Lightning raged above the courtyard, the night sky split by thunder. Feng Tianzhao stood like a living storm, thunder spear crackling in his hand. Yun Xiran's wind-blades sliced invisible lines through the air, hemming Haotian in from all sides.
"Swear your identity before the heavens," Tianzhao roared, "or face us as enemies of Azure Tempest Hall!"
Haotian's golden pupils flared. A cold breath escaped him, his aura swelling, bending the air itself. "Then so be it."
His fist clenched.
"Demon God Killing Martial Arts — First Strike: Fist of Ruin."
The air detonated as his fist came down. The courtyard stones cracked apart like glass under a hammer, shockwaves splitting the ground in jagged lines that raced across the peak. Space rippled, reality itself straining against the strike.
Tianzhao's thunder spear shattered instantly. He staggered back, eyes wide. "What—!"
Haotian didn't stop. His form blurred, golden light trailing his movements.
"Second Strike: Heaven-Piercer Step!"
He vanished. A heartbeat later, he was behind Yun Xiran, his foot driving a crushing kick that bent the wind cage until it collapsed with a deafening crack. She spun, unleashing a gale sharp enough to slice mountains — but his blow had already torn a seam in space itself, swallowing the attack.
"Third Strike: Void Fang Rend!"
His palm slashed across the air, claws tearing open a black seam that screamed with collapsing energy. The cut ripped through Tianzhao's lightning barrier like silk, the Sovereign forced to retreat, thunder exploding around him as he barely held form against the spatial wound.
"Fourth Strike: Bloodlash Howl!"
Haotian spun in midair, his heel crashing into the stones. A crimson shockwave exploded outward, ripping through the entire courtyard. Time itself seemed to stutter for an instant, the echo of his strike warping reality before mending.
Both Sovereigns staggered back, eyes wide in utter disbelief.
To shatter space. To rupture time. To rip through reality itself.
"This… this is not possible…" Yun Xiran whispered, her composure fracturing.
Tianzhao's face was pale, sweat beading along his brow. "No rogue cultivator—no Saint—no Sovereign can do this."
Haotian stood tall amidst the fractured courtyard, golden eyes blazing with calm fury. He raised his hand, and the storm seemed to bow to him, lightning dimming against the weight of his aura.
"Enough."
The storm went silent.
"You want my identity?" Haotian's voice rang through the broken air. "Then hear it."
He clasped his hands behind his back.
"I am the descendant of the Four Saint Dragons of the Zhenlong household. My sect is not nameless — it is the Moon Lotus Sect of the North. Months ago, we abandoned our old home and migrated south under my lead. We now stand as a division of the Eternal Yin Orchid Sect."
The Sovereigns froze, their auras faltering as recognition dawned. The weight of his words struck harder than any fist.
A direct descendant of the Four Saint Dragons. A leader who carried an entire sect south. The cultivator who shattered space and time before their eyes.
Haotian's golden eyes narrowed. "If you doubt me still… then come. But know this — every strike you saw just now was but the beginning. I walk a path even Sovereigns dare not tread."
The storm rumbled above, but the Sovereigns did not advance again.
The courtyard was still split with cracks where Haotian's strikes had torn stone, air, and even space itself apart. But the night had quieted. Haotian stood unmoved, golden aura fading as he turned and walked back toward his guest quarters.
Neither Tianzhao nor Yun Xiran followed.
When the guest doors closed behind him, the Sect Master and Madame remained in the shattered courtyard, the storm raging silently above them.
Yun Xiran broke the silence first, her voice low, tight. "We pressed him as if he were a child — and he shattered space and time in front of us."
Tianzhao's fists were still trembling, his face pale despite his Sovereign realm cultivation. "Those techniques… not even emperor realm cultivators break reality so casually. He wasn't bluffing. Every strike was meant to warn us."
"And his claim," Yun Xiran continued, her brows knitting. "Descendant of the Four Saint Dragons. Leader of the Moon Lotus Sect. And that sect has already merged into the Eternal Yin Orchid Sect."
The name echoed like thunder between them.
