The golden silence of the Celestial Yang throne hall cracked with laughter.
Saint King Yang Daotian laughed as though the heavens themselves were a fine joke, the echo of his mirth bouncing off murals of dragons and sunbirds. Even the divine formation-lights flickered — unsure whether to tremble or shine brighter.
"Calm down, brother," Daotian said, still grinning, wiping a tear from his eye. "That little tale of the Qi Condensation cultivator — you remember? The one I mentioned? That was him. YinLong. Your son."
Emperor Yang Daolong's eyes, which could still storms and turn armies to ash with a glance, narrowed slowly. His aura dimmed instead of flaring, which for Daotian, was far more dangerous.
Daotian, ever the shameless younger brother, pressed on, teasingly:
"Who would have thought the great Saint Emperor of the Celestial Yang Dynasty, ruler of three hundred and sixty-three provinces and forty-four sect vassals, would nearly shake the heavens themselves for one son?
I dare say, if the other princes knew how their father's heart leans, they might start cultivating filial devotion rather quickly."
The Emperor's silence deepened — a heavy, oppressive calm. The air tightened like a drawn bow.
Daotian's grin faltered. "Ah… I may have gone too far."
The temperature in the room dropped a thousand degrees.
Daolong moved one hand. A casual gesture — but the world tilted with it. Space folded inward; divine sound vanished. A palm of golden light materialized above Daotian's head.
"Brother—wait—!" Daotian cried out, throwing up his hands, divine seals blazing as he blocked the blow. The impact still threw him back across the grand hall, shattering three golden pillars before he stopped mid-air, rubbing his head with an exaggerated wince.
He coughed once. "Still so violent, even after enlightenment."
Daolong said nothing. The power in his body faded, but the look in his eyes was far sharper than any weapon. "Speak," he said. "From the beginning. Everything."
Daotian floated back to the ground, smirking but respectful now.
"As you command, elder brother."
He clasped his hands behind his back, pacing slowly as he began.
---
"I have been watching YinLong for years," Daotian said. "You may have forgotten, but when Heaven Secrets spoke to us that day — when he told you to send the boy away — I volunteered to guard him.
Though, of course, that old monster Heaven Secrets never explains why he says anything."
He looked out toward the distant heavens, the light of memory flickering in his eyes. "I stayed hidden, bound by Heaven Secrets' own restrictions. I could not intervene directly unless the boy's life truly hung by a thread. For the most part, I merely observed."
Daolong listened without interruption, his finger tapping the armrest, his expression unreadable.
"After the boy left Monarch Falls city, he was cautious. Smart, for one so young. He fought several beasts — quite a few stronger than himself — and used every ounce of his wits to survive. The Heaven and Earth refined vine you heard me mention earlier… that thing was no ordinary plant."
Daotian paused. "Even I, a Saint King, could barely perceive it at first. Its presence was cloaked within the fallen Monarch Abyss, buried beneath layers of dead monarch qi and fractured Dao laws. When I finally did, I realized what it was — a fragment, brother. Not of this era. Something ancient."
Daolong frowned slightly. "Explain."
Daotian's eyes gleamed. "That vine was once part of a greater treasure — something close to a Primordial Refining Vine. Its roots could refine heaven and earth's essence into what it called 'god fruits.' Not mortal fruits. Not even immortal fruits. Fruits of fate itself. What we now call 'Heaven Refining Gourds' are perhaps its offspring."
He paced slowly, remembering the moment.
"When YinLong found it, it had already gathered enough power to form three fruits. I had thought to retrieve them myself, until I noticed the vine responding to his presence. His bloodline stirred it. It chose him, brother."
Daolong's eyes flashed once, but he said nothing.
"When he plucked the fruits," Daotian continued, "the vine released its final strength, turning into ash and leaving behind a seed. That seed merged into his soul-sea, fusing with his blood. A treasure that ancient does not bind lightly. I could feel its pulse even from afar. It was… acknowledging him."
