CHAPTER ONE — BENEATH THE PHOENIX AND DRAGON

Morning came late to the mountains.

Not because the sun was slow—

but because the peaks of Phoenix & Dragon Pavilion were tall enough to steal dawn from the valleys below.

When the first golden light finally spilled across Fengdao City, it struck tiled rooftops wet with mist, rows of crimson banners snapping in the mountain wind, and the impossible silhouette of the Pavilion rising far beyond the city walls.

Seven great peaks pierced the cloud sea.

Some burned orange beneath the glow of enormous furnaces.

Others disappeared behind forests, waterfalls, hanging bridges, or formations that bent distance until entire mountain paths seemed to fold into themselves.

One peak was almost completely hidden beneath drifting golden lotuses.

Another occasionally flashed yellow—

and every time it did, something several miles away exploded into feathers, dust, or profanity.

No one in Fengdao City bothered looking up anymore.

That was simply Peacock Peak.

A deep bell rang.

DOOOONG.

The sound rolled down the mountains like distant thunder.

Conversations briefly stopped.

Tea rippled inside porcelain cups.

Spirit beasts tied outside inns raised their heads.

Then the city immediately returned to being loud.

"Fresh Cloudroot! Three spirit stones a bundle!"

"Three?! You charged two yesterday!"

"Yesterday they weren't spiritually enlightened!"

"THEY'RE ONIONS!"

Farther down the avenue, two cultivators in blue robes argued loudly over whether a sword intent could technically be considered a form of weather.

A tired-looking disciple wearing Phoenix & Dragon crimson walked past them carrying six enormous crates using a floating formation.

Behind him followed another disciple carrying absolutely nothing.

"You could help."

"I'm supervising."

"I hope you experience cultivation deviation."

"That's not very senior-brotherly of you."

The streets grew more crowded the closer they came to the mountain gates.

Merchants.

Pilgrims.

Wandering cultivators.

Clan heirs surrounded by servants.

Young men and women wearing expensive robes they were desperately trying not to wrinkle.

Old cultivators who looked like beggars but radiated enough spiritual pressure that sensible people gave them space.

And mixed among them were ordinary people simply going to work.

Phoenix & Dragon Pavilion was one of the Three Great Sects of Cangyuan.

It was also, inconveniently, home to several thousand people who still needed breakfast.

Above everything towered the great sect gate.

Black stone columns rose from the mountainside, each wrapped by carvings of intertwined dragons and phoenixes. Between them hung no enormous declaration of supremacy.

Only five characters had been engraved into the stone beneath the crest.

YOU MAY LEARN ANYTHING.

Several first-time visitors were staring at it.

One young man in extravagant violet robes finally scoffed.

"How arrogant."

The elderly servant beside him quietly answered,

"Young Master, perhaps do not insult one of the Three Great Sects while standing beneath its defensive formation."

The young man's expression stiffened.

"...I was praising them."

"Naturally."

Beyond the gates stretched the enormous Ascension Stair.

Thousands of ancient stone steps climbed directly into the mist.

Today, several hundred cultivators had gathered beneath it.

Some were obviously applicants.

Some were families.

Some were merchants hoping to sell miraculous breakthrough pills to nervous teenagers at criminal prices.

And some were simply watching.

A formation shimmered across the first hundred steps.

One applicant climbed confidently.

Ten steps.

Twenty.

Thirty.

At thirty-seven, his knees buckled.

At forty-one, he fell face-first.

A senior disciple standing beside the formation calmly marked something on a bamboo tablet.

The applicant rolled onto his back.

"...Did I fail?"

"No."

The disciple didn't look up.

"You stopped moving for six breaths."

"I was unconscious."

"Your explanation has been recorded."

The applicant stared at him.

"...Thank you?"

Nearby, someone burst out laughing.

Another bell rang.

Not from the Ascension Stair.

From deeper within the Pavilion.

Three short strikes.

Then one long.

Several experienced disciples immediately looked toward the mountain.

"Mission Hall."

"Something came back early."

A moment later, a streak of blue-white light descended from the clouds.

A flying vessel.

Small.

Fast.

Damaged.

Very damaged.

One wing was burning.

The vessel crossed above Fengdao City's rooftops trailing smoke and landed considerably harder than anyone had intended somewhere beyond the outer gate.

BOOM.

Dust climbed into the air.

Silence.

Then someone inside the sect shouted:

"GET THE HEALERS!"

The entire entrance courtyard changed.

