Chapter 93: Chapter 93
The void rippled like disturbed water in a remote, forgotten corner of the Northern Continent, thousands of light-years away from the ruins of Fragrant Flower City.
The old man stepped through the jagged spatial rift, his boots hitting the damp earth of a limestone cave hidden deep within the heart of an ancient, overgrown forest.
He stumbled, the sheer weight of his injuries finally catching up to his Heavenly Saint foundation.
He didn't waste a heartbeat, and with his remaining hand, he flicked his wrist, sending out a dozen high-grade formation flags that embedded themselves into the cave walls.
A shimmering, translucent veil of Qi expanded, weaving together complex obscuration and sound-proofing runes.
He had to be absolute; he was currently in a realm administered by the Shen Clan, and the heavens that had protected them during the fight would not shield them from the divine sense of a vengeful Shen Haoran.
Once the formations were humming with stability, he unceremoniously dropped the unconscious Jiang Chen onto the cold stone floor.
The youth looked like a charred husk, his purple aura now a mere flickering spark deep within his chest.
The old man slumped against the cave wall, his breath coming in ragged, bloody hitches.
His left side was a gruesome sight—the bone of his shoulder was scorched black, and the Supreme's Sword Intent still hissed in his wounds like invisible acid.
He reached into his storage ring and pulled out a jade bottle containing Heavenly Rebirth Pills.
He didn't take one; he devoured the entire bottle, the potent medicinal energy exploding in his stomach like a miniature sun.
"That damn brat..." the old man wheezed, his voice a hollow rasp.
He closed his eyes, circulating his Qi with a desperate intensity to force the Supreme Intent out of his marrow. "Just how... how does a Golden Core brat have so many of those killing artifacts? A fragment of a Supreme's will? Just how much does the Shen Clan spoil him!? That was enough to slay a Saint, and he threw it like a common firecracker!"
Slowly, painfully, the miracle of Heavenly Saint regeneration began to take hold.
Under the influence of the pills, his cells began to knit together, and new muscle fibers wove across his exposed ribs, and a fresh layer of pink skin began to crawl over the scorched bone of his face.
It took hours of agonizing concentration, but eventually, his flesh was whole again.
However, the internal damage was profound; his soul-foundation was cracked, and his Qi reserves were dangerously low.
He opened his eyes and stared at the unconscious Jiang Chen, and for the first time, a seed of doubt began to sprout in his mind.
He wondered if the Sect Master of the Golden Cloud Immortal Sect had truly calculated the risks correctly.
Was offending the most ruthless clan in the universe truly worth keeping this one boy alive?
He thought back to the secret council meeting held in the High Heavens. The Sect Master, a man who had glimpsed the threads of the Great Prophecy, had been clear: "A young man, bearing the absolute fate of the world, will be born in the lower graveyard. He is the variable. He is the one who will eventually shatter the old order and rebuild the heavens. We must secure him, at any cost."
Because of that prophecy, this old man had risked everything to sneak into the Saint Burial Realm to protect and nurture the boy.
Usually, such a feat was impossible, after all, this realm was Leng Shuang's personal garden, monitored by her perceptions that encompasses twelve realms.
Anyone entering or leaving her domain would be flagged by the laws of space she personally authored.
But there was a single, tiny loophole.
When a high-ranking member of the Shen main line—like Haoran—descended with a Saint-level escort like Qing'er, the sheer mass of their "Upper Realm" karma would temporarily destabilize the local laws of the Saint Burial Realm.
It was like a giant walking through a doorway; for a few seconds, the frame would rattle, and the sensors would be overwhelmed.
The old man had used that split-second window of chaos to slip in unnoticed, masking his aura as a stray wisp of cosmic dust.
He had thought this would be a simple mission, after all He never imagined that the "Child of Fate" would be the primary target of the very person whose descent he had used as a distraction.
"The Shen Clan... they are arrogant, but surely they won't go to war over one minor target in a lower realm, right?" he whispered to himself, trying to find comfort in the silence of the cave. "It's just one guy. They have billions of subjects. Why would they burn the High Heavens for a single grudge in the Saint Burial Realm?"
He tried to rationalize it. After all, he hadn't actually harmed Shen Haoran or Qing'er; in fact, he had acted as a human shield, taking the brunt of the damage himself.
He was the victim here! The Shen Clan owed him an apology, technically!
Of course, he doesn't have the guts to demand explanations.
He let out a long, heavy sigh, his gaze lingering on Jiang Chen's charred form. "Sect Master... I pray to the heavens that you made the right bet. Because if you didn't... then the Golden Cloud is about to be eclipsed by a storm of blood."
*
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*
At this exact moment, back in the Imperial Capital of the Shen Domain.
Leng Shuang sat upon her golden throne at the apex of her thirteen-story pagoda. Her eyes were closed, her breathing deep and rhythmic.
She was in a state of deep resonance with the Saint Burial Realm, her consciousness drifting through the spatial ley lines.
Suddenly, she felt a sharp, discordant vibration. It was the feeling of a "tether" being cut—specifically, the defensive formation she had woven into the fabric of the Saint Burial Realm to protect her son.
She snapped her eyes open.
Her tyrannical aura erupted instantly, the pressure so great that the priests on the floors below were slammed into the ground, unable to breathe.
She reached into the air, and a crystalline communication artifact appeared in her hand, a high grade artifact so high it could transmit data across entire dimensions and through the heaviest spatial storms.
She stared at the message that flickered across the surface. It was a message sent by her nephew, detailing the interference of a foreign Heavenly Saint and the subsequent injury of Qing'er.
CRACK.
Leng Shuang's fist clenched so hard that the artifact that could survive a supernova—was crushed into a fine, sparkling powder.
The entire pagoda began to groan and shake.
The vibration didn't stop at the walls; it rippled outward, causing the entire Shen Domain to tremble.
Floating islands shifted in the sky, and the silver Qi of the atmosphere grew turbulent.
Within seconds, the space in front of her throne began to warp.
The Seven Enshrined Elders appeared first, their faces pale and confused. Then, in two separate flashes of light, Chu Xueyu and Feng Yuyan appeared, their expressions sharp with alarm.
"Leng Shuang! Calm your anger!" the First Elder shouted, his white hair whipping around his face. "You are destabilizing the clan's core formation! Tell us what has happened to cause such a breakdown!"
"Sister," Chu Xueyu stepped forward, her golden eyes flashing with a mother's instinctual dread. "Did something happen to Haoran? Is he hurt?"