He stopped, his tone turning low. "Then, something else happened. The abyss reacted. The moment his blood touched the vine, the surrounding Dao fragments — monarch laws, beast remnant qi, even fate essence — all shifted. It was as if the world itself paused, uncertain whether to destroy him or kneel."
Daolong's eyes narrowed. "And you let this happen?"
"I couldn't interfere," Daotian said simply. "Heaven Secrets' own oath binds me. Even so, he survived. Barely, but he survived."
He smiled faintly, proud despite himself. "That child of yours has a spine of forged metal and the heart of a mad gambler. When the vine released its essence, the three fruits were revealed — and even I could sense the level of their power."
He began listing them, his tone reverent:
"The first — a Sovereign-grade fruit, a Mutated Monarch Body Transformation fruit, containing a spiritual body of slaughter and mountain, and a beast bloodline of thunder and sword. The second — an Emperor-grade beast bloodline fruit. The third — one meant not for him, but for an unborn child. A future generation."
Daotian paused, chuckling. "The vine… was planning a dynasty."
The Emperor's brows twitched at that, but he remained silent.
"After that," Daotian said, "the boy was teleported out of the abyss by a talisman, but it malfunctioned. Instead of outside the Demon Beast Forest, he landed in the outer regions — still dangerous enough to end him ten times over."
He folded his arms. "I thought I'd have to intervene there. A horde of wolves surrounded him — led by a ninth-stage peak demon beast, a Windfang Wolf King. You know what kind of creatures those are — cunning, fast, fond of tearing apart cultivators slowly."
He smiled again. "But YinLong… that boy is your son. He fought like a cornered dragon. Used every artifact he had, combined elemental techniques I didn't even think possible at his stage. He used his Fireball and Metal Palm together — accidentally created an explosion that killed half the wolves. Then refined the combination mid-battle into a real technique — Scorching Metal Palm."
Daotian's voice took on pride. "Crude, unstable, but effective. He used it to burn through the Wolf King's skull. The very beast that had survived three minor cultivators and a Core Formation trapper before him."
Daolong's stoic face betrayed a ghost of approval — the faintest smile.
Daotian caught it. "I knew it. You can pretend you're calm, but your pride leaks, brother."
"Continue," Daolong said sharply.
Daotian coughed lightly. "After the battle, he collapsed. Nearly dead from exhaustion. I was about to descend when I felt another presence appear near him — an old man, cloaked in neutral qi. At first, I thought it was an illusion… but the man had the same aura Heaven Secrets once had."
The Emperor's gaze sharpened. "Heaven Secrets appeared again?"
Daotian nodded. "An incarnation. Weak, but unmistakable. He spoke to YinLong, tested his heart, and gave him a sealed scroll — a Dao technique that cannot be opened before Foundation Establishment."
He looked up at his brother. "Whatever Heaven Secrets plans, YinLong is at the center of it."
Silence blanketed the throne hall again. The immortal light carved through their stillness.
Daotian finally said, softer, "After that, he woke, sold his spoils, returned to his sect. He's alive, well… and if I may say, dangerous. That treasure, that vine, even Heaven Secrets himself — all seem to orbit him."
Daolong sat motionless for a long time. His aura was calm again, but deeper, colder. The kind of calm that was merely a pause between storms. "Heaven Secrets," he muttered, the name rolling like thunder hidden behind clouds. "That old monster moves again."
Daotian nodded. "And as always, we cannot guess what he wants. Only that he acts for the greater web of fate."
The Emperor stood slowly from his throne, his robes whispering like mountains shifting.
"Then I will prepare," he said, voice quiet yet vast. "If Heaven Secrets places his eye upon my son… then the heavens themselves will turn before harm reaches him."
Daotian laughed quietly. "And here I thought you'd scold me for meddling."
"I will," Daolong said, stepping past him. "After I tear apart whoever dares interfere with my bloodline."
The air rippled with saintly power again — not rage this time, but purpose. A father's vow forged in divine silence.
The throne hall dimmed.
Far above the Celestial Yang Palace, the first layer of the True Heaven shimmered faintly — as if watching.
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