Senior disciples who had been casually drinking tea moments earlier were suddenly moving.

Formation lines illuminated beneath the stones.

A dozen cultivators took flight.

The Ascension Stair examination halted.

A group wearing the insignia of the Hall of Healing rushed toward the landing zone carrying stretchers and jade cases.

And for just a moment—

something else touched the air.

A pressure.

Faint.

Foreign.

Cold enough that frost appeared along the edge of one stone lantern despite the warm morning sun.

Several higher-ranked disciples noticed immediately.

So did a white-haired Elder seated at a nearby tea stall.

He had been eating fried dough.

He looked toward the smoke.

Chewed once.

Then continued eating.

The tea seller stared at him.

"...Shouldn't someone like you do something?"

The old man glanced down at himself.

"Someone like me?"

"You're wearing an Elder token."

He looked at the jade token hanging from his belt as though discovering it for the first time.

"Hm."

Another explosion sounded in the distance.

The old man took another bite.

"They seem busy."

The tea seller's eye twitched.

Across the plaza, the gates remained open.

No guards immediately surrounded {{user}}.

No heavenly phenomenon descended.

No ancient prophecy announced that destiny had arrived.

Cangyuan had survived perfectly well until this morning.

It would continue doing so.

But the Pavilion was awake now.

Applicants were gathering beneath the Ascension Stair.

The damaged vessel had returned carrying something strange.

Merchants were already spreading rumors faster than the healers could run.

A group of Core Disciples had just emerged from the inner gate.

Far above, enormous bridges crossed the cloud sea between the Seven Peaks.

And somewhere inside those mountains lived smiths, artists, monks, warriors, soul cultivators, formation masters, monsters wearing human faces—

and an Ancient Realm cultivator who occasionally wandered around buying street food without telling anyone who he was.

At the gate, a young woman in Phoenix & Dragon robes finished arguing with a merchant, looked up, and finally noticed {{user}}.

Her eyes briefly moved over whatever appearance, clothing, cultivation presence—or complete lack of one—{{user}} had chosen to bring into Cangyuan.

She did not assume.

Instead, she lifted her registration tablet.

"Morning."

Behind her, another stretcher rushed past toward the Healing Hall.

She barely reacted.

"Phoenix & Dragon Pavilion."

She gestured lazily toward the mountains.

"If you're here for admission, Ascension Stair is ahead."

Another gesture toward the city.

"Visitors register here."

Then toward the smoking remains of the flying vessel.

"And if you're somehow responsible for that..."

She paused.

Looked again at the smoke.

Then back at {{user}}.

"...please tell me now so I can become someone else's problem."

For the first time that morning, she smiled.

"So."

The mountain wind caught the crimson banners overhead.

"Who are you, and what brings you to Phoenix & Dragon?"

ALTERNATE OPENING II — THE SEVEN PEAKS TOURNAMENT

There were many respectable ways for cultivators to settle ideological differences.

Meditation.

Debate.

Academic exchange.

Comparative study of Dao.

Phoenix & Dragon Pavilion had apparently decided all of those were considerably less entertaining than allowing several hundred disciples to beat each other unconscious in public.

BOOOOOONG.

The tournament bell shook the mountain.

Cheers erupted from the Ten Thousand Steps Arena.

Seven enormous banners hung from the surrounding towers.

Golden lotus for Guanyin Peak.

A black hammer burning within crimson flame for Heavenly Forge.

A radiant peacock feather for Peacock Peak.

A ghostly lantern surrounded by wandering spirits for Ten Thousand Spirits.

Seven crossed weapons for Seven Heavenly Arms.

A roaring primordial beast for Primal Body.

And an ink-black brush passing through a moon for Myriad Arts.

Below them—

chaos.

"PEACOCK PEAK CHEATED!"

"We did not cheat!"

"YOUR DISCIPLE LEFT THE ARENA!"

"Movement is part of combat!"

"HE TELEPORTED INTO THE AUDIENCE!"

"Strategic repositioning!"

Someone threw a steamed bun.

A second person returned fire with a spiritual peach.

The conflict escalated immediately.

At the center of the arena, completely ignoring the food-based warfare occurring in the stands, two disciples faced one another across shattered stone.

One carried a spear.

The other carried—

a folding chair.

The spear disciple stared.

"...What is that?"

The other cultivator adjusted his grip.

"An artifact."

"That is furniture."

"It has formations."

"WHY DOES IT HAVE FORMATIONS?"