"Surely not," Feng Yuyan added, her brow furrowed as she scanned Leng Shuang's face for a sign of grief. "With Qing'er there, no one in that lower realm could touch him."
The Seven Elders stood in a semicircle, their auras flared in defense against Leng Shuang's leaking pressure.
They waited for her to speak, the silence in the hall heavier than a lead casket.
Finally, Leng Shuang took a breath, the tyrannical light in her eyes cooling into something far more dangerous: a cold, focused intent to kill.
"Those bastards from the Golden Cloud Immortal Sect," she hissed, her voice sounding like the grinding of tectonic plates. "They have invaded my domain. They have bypassed my borders, interfered in my internal affairs, and dared to raise a hand against my nephew's execution of justic, and most importantly, hurt Qing'er!"
"What!?"
The reaction was instantaneous as the hall erupted in a chorus of outrage.
Even the First Elder, who spent his days plotting to diminish the main line's influence, felt a surge of genuine fury. In the Shen Clan, there was one law that superseded all politics, all grudges, and all bloodlines:
The Shen may bleed each other, but the world is not allowed to touch a Shen.
"The Golden Cloud?" Feng Yuyan's eyes turned a dark, sickly violet. "Those third-rate 'cultivators' who think they are holy because they hide behind a wall of fog? They dare to enter our backyard and play hero?"
"They interfered?" Chu Xueyu's voice was soft, but the temperature in the room plummeted to absolute zero as her Dao of Slaughter began to hum, a sound like a million screaming ghosts. "They stopped my son from finishing his work? And they hurt Qing'er?"
Leng Shuang nodded, her gaze fixed on the space where the mirror had been. "If they want to interfere in our affairs, then we shall give them the only response the Shen Clan knows."
She looked at the Seven Elders, then at her sisters. "War. Total, unyielding war. We will erase the Golden Cloud from the maps of the High Heavens until not even the memory of their name remains."
The First Elder stepped forward, his previous hesitation gone as he cupped his hands. "The Grand Enshrined Hall supports the decree. Mobilize the legions. We shall show the universe why the Shen Clan is the only heaven they need to fear."
At this moment, Shen Clan was truly and absolutely, united.
Chapter 94: Chapter 94: Prelude to War
The quiet, incense-choked air of the Sect Master's inner sanctum at the Golden Cloud Immortal Sect was shattered not by a bell, but by the frantic, echoing footsteps of a panicked disciple.
The Sect Master, an 8th Stage Heavenly Saint whose white hair and beard flowed like a silk waterfall over his embroidered robes, didn't even open his eyes at first.
He remained like a statue of meditative calm, his consciousness drifting through the ethereal layers of the High Heavens.
"Sect Master! Sect Master! Emergency! There's an absolute emergency!" the disciple shrieked, skidding across the polished white jade floor and collapsing into a heap of robes and terror.
The Sect Master slowly opened his eyes, the pupils flickering with a cold, ancient light. "Calm yourself, child. The heavens are vast and the earth is stable. What could possibly warrant such a loss of composure? Has the boy I asked Elder Ji to monitor encountered some minor troubles in the lower Saint Burial Realm? Did a local beast dare to snap at him?"
"Even worse! Sect Master, the Shen Clan... they are mobilizing their army!" the disciple wheezed, his face pale as death. "The entire Shen Domain is vibrating with war-drums and war cries! They have officially issued a Decree of Eradication against our sevt! They said they will erase the Golden Cloud Immortal Sect from the maps of the universe for the 'unpardonable interference' in their private domain!"
Hearing that, the Sect Master's serene expression didn't just fade; it disintegrated.
He then stood up so abruptly that the golden throne beneath him cracked. "What!? The Shen Clan? Mobilizing against us? Over a single intervention in a lower realm?! Are they stupid!? They will go to war with us over something so trivial!?"
Before he could even process the magnitude of the disaster, the spatial barriers of the hall were torn asunder and even distinct, suffocating auras erupted into the room.
They are the Seven High Elders of the Golden Cloud.
These were old men whose power ranged from the 4th to the 7th Stage of the Heavenly Saint Realm, the true backbone of the sect's military might.
The strongest of them, a 7th Stage Heavenly Saint with eyes like burning coals, didn't bother with etiquette as he blurred across the distance and grabbed the Sect Master by his ornate collar, lifting him nearly off the ground.
"You bastard!" the High Elder roared, his spit flying into the Sect Master's face. "This was the 'completely safe bet' you mentioned!? You told us the Shen Clan was too busy with internal politics to care about a scrap of destiny in the Saint Burial Realm! For the sake of a brat—a literal mortal child—you have invited those three bloodthirsty lunatics and their entire clan to our front gates!? How idiotic can one man be!? How idiotic can YOU be!?"
"This... I... I don't know what happened!" the Sect Master stammered, his hands shaking. "I calculated the threads of destiny several times! I even consulted the Ancient Star Chart just to make sure! And all the signs pointed to this being a hidden opportunity! It was supposed to be the fastest way for our sect to rise to the level of a Hegemon with little to no risk! The boy is the key to the next epoch! Nothing should've gone wrong!"
"Well, your calculations was wrong!" the Elder snarled, his grip tightening until the Sect Master's face turned purple. "And now the Shen Clan is marching to our gates! And they certainly aren't asking for an apology! They are coming for our throats! They are out for our blood!"
He shoved the Sect Master backward, sending him stumbling against his throne, and delivered a stinging slap across his face that echoed like a thunderclap. "You bastard! Bastard! Why did we ever choose a gambler like you to lead us!? You better spend your remaining hours preparing our disciples for a meat grinder! The Shen Clan doesn't take prisoners, and they certainly don't listen to excuses!"
With a chorus of disgusted snorts, the seven elders turned and vanished into the void, their auras leaving behind a scent of ozone and impending doom.
The Sect Master sat in a daze, the cold jade of the throne feeling like ice against his back and a single bead of sweat rolled down his forehead and splashed onto his hand.
He slowly slid off the seat and fell to his knees, staring blankly at the floor.
He regretted it. He regretted it with every fiber of his being.
Why had he let greed cloud his judgment?
Why had he thought he could outmaneuver a family that had forced the heavens to kneel?
The "fate" he had tried to steal now felt like a noose tightening around his neck.
Unfortunately for him, and for the thousands of disciples currently sharpening their swords in total ignorance, there are no medicines for regrets in this entirety of university.
*
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Of course, the news of the Shen Clan's mobilization didn't just stay within the clan domain, but it had rippled through the Imperial Capital like a tidal wave of fire.
