The journey out of the Evil Infested Ridge was notoriously a march through hell. In any other era, under any other leadership, this trek would be a blood-soaked gauntlet fraught with Heavenly Beasts hunting for marrow and lingering, ancient restrictions designed to crush the soul.
But today, with Ling Feng spearheading the formation, the oppressive atmosphere felt less like a death sentence and more like a mildly humid afternoon in Florida.
Ling Feng walked with a swagger that defied the laws of the cultivation world. The remnant aura of the Six Dao Sword still clung to him, invisible to the naked eye but blinding to the spirit. Combined with the sheer, alien density of his Chaos Energy, it acted as a universal "Do Not Disturb" sign. Beasts with wisdom high enough to sense fear cowered in their dens, shivering as the predator of predators strolled past.
As the crimson mist began to thin, replaced by the natural, azure sky of the Grand Middle Territory, the group naturally slowed. The transition was jarring—from the blood-red gloom of the ridge to the bright, unforgiving clarity of the outside world.
This was the parting point.
Chen Baojiao halted her steps. The sunlight caught the edges of her battle-worn armor, illuminating a silhouette that could—and had—toppled cities. Her beauty was calamitous, a force of nature that usually left men stuttering or scheming. But as she stood there, looking at the back of the man who had just decapitated a True God-level existence, she felt strangely small.
Ling Feng stopped and pivoted on his heel, hands shoved deep into his pockets, rocking back and forth with a casual rhythm.
"So," he said, popping the 'p' in a way that sounded utterly foreign to the ears of the Nine Worlds. "This is where the bus stops. You got a ride home, or are you walking?"
Chen Baojiao bit her lower lip, a rare sign of vulnerability from the fierce beauty. She looked toward Shi Gandang. The old man stood like a weathered granite statue, his eyes filled with a complicated, trembling light. He had seen Ling Feng shatter the sky. He knew that the man standing before them wasn't just a genius; he was a monster draped in human skin.
"Ling Feng," Chen Baojiao stepped forward. Her eyes, usually burning with arrogance, were now burning with a desperate determination. "What you said before... inside the Ridge. About my art... about my Physique."
Ling Feng's expression shifted. The playfulness didn't vanish, but a sharp, analytical intelligence pierced through it. He looked at her not with lust, but with the cold precision of a mechanic looking at a broken engine.
"Yeah. I wasn't joking," Ling Feng nodded, a smirk playing on his lips. "Your cultivation art? It's trash. No, actually, it's worse than trash. It's actively sabotaging you. You're practically strangling the potential of that Tyrannical Immortal Physique of yours."
He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a conversational, yet authoritative volume.
"Think of it like this, Baojiao. You're trying to run a Ferrari engine inside a beat-up Toyota Corolla chassis. You can push it, sure. You can go fast. But eventually? The frame can't handle the torque. The vibration will tear you apart, and the whole thing is gonna snap."
Chen Baojiao didn't know what a 'Ferrari' or a 'Corolla' was. The words were alien gibberish from a world she couldn't conceive. Yet, the intent behind the words slammed into her consciousness with the weight of a Dao Law. She felt the truth of it in her aching meridians, in the way her blood boiled too hot for her veins whenever she exerted herself.
Her face paled, the blood draining away to leave her looking porcelain-fragile. "Can you... truly fix it? The old ancestors of my clan said this burden is a sentence from the Heavens. They said it is the price one must pay for such calamitous beauty and talent."
"The Heavens?"
Ling Feng let out a scoff that was so dismissive it bordered on blasphemy. He jammed a thumb against his own chest.
"You saw what I did to that tree, right? That overgrown weed was basically a local deity. A landlord of death. And I turned it into a keychain." His eyes narrowed, glowing with a faint, emerald luminescence. "The High Heavens you guys are so scared of? They don't have jurisdiction over me. I'm out of network."
He invaded her personal space. It wasn't an attack, but it was aggressive. The intense, masculine scent of him—mixed with the sharp, ozone smell of crackling Chaos Energy—washed over her. It made Chen Baojiao's heart hammer against her ribs like a trapped bird.