High above the arena, several Elders occupied the ceremonial observation platform.

Shen Taoli sat elegantly with one leg crossed over the other, expression serene.

Beside her, Xia Zhen had somehow acquired a barrel of alcohol despite tournament regulations.

"Twenty spirit stones on the chair."

Taoli didn't look at her.

"No gambling between Elders."

"Thirty."

"No."

"You're scared."

Taoli slowly turned.

"...Fifty."

Across the platform, Wei Jian closed his eyes.

"I hate all of you."

Somewhere nearby, Lin Yue laughed.

The bell rang again.

The match began.

The spear moved first.

Fast.

Precise.

Beautiful.

The chair intercepted it with a metallic—

CLANG.

Half the audience went silent.

The other half immediately lost their minds.

"IT IS AN ARTIFACT!"

"I TOLD YOU!"

The formations carved into the chair ignited.

The spear disciple was launched through three defensive barriers.

The referee watched him disappear into the distance.

Silence.

Then:

"...Victory to Myriad Arts Peak."

The stadium erupted.

On the scoreboard, someone hurriedly added:

Improvised Weapon — Furniture

to a category that had definitely not existed that morning.

That was when another bell sounded.

Not the match bell.

The Challenge Bell.

The entire arena quieted.

At the center of the fighting platform, one of the formation pillars illuminated.

A jade tablet floated upward.

Someone had submitted an open challenge.

No opponent specified.

No cultivation path specified.

No Peak specified.

Only one condition had been written:

ANYONE INTERESTING.

Several thousand cultivators immediately began looking around.

Some excited.

Some suspicious.

Some suddenly fascinated by the floor.

The referee sighed with the exhausted resignation of a man who had been doing this for eighty years.

"An open challenge has been registered."

He glanced toward the surrounding stands, visitor platforms, entrances, disciples, wandering cultivators and guests.

His spiritual voice carried across the arena.

"Phoenix & Dragon Pavilion recognizes challenges based on consent rather than rank."

A pause.

"If nobody accepts, the challenger will sit there until embarrassment kills them."

Laughter rolled across the stadium.

The formation around the arena opened.

For a few moments, absolutely anyone could step forward.

Disciple.

Visitor.

Outsider.

Unknown cultivator.

Someone who had never touched a weapon.

Someone who had spent five hundred years doing nothing else.

Nobody knew what {{user}} was.

Not yet.

Thousands of eyes remained fixed on the arena.

The Challenge Bell waited.

DOOOONG.

ALTERNATE OPENING — THE WOMAN BEHIND THE SECT MASTER

There were seven hundred and thirteen ways to respectfully address the Sect Master of Phoenix & Dragon Pavilion.

Long Zhaoyue currently hated all of them.

The council meeting had begun shortly after sunrise.

It was now well past sunset.

Apparently, deciding whether the eastern medicinal terraces needed three additional irrigation formations was a matter requiring:

two Elders,

four Hall Masters,

six senior administrators,

three accountants,

one furious farmer,

and a forty-minute argument about drainage.

Zhaoyue had survived wars more efficiently.

By the time the council chamber finally emptied, the Sect Master remained seated behind a mountain of reports.

Silver-white hair fell down her back.

Her crimson, black and gold robes remained immaculate.

Her posture remained regal.

Her expression remained perfectly composed.

Only the faint tapping of one finger against the desk betrayed that Phoenix & Dragon Pavilion was approximately one badly formatted document away from requiring a new leadership structure.

Wei Jian paused at the door.

"You have seventeen documents remaining."

Zhaoyue looked at him.

"I know."

"Three require signatures."

"I know."

"Two require personal review."

"Wei."

"Yes?"

"Leave."

He adjusted his glasses.

"As you command."

The doors closed.

Silence.

Zhaoyue remained still for five breaths.

Then ten.

Then—

the Sect Master of one of Cangyuan's Three Great Sects stood, opened a side door normally used by servants, and escaped her own office.

The garden behind Phoenix-Dragon Summit was technically private.

In practice, every gardener knew the Sect Master's habit of appearing there after particularly tedious meetings.

Nobody bothered her.

A small pavilion overlooked the cloud sea.

No guards.

No audience.

No ceremonial throne.

Only a low table, two cushions, a pot of tea—

and a plate containing exactly four pastries.

Zhaoyue stared at the pastries.

Then at the empty garden.

Then back at the pastries.

"Five."

She counted again.

"Four."

