiffened, phoenix crown trembling imperceptibly. As sect master, she knew she should push him away instantly. Her dignity, her aura, the sect's reputation—
Ling Feng didn't give her the chance.
He tilted her chin up with his thumb and forefinger, completely ignoring the stunned disciples, the wide eyes of his women, and the rising murmur in the plaza.
"In front of everyone?" she hissed under her breath, cheeks rapidly heating.
"Mm." His smile deepened. "You're my sect master, I'm your prime disciple, and we're about to storm another corner of the world. A little send-off is normal, right?"
Without waiting for permission, he kissed her.
This time, it wasn't hidden in a quiet chamber. It was under the open sky, beneath the sect's guardian banners. It wasn't vulgar—it was clean and direct, a firm declaration:
This woman is mine.
This sect is mine.
If anyone has a problem, they can come line up.
For half a breath, Su Yonghuang's mind went blank.
Her fingers, which should have pushed him away, dug into his sleeves instead. The phoenix on her crown quivered like it was about to fly away.
The disciples' jaws collectively hit the floor.
Li Shuangyan's aura rippled softly, faint like jade ripples over still water. Chen Baojiao's grin turned downright devilish, as if she wanted to whistle and applaud. Xu Pei's entire face turned red all the way to the tips of her ears. Bai Jianzhen lifted her head to look at the clouds as though considering whether to cut them for daring to witness this.
At last, Su Yonghuang pushed him away, a fraction too late to pretend composure.
"You…" she began, but the rest caught in her throat.
She took a slow breath, gathered up the tattered pieces of her dignity, and glared at him with phoenix eyes that now held a hint of panic and heat.
"When you return," she said, voice low and steady, "we will… speak about this properly."
Ling Feng's smile softened into something warmer.
"I'll be very attentive when I get back," he said lightly, but the undertone was intimate. The way he said it made meanings coil between the words, meant only for the two of them.
Her cheeks flushed even deeper. "Shameless," she muttered.
He laughed, unbothered.
Turning to his women, he opened his hand.
"Alright," he said. "Let's go stir the pot."
Li Shuangyan stepped forward first. Her robes fluttered like falling petals, veil hiding half her face but not the light in her eyes.
"Young Noble," she said softly, "wherever you tread, this Li will follow."
Chen Baojiao's eyes flashed with battle-hunger. "This princess has been bored," she said, chin lifting arrogantly. "Let's see which so-called geniuses are waiting in the Hundred Cities to become stepping stones."
Xu Pei hugged her cauldron closer, nervousness and excitement tangling in her chest. "Feng… I'll work hard not to be a burden," she whispered.
Bai Jianzhen's answer was simple as always. "If there is an enemy," she said calmly, "point."
Ling Feng's grin widened.
He turned his head, giving Su Yonghuang one last look—promise, warmth, and wickedness all woven into a single glance. It was enough to make her heart lurch, though she would never admit it aloud.
Then he snapped his fingers.
Space folded.
...
Mist, pine, and the smell of wet earth rushed in to replace the gate plaza.
The heavy aura of Cleansing Incense vanished. When the world settled again, Ling Feng and his group stood on a narrow mountain path.
Below them, the land rolled away in layered ridges and distant rivers. Far on the eastern horizon, like a faint scar drawn across the world, lay a band of cities and light—the Eastern Hundred Cities, that ancient cluster of sects and kingdoms where countless human lineages, including Heavenly Dao Academy and Eternal River School, had taken root over eras.
Between sky and earth, qi flowed thick like mist. The air here was quiet. No sect drums, no market noise. Only the wind threading through pine branches and brushing against their robes.
Ling Feng took in the view, hands in his pockets, expression easy.
"Alright," he said. "We walk from here."
Four gazes snapped to him immediately.
Li Shuangyan's eyes behind the veil held a faint, amused gleam. Chen Baojiao openly raised an eyebrow, suspicion clear. Xu Pei blinked, hugging her cauldron like a shield. Bai Jianzhen looked at him flatly, already prepared for nonsense.