"If we weren't standing in a swamp, I would have fixed it already," Ling Feng said, his voice dropping to a smooth, low register that sent a shiver down her spine. "It's not even hard. For me, anyway. I just need to rewire your meridians, flush out the trash impurities with some high-octane energy, and install a better driver. Basic maintenance."
"You... you would really do that?" she breathed, her voice barely a whisper.
"Sure. But you know the price."
Ling Feng grinned. It wasn't the polite smile of a Young Noble. It was a roguish, predatory charm that made him look less like a cultivator and more like a devil tempting a saint into sin.
"I don't run a charity, Baojiao. I'm building a team. A crew. And I want you on the roster." He leaned in closer, his eyes locking onto hers. "I don't want followers who bow. I want partners who can keep up. You join me, and I'll make sure you never have to bow to anyone—Man, Heaven, or Earth—ever again."
Chen Baojiao looked deep into his eyes. She saw the lust, yes—he was unabashedly open about his desire for her. But beneath that carnal appreciation, she saw a terrifying, bedrock confidence. A promise that if she followed him, the ceiling of the Mortal Emperor World would become her floor.
She took a deep breath, steeling her resolve.
"I agree," she said, her voice firm, resonating with the pride of her physique. "If you can sever my shackles, I, Chen Baojiao, will follow you to the ends of the Nine Worlds."
"Deal," Ling Feng beamed.
Before she could react, before Shi Gandang could even blink, Ling Feng stepped in and wrapped his arms around her.
It wasn't a polite, cultivator's greeting. It wasn't a bow. It was a full-body hug. He pulled her flush against him, crushing her armored chest against his own.
Chen Baojiao stiffened, her brain short-circuiting. Her face exploded into a shade of red that rivaled the blood mist they had just escaped.
Scandalous! Unheard of! In broad daylight!
But she didn't push him away. The warmth radiating from him was intoxicating, a chaotic comfort that made her knees weak.
"I'll hold you to that, Baojiao," Ling Feng whispered in her ear, his breath hot against her sensitive skin. "Go home. Pack your bags. Tell your clan to kick rocks if they try to stop you."
He released her, stepping back and flashing a peace sign—a gesture she didn't understand but instinctively associated with his chaotic charm.
Shi Gandang watched this interaction, his jaw slightly unhinged. He wanted to speak—to defend his Young Miss's honor, to quote some scripture about propriety between men and women. But then, the image of the Six Dao Sword cleaving the void flashed in his mind. He remembered the sound of a True God dying.
The old man wisely shut his mouth. He bowed deeply to Ling Feng—a bow of genuine respect and fear—and signaled Chen Baojiao.
"We will meet again," Chen Baojiao said, her voice trembling slightly. She gave him one last lingering look—a complex mix of annoyance, embarrassment, and profound longing—before turning to fly away with Shi Gandang.
As their figures disappeared into the horizon, becoming specks against the sun, Ling Feng felt two burning stares boring into his back.
"So," Li Shuangyan's voice was chilly, though if one looked closely, her flawless porcelain cheeks were dusted with a becoming pink. "She is here to stay? You act as if you have already engraved her name on the roster."
"Pretty much," Ling Feng turned, moving with fluid grace to wrap one arm around Li Shuangyan's slender waist and the other around Xu Pei. He pulled them into a group huddle, ignoring Li Shuangyan's half-hearted, symbolic struggle.
"She's better here than staying with some dusty Clan that wanted to sell her off to the Heavenly God Sect like cattle," Ling Feng said casually. "Plus, have you seen her? She's gorgeous. It's a win-win. A win for her, a win for me, and a win for the team."
"You are shameless," Li Shuangyan sighed, but she ceased her resistance, leaning into his touch. Her Pure Jade Physique, now enhanced by the traces of Chaos Force he had shared with her, hummed in happy resonance with his aura. It was an addiction she was rapidly failing to fight.
"Shameless is my middle name. Actually, technically it's 'Chaos', but you get the point," Ling Feng laughed, squeezing them gently.