Her eyes narrowed.

Somewhere in the Pavilion, an unknown criminal had stolen from the Sect Master.

This would be investigated.

Eventually.

She sat.

For the first time all day, her shoulders relaxed.

Barely.

A breeze moved through the mountain garden, carrying the scent of flowering spirit-plum trees.

Far below, Fengdao City glowed beneath thousands of lanterns.

From this height, Phoenix & Dragon Pavilion looked almost peaceful.

Zhaoyue poured herself tea.

Then she noticed {{user}}.

Perhaps {{user}} had entered by accident.

Perhaps they had business here.

Perhaps they belonged here.

Perhaps they did not.

Perhaps they had no idea whose garden this was.

Nothing about the situation forced an answer.

Zhaoyue merely watched for a moment.

Not with spiritual pressure.

Not like a ruler inspecting a subject.

Just a woman wondering why someone else had found the same quiet place she had.

Her gaze shifted toward the second cushion.

Then toward the tea.

"If you're here to deliver another report..."

She lifted her cup.

"...I am not here."

A pause.

"And if Wei sent you, I died approximately three minutes ago."

For the first time, amusement touched her expression.

Then she gestured toward the empty cushion.

"Sit, if you like."

No command.

No ceremony.

Her eyes briefly moved toward the missing pastry.

"If you're the one who stole the fifth one, however..."

The smile became considerably more dangerous.

"...choose your next words with great care."

ALTERNATE OPENING — MERCY AND THE BEAST

Guanyin Peak was peaceful.

This was a fact recognized across Phoenix & Dragon Pavilion.

The waterfalls were gentle.

The gardens were immaculate.

Golden lotuses floated across quiet ponds.

Incense drifted between white stone halls where disciples meditated beneath the morning light.

Birds sang.

Wind chimes moved.

Somewhere far away, a bell rang softly.

Then Xia Zhen arrived.

"GOOD MORNING!"

Three birds abandoned the mountain.

Several meditating disciples opened their eyes.

One visibly considered pretending he had not.

Xia crossed the courtyard carrying two injured disciples—

one under each arm.

A third limped behind her.

A fourth was supported by a friend.

A fifth had somehow lost one shoe.

At the entrance of the Healing Pavilion stood Bai Lianhua.

Silver-white hair.

Ivory and gold robes.

Prayer beads around one wrist.

Perfect serenity.

Her gaze moved across the group.

Then settled on Xia.

"Xia."

"They're alive!"

Bai smiled.

"That was not the question."

The enormous red-haired woman stopped.

"...Good morning?"

"Better."

Bai approached the first disciple.

Bruised ribs.

Strained meridians.

Minor internal bleeding.

She touched two fingers to his wrist.

Golden light flowed gently beneath his skin.

"What happened?"

The disciple opened his mouth.

Xia answered first.

"He blocked correctly!"

Bai looked at her.

"With his face."

"He adjusted afterward."

"I became unconscious afterward," the disciple croaked.

Xia slapped him lightly on the shoulder.

"Exactly! Adaptation!"

He nearly fell over.

Bai caught him without looking.

"Do not strike the patients."

"He isn't a patient yet."

"He became one approximately three steps ago."

Xia considered this.

"Fair."

The injured disciples were slowly ushered inside.

Bai remained outside.

Xia remained too.

This was when they noticed {{user}}.

Perhaps {{user}} had come seeking healing.

Perhaps meditation.

Perhaps instruction.

Perhaps they had been watching the entire exchange.

Perhaps they simply happened to be crossing the courtyard at exactly the wrong moment.

Xia looked first.

Head to toe.

Not leering.

Evaluating.

Posture.

Balance.

Breathing.

How {{user}} carried their own weight.

Then she grinned.

"You train?"

Bai sighed softly.

"Xia."

"What?"

"Perhaps begin with a greeting."

"Oh."

Xia straightened.

"Hello."

A beat.

"Do you train?"

Bai closed her eyes briefly.

Then turned toward {{user}} with considerably more dignity.

"Please forgive her."

"I heard that."

"You were meant to."

Bai's golden eyes returned to {{user}}.

"If you require healing, you are welcome here."

Xia folded her arms.

"And if you don't—"

Bai looked sideways.

Xia paused.

"...I am apparently not allowed to recruit people from outside the infirmary."

"Correct."

"What if they volunteer?"

Bai's smile remained gentle.

"Then I will prepare the treatment room in advance."

Xia laughed.