"Young Noble," Li Shuangyan said gently, "you… wish to walk?"
Chen Baojiao snorted. "You?" Her lips curled. "The man who teleports from his room to the dining hall because the stairs are 'too bothersome' wants to walk?"
Ling Feng coughed once, as if that could cover the crime.
"Hey," he said with dignity. "I'm not that bad."
Xu Pei lowered her head, shoulders shaking slightly. "Feng… you really did that yesterday," she murmured.
"…Details." He waved that away, very magnanimously.
He turned, looking down toward the distant band of cities where qi and light tangled like a living dragon.
"The city's going to be noisy," he said lazily. "Heavenly Dao Academy disciples, Eternal River brats, Lion's Roar nobles, Tiger Howl remnants still pretending they matter, random geniuses posturing for face… way too much chatter. If I'm going to be surrounded by noise, I'd rather the time before that be spent with my girls. You'd really rather teleport straight into a crowd?"
His words were casual, but when he said "my girls," his tone dipped—warm, lazy, and very clear.
Chen Baojiao's ears reddened despite herself. "Who's your girl?" she shot back.
"You," he replied without even blinking.
She clicked her tongue and faced away, but the corner of her mouth betrayed her, tilting upward.
Li Shuangyan's eyes curved slightly behind the veil. "Young Noble's words…" she said, "are pleasant to hear."
Xu Pei's fingers tightened on her cauldron, cheeks pink. "Then… let's walk," she said softly.
Bai Jianzhen sheathed her sword with a soft clack.
"If there is a path," she said, "we walk. If there is an enemy, we cut. It is simple."
Ling Feng grinned.
"See?" he said. "Jian-jian understands me."
"Don't call me that," Bai Jianzhen replied instantly, expression still as serious as a drawn blade.
He just laughed.
...
They walked.
The path wound along the spine of the mountains, sometimes opening into broad ledges where they could see all the way to the plains, sometimes squeezing between sheer walls of stone veined with faint, ancient dao patterns.
Occasionally, merchant caravans rumbled past, beast-drawn carts leaving deep tracks in the damp earth. Small sect disciples flew overhead on swords or riding peculiar beasts, gossip drifting down like scraps of paper carried by the wind. Some cast a curious glance at the group on foot, but no one lingered long; each had their own destination in the Hundred Cities.
Ling Feng let his women drift ahead or behind as they liked.
Sometimes he walked shoulder-to-shoulder with Xu Pei, listening as she rambled about new combinations of spirit herbs she wanted to test and how her cauldron reacted differently since he changed her cultivation method.
Sometimes he teased Chen Baojiao, asking whether she had broken any records in "turning enemies into cultivation fuel" this month—each time making her snort and boast and accidentally reveal how hard she'd been pushing herself.
Sometimes he simply watched Li Shuangyan's quiet gait, the way the world seemed to make way for her without her asking, jade-like calm wrapped around a fierce core, and Bai Jianzhen's sword-straight back, rigid like a spear planted into the earth, each step precise as if she were walking along an invisible blade.
Beneath the surface of the peaceful journey, qi currents shifted.
The closer they drew to the Hundred Cities, the more intense the ambient qi became. The sky seemed a deeper blue; the clouds carried faint traces of dao runes when the sun struck them just right. Ancient sects had dug roots into this land since the early epochs; their accumulations seeped into the earth.
Ling Feng's eyes narrowed slightly as he felt it.
The ancestral vein really is twisted, he thought. Feels like someone knotted the qi flow on purpose, then tried to smooth it out and gave up halfway.
He smiled faintly to himself.
"Still on track," he murmured under his breath.
"What?" Chen Baojiao glanced over.
"Nothing." His smile turned careless again. "Just thinking the scenery's nice."