Every major force, every hidden sect, and every merchant guild shook in collective shock.
The Shen Clan hadn't declared a formal war in nearly thirty thousand years, and the last time they did so, the current Imperial Family rose to power!
At this moment, in the heart of the Imperial Palace, the Emperor of the Tian Yuan Empire sat at his desk, staring at the reports.
His face was a mask of stoicism, but his fingers drummed a restless rhythm on the dark wood. "The Shen Clan... declaring war over a lower-realm dispute? How troublesome. Those sisters are going to turn the High Heavens into a slaughterhouse, and I'll be the one left to clean up the rubble."
But he tossed that report to the side.
That war would be over in awhile, there is no need to spend time thinking about it.
He has more work to do.
*
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Meanwhile, in a district of the capital that never slept, a sprawling maze of red lanterns, floating silk curtains, and the scent of intoxicating perfumes, a different kind of power watched the storm.
At the highest floor of a tall, golden tower, a room draped in crimson velvet and lit by floating spirit-candles housed a woman whose beauty was considered a natural disaster.
She had long, flowing white hair that pooled on the red bed like spilled milk, and atop her head were two fluffy white fox ears that twitched at the sound of distant war-horns.
Behind her, nine magnificent white fox tails swayed lazily, each one representing a different mastered law of the universe.
She wore a robe so revealing it would have caused a heart attack in any mortal, lying back with a bored expression.
A female servant knelt at the foot of the bed, her head bowed so low she was practically kissing the floor.
"The Shen Clan? Again?" the Fox Queen asked, her voice a sultry, dangerous purr. "Are those crazy sisters up to something again? Seriously, that family has more than a few screws loose. Chu Xueyu probably broke a fingernail and decided an entire sect needed to cease existing."
Only someone with her level of power—the Sect Master of the Blissful Immortal Coupling Palace—could speak so offensively about the Shen Clan without worrying about her head being separated from her shoulders.
The servant trembled, her voice small. "They say... they say a Heavenly Saint from the Golden Cloud entered Lady Leng Shuang's realm and even interfered with the Young Master Shen Haoran's mission, Mistress."
"Oh, so they touched the pup? Well," the Fox Queen chuckled, a sound like silver coins clinking together. "I guess that sect is already dead, they just haven't stopped breathing yet. Those three are incredibly overprotective of their son and nephew."
*
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At this moment, the massive military field of the Shen Domain was a sight that would have made an army of gods hesitate.
Chu Xueyu stood at the center of the massive floating plaza, her white robes billowing.
To her left was Feng Yuyan, her eyes glowing with a violet, scientific hunger.
To her right was Leng Shuang, the twelve realms hidden within her humming with a suppressed, tyrannical resonance.
Before them stood the Shen Clan Military.
This was not the Shadow Guard, after all, they belong personally to the three sisters and Haoran.
These millions of soldiers are drawn from the branch families and the thousands of subservient worlds the Shen Clan ruled.
These were warriors who had fought their way out of their own lower realms to prove their worth, each one a veteran of a thousand battles.
For the first time since the dawn of the current epoch, the banners of the Shen Clan were raised in a formal declaration of total war.
The Shen Clan's insignia painted on a flag fluttered with the wind, and seemed to glow with a blood-red light as the millions of soldiers let out a synchronized roar that shattered the clouds above the Imperial Capital.
"Today," Chu Xueyu's voice carried to every ear, "the world remembers why we are the masters of the light and the dark. The Golden Cloud may think that they could interfere in our garden. They are wrong. And we shall show them that our garden is fertilized with the ashes of fools."
Chapter 95: Chapter 95: Thoughts
The silver-tinted twilight of the night sky filtered through a room in the Ling Clan's palace through the heavy silk curtains, casting long, dancing shadows across the polished floor.
The air was shrouded with the scent of burning spirit-incense and the bitter, medicinal tang of the "Soul-Knitting Salve" Haoran had applied to the unconscious shadow guard.
Qing'er's eyelids fluttered, her breath hitching as she groggily opened her eyes.
Every fiber of her being felt as though it had been threaded with burning hot needles; the dark gold lightning of the world's core had left a lingering, numbing ache in her Saint-realm meridians.
She found herself in a sprawling, opulent chamber, lying upon a bed of cloud-silk that felt unnaturally soft against her bruised skin.
"Where...?" She spoke, feeling the dryness in her throat.
"Are you alright?" a voice asked. It was calm, steady, and carried an undertone of rare, quiet concern.
Qing'er's eyes instantly widened as the fog of unconsciousness vanished and the memory of the golden bolt shattering her dome and the Young Master's face as she fell flooded back.
With a gasp of panic, she ignored the screaming protest of her muscles and scrambled off the bed.
She didn't just stand, but had instead dropped to her knees in a single, fluid motion, her forehead nearly touching the floor as she knelt before Haoran.
"Young Master! I beg your forgiveness!" her voice trembled with a rare emotion—shame. "I failed you. I allowed that trash to escape. I allowed an outsider to interfere. My life is a forfeit for this incompetence—"
"No, no need to apologize," Haoran said, his hand extending to grip her shoulder, firmly stopping her from kowtowing further as he pulled her up, forcing her to sit back on the edge of the bed. "I was the one who underestimated the situation. I didn't realize just how blatantly unfair the heavens are toward their favored children. It wasn't your weakness, Qing'er, just think of it as the world itself cheating to protect its pet."
Haoran walked toward the window, looking out at the jagged abyss his sword intent had carved into the continent.
His brow was furrowed, his golden eyes reflecting a deep, analytical frustration as he couldn't help but wonder: Are these 'Anomalies' truly unkillable? Are those Anomalies realy so ridiculous that even a Supreme's intent can be diverted by a well-timed lightning bolt?
No. That couldn't be right. If they were truly immortal, then the anomaly he had ordered Qing'er to kill in the Eastern Region would have survived.
There is no reason for the heavens to favor one over the other.
After all, the heavens only wanted one anomaly to succeed, why bother creating others? Just dump all the Heaven's luck to that one person and watch them rise; completely invincible.
"Qing'er," Haoran said, his voice dropping into a thoughtful murmur. "Do you still remember that anomaly, the one named Chu Fang, that I ordered you to kill back in the Cao Yin Kingdom?"
Qing'er frowned, her mind racing through the thousands of lives she had snuffed out in service to the Shen name, and after a few seconds, she gave a short, decisive nod. "Yes, Young Master. The one who claimed to have 'returned' from a future that never happened. Is there... is there a problem with his soul-remnants?"