Su Yonghuang stood a few paces away, her arms crossed over her chest. She rolled her golden eyes, but the corners of her lips twitched upward. "Are you done preening? We have a sect to return to. The Elders must be panicking. The portal has been closed for some time."
"Right, the Uber ride," Ling Feng snapped his fingers, releasing the girls but keeping a buoyant energy about him.
He looked at the group—the Seven Ghosts, his women, the loot-laden disciples.
"Brace yourselves. Daoist travel is for the average. Flying ships? Please. We're taking the express lane."
Deep inside his Inner Void, the Green Chaos Emerald—the master of Space—flared with brilliant, blinding light.
"Chaos Control!"
He didn't chant a mantra. He didn't burn blood essence. He simply punched the coordinates into the fabric of reality.
Space didn't just tear; it folded. The reality around the Evil Infested Ridge twisted like a wet rag. The horizon bent inward, and in a flash of emerald light that bypassed the laws of distance and time, the swamp vanished.
...
Cleansing Incense Ancient Sect, The Ancestral Hall.
The atmosphere in the hall was thick enough to cut with a knife. The First Elder and the other four elders were pacing back and forth, their robes swishing nervously. The incense had burned down to ash, and no one had bothered to light a new stick.
"If something happened to the Prime Disciple..." The First Elder muttered, sweat beading on his forehead. "If he died in there... the Sect Master is with him... this could be the end..."
VWOOM.
The air in the center of the hall displaced violently. It wasn't the gentle hum of a teleportation formation; it was the thunderclap of a vacuum collapsing.
A shockwave of emerald lightning crackled outward, knocking over several priceless ceremonial vases and sending the Third Elder stumbling backward.
When the blinding light cleared, Ling Feng stood there.
He was stretching his back, cracking his neck as if he had just gotten out of a cramped car. Flanking him were Su Yonghuang, Li Shuangyan, Xu Pei, and the Seven Ghosts. They looked pristine. Not a scratch on them. Their robes were clean, their breathing steady. In fact, their cultivation auras were so dense, so rich with absorbed essence, that it made the air in the hall feel heavy and metallic.
"Sup, old timers," Ling Feng waved casually, flashing a grin. "Did you miss me? Don't answer that, I know you did."
"Ling... Ling Feng!" The First Elder gasped, his eyes bulging out of his head. "You... you're back! How? The portal... the spatial coordinates were locked!"
"I took a shortcut," Ling Feng dismissed the question with a flick of his wrist. He walked up to the main seat—the Sect Master's throne. He didn't sit in it, acknowledging Su Yonghuang's position, but he leaned against the armrest with a casual disrespect that gave the traditionalists near-heart attacks. "Anyway, successful field trip. We did some grinding, cleared the trash mobs, killed the big bad, got the loot. Standard stuff."
"Grinding? Mobs?" The Third Elder blinked, his ancient brain struggling to parse the strange dialect. "What is this... 'big bad'?"
"Language barrier, don't worry about it. It's a generational thing," Ling Feng waved his hand dismissively. "Point is, we're rich. Like, 'buy the entire country' rich."
He looked at Li Shuangyan and the Seven Ghosts. "Dump it. Let's show them the haul."
The disciples hesitated for a second—the sheer value of what they were holding was terrifying—but they obeyed. They activated their spatial rings.
Clatter. Crash. Thud.
It started as a trickle, then became a waterfall.
Piles of Refined Jades spilled out, their purity so high they illuminated the hall with a soft, spiritual glow. Ancient Life Treasures clattered onto the floor like common junk. Longevity Spirits, thousands of years old and shaped like miniature dragons and phoenixes, wriggled in their containment seals. Weapons forged from the bones of Heavenly Beasts radiated a fierce, bloodthirsty aura.
And then, the heavy hitters fell.
"Is that..." The First Elder's voice cracked, squeaking like a prepubescent boy. He fell to his knees, his trembling hands reaching out to pick up a shattered piece of armor. It radiated a royal, purple intent. "Is this... the Nantian Royal Armor?"