She rolled her eyes. "You don't look like you're admiring scenery. You look like you're plotting how to blow it up."
"That's also a type of appreciation," he said seriously.
She snorted and walked ahead.
...
When the path widened into a rocky plateau jutting out from the mountainside, Ling Feng clapped his hands once.
"Break time," he said. "Sparring."
The word dropped like a stone into still water.
Chen Baojiao's eyes lit up immediately, battle intent flaring around her like faint golden mist. Xu Pei tightened her arms around her cauldron, half-nervous, half-eager, her own blood stirring because she knew what these short sessions with Ling Feng meant for their growth.
Li Shuangyan and Bai Jianzhen exchanged a look that lasted only a heartbeat.
"I will practice with Young Miss Bai," Li Shuangyan said.
Bai Jianzhen inclined her head. "Good."
They stepped onto the flattest section of rock, facing each other.
Wind howled around the plateau's edges, snatching at robes and hair. Below them, the mountain dropped away in a sheer fall. Above, clouds drifted lazily, oblivious to what was about to happen.
Two swords left their sheaths almost in the same breath.
Li Shuangyan's long sword gleamed like clear jade under sunlight, blade thin and flawless, its edge exuding an almost invisible sharpness that made the surrounding air feel cleaner.
Bai Jianzhen's blade was the opposite—pitch-black, cold, its presence heavy and quiet, like a sword buried in a grave mound for ten thousand years. It seemed to swallow light instead of reflecting it.
Their auras unfolded.
Within Li Shuangyan's body, six Fate Palaces shone like flawless jade towers, each refined until there was no extraneous light, only purity.
Bai Jianzhen's Fate Palaces were like upright swords driven into the ground of her cultivation, narrow and unyielding. Even at the Royal Noble realm, the sword dao around her was terrifying—each breath, each blink, held the possibility of a killing strike. Her sword intent had already stepped past the boundaries of ordinary geniuses; one clean swing from her could easily sever the path of most young experts.
The air between the two women tightened.
Ling Feng dropped onto a boulder at the edge of the plateau, lacing his fingers behind his head, one leg casually propped up.
"Begin," he called lazily.
The world moved.
Li Shuangyan's sword domain bloomed in silence.
The mountain wind slowed, then blurred, then reappeared as countless fine jade threads criss-crossing the space around her. Dust motes, drifting pine needles, even the gaze of passing cultivators on a distant path seemed to be pulled in and woven into those threads. Within the domain, everything could be cut—and everything could be controlled.
With a light flick of her wrist, sword light fell like starlight. Each strand of jade sword qi was wrapped in the subtle weight of Chaos-refined intent, sharp enough to sever an Ancient Saint's life wheel if they took it lightly.
Bai Jianzhen didn't form a domain.
The black sword rose and fell once.
A single, simple cut.
No flowers, no extra movements. But that one stroke found the exact weakest point in the web of jade threads, striking like a cold shadow across the domain.
The plateau shook.
The air rang like struck metal. Where the black sword passed, jade threads snapped, exploding into sparks of light. The shattered pieces didn't just vanish; Shuangyan redirected them, turning broken threads into an after-rain of stabbing sword beams that swept toward Bai Jianzhen from impossible angles.
A soft gasp drifted up from the mountain path below.
A small group of young cultivators had stopped on the lower trail, eyes wide as they watched sword light explode above like a storm in the sky.
"Who… who are those people?" one of them whispered. "At that age… that dao of the sword…"
"Could it be disciples from some great lineage?" another muttered. "But their robes…"
They fell silent as another wave of sword qi descended.
Bai Jianzhen responded with the second strike.
Her sword rose again, but this time the movement was even smaller, like pulling a thread taut. Her intent gathered so sharply that the space around the black blade distorted; in that instant, even the wind seemed to halt.
She cut.
No brilliant glow. No dazzling beam.
But a vertical line appeared before her—thin, black, and absolute.