"No," Haoran replied, turning back to face her. "I'm thinking about the mechanics of his death. Do you remember exactly what happened before you struck the killing blow? Did the sky roar? Did a Heavenly Saint descend from the clouds to save him? Did he have a sudden, inexplicable breakthrough that pushed you back?"
Qing'er searched her memory. "None of that, Young Master. He was... pathetic. He had been framed by his enemy's arrangements, humiliated in front of the whole academy, and thrown into the lowest light-less prison. When I arrived to execute him, he was screaming about 'revenge' and such, but he had no defensive aura, no luck to speak of. I simply killed him quite easily, and he died like any other mortal."
Shen Haoran furrowed his brows, pacing the room.
The discrepancy was glaring. Jiang Chen had been protected by the very fabric of reality, yet Chu Fang—who possessed the knowledge of the future—had died like a dog in a ditch.
What was the difference?
He began to dissect the variables.
Chu Fang, if he remembered it correctly, was Ning Xueli's junior, and in his "original" timeline, Xueli had been the one to protect him from bullying, and in return, he had worshipped her as his goddess.
When he had returned to the past, he had also express the intent of "claiming" her before anyone else could.
Which means... Xueli was his Heroine.
And during the time of Chu Fang's death, where was Ning Xueli? She was by Haoran's side, enjoying the pleasures of the flesh for the first time in her life, probably already losing her rights to be a Heroine.
After all, one of the most common traits of a heroine was not only beauty, but also their chastity.
With Xueli losing her virginity to him, it was like a declaration that she is abandoning that status.
A chilling thought took root in Haoran's mind.
Was that the reason? A girl?
On the surface, it seemed ridiculous—that the fate of a world-shaking anomaly could hinge on a single woman.
But as he analyzed the "Protagonist" tropes he had read about from the memories of his cousin, the logic actually began to stitch together.
Chu Fang was a time traveler. When he arrived back in the past, he had only been there for a few days, so his 'Luck' was at its absolute nadir; he hadn't yet looted any ancient tombs or swallowed any precious herbs, basically, he hadn't had the time to strengthen himself.
In that early stage, the only way for a protagonist to stabilize their flickering luck is to "cling" to a high-luck individual, and for Chu Fang, that was Ning Xueli.
She was the source of his initial momentum.
But Haoran had intervened, and he had taken Xueli, the "Heroine," and placed her by his side, and in doing so, he hadn't just taken a girl; he had effectively cut off the "Luck-Source" of the protagonist.
Without his anchor, Chu Fang's destiny became ungrounded, allowing a Saint like Qing'er to bypass the world's protection and kill him without interference.
Jiang Chen, however, was different.
He was already a "reincarnated" old monster, and even if he was in a trash body, his soul-luck was established.
And more importantly, he still had Heroines he hadn't met, and also that guardian protecting him, unlike that Chu Fang who was a trash that was reborn with nothing.
Haoran's eyes grew cold as he reached a terrifying conclusion.
In the early stages, the protagonist's luck is not self-sustaining, or rather, their luck are still small that they needed help until they obtain opportunities to strengthen their luck.
And if he had to guess, one of the ways for the protagonist to strengthen their luck is that they take the innate luck of those around them and funnel it into themselves to fuel their own 'defiance' of the heavens.
So, it isn't just that they are lucky themselves. They are just taking the luck of others for themselves.
It's basically a parasitic relationship.
if you think about it, in every novels, what happens to those around protagonist?
The Heroines, before meeting the protagonist, might still be high and mighty saintess, but after coming into contact with the protagonist for long periods of time, they are almost in a constant damsels in distress, sometimes their sects are burned down, and sometimes their families are slaughtered.
The 'Brothers-in-Arms' who swore brotherhood with the protagonist sometimes die tragic deaths just to give the hero a 'rage-boost.'
Before they met the 'Protagonist,' these people were usually favored children of heaven, living high and mighty lives. But after? They become fuel for the protagonist rise to power.
Which means, they have lost all their luck.
They are not even anomalies anymore, they are just parasites!
They consume the destiny of their own world to sustain their own narrative!
This realization changed everything. If the protagonist was a parasite, then the way to kill them wasn't just to strike them with a sword—it was to starve them.
It was to take away their "Hosts."
Shen Haoran looked toward the direction where the Golden Cloud Elder had vanished with Jiang Chen as a cold, calculating smile spread across his face.
"Jiang Chen survived because the heavens still see a 'future' for him. He still has 'Luck-Hosts' he hasn't drained yet." Haoran turned to Qing'er, his expression turning into one of absolute command. "Rest for one more hour, Qing'er. We aren't going to hunt the rabbit directly anymore. We are going to find every 'Heroine' and every 'Lucky Opportunity' this world has to offer, and we are going to take them for the Shen Clan. I will even take away his physique and leave him with nothing but his own useless, trash body."
Qing'er stood up, her sore muscles forgotten as she bowed deeply. "I understand, Young Master."
"Heh," Haoran chuckled, looking at the dark gold sky. "Let's see how long the 'Heavenly Favor' lasts when there's no one left to steal it from."
Still, for that Jiang Chen to survive, it must've taken a lot of his luck, or maybe he even exhausted all his luck, forcing the heavens to take away the luck of others to supplement his just so he can escape.
If that's the case, then he wondered just who is it the heavens stole the luck from?
Unknown to him, due to his letter, in the upper realm, The Golden Cloud Immortal Sect was being razed to the ground.
Chapter 96: Chapter 96: Huo Yue And Friends
The humid, heavy air of the Southern Region's deep forests felt like a thick blanket, pressing down on the three exhausted travelers.
High above, the canopy of the giant tree they rested under was so dense that only jagged needles of sunlight managed to pierce through, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the stagnant air.
Huo Yue, Medusa, and Zhu Ziyan were a sight that would have shocked any observer.
These were women who usually radiated power and ethereal grace, yet now they looked thoroughly "beat up."
Their robes were torn in places, stained with the purple ichor of the demon that had hunted them, and their hair, once pristine, was now a chaotic mess of tangles and leaves.
"I'm done with this! I am officially done!" Medusa snapped as she surged to her feet, her eyes shimmering with a dull, frustrated light as she pointed a trembling finger directly at Huo Yue's nose. "You! This is all because of you! Because of your 'spirit of inquiry' and your 'rebellious heart,' we were chased around these woods like stray dogs by that... that thing! Why did we ever agree that you should be the one to lead us, huh!?"