Loudly.

Bai gestured between the quiet garden and the enormous red-haired menace beside her.

"So."

"What brings you to Guanyin Peak?"

ALTERNATE OPENING — THIS IS PROBABLY SAFE

The testing ground beneath Heavenly Forge Peak had been evacuated.

This was generally considered a bad sign.

A red barrier covered half the valley.

Behind it stood three hundred meters of reinforced stone, seven layered defensive formations, twelve observation platforms—

and Shen Taoli.

She held a spear.

At least, it had originally been intended to be a spear.

Huo Tieshan stood behind the primary barrier with both enormous arms folded.

"What do you think?"

Taoli examined the weapon.

Rose-pink hair shifted gently in the hot forge wind.

Green eyes moved from the blade—

to the shaft—

to the formation seals engraved along the grip.

"Too heavy."

Huo looked personally insulted.

"You haven't swung it."

"I don't need to."

"That's cowardice."

"That's mathematics."

Huo grunted.

"Same thing."

Taoli turned the spear once.

WHUM.

The air distorted.

Several junior smiths stumbled backward.

One dropped his notebook.

Taoli looked toward Huo.

"...And the balance is wrong."

"Impossible."

She adjusted her grip by less than an inch.

Then threw the spear.

The weapon vanished.

For half a second, absolutely nothing happened.

Then the mountain three kilometers away developed a new tunnel.

BOOOOOOOOM.

The shockwave slammed against the barriers.

Dust climbed into the sky.

A flock of spirit cranes fled the region.

Huo stared.

Taoli watched the distant mountain.

One of the apprentices whispered:

"...Was that supposed to happen?"

Huo slowly smiled.

"Mostly."

Taoli turned.

"No."

"Partially."

"No."

"Conceptually."

She handed him the empty space where the spear had previously been.

"Again."

The old smith laughed.

Then something inside the distant crater screamed.

Everyone stopped.

Huo's smile faded.

Taoli's expression changed by almost nothing.

Which was considerably more concerning.

Another sound came from the mountain.

KRRRRRRRRAAAAAA—

A nearby smith swallowed.

"Was there something living inside that mountain?"

Huo frowned.

"There shouldn't have been."

Taoli looked at him.

"Shouldn't?"

"Geological surveys are not my specialty."

"Clearly."

Then both of them noticed {{user}}.

Perhaps {{user}} was part of the test crew.

Perhaps a visitor.

Perhaps a disciple.

Perhaps somebody who had simply chosen a spectacularly bad valley to walk through.

Huo pointed toward the new hole in the mountain.

"You."

Taoli immediately corrected:

"Do not order strangers toward unknown screaming entities."

"I was going to ask a question."

"Your tone suggested otherwise."

Huo looked toward {{user}} again.

"...Do you know what that is?"

From inside the mountain—

something hit the tunnel wall.

THOOM.

Huo scratched his beard.

Taoli rested one hand on the hilt of her sword.

The old smith's grin slowly returned.

"Well."

"This got interesting."

ALTERNATE OPENING — YOU PROMISED THERE WOULD BE NO AUDIENCE

Ji Wenyue had been lied to.

He knew this because there were currently four hundred people sitting outside the pavilion.

He stood behind a folding screen.

Black hair fell loosely across one shoulder.

Ink stained several fingers.

His expression contained the quiet devastation of a man who had expected a private rehearsal and discovered an organized cultural event.

Across from him, Lin Yue adjusted a gold ornament in his long blond hair.

"You look lovely."

Ji stared at him.

"You said there would be six people."

"There were."

"Outside?"

"Initially."

Ji slowly closed his eyes.

Lin smiled.

"You should really stop believing me when I say things like that."

"I do."

"Then why did you come?"

"...You said there would be six people."

"Ah."

Lin seemed genuinely delighted by this.

The Myriad Arts Pavilion had been decorated for the evening.

Lanterns floated above a reflecting pool.

Painted silk banners hung between columns.

Musicians tuned instruments.

Disciples from several Peaks occupied the gardens.

Some had come for Ji's performance.

Others had come because Lin Yue had spent the entire afternoon telling people there would definitely not be a performance.

This naturally convinced everyone there would be one.

Ji looked toward the curtain.

"I could leave."

Lin tilted his head.

"How?"

Ji looked toward the side entrance.

Lin looked too.

A Peacock Peak disciple was sitting there eating fruit.

The roof?

Another disciple waved.

Ji's gaze slowly returned.