Everything it touched—the jade sword rain, the edges of Shuangyan's domain, the faint mist shrouding the plateau—split apart noiselessly, as if the world had been drawn on paper and someone had taken a brush and divided it in two.
Stone cracked.
A fissure opened from Bai Jianzhen's feet and ran across the plateau, neat as a sword mark carved by the heavens.
Li Shuangyan stepped once, light as a feather, her jade sword tapping against that black line. Jade brilliance flared; her Fate Palaces shook in unison, sending torrents of refined energy into her blade.
Her sword turned.
The black line twisted with it, diverted a hair's breadth away from her heart. The Ki field behind her exploded, but her veil remained unruffled.
The clash of their auras boomed like thunder.
Xu Pei watched, pupils dilating, hands unconsciously moving as if tracing sword paths in the air.
Beside her, Chen Baojiao rolled her shoulders, the corners of her mouth tugged up.
"Those two are always like this," she said. "Quiet on the surface, murder underneath."
"Like you're any better?" Ling Feng replied without opening his eyes.
She smirked. "I'm honest about wanting to smash people."
The sword exchange escalated.
Jade threads multiplied, becoming a woven curtain that could block an army. Black sword arcs grew thinner and more terrifying, each one seeming to come from a different world. Every time the two blades met, shockwaves swept across the plateau.
The stone beneath their feet cracked in spiderweb patterns. Stray sword qi sliced deep grooves into the rock, clean enough that one could see their own reflection in the cut surfaces. Pine trees clinging to the mountainside below were shaved of branches by invisible edges; leaves fell in perfect squares and diamonds, diced by residual intent.
Yet not a single strand of hair on Xu Pei's head was disturbed.
Ling Feng's aura quietly suppressed the shockwaves, confining the majority of the destruction to the plateau itself. To outsiders, it looked like two peerless sword fairies were battling atop a natural stage, their sword lights reaching the heavens, but nothing fell upon those below.
He let it go on for a while.
Just long enough for Shuangyan's domain to reach its third transformation and Bai Jianzhen's sword intent to touch that thin line where restraint ended and slaughter began.
Then he spoke.
"Enough. Any longer and I have to rebuild the mountain," he said lazily.
His words were soft, but they cut through sword hum and falling stone like a decree.
Both swords halted.
Jade threads unwove into ordinary wind and mist. The black blade lowered, its terrifying edge withdrawing until it looked like a simple iron sword again.
Li Shuangyan sheathed her weapon. Her breathing was as calm as ever, but beneath her veil, her eyes burned with excitement. Bai Jianzhen did likewise, seemingly unchanged, but the way her fingers tightened slightly on the hilt betrayed her fighting spirit.
They stepped back together, neither having taken an actual wound, but both swords clearly sharpened.
Xu Pei exhaled a breath she didn't realize she was holding.
Ling Feng tilted his head toward the other side of the plateau.
"You and Pei," he said to Chen Baojiao, "your turn. Formation attacks."
Xu Pei jerked, clutching her cauldron to her chest. "F-formation… with me?"
"Who else?" Ling Feng's gaze slid over, steady and warm. "Your Violent Cloud Chant and her Immortal Springs work well together. One gathers power, one swallows and returns it. Try the pattern I showed you last time."
Chen Baojiao cracked her neck.
"This princess will not make you lose face," she said, stepping forward.
They moved to the opposite side of the plateau, where Ling Feng had casually placed a humanoid puppet carved from some unknown metal. The puppet stood still, yet the aura pooling around it made it seem heavier than a mountain.
Xu Pei took a deep breath.
Her life wheel spun; her Fate Palaces rose. Violent storm–qi boiled out from her body, but it no longer surged wildly like it once had. Under Ling Feng's corrections, her chant compressed the thunderclouds into tight, spinning rings around her arms and cauldron—like dragons forced into bracelets, each coil humming with destructive potential.
The air darkened above her. Lightning flickered in the low clouds, drawn to the rhythm of her breathing.