Huo Yue didn't look even remotely repentant as she leaned back against the massive root of the tree, lazily massaging her chest through her tattered red robes as if to emphasize its volume as a smug, cat-like smirk spread across her face. "I told you already, Queenie. It's because in this group, I'm the one with the biggest 'virtue.' It's a matter of cosmic balance. Come talk to me about leadership when you've reached at least an E Rank."
"You—!?" Medusa's jaw dropped, ber face turned a violent shade of crimson, her teeth gritting so hard a faint grinding sound echoed in the clearing.
She then looked down at her own chest—respectable, but certainly not matching Huo Yue's "virtue"—and found herself momentarily speechless.
In the world of cultivators, logic was often dictated by strength, but Huo Yue's logic was dictated by... other metrics.
"Xueli is bigger," Zhu Ziyan muttered from the sidelines.
The cat-girl was busy picking burrs out of her tail, her ears drooping with exhaustion.
"Who?" Huo Yue turned toward her, her smirk faltering into a look of genuine confusion. "Who the heck is Xueli?"
Ziyan paused, looking up with a blank stare. "Your fiancé didn't tell you? Ning Xueli. She's the girl Haoran brought with him from the Eastern Region to the Central Region. She's my friend, and also went on the same academy as me. She is very beautiful and... well, she's very 'virtuous'."
Huo Yue went still as she combed through her memories, recalling a brief mention from Haoran about an "interesting anomaly" he had found in a backwater city.
She didn't really care much about that said girl when he mentioned it, as she focused more on the fact that Haoran was enjoying his time with another woman while she was going on an adventure.
But now, the competitive fire in her eyes was ignited.
"Bigger than me?" Huo Yue asked in a tone of wounded disbelief a she rubbed her breasts once more, looking down at them as if they had betrayed her. "Bigger than these? Are you sure your feline eyes haven't gone blurry from all that running?"
Ziyan tilted her head, considering the visual comparison with the seriousness of a grandmaster evaluating a high-tier artifact. "Probably around the same size... no, actually, maybe a little smaller? But she carries herself with a lot of 'weight'."
"Heh." Huo Yue's arrogant smirk returned in full force, her confidence restored as she stood up and brushed the dirt off her backside. "As I expected. No one in the four regions has a bigger virtue than me. It's a divine gift. So, unless either of you can surpass my measurements, you two should just shut up and obediently follow my lead."
"Enough of this nonsense!" Medusa glared at them, her aura flaring briefly. "Boobs aren't going to get us out of this forest. Because of that demon's final attack, our storage rings were completely compromised. The internal dimensions imploded, and our items were scattered into the void. We are, for the first time in our lives, completely and utterly penniless."
"And we need money to eat," Ziyan added, her stomach letting out a timely, pathetic growl.
Contrary to the popular belief held by mortals, Cultivators—even powerful ones—needed to eat.
In fact, the more powerful a Cultivator was, the more specialized their nutritional needs became.
This was why "Gourmet Hunter" was considered one of the Great Professions, standing alongside Alchemists and Artificers.
A Cultivator's body was like a high-performance engine, constantly circulating Qi, resisting the pressure of natural laws, and regenerating cells at an accelerated rate.
All of that required massive amounts of raw metabolic energy.
While they could technically use their stored Qi to keep their organs functioning without food, doing so was a desperate measure.
It was like burning the furniture to keep the house warm; the body would eventually begin to "eat itself," consuming muscle and marrow to maintain its structure.
Qi was energy, but it wasn't matter. It couldn't create blood or bone out of nothing.
Huo Yue patted her red robe, her eyes gleaming with a sudden, mischievous inspiration. "Well, I guess we have no choice but to 'acquire' some capital. It's time for some professional redistribution of wealth. Come on, follow me!"
Medusa and Ziyan exchanged a wary glance, but they had no better ideas so they can only followed Huo Yue through the thicket until the forest thinned out, revealing a wide dirt road that cut through the greenery.
This was the Southern Trade Route, a lifeline for caravans traveling between the remote jungle villages and the larger regional hubs.
It was technically a "Safe Zone," as the mercenaries of the Grand Order, a mercenary guild, frequently patrolled the path to clear out beasts.
Huo Yue signaled for them to dive into the thick bushes lining the road.
"Hey, what exactly are we doing here?" Medusa whispered, her pride as a Queen prickling at the idea of hiding in the dirt. "How can we earn money by squatting in a bush?"
"Is this some kind of specialized herb gathering?" Ziyan asked, sniffing the air for valuable plants.
"Of course not!" Huo Yue patted her chest in total confidence, a devious grin stretching across her face. "This is the fastest, easiest, and most ancient way to earn money! It's called 'Market Research and Direct Tax Collection'!"
The two looked doubtful, but before they could press for details, Huo Yue held up a finger for silence. "Shush! Look. A big fish is swimming into the net."
A rhythmic thud of hooves sounded in the distance.
Then, moments later, a luxurious carriage emerged from the bend.
It was carved from expensive sandalwood and pulled by four Dragon-Scaled Horses—beasts that were notoriously difficult to tame.
Surrounding the carriage was a small army of warriors riding on Flaming Horses.
From the steady, disciplined aura they projected, these mercenaries were all at the Foundation Establishment realm.
In this region, that was a high-tier security force.
Huo Yue's eyes brightened. "Perfect. They look loaded."
"What? Are we going to step out and offer our services as high-level bodyguards?" Medusa asked, her hand moving toward her waist. "With my Nirvana Rebirth cultivation, they'd pay a fortune to have me clear the road."
"Follow me!" Huo Yue didn't answer and instead, she leaped out of the bushes with a shout, landing squarely in the middle of the road.
Medusa and Ziyan looked at each other for a moment, before shrugging and immediately jumped out after her.
"HALT!" Huo Yue bellowed, raising her hand with the authority of a sect leader as she planted her feet and stuck her chest out, looking remarkably imposing despite her torn clothes. "Listen up, you travelers! This road is mine! These trees are mine! The air you're breathing? It's taxable! If you want to pass through this sector without encountering a 'spontaneous explosion,' you'd better pay your toll!"
The entire scene froze.
The guard captain pulled his Flaming Horse to a rearing halt, his hand going to his sword, but he didn't attack; he was too busy staring in absolute shock.
Not just the soldiers, but even Medusa and Ziyan stood behind Huo Yue, their faces going pale with embarrassment.