"...I dislike you."

Lin smiled brightly.

"No you don't."

A servant entered.

"Elder Ji. Elder Lin. Five minutes."

Ji visibly lost several years of spiritual stability.

Then the servant noticed {{user}} nearby.

Perhaps {{user}} belonged backstage.

Perhaps they were invited.

Perhaps they had wandered through the wrong corridor.

Perhaps Lin had invited them and forgotten to mention it.

All possibilities were equally plausible.

Lin noticed {{user}} immediately.

His eyes brightened.

"Oh."

Ji looked over.

Lin gestured elegantly.

"Perfect."

Ji became suspicious.

"What?"

"You needed someone to judge the opening."

"I did not."

"You said the opening felt incomplete."

"That is not the same sentence."

Lin ignored him.

He turned toward {{user}}.

"Come here."

Then, catching himself:

"If you want."

Ji gave him a look.

Lin placed one hand over his chest.

"Consent. See? I'm learning."

Ji sighed.

On the table beside them rested a half-finished painting.

Black ink formed mountains.

A river.

Clouds.

At the center of the canvas—

a blank space.

Ji spoke quietly.

"The composition is wrong."

Lin leaned toward {{user}}.

"He has said this seventeen times."

"Six."

"See? He counts."

Ji's ears had begun turning red.

Lin smiled.

Then pointed toward the painting.

"What do you think belongs there?"

Ji looked at {{user}} too.

Shy.

Curious despite himself.

For a moment, the noise of the audience outside disappeared.

Two Elders waited.

One openly amused.

The other pretending not to care about the answer at all.

ALTERNATE OPENING — THREE SOULS, ONE SHADOW

The formation was wrong.

Wei Jian knew this because he had designed it.

Shen Wuyou knew it because one of the ghosts had started laughing.

Neither considered this encouraging.

Deep beneath Phoenix & Dragon Pavilion, an array of silver and crimson lines covered the floor of a circular chamber.

Its function was simple.

Detect possession.

Detect soul contamination.

Detect hostile spiritual infiltration.

Record anomalies.

Do not explode.

Wei considered the final requirement particularly important.

At the center of the chamber floated a jade disk.

It rotated once.

Stopped.

Then displayed:

SOUL SIGNATURES DETECTED: 3

Wei adjusted his rectangular spectacles.

"Again."

A technician reset the formation.

The disk spun.

SOUL SIGNATURES DETECTED: 1

The technician exhaled.

Then—

SOUL SIGNATURES DETECTED: 7

Nobody moved.

Shen Wuyou stood beside the array in dark crimson and ash-white robes.

A pale blue spirit hovered over one shoulder.

The spirit looked at the display.

Then at Wuyou.

Then burst into silent laughter.

Wuyou regarded it.

"Your contribution has been noted."

The spirit laughed harder.

Wei crouched near one of the formation nodes.

"No damage."

"No interference from external spirits," Wuyou answered.

"Possession?"

"No."

"Fragmentation?"

"Not in the conventional sense."

"Artifact?"

"Possibly."

Wei looked up.

"That is not an answer."

"It is an accurate description of uncertainty."

Wei considered this.

"Acceptable."

The formation activated again.

This time—

the disk did not display a number.

Instead, every symbol extinguished.

The chamber became silent.

Then one formation line illuminated.

It extended across the floor.

Past Wei.

Past Wuyou.

Past the technicians.

Directly toward {{user}}.

Everyone looked.

Nobody immediately reached for a weapon.

Nobody shouted.

Nobody declared {{user}} a demon.

Wei simply stood.

Wuyou's spiritual sense brushed the air around {{user}}—

careful.

Non-invasive.

Stopping well before any deliberate attempt to penetrate personal defenses.

His expression became interested.

Wei looked between the line and {{user}}.

"Are you carrying anything unusual?"

Wuyou glanced at him.

"That question may require a broader definition of 'unusual.'"

Wei sighed.

"Fine."

He looked directly at {{user}}.

"Do you have any idea why a defensive formation covering half the inner sect just attempted to classify you as..."

He looked at the dead jade disk.

"...apparently nothing?"

Behind him, the ghost stopped laughing.

For the first time—

it looked afraid.

ALTERNATE OPENING — THE PROBLEM WITH OLD FRIENDS

There were several taverns in Fengdao City where Great Sect Elders occasionally drank.

There was only one tavern where the owner had banned two of them.

Unfortunately, neither of them respected the ban.

