A month had passed since Emperor Ameer had been reinstated upon the throne of Ron. In that short span, the palace and the state itself had transformed into a hive of activity.
Every day, Ameer rose before dawn and worked tirelessly to rebuild what had been broken. He summoned ministers, generals, and cultivators, demanding reports from every district. He listened to the cries of merchants who had been taxed into ruin, to farmers who had hidden their children from patrols, and to soldiers who had bent their heads under foreign command. His words were simple but resolute: "Ron will rise again. We will not falter."
The military was the first priority. Both mortal and cultivator armies had been fractured, scattered across the land. Ameer ordered recruitment drives in every city and village. Young men of Ron, eager to defend their homeland, flocked to the banners. Rogue cultivators, once wandering without allegiance, stepped forward to pledge themselves to the emperor. Even sect disciples and clan members who had remained neutral now joined, unwilling to be left behind in the tide of resurgence.
Within days, the barracks swelled. Training grounds echoed with the clash of weapons and the roar of qi techniques. The morale of the mortal army rose as they saw cultivators fighting beside them, their strength a shield against future oppression.
More surprising still, several Sage Realm experts—early and mid‑tier—emerged from hiding. For months they had concealed themselves, unwilling to risk Yellen, Tulsa and Tibet's wrath. But now, with Jalen's display shaking the continent, they stepped forward. They bowed before Ameer, offering their blades and their loyalty.
Ameer did not blame them or turn them away. He knew the truth: Ron had only six Sage Realm experts, his royal guards. For a state as vast as Ron, that was far too few. They needed more powerful figures to defend the land. And so he accepted them, elevating them into the royal guard, binding them to the throne.
Through it all, Jalen remained. His presence was a silent pillar, a reminder that Ron was not alone. His slaughter of Yellen's elites had sent tremors across the continent. Tibet and Tulsa dared not set foot upon Ron's territory. Yellen itself was in shambles—its royal family destroyed, its sects and clans tearing each other apart in a scramble for dominance.
Other states not directly involved in Ron's oppression—Rican and Lithia among them—sent envoys under the guise of assistance. They arrived in Alina draped in silks, bearing gifts of jade, spirit stones, and rare herbs. Their voices were honeyed, their smiles polished.
"May the emperor's reign be long," one envoy said, bowing deeply.
"Ron's resurgence is a blessing to the continent," another added, presenting a chest of gold.
But Ameer knew the truth. These were not gestures of goodwill. They were enquiries, probes sent to measure Ron's strength. They wanted to confirm if the Light Clan had intervened or if there was another party. It was the only explanation they could imagine for Ron's sudden resurgence. No one would guess it was the work of a single man.
They suspected Jalen, of course. His title as a light clan elder and past involvement in installing Ameer as emperor were known. But they did not believe he was strong enough to accomplish so much alone.
Still, Ameer accepted their gifts and their words. He smiled, bowed, and thanked them. He knew appearances mattered. Let them think Ron was open. Let them think they were welcome.
On the first of the next month, Jalen departed. His destination was Tibet. It's the capital city, Renaud, at the palace.
Despite their best efforts, Tibet's border fortifications were no match for a transcendent. Jalen breached them with ease. And he did not slip past unnoticed, as he often did. This time, he made his presence known. He shattered every defensive and offensive barrier deliberately, sending shockwaves across the land.
Eventually he arrived at the palace, crossing 17 million square kilometers in less than an hour.
Alarms rang through the palace as guards were on alert searching for intruders. But Jalen was already in the throne room. Royal guards surged forward, Peak Sage Realm experts with blades drawn and qi blazing. But before they could strike, a voice rang out.
"Hold," commanded the emperor of Tibet. His majesty Reni Renaud the second.
He had the shell of a young man with dark hair despite being over seven thousand years old, his aura sharp and oppressive. A half‑step transcendent, his presence was formidable. He stepped forward, his gaze steady upon Jalen. He could sense the truth: Jalen was in the same realm as him, and yet… more.
"Greetings, fellow Daoist," Reni said, his tone measured. "To what honor do I owe the visit of an elder of the Light Clan? You should have sent word. I would have prepared a proper welcome."
Jalen's eyes narrowed. His voice was calm, but it cut like steel.
"So you know who I am," he said, "yet you dare to touch what is mine. How very bold of you."
"That is not the case," Reni replied quickly.
"Then what is the case?" Jalen's aura pressed down, suffocating. "Do you think my disciple, Emperor Ameer, is so weak you can walk over him without consequence?"
"Of course not," the emperor said, his voice tight.
"Enough idle talking," Jalen snapped. "Here is what you will do for compensation. Every month, starting today, you will provide one hundred thousand gold coins, cultivation stones, and rare items to the Ron State. You will also send one hundred Sage Realm experts—early to peak—and two Sky Limit Realm experts. They will be bound under slave pacts. They will serve Ron for a thousand years before regaining freedom."
Reni's face twisted in anger. "That is too much!" he snarled, teeth grinding.
"Too much?" Jalen arched a brow. "The alternative is your entire lineage wiped out. Consider this mercy."
The emperor tensed. He remembered how Jalen shattered Tibet's top‑tier formation with ease and, most importantly, the fate of Yellen, annihilated overnight.
"Is that all?" he asked, voice trembling.
"No," Jalen said coldly. "Every one of your children, grandchildren, and great‑grandchildren will cripple themselves. They may do it willingly, or I will do it for them."
The emperor's eyes widened. "You would destroy my descendants—my bloodline?"
"I'm certain you have methods to restore cultivation," Jalen replied, his tone like steel. "But it will take them centuries to claw back their strength. And you still have yourself, along with the half‑step transcendents skulking in this kingdom's shadows. Why not reveal yourselves? Or must I drag you out?"
At that moment, eight figures stepped out—two women and six men, their auras sharp.
"Young man," one of them said, "please don't be so greedy—"
He did not finish. Lightning struck him, a blast so powerful it shattered stone and ripped through the palace, the explosion echoing for miles. Despite the emperor's best efforts to shield the palace, the shockwave's damage was immense. Within moments, thousands collapsed — some vomiting blood, others fainting outright. Even the royal guards, though they pulled back, were left broken and bleeding, unable to withstand the qi contained in that strike.
The other half‑step transcendents froze, their faces pale. None dared speak.
"Anyone else think I'm being unreasonable?" Jalen asked, his voice calm.
Silence.
"Good," Jalen said. "Now do as I say, or I may change my mind and destroy you all. You choose."
Reni bowed his head, his voice trembling. "Alright. Just… no more killing."
"Then summon your children, grandchildren, and great‑grandchildren. Bring them before me."
Within an hour, Emperor Reni's descendants to the fourth generation—numbering in the thousands—stood gathered before Jalen. Some obeyed the emperor's command and crippled themselves, while others, foolish enough to resist, attacked. Their recklessness was nearly fatal. Jalen did not kill them, but he shattered their cores and broke their bones.
The sight tore at Emperor Reni's heart and the elders', but they were powerless. They could only stand and watch.
When it was over, Jalen warned, "I look forward to my compensations."
"Yes. Of course," the emperor said quickly.
Jalen did not wait. He turned and left, his aura folding into silence. Only then did the palace breathe again. The guards collapsed, trembling. The emperor and the other half‑steps exchanged glances, their faces pale.
They knew the truth. This young man was not merely half‑step transcendent. He was beyond. He was in the legendary transcendent realm. And they were lucky he had been merciful and left them alive and their kingdom intact.