This girl... she's actually trying to be a highway bandit!?
Inside the spatial ring on Huo Yue's finger, the illusory form of Fairy Liu covered her eyes with both hands, shaking her head in a rhythmic motion of despair.
She's not my disciple... I don't know this person... I never taught her this...
Just then, the window of the sandalwood carriage slid open and an incredibly beautiful young woman with long, flowing purple hair and piercing red eyes peered out.
She had been bored to tears by the long journey, but now, her interest was piqued.
She looked at the three "bandits" standing in the road—one a fiery-robed woman with a ridiculous claim, one a cold-eyed beauty who radiated a power that made the horses tremble, and one a cat-girl who looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole and die.
The coachman turned back, his voice shaky. "Just some... er... unconventional bandits, ma'am. Shall I have the guard clear them?"
The purple-haired woman leaned her chin on her hand, a small, intrigued smile playing on her lips. "No, wait. I can't believe there are such talented people acting as common thieves in this lowly region. That one with purple hair... she's a Nirvana Rebirth expert. Why is she robbing a carriage? This is far too interesting to end with a fight. Let's see what they want."
Chapter 97: Chapter 97: Troupes
The afternoon sun of the Saint Burial Realm hung heavy and stagnant over Fragrant Flower City, like a dull orb of bruised gold filtering through the world's thick, impure atmosphere.
In the inner courtyard of the Ling Clan, the air was unnaturally still as Shen Haoran sat within a jade-carved pavilion, his posture one of effortless, aristocratic grace.
He sipped a fresh cup of spirit tea, the steam curling around his face like a silver mist.
Behind him stood Qing'er.
She had fully recovered from the soul-scorching dark gold lightning sent by the heavenly dao, and her aura now as calm and lethal as a deep, moonless lake.
Her black bodysuit hummed with a subtle, dark resonance, her red eyes scanning the perimeter with a vigilance that made the very air feel sharp.
They were in no hurry to make a move.
Despite the Golden Cloud elder's desperate escape with the charred remains of Jiang Chen, Haoran hadn't ordered an immediate pursuit.
After all, he knew the "Protagonist Template" better than anyone in this lower realm.
If he give chase now, the world will only throw more coincidences in his path to delay him.
But based on the usual tropes of these Anomalies, the 'Starter Village' always hides a series of 'trash' treasures or forgotten inheritances.
These are the seeds of their rise, and if he leaves now to hunt the rabbit, then he will leave the burrow full of carrots.
It's better to strip the land bare first.
In fact, Haoran could already predict the unhindered trajectory of Jiang Chen's life if left to the whims of fate.
The boy would show off his newfound "genius" in this city, humiliate some local young masters, move to a larger provincial capital, get underestimated again, find an ancient tomb, inherit some ancient legacies, show off and slap everyone in the face, before moving to another much bigger map.
Rinse and repeat.
So, before he leaves this continent, he will fiest empty it.
He will take every 'chance' and every 'luck' the heavens intended for its own protagonist.
"Young master..."
The silence of the courtyard was broken by the arrival of Ling Luochen.
The pink-haired girl walked toward the pavilion with a measured pace, her red eyes showing a mix of reverence and a newly awakened, cold ambition.
She stopped at the edge of the shade and bowed deeply, her black robes rustling against the stone.
"Is there any news?" Haoran asked, not looking up from his tea.
Ling Luochen shook her head, her expression stoic. "None regarding the whereabouts of the Jiang remnants, Young Master. They have vanished into the spatial folds of the Northern Continent. However, acting on your orders to scour the local markets and hidden vaults, we did manage to retrieve some... 'useless' items from the grand auction house's discard pile."
She reached into her storage ring and pulled out three objects, placing them onto the stone table with a sense of doubt.
The first was a small, fist-size, ugly piece of grey rock that pulsed with an indecipherable, muddy aura.
The second was a heavily rusted, pitted spear-tip, snapped at the base with no shaft in sight.
The third was a torn, yellowed piece of parchment that looked as though it would crumble into dust if a stiff breeze hit it.
Haoran waved his hand casually, and a sliver of invisible Qi caught the items, lifting them into the air to hover at eye level.
He first grabbed the grey rock, his fingers tracing the rough exterior as he observed it.
He was no treasurer appraisal, but as someone who dabbled into the arts of seers, seeing through the true worth of some item is relatively easy.
Just like now, where he saw the calcified shell of a divine remain.
He blinked, and once again observed carefully, and in that instant, he noticed a faint, skeletal curvature deep within the stone—a piece of a finger-bone.
CRACK.
Haoran clenched his fist, and the grey stone shattered instantly, turning into fine sand that slipped through his fingers.
Remaining in his palm was a single forefinger bone, glowing with a translucent, diamond-like luster.
It felt heavier than a mountain, radiating a sensation of absolute, unyielding density as Haoran raised a sharp eyebrow, a glint of genuine interest appearing in his golden eyes. "This bone... it carries the conceptual imprint of the Unbreakable Diamond Sacred Technique, doesn't it? This is a lost body cultivation technique from the era of the Primordial Saints. If I can study the marrow-residue within this bone, I might be able to recreate the entire scripture."
The Unbreakable Diamond Sacred Technique was a legend among body cultivators.
It was said that those who mastered it to the stage of "Perfect Integration" could turn their physical form into something as indestructible as a cosmic diamond.
Even a Heavenly Saint, standing a half-step into the Supreme Realm, would find it nearly impossible to draw blood from a practitioner of this art.
In the hands of a protagonist like Jiang Chen, this would have been the foundation of his "immortality."
After all, if he paired this with his physique, he will really be indestructible.
But now, it was just another trophy in Haoran's collection.
With a flick of his wrist, he stored the bone in his storage space before turning his attention to the rusted spear-tip, and it honestly looked like junk—a worthless iron fit for a scrap heap.
Haoran snapped his fingers and a tiny, pin-prick flame erupted on his fingertip—the Gold Incinerating Supreme Flame.
It was a fire that could melt the stars, ranked fourth in the Heavenly Flame rankings, although it was just a small ember given to him by the clan.
He brought the flame close to the rusted metal, and the moment the heat touched it, the "rust"—which was actually a high-level spatial seal disguised as oxidation—was incinerated.
The dull brown flakes vanished, revealing a spear-tip made of a strange, swirling silver-blue metal that seemed to hum with the sound of a thousand battles.
Haoran observed it, but couldn't really find out just how powerful this thing is.
"...Qing'er, what do you think?" Haoran asked, passing the blade to her.