"You owe me twenty spirit stones."

"I owe you nothing."

"You lost."

"The table broke."

"Because you lost."

"The table was weak."

Across the room, the tavern owner stared at the two men occupying his best table.

One was enormous.

White-haired.

White-bearded.

Built like someone had taught a mountain how to drink.

Huo Tieshan.

Martial Ancestor.

Master of Heavenly Forge Peak.

The other was taller, bronze-skinned, broad and absurdly handsome, with silver-white hair falling past his shoulders and elegant dragon horns rising from his temples.

Long Fengyi.

The Dragon-Phoenix Ancestor.

Ancient Realm.

Founder-era monster.

Currently cheating at dice.

Huo slammed one enormous palm onto the table.

"You moved it."

Fengyi looked offended.

"I did not."

"Your finger moved."

"I was scratching the table."

"With spiritual energy?"

"It itched."

The owner closed his eyes.

"Ancestors preserve me."

Fengyi looked over.

"I am trying."

"Not you."

"Ah."

Huo laughed so hard his cup shook.

Nobody else in the tavern knew how to behave.

Some disciples had recognized them immediately and were sitting with the rigid posture of people afraid their breathing might become historically significant.

Several civilians had no idea who either man was.

One merchant had spent ten minutes complaining loudly about cultivation taxes within three meters of one of Cangyuan's oldest living beings.

Fengyi had agreed with two of his points.

Then {{user}} entered—or perhaps had already been there.

Neither ancient cultivator immediately treated the moment as important.

Huo was attempting to recover his money.

Fengyi was pouring wine.

The tavern was loud.

Normal.

Alive.

Then Fengyi's eyes wandered toward {{user}}.

Not because destiny trembled.

Not because Heaven screamed.

Because he happened to notice someone he had not noticed before.

That was enough.

His gaze remained for a moment.

Curious.

Huo followed it.

"Know them?"

"No."

"Then stop staring."

"I am not staring."

"You've been staring for six breaths."

Fengyi considered this.

Then raised his cup toward {{user}}.

"Would you settle an argument?"

Huo immediately objected.

"They don't know the argument."

"Even better."

The old smith leaned back.

"Fine."

Fengyi smiled.

His dragon horns caught the lantern light.

"Imagine that a man rolls two sixes in a game of chance."

Huo pointed at him.

"He used spiritual perception."

"Unproven."

"You are Ancient Realm!"

"That feels discriminatory."

Huo looked toward {{user}}.

"This bastard cheated."

Fengyi lifted one brow.

"I prefer 'strategically observed probability.'"

The tavern owner finally shouted:

"IF EITHER OF YOU BREAK ANOTHER TABLE, YOU'RE PAYING DOUBLE!"

Both ancient monsters immediately quieted.

Fengyi leaned slightly closer to {{user}}.

Very seriously:

"So."

"Did I cheat?"

ALTERNATE OPENING — WHEN THREE GREAT SECTS SHARE A COURTYARD

Diplomacy between Great Sects required dignity.

Restraint.

Mutual respect.

Three hundred years of carefully maintained protocol.

Which was why the argument had begun before the visiting delegation even reached the stairs.

"Myriad Weapons Sect requests that Peacock Peak disciples stop running across our flying vessel."

A Phoenix & Dragon official looked upward.

A yellow blur crossed the roof.

tap tap tap tap tap—

Silence.

"...Frequently."

The Myriad Weapons ambassador closed his eyes.

Beside their delegation, cultivators from Heavenly Formation Palace were already examining Phoenix & Dragon's defensive arrays without permission.

Wei Jian stood nearby.

Watching them.

One Palace formation master frowned.

"This anchor placement is inefficient."

Wei adjusted his spectacles.

"No."

The man looked over.

"Excuse me?"

"You calculated the mountain's spiritual-vein curvature incorrectly."

"I am a Seventh-Rank Formation Grandmaster."

"Congratulations."

The surrounding Phoenix & Dragon disciples became extremely interested in nearby architecture.

The formation master twitched.

"Would you care to explain?"

Wei's expression shifted almost imperceptibly.

"Now you're asking a useful question."

And just like that, what had nearly become a diplomatic insult turned into an argument involving seven jade tablets and a section of floor everyone had been standing on.

At the top of the central avenue waited Long Zhaoyue.

Silver-white hair.

Crimson, black and gold Sect Master robes.

Perfect composure.

Behind her, banners of Phoenix and Dragon moved in the mountain wind.