"Oh, yeah," Ling Feng scratched his nose, looking bored. "Some loud guy named Nantian something-or-other tried to jump us. He had a lot of shiny stuff. Kept screaming about his status. He doesn't need it anymore."
The hall went deathly silent. The silence was absolute, heavy, and terrified.
"You... you killed Nantian Hao?" The Third Elder whispered, his face draining of all color.
"And his cronies," Ling Feng added helpfully, ticking them off on his fingers. "And those Jingzuo idiots. Oh, and I think there was a prince from the Azure Kingdom? That guy was a total coward, didn't even show his face after our first meeting. But yeah, if they stepped to me, they're in the dirt."
"This..."
The Elders looked at the mountain of treasure, and then at Ling Feng. The sheer quantity was enough to rival the treasury of a Great Power. There were items here that emanated the aura of Virtuous Paragons—treasures that could serve as the defining heritage of a sect.
"Where did all of this come from?" The First Elder asked, holding a Heavenly Beast Core that pulsed with terrifying energy, his hands shaking so hard he nearly dropped it.
"Corpses of Heavenly Beasts. Lots of them," Ling Feng shrugged. "We went deep. Found a tree. Killed the tree. Found a cave. Robbed the cave. You know, typical Tuesday stuff."
He pushed off the chair and stood tall. In that instant, the casual, slacker demeanor evaporated. It was replaced by the aura of a ruler—a Tyrant who looked down on the world from the clouds.
"Listen up," Ling Feng commanded. His voice wasn't loud, but it echoed in their souls. "This isn't for hoarding. I know you old guys love to stuff treasures in a vault and let them rot for 'future generations.' We aren't doing that."
He kicked a pile of Refined Jades toward the Second Elder.
"I want this stuff used. Upgrade the sect defenses. Fix the formations. Feed the disciples. If anyone hits a bottleneck, shove a Longevity Spirit down their throat until they breakthrough. I want everyone in this sect powered up."
"But... but Young Noble," an Elder protested weakly, clutching a scroll. "Such resources... they should be conserved for the next ten thousand years..."
"Conserve for what? The afterlife?" Ling Feng scoffed. "We're in a race, boys. And I like to drive fast. With the modified arts I gave you, plus this injection of capital, I expect the Cleansing Incense Ancient Sect to be a heavyweight contender within the year. Not a decade. Not a century. A year."
He turned to his girls—his true inner circle.
"We good here? I'm bored of meetings. Meetings suck. They're just emails that should have been sent."
"We have reported everything essential," Su Yonghuang said. She maintained her composure as the Sect Master, but internally, she was immensely amused by the Elders' faces. They looked like they had swallowed raw eggs, shells and all. She enjoyed watching Ling Feng shatter their rigid worldviews.
"Great. Time to celebrate," Ling Feng declared, stretching his arms over his head. "Pei-Pei, Shuangyan, Yonghuang. Let's go. I need a drink, some actual food, and some quality time with my beautiful girlfriends."
He reached out, grabbing Su Yonghuang by the wrist and beckoning the others.
"Wait, Young Noble!" The First Elder stammered, overwhelmed by the whiplash of terror and greed. "We must discuss the ramifications of killing the Nantian heir! The diplomatic fallout! The Kingdom will demand answers! They might declare war!"
Ling Feng stopped at the door. He didn't turn around completely; he just glanced over his shoulder. His eyes were cold, glowing with that alien, terrifying Chaos light.
"Let them come," Ling Feng said. His voice was calm, devoid of arrogance, stating a simple fact of life. "Tell them if they want answers, they can come find me. I'll put them in the ground right next to their kid. I've got plenty of space in the cemetery."
He walked out into the sunlight, leaving the Elders standing amidst a literal fortune, trembling with a potent cocktail of terror, ecstasy, and the realization that the Cleansing Incense Ancient Sect was no longer the sleeping sheep of the territory.
It was riding the back of a dragon. And the dragon didn't care about speed limits.