Qing'er took the tip, her fingers sensing the terrifying sharpness that threatened to cut even her Saint-level skin, but she ignored it as she observed the runes etched into the metal and replied, "A piece of a Rank 10 Saint Grade Artifact, Young Master... no, looking at the internal structure, it actually possessed a trace of Imperial Law, so this was likely part of a Supreme Artifact before it was shattered in the Saint War."
"Heh, as expected of an anomaly's luck," Haoran chuckled, his voice low. "Even in a trash-heap like this city, the world hides the shards of gods for its favorites. A pity it found me instead."
He stored the spear-tip away alongside the bone.
Finally, he turned his gaze toward the last item: the torn piece of paper.
He squinted, trying to read the faded lines. It looked like a map, but the geography was distorted, showing landmasses that didn't correspond to any of the five continents of the Saint Burial Realm.
"Qing'er?" Haoran asked, tilting the parchment.
Qing'er leaned in, her eyes narrowing as she processed the jagged lines and ancient script. "That seems to be... a partial map of the Prime Origin Realm, Young Master. Specifically, it marks the hidden ley lines of the Central Imperial Region. However, since it is only a fragment, I cannot be quite sure of the exact coordinates."
"I see. It's alright," Haoran said, his expression neutral. "It's better to have it than to not have it, I guess. Every piece of the puzzle I take is one less clue for my 'father' to find."
He swept the parchment into his storage.
"Alright." Haoran stood up, the golden dragons on his black robes seeming to ripple as he straightened his posture.
He looked out past the walls of the Ling manor, his gaze fixed on the distant mountain ranges where the local powers held court. "The 'Starter Village' is now empty. Let us depart."
He began to analyze the next logical step in a protagonist's journey.
After surviving a disaster or leaving their home city, these Anomalies almost always sought the protection and resources of a larger organization—usually a local powerful sect or an academy with a storied history.
And that sect will always looked strong but is actually weak.
"What is the weakest sect in this kingdom that is still considered an overlord in the eyes of this small city?" Haoran asked, turning to Ling Luochen.
Ling Luochen didn't have to think for long, after all her knowledge of the region's power structure was intimate. "That would be the Silver Wing Sect, Young Master. It is a subordinate sect founded by the royal family of the Silver Wing Kingdom. In the eyes of ordinary citizens and small clans like the Jiangs, it holds absolute power. However, on a continental scale, it is always overshadowed by the branches Conferred Pagoda and the other Great Sects. It is essentially a place for regional geniuses to feel important before they realize how small they truly are."
"Good," Haoran said, a cold, predatory smile spreading across his face. "A sect with enough power to be a 'target' for a rising protagonist, but weak enough that they will be desperate for a 'savior.' It is the perfect stage. Let us go there."
He turned towards Qing'er and with a wave of her hand, space began to ripple before she moved to his side, her shadows expanding to envelop them both.
"We shall see," Haoran whispered as they began to vanish into the void, "how long Jiang Chen can keep his 'destiny' when I am the one writing the ending."
Chapter 98: Chapter 98: 1 Year
Northern Continent, deep within a mountain range, in a cave hidden by dozens of powerful formations.
Elder Ji of the Golden Cloud Immortal Sect sat against the rocky wall, his breathing rhythmic but heavy with a lingering fatigue.
His entire injuries, though fully recovered through the miracle of Heavenly Saint regeneration and countless pills, still felt a phantom itch whenever the wind whistled through the cave's entrance.
Not to mention his soul and foundations has been broken, and he couldn't muster any strength stronger than Profound Saint at his current state at all.
But still, for the past twelve months, he had watched over the charred and broken form of Jiang Chen.
The youth had not stirred once, still locked in a deep, comatose state as his Formless Void Divine Physique worked in the silence of his marrow to repair the damage dealt by the Supreme's Sword Intent.
Elder Ji let out a long, weary sigh and reached into his robes, pulling out his jade communication artifact and tapped the crystalline surface, but it remained dull, lacking the warm glow of a connected signal.
"Still nothing," he muttered, his voice raspy from disuse. "The sect hasn't answered a single message in a year. Not the Sect Master, not even the Hall of Records... nothing. I wonder what has happened back in the Imperial Capital? Has the Shen Clan's found out about our involvement and put pressure on us that they have severed our Sect's ties to the lower realms? Is that why they couldn't communicate with me?"
A flicker of dread crossed his weathered face, but he quickly suppressed it.
Of course, no matter how much he overthinks, not once did it occur to him that the Shen Clan would actually declare their intent to annihilate the entirety of Golden Cloud Immortal Sect.
He turned his gaze toward the boy lying on the stone floor and couldn't help but be amazed.
Despite being unconscious, Jiang Chen's presence had changed over the course of the year, with the ambient Qi of the forest having been violently sucked into the cave, forming a miniature vortex around the youth.
"Impressive," Elder Ji whispered, a trace of genuine awe in his eyes. "Even in a coma, this child's body still keep advancing and he has actually crossed the threshold and broke through into the Foundation Establishment Realm without even opening his eyes. If this is the speed of his recovery and cultivation, then the future of the Golden Cloud is truly secured."
But his musings were cut short when suddenly, the cave began to groan.
The very foundations of the mountain trembled with a low-frequency hum that made the elder's blood vibrate.
Elder Ji's eyes widened in shock as he felt a massive displacement of spatial energy nearby.
"This sensation...? It's too concentrated to be a natural disaster!"
Without hesitation, the old man blurred, his form streaking out of the cave like a golden comet.
He landed on a high branch of an ancient, gnarled tree and looked up at the sky, his heart hammered against his ribs.
There, in the center of the Northern Continent's sky, the clouds had been torn asunder by a pillar of blinding golden light was shooting upward, piercing the atmosphere and connecting the earth to the firmament.
"A secret realm!?" he gasped.
As a Heavenly Saint, he could read the fluctuations of the world's laws, and the energy pouring out of that rift was ancient, sophisticated, and terrifyingly dense.
"Judging from the complexity of these spatial anchors, this should at least be a secret realm belonging to a Heavenly Saint powerhouse from the era of the Saint Wars! Perhaps even a half-step Supreme!"
Under normal circumstances, Elder Ji would have been overcome with joy. After all, a treasure trove of that magnitude, appearing right in his backyard? With his strength, he could have entered and emptied the entire realm before the local sects even realized what was happening.
However, now, he felt nothing but a cold, paralyzing fear.
