The skies above Tulsa's imperial palace churned as if the heavens themselves recoiled. Clouds twisted into spirals, thunderheads forming though no storm had been summoned. A ripple of qi spread across the land, heavy and suffocating, pressing down upon cultivators and mortals alike. Birds fell silent, beasts fled into forests, and even the rivers seemed to slow their flow.
Then, without warning, Jalen appeared. His aura folded inward, silent yet absolute, pressing down upon the palace like a mountain. It was not the flare of a cultivator's power, but something deeper—an oppressive silence that made even seasoned warriors feel as though their lungs had been crushed.
The guards stationed along the walls—Sage Realm experts, proud defenders of Tulsa's throne—reacted instantly. Blades gleamed, qi flared, battle cries rose. Their voices echoed against the marble walls, desperate to prove their loyalty. But before steel could clash, Jalen's spirit sense unfolded.
It was not a strike of flame or lightning. It was silence. Their spirit seas shattered in an instant, minds broken, bodies collapsing lifelessly. Dozens fell where they stood, corpses scattering across the courtyard. The marble floor was stained with blood, the air thick with the stench of death.
The weaker guards froze, their knees buckling. Elders and nobles trembled, their faces pale, clutching their robes as if fabric could shield them from annihilation. The slaughter of Sage Realm experts—men revered as untouchable—was accomplished without a gesture, without a flicker of aura.
Whispers rippled through the palace halls.
"Monster…"
"What manner of being is he?"
The emperor of Tulsa, Tamas Yale, seated upon his throne, felt his heart pound as Jalen barged into the throne room. The doors slammed open, their hinges snapping, and the air itself seemed to bow before the intruder.
He rose, his robes trembling with qi. His elders gathered behind him, faces drained of color. Five half‑step transcendent cultivators stood at his side, their auras sharp, but none dared move. They had seen Yellen fall overnight. They knew what this man was capable of.
Jalen stepped forward, his voice calm, polite, yet absolute. "You will hand over five billion gold coins," he said, "along with three hundred million cultivation equipment, spirit stones, and high‑grade offensive, defensive, and teleportation formations. All of it will be delivered to the Ron State today."
The emperor's teeth gnashed. "And if I don't?"
Before the words had fully left his mouth, Jalen moved. Luminal Edge flashed, and in less than a breath, the emperor's arm was severed. Blood sprayed across the marble floor, staining the throne dais crimson. The emperor staggered back, clutching the wound, frantically sealing the bleeding with qi. His face twisted in agony, his pride shattered.
"You will also hand over the crown prince," Jalen continued, his tone unchanged, "to serve as a servant to Emperor Ameer of Ron."
The emperor snarled, his voice hoarse. "No! That will be humiliation upon the royal family and this kingdom!"
Luminal Edge cloaked in lightning pierced his torso. The blade burned with flame qi, searing flesh and bone. The emperor vomited blood, collapsing to his knees. His court gasped, but none moved. Even the five half‑steps present dared not intervene. Jalen's speed was beyond them. His strikes were invisible, his presence overwhelming.
"I also heard," Jalen said, his gaze steady, "that you have a daughter you disowned. Locked inside the palace, unwanted because of her lack of talent and cultivation affinity. You will hand her over to me."
The emperor's lips trembled. "Anything else?" he grouched, his voice weak.
"Yes," Jalen said. "You will hand over one hundred Peak Immortal Realm experts and fifty Sage Realm experts. They will enter willing slave pacts, bound to Ron for a thousand years of servitude."
The emperor's face twisted in protest, but his words died in his throat. He dared not speak.
Jalen's gaze shifted to one of the half‑steps—a young man with snow‑white hair, his aura sharp and steady. "You seem to be the strongest," Jalen said. "You will protect the Ron State for a thousand years, even against your own emperor. If harm comes to Ron, if Emperor Ameer suffers so much as a scratch, I will not only hold you accountable but I'll make Tulsa into the next Yellen."
The half‑step trembled, his face pale. But then he straightened, his voice firm. "I will do as you say."
"Good," Jalen said. His tone sharpened. "Now you have three hours to prepare the compensation."
With his ultimatum delivered, Jalen's spirit sense swept through the palace. He located the crown prince—Rayan, the same young man who had once come to Ron as an envoy to test Ameer. Now, Rayan trembled inside his chamber, his aura faint, his body shaking. He had heard the screams, felt the slaughter, and knew his fate was sealed.
Jalen appeared before him in an instant. Rayan fell to his knees, his voice breaking. "Please… spare me elder… Father!" But no one came to his aid. The emperor's silence was louder than any plea.
Jalen's spirit sense swept deeper into the palace. He found her—the unwanted and youngest daughter of the Yale's emperor, Rena Yale. Beautiful and just turned twenty‑two years old. She had been locked away, hidden from sight, discarded because she lacked talent, because her cultivation affinity was weak.
Her chamber was cold, her robes plain. She sat alone, her eyes hollow. When Jalen appeared, she flinched, expecting punishment.
Her eyes widened, fright engraved in her expression. "Who are you…?"
"You have two choices," Jalen said. "Remain here or come with me. Choose right now."
"I'll come with you." Tears welled in her eyes. She nodded, rising to her feet. Though she did not know who this stranger was, she knew she did not want to be trapped in this room any longer. She did not know what dangers this man or the outside world held, but whatever awaited her could not be worse than this prison.
With the crown prince and princess in tow, Jalen left Tulsa behind, its palace broken, its emperor crippled, its court trembling. The echoes of his presence lingered long after he departed, a suffocating reminder that Ron was no longer a victim state—it was a rising power, and Jalen was its executioner.