"The Eternal Yin Orchid Sect…" Tianzhao muttered, his storm aura flaring briefly before fading. "One of the South's great yin sects. Their mistress Xiangyin is already a Sovereign. If the Moon Lotus has truly joined them, and he leads them…" His eyes narrowed. "Then that division is more dangerous than half the hegemonies on the continent."
Yun Xiran's expression was grave. "A sect of seven hundred and fifty saints, now sheltered under the Orchid Sect's Sovereign, with resources enough to cultivate further. If he gives them Sovereign methods, if he forges them with his kind of power…" She shook her head. "Even the Central Continent would tremble."
The Sect Master fell silent, his eyes glowing faintly with lightning. "…We nearly made him our enemy."
The words hung like a stormcloud ready to burst.
At last, Yun Xiran exhaled, her voice softer but edged with steel. "We must change our stance. Treat him as honored guest — not prisoner, not pawn. If he truly prepares for a demon invasion, then standing against him will only doom us all."
Tianzhao's jaw tightened. He looked out over the tempest peaks, lightning flashing against his grim expression. "…Then we wait. See what he does next. But mark my words, Xiran: if what he said about the abyss is true, this continent has less time than we think."
The storm rolled above them, silent and heavy — as though the heavens themselves listened.
Feng Yueru had not been able to sleep. Ever since she returned to Azure Tempest Hall, the night storms had seemed louder, her heart restless with unanswered questions. Haotian's calm eyes haunted her — eyes that had seen too much, eyes that never wavered even when her father's thunder bore down on him.
When she heard the faint echo of her parents' voices carrying down from the storm courtyard, curiosity pulled her from her chambers. She slipped through the hallways like a shadow, robes rustling softly as she followed the sound of their debate.
The closer she came, the sharper their words grew.
"…he shattered space and time," her father's voice rumbled, low and shaken. "With nothing but his fists. Even an emperor does not make reality bleed so easily."
Yueru froze just beyond the courtyard arch, breath catching.
Her mother's voice cut through next, sharp and clipped. "And he names himself descendant of the Four Saint Dragons. Leader of the Moon Lotus Sect. That sect has merged with the Eternal Yin Orchid Sect. Do you realize what that means, Tianzhao?"
Yueru's eyes widened, her hand flying to her lips. The Moon Lotus Sect… the Eternal Yin Orchid… He… he leads them?
Tianjzhao's reply was harsh, frustrated. "It means we nearly made him our enemy. That boy carries storms far heavier than ours."
Yun Xiran's tone softened, though steel underpinned her words. "Then we treat him as honored guest, not pawn. If what he says of the abyss is true, the demons will soon rise. We need him more than we dare admit."
The storm above growled, lightning flashing white against the courtyard.
Feng Yueru stumbled back into the shadows, her heart pounding. A descendant of the Four Saints… the Moon Lotus Sect's leader…
She remembered his calm hands cooking serpent soup for her as though it were nothing. His blunt words, his golden eyes, his quiet strength. She remembered the way he had stood against her father without flinching, as though Sovereigns were but a breeze.
Her cheeks flushed, but not with embarrassment this time. Just who have I brought into my sect?
The storm raged on above, but in Feng Yueru's chest, a new storm was beginning to form.
The guest quarters were silent, save for the constant rumble of thunder beyond the cliffside. Lightning poured in sheets across the waterfall, painting Haotian's chamber in shifting silver and shadow.
Haotian sat cross-legged on the wooden floor, robes loose, his breath steady. Yet behind his calm exterior, his thoughts swirled like the storm outside.
I showed too much.
He replayed the clash in the courtyard. His fists cracking stone, his strikes tearing seams in space and time. The look in Feng Tianzhao's eyes — not just anger, but fear. Yun Xiran's composure breaking when she realized he was no ordinary rogue.
They'll never see me as a simple cultivator again. Descendant of the Four Saint Dragons… leader of Moon Lotus Pavilion… bound now to the Eternal Yin Orchid Sect. He sighed softly, shaking his head. I gave them the truth, but not the whole of it. If they knew Alter still lingers within me… if they understood the Demon God Killing Martial Arts…
His hands clenched into fists unconsciously. Golden light flickered faintly around his knuckles, then faded as he forced himself still.