"The opening of such a realm... it's like a beacon in the dark," he hissed, his eyes darting toward the horizon. "It will surely attract the attention of the Conferred Pagoda and that person. And the moment they arrive to investigate, our concealment formations will be useless."
His decision was instantaneous. "We have to leave! Now!"
He turned and streaked back into the cave, intending to grab the unconscious Jiang Chen and flee deeper into the uncharted frozen wastes of the North.
But as he reached for the boy's shoulder, he froze.
Jiang Chen's forefinger twitched.
Then, with a suddenness that made the elder recoil, Jiang Chen's eyes snapped wide open.
And much to the Elder's shock, they weren't the eyes of a confused youth who had just woken up from a year long coma, they were the cold, sharp, eyes filled with a dark, crystalline light of a seasoned expert..
He sat up in one fluid motion, his neck cracking as he surveyed the cave with the caution of a wolf, before his gaze eventually landed on the old man.
"You are..." Jiang Chen started, his voice dry but carrying an undeniable weight. "The elder who saved me from the Shen dogs?"
Elder Ji let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief, his shoulders slumping. "Indeed, boy. I am Elder Ji of the Golden Cloud Immortal Sect. You can say that there is a deep, ancient karma between our lineages, that is why I risked my life and my cultivation to snatch you from the jaws of death. But there is no time for gratitude. You have been asleep for a year, and the world has moved on. Look outside! A Saint-level secret realm has opened nearby. Its aura is too strong and it will surely attract the Young Master of the Shen Clan. We must leave this place immediately before the hunt begins anew."
Jiang Chen looked toward the cave entrance, sensing the massive surge of energy in the air and a slow, arrogant smirk began to spread across his face, his purple aura flickering with a new, Foundation-level strength.
"Elder Ji, I, Jiang Chen, thank you for your protection during my slumber," he said, standing up and dusting off his charred robes. "But why leave? The heavens themselves have opened this door for me. This secret realm is my opportunity to regain what was lost and to surpass that brat who stepped on my face."
He recalled the scenes of the fight—the humiliation, the lightning, and the way the world itself had moved to shield him.
Yes, that's right, even the heavens themselves does not want him to die!
His arrogance, fueled by his status as a former Heavenly Saint and number one genius of Tian Yuan Empire, returned in full force.
'If the heavens don't want me to die, then the world will become my playground,' he thought. 'Every treasure in that realm is mine by divine right.'
"Elder, we are not leaving," Jiang Chen declared. "We are going to that realm. We will empty it before those Shen dogs even arrives. I need the legacies inside, besides, you need it as well to heal yourself, don't you?"
Elder Ji hesitated. His logic screamed at him to run, but his greed was a powerful beast.
A Heavenly Saint's legacy... it could contain the pills he needed to repair his shattered soul-foundation or even improve his cultivation!
He looked at Jiang Chen's confident expression and eventually nodded.
"Very well," Ji said, his voice tightening. "But we move in shadows. If push comes to shove, I will not hesitate to knock you unconscious and carry you away again. We are not gambling with our lives today."
*
*
*
Meanwhile, on the Southern Continent, a serene forest was currently being subjected to a cataclysmic transformation.
Qing'er and Ling Luochen stood on the bank of a wide, rushing river that fed into a towering waterfall.
They were several hundred meters away from the base of the falls, their expressions filled with a mixture of awe and professional vigilance.
Under the crushing weight of the descending water, the silhouette of Shen Haoran was visible, sitting in a meditative cross-legged position.
Suddenly, Qing'er's brow furrowed as she looked up toward the North, her Saint-level senses picking up the distortion in the fabric of the realm.
Ling Luochen, whose demon-forged body was becoming more sensitive to spatial changes, noticed her master's reaction. "Miss Qing'er? Is something the matter? Has the Jiang trash been found?"
Qing'er turned her gaze back to the waterfall, her red eyes reflecting the sunlight as she shook her head.
"Nothing that concerns you yet," she said simply.
At that exact moment, the air around the waterfall began to vibrate as a sound like the synchronized beating of a thousand drums echoed through the forest.
Then, a massive, purplish-golden Qi erupted from Haoran's body, surging outward with such violence that the air itself turned into a physical shockwave.
Ling Luochen was forced to cross her arms and dig her heels into the dirt to keep from being blown away by the sheer pressure of the Qi eruption.
Shen Haoran stood up. The force of his breakthrough was so immense that his black silk robes were shredded into ribbons, revealing the intricate, glowing dragon tattoo that wound around his torso and arms.
He then let out a roar that was not human—it was the guttural, soul-shaking cry of a celestial dragon.
Behind him, the air warped and solidified into a phantom image of a dark-gold Eastern Dragon.
The dragon let out its own roar, a sound that carried the weight of the Infinity Dragon God Physique.
The shockwave caused by that roar was so powerful that it didn't just disturb the river—it completely evaporated the water for miles.
The waterfall and the river was completely erased, leaving only a dry, smoking cliff-face.
A moment later, the phantom vanished, and the world fell into a stunned, absolute calm.
Haoran stood in the center of the now-dried riverbed.
He was completely naked, his skin glowing with a metallic, golden luster, but he remained utterly unconcerned and just slowly clenched his fist, feeling the new, crushing power flowing through his meridians.
"Finally," he murmured, his voice echoing in the silence. "The peak of the Golden Core Realm. My foundation is now perfect."
"Congratulations, Young Master," Qing'er said, appearing before him in a blur of shadow.
Ling Luochen followed, keeping her eyes respectfully lowered, though she was internally reeling at the raw power he had just displayed.
To evaporate an entire river for miles away with a breakthrough? It was unheard of in the history of the Southern Continent.
Qing'er immediately pulled a fresh, midnight-blue robe from her storage and draped it over his shoulders, helping him dress with the practiced efficiency of a shadow.
"Where is our next stop, Qing'er?" Haoran asked, tying the sash of his robe. "We have completely emptied the entire Southern Continent now. Since we haven't found those people yet, they should be in another continent."
"The Northern Continent, Young Master," Qing'er replied, her hands steady as she smoothed the fabric over his shoulders. "A secret realm belonging to an ancient Heavenly Saint has opened there. The spatial fluctuation is immense, and perhaps it is the largest event this realm has seen in countless years."
Haoran smirked, his golden eyes flashing with a predatory light as he looked toward the North, sensing the distant pull of destiny.
"The Northern Continent it is, then," Haoran said, his smile sharpening. "Let's go and see if the rabbit has been brave enough to crawl out of his hole for a carrot."