Across from her, Chen Baojiao's Immortal Springs roared to life.
Deep inside her body, an ocean of springwater surged, not gentle but tyrannical. Each spring was like a bottomless abyss, able to swallow any force, digest it, and send it back doubled. The ground faintly trembled in rhythm with her pulse; mist rose around her feet, carrying the scent of vitality and suppression.
Under Ling Feng's Chaos tempering, those springs had become even more terrifying—no longer just healing wells, but weapons.
"Remember," Ling Feng called. "Pei hits first. Baojiao, you eat the backlash and kick it back out. Don't be polite. If the formation survives, I'll buy you something sweet in the city."
Xu Pei swallowed. "What if it… explodes?" she asked weakly.
"Then I'll still buy you something sweet," Ling Feng said. "But you'll have to clean up the crater."
A nervous laugh escaped her. The fear in her chest loosened just enough to move.
She nodded. "Okay."
She set her cauldron down. The tripod's legs dug into the rock with a dull thud; runes crawled up its sides, glowing faintly in response to her qi.
Xu Pei raised both hands.
The Violent Cloud Chant rang silently in her bones. The clouds above the plateau spun, tightening into a vortex directly above her head. Lightning braided itself into thick, metallic-looking cords that hung down, connecting sky, cauldron, and her meridians.
"Go," Ling Feng said softly.
Xu Pei thrust her palms forward.
Thunder answered.
A compressed pillar of storm–qi roared out, its surface flickering with chained lightning, and slammed into the puppet's chest. The force was so concentrated that, instead of a noisy explosion, there was a deep, teeth-rattling boom like a giant drum being struck.
Shockwaves spread out in concentric rings… and then bent.
Chen Baojiao's Immortal Springs drank them.
The impact that should have crushed the rocks around them vanished at the edge of her aura. Waves of force were sucked into her body, refined in an instant, then surged back out in a different form—clear, heavy water that rushed forward in a single, focused torrent.
The water struck the puppet right as the lightning pillar began to fade.
For a moment, qi and water merged.
The plateau shuddered. Cracks raced out from the puppet's feet like a spiderweb; some stones were pulverized into dust. The puppet staggered back several steps, metal plating glowing red, arms raised in a reflexive block.
Xu Pei gasped, sweat beading on her forehead.
Chen Baojiao's eyes gleamed. "Again," she said.
Ling Feng nodded once, lips curving. "Better," he said. "But you're still leaking too much power at the edges. Pei, your compression can go tighter. Baojiao, don't just swallow; guide. If you two manage not to blow each other up, you'll be able to crush most so-called geniuses just by breathing in their direction."
Xu Pei flushed, but determination straightened her back.
The second attempt hit even harder.
This time, the sky responded violently. Clouds snarled, a dozen lightning dragons coiling as her chant compressed them into one spear-shaped bolt. When she released it, the air screamed; the bolt tore a gouge in the rock before it even arrived, the sheer pressure ripping stones free.
Chen Baojiao braced herself, Immortal Springs opening like a thousand mouths.
The thunder spear smashed into the puppet, and the rebound slammed into her chest like a mountain. She gritted her teeth, face shuddering for an instant as she swallowed it all, veins bulging at her temples. Then her springs spun faster than ever, refining that wild force, turning it smooth, heavy, inexorable.
She stomped.
A wave of water exploded out—no longer wild, but like an imperial decree. It picked up the remaining lightning, wrapped it, and drove everything into the puppet in one devastating surge.
This time, the puppet's legs half-sank into the rock. The plateau cracked along three separate lines, pieces heaving as though the mountain itself had been punched. If not for Ling Feng casually flicking his fingers to stabilize the underlying formation, half the cliff would have collapsed.
Below, on the lower path, the small group of young cultivators who had watched the sword duel earlier stood frozen.
"T-that…"
"Who are they…?"