"The moment I named the Moon Lotus, their calculations changed," he muttered under his breath. "What was suspicion before is now politics. They will weigh me as an ally or threat. Nothing in between."
He leaned back, gazing at the lightning waterfall beyond his window.
But it had to be said. If they kept pressing, a real fight would have destroyed half this sect. Better to reveal than to bury more corpses beneath thunder and wind.
His expression softened slightly. He thought of Yueru — her trembling form in the forest, her desperate plea not to die, her flushed face when she realized he had chosen to save her in the only way possible.
"…I wonder what she'll do when she learns the rest," he whispered.
For now, though, he closed his eyes, sinking deeper into meditation. His body needed rest, but his spirit sharpened like a blade. Every clash, every revelation, only confirmed one truth:
The demons would rise. And when they did, all these sect squabbles would mean nothing.
Lightning flashed once more, but inside the guest quarters, Haotian was calm, steady, unyielding.
A storm within a storm, waiting for the right moment to strike.
The Hall of Tempests was sealed once more, the storm beyond muffled by layers of formations. Sect Master Feng Tianzhao stood with hands clasped behind his back, his gaze fixed on the lightning spires outside. Yun Xiran sat at the long jade table, her fingers tracing invisible patterns in the air, her face calm but grave.
"He shattered space and time," Tianzhao muttered, his voice grim. "That art he used… those were not ordinary martial forms. They bent reality itself."
Yun Xiran's eyes flickered with unease. "And he spoke the name of the Moon Lotus Sect. We both remember what it was — a minor northern sect, barely holding against northern rivals. Yet now, merged into the Eternal Yin Orchid Sect with seven hundred and fifty saints, carrying a descendant of the Four Saint Dragons as their leader…" She shook her head. "This is no longer minor. It is power that could tip balances."
"Exactly." Tianzhao turned, his voice dropping to a growl. "If we embrace him, we risk drawing the Orchid Sect's gaze, tying our fate to theirs. If we push him away, we make an enemy of a force we can't measure."
Xiran's lips pressed thin. "Then we do neither. We maneuver. Treat him as honored guest, watch him closely, gather intelligence. If the demon invasion he spoke of is true, then our choice may not matter — all factions will be dragged into the storm."
Thunder cracked across the mountains, echoing their unease.
The next morning dawned gray, the tempest still clinging to the peaks. Haotian left his quarters quietly, intending to return to the library for study. His golden gaze was steady, his pace measured — until a familiar voice called from behind.
"Senior Brother Haotian!"
He turned. Feng Yueru bounded up the path toward him, her hair damp with mist, her robes neat but her smile playful. She stopped a little too close, peering up at him.
"You're hard to find," she said, hands on her hips. "Always hiding in some corner."
Haotian raised a brow. "I was not hiding. I was leaving."
"Leaving where?" she pressed.
"The library."
Her eyes lit up. "Perfect! You've seen the library, but not the sect itself. Come, I'll show you around."
Haotian blinked once. "I have no interest—"
"Too late!" Yueru grabbed his wrist before he could finish, tugging him down the path. "You saved my life. That means you owe me at least one day of company. It's only fair!"
Haotian sighed, resisting lightly, but her grip was insistent. The disciples nearby froze at the sight, whispering furiously.
"Senior Sister Yueru is dragging him—"
"Who is he, really?"
"Even the Elders treat him with caution, yet she—"
Ignoring the stares, Yueru pulled Haotian toward the training fields, chattering freely about the Hall's history, the tempest peaks, and her favorite hidden paths.
Reluctantly, Haotian gave in, allowing himself to be guided by the tempest heiress, though his expression stayed calm and unreadable.
Inside, however, a quiet thought lingered: This girl is far too fearless for her own good.
The storm clouds broke in scattered rays of pale light as Feng Yueru tugged Haotian down the winding paths of Azure Tempest Hall.
"Here, here," she chirped, pointing out a wide plateau where dozens of disciples trained beneath lashing arcs of lightning. The air smelled of ozone, their bodies wreathed in crackling chi. "This is one of our lightning fields. Every disciple trains here for endurance. Most can barely last a quarter-hour before fainting."
Haotian glanced over the plateau, his golden eyes sweeping across the arcs of thunder striking down into bodies already trembling with exhaustion. He hummed once, noncommittal.