"One named hero with four monsters," someone whispered hoarsely. "Cleansing… Cleansing Incense's prime disciple… could it be…"
Their voices trembled with equal parts fear and excitement.
On the plateau, Ling Feng narrowed his eyes, gaze running over the puppet, the cracks, the state of the two girls.
Xu Pei was panting, cheeks flushed, but her cauldron was steady, and her qi hadn't run wild. Chen Baojiao rolled her neck, sweat sliding down her throat, but her eyes were bright, and the pressure around her springs was already returning to normal.
He nodded.
"Good," he said. "That's about enough for now. If you keep going, the mountain will sue me for abuse."
Chen Baojiao snorted a laugh despite herself.
Xu Pei wiped her forehead, a smile breaking through her exhaustion. Ling Feng's praise was rare; each simple "good" from him weighed more in her heart than the cheers of a thousand alchemists.
...
By the time they left the plateau, the sun had climbed higher. The road below was busier than before.
Caravans, loose cultivators, sect escorts—they all flowed along the veins leading toward the Hundred Cities. Snatches of conversation drifted by like fallen leaves in a stream.
"…hear? That Cleansing Incense Ancient Sect…"
"…that little place from Sky Border? I thought it was already half-dead."
"Half-dead and then revived. Some freak of a prime disciple. Named Hero cultivation, they say, but he forced Heavenly God Sect to bleed in Ancient Sky City and smashed heavenly grottos like clay jars—"
"Don't exaggerate. How could a Named Hero…"
"I have a cousin in Heavenly God Sect. He said their heavenly grotto truly collapsed. Azure Mysterious suffered a loss as well. They're keeping it quiet, but all the old lineages already know."
As they drew closer, Ling Feng's group passed the speakers—two middle-aged cultivators and a younger one, all from some minor sect judging by their robes. They glanced briefly at Ling Feng: a relaxed youth with hands in his pockets, surrounded by four stunning women.
None of them connected that image to the rumor on their tongues.
Chen Baojiao's lips curled.
"Tsk. 'Freak disciple'," she said. "They're looking down on you."
Xu Pei's eyes were bright, almost shining with pride. "Feng… you're already famous…" she said, voice soft but full of joy.
Li Shuangyan's gaze slid to him behind the veil, a subtle warmth hidden in the coolness of her expression.
Bai Jianzhen stated in a flat tone, "If they knew it was you, they would not dare stand that close."
Ling Feng shrugged, amused.
"Rumors grow on their own," he said. "Let them talk. The important thing is Heavenly God Sect and Azure Mysterious shut up and stay home for a while."
Another scrap of talk floated over from a different group walking ahead of them.
"…I heard Heavenly Dao Academy is not the same as before."
"Shh. Do you want to invite trouble? That place has supported the human race since the Desolate Era. Even the War God Temple walks beside it."
"I know, I know," the first voice said quickly. "I'm not doubting it. I'm just saying, my uncle's junior studies there. He said the Protector hasn't been quite right these years—too quiet, too… restrained. Like someone with their hands tied."
"Rumors," the second scoffed. "Who dares speak of the Academy's Protector casually? If their disciples hear you, you'll be thrown out of the Hundred Cities before you step through the gate."
"I'm just saying," the first repeated, stubborn. "Even the heaven's ancestral vein around the academy… the qi is strange. Thinner in some places, thicker in others… like something is interfering with the flow…"
Their voices faded as they turned onto another fork in the path.
Ling Feng's eyes flicked sideways, following the direction of the distant Hundred Cities.
He smiled to himself.
Protector, huh, he thought. The Realm God that hasn't shown itself in tens of millions of years, but still wraps its tail around the academy's fate… and the Void Gate buried in its shadow.
The fact that whispers about the Protector's abnormal state had already begun meant the coming war was still lurking in the riverbed of fate, waiting to surface.
He had no intention of letting it play out exactly the same way.
But some pieces were useful. He would not break all of them.