Yueru huffed. "Don't just hum. Say something."
"It is… adequate."
She froze, staring at him. "Adequate?!" She gestured at the disciples still convulsing under the strikes. "They're fighting lightning, Senior Brother! That's not easy!"
"Then their foundations are poor," Haotian replied calmly.
Her mouth fell open. "…You really don't hold back, do you?"
From the side, whispers broke out among the training disciples, who had noticed the pair.
"Is Senior Sister Yueru… dragging him around?""Who is that man? Didn't Elder Xuan say the Sect Master himself called him a guest?""I heard he saved Senior Sister from a serpent. Alone.""No, no — I heard he shattered an elder's barrier with a single blow!"
Yueru ignored the whispers, tugging Haotian along. "Fine, fine. If that's only 'adequate,' then look here."
She brought him next to the storm-forged waterfall, where water fell in silver ribbons threaded with thunder arcs. The chi was so thick it tingled against the skin, every drop striking like sparks. "Now this is beautiful, isn't it?"
Haotian paused, watching the cascade of light and water. He inclined his head faintly. "…Acceptable."
Yueru groaned loudly. "Unbelievable. Do you even know how to compliment anything?"
"I prefer quiet."
"Well, you won't find any with me." She grinned, tugging him again.
Disciples along the paths stopped in their tracks, stunned. The proud heir of Azure Tempest Hall, daughter of Sovereigns, dragging a golden-eyed stranger through the sect as if he were her personal guest.
"Does she… like him?" someone whispered.
"She's never acted this way with anyone…"
"Father and Mother will explode."
As they passed another training square, Yueru leaned toward him conspiratorially. "Don't mind them. They gossip worse than sparrows. Just keep that stoic face of yours — it's almost funny how much it makes them squirm."
Haotian gave her a sidelong glance, unimpressed. "You talk too much."
"Good," she shot back with a playful smirk. "Someone has to, or else you'll bore yourself to death."
Haotian sighed softly but allowed her to pull him onward, his patience tested yet oddly unbroken.
Inside, though, he thought: She's reckless. But perhaps that fearlessness… is what keeps her alive.
The Hall of Tempests was heavy with stormlight. Sect Master Feng Tianzhao sat in silence, his thunder-etched throne vibrating faintly under the weight of his chi. Yun Xiran, the Sect Madame, stood by the lightning-carved windows, her eyes narrowed as she watched the tempest roll across the peaks.
An elder entered, bowing low. His voice carried both caution and urgency. "Sect Master, Sect Madame… the disciples whisper of something unusual."
Tianzhao's eyes cracked open, a spark of lightning flashing. "Speak."
"It is Feng Yueru… She has been seen parading the guest, Haotian, through the sect grounds."
The storm in the hall pulsed, thunder groaning faintly above the roof. Yun Xiran turned, her expression sharp. "Parading?"
The elder bowed deeper. "Yes, Madame. They say she dragged him by the wrist through the training fields. The disciples are whispering already — some with awe, some with… speculation."
Tianzhao's face darkened, his aura stirring like a stormcloud ready to break. "That reckless girl…"
Before he could rise, another messenger rushed in, nearly stumbling in his haste. "Sect Master! Sect Madame! New report—your daughter and the guest have been spotted heading toward the alchemy hall."
The hall fell into taut silence.
Yun Xiran's brows furrowed, her voice dropping low. "First the training fields. Now the alchemy hall. If he meddles there…"
Tianzhao's hand tightened on his throne, thunder crackling down the pillars of the hall. "We cannot allow him to stir our foundations unchecked. He's already shown power that rivals Sovereigns. If the disciples see him work alchemy—"
"They will compare him to their own Sect Masters," Yun Xiran finished, her tone like a blade.
Their gazes met, tension sharp in the charged air.
"Summon more elders to the alchemy hall," Tianzhao commanded at last, his voice rumbling like thunder over the peaks. "Do not interfere — but watch closely. Every movement, every technique. If he lays bare another facet of his strength, I want to know it before the whispers reach the Central Continent."
The elders bowed low and rushed from the hall, the storm's light reflecting in their anxious faces.