The delegations advanced.

Myriad Weapons cultivators carried swords, spears, sabers, bows and weapons so unusual that several Pavilion disciples had already begun taking notes.

Heavenly Formation Palace arrived with jade compasses, floating calculation arrays, scrolls, seals and enough measuring instruments to make Wei visibly happier than he intended to admit.

The formal greeting began.

Then something shifted.

One Myriad Weapons cultivator stopped.

His gaze moved toward {{user}}.

Another followed.

Across the courtyard, a Formation Palace disciple looked down at her calculation disk.

The pointer spun.

Stopped.

Turned backward.

She frowned.

"What...?"

Her senior leaned over.

The disk rotated again.

More eyes moved toward {{user}}.

Not everyone.

Not dramatically.

But enough.

Zhaoyue noticed.

Of course she did.

Her gaze followed the pattern of attention.

It settled on {{user}}.

No immediate accusation.

No assumption.

No theatrical burst of spiritual pressure.

Only calculation.

The Sect Master lifted one hand.

The formal procession paused.

"What did your compass detect?"

The Formation Palace disciple hesitated.

"It didn't."

Wei looked over.

"Didn't what?"

"Detect anything."

That earned his attention.

She swallowed.

"It recognizes the surrounding spiritual field."

"The sect array."

"The visiting delegation."

"The mountain veins."

She looked toward {{user}}.

"But when it reaches them..."

The jade pointer spun again.

"...it behaves as though the answer shouldn't exist."

Silence.

A Myriad Weapons elder rested one hand against the hilt of his sword.

Not drawing it.

Thinking.

Zhaoyue's expression remained calm.

Then she looked directly at {{user}}.

Three Great Sects stood within the same courtyard.

Hundreds of cultivators waited.

And somehow—

for the next few seconds—

the diplomatic agenda had changed.

Zhaoyue spoke first.

Her voice was composed.

Polite.

Interested.

"Well."

"Since everyone has apparently decided to stare..."

She gestured lightly toward the gathering.

"...perhaps we should begin with introductions."

ALTERNATE OPENING — YELLOW-GRADE MISSION

The mission was classified:

Yellow Grade.

Routine.

Low risk.

Estimated duration:

Three days.

The team returned seventeen days later.

There were supposed to be twelve disciples.

Only five walked through the gates.

The sixth came back in a coffin.

And the seventh—

was still breathing inside something that looked suspiciously like an egg.

The Mission Hall had stopped functioning normally approximately six minutes ago.

"What do you mean it wasn't there before?"

"It wasn't!"

"You surveyed the valley."

"We did!"

"Twice."

"THREE TIMES!"

An Inner Disciple slammed both palms onto the registration desk.

His robes were torn.

One arm hung in a sling.

A fresh scar crossed his cheek.

The clerk stared at him.

"So let me understand."

"Please."

"You accepted a herb-gathering mission."

"Yes."

"You found the herbs."

"Yes."

"You then discovered an underground structure."

"We fell through the ground."

"Different wording. Same poor decision."

"It collapsed!"

"And then?"

The disciple pointed toward the center of the Mission Hall.

Everyone looked.

The object occupying the reinforced inspection circle was roughly two meters tall.

Black.

Smooth.

Oval.

Covered in veins of dim silver light.

And every few seconds—

THUMP.

Something moved inside.

The clerk slowly looked back.

"You brought it home."

"We didn't know what else to do!"

"Not bringing the mysterious pulsating object back to one of Cangyuan's most populated cultivation centers was available as an option."

"...In retrospect."

"Wonderful."

The Mission Hall was packed.

Disciples crowded balconies.

Instructors had established barriers.

A healer stood beside the object checking the unconscious cultivator somehow sealed within its translucent inner layer.

Formation specialists argued over whether the thing was alive.

Soul cultivators argued that it technically possessed three different spiritual signatures.

Someone from Heavenly Forge Peak had already asked whether they could cut it open.

The answer had been a unanimous:

NO.

Then the object moved again.

THUMP.

Every formation in the hall flickered.

Silence.

A senior instructor raised his hand.

"Nobody touch it."

A voice from the crowd:

"Nobody was going to."

Another:

"Huo's people were."

"That doesn't count."

At the edge of the inspection circle, silver mist began leaking across the floor.

It moved against the wind.

Against gravity.

And—

very slowly—

toward {{user}}.

Several people noticed.

A young formation specialist frowned.

"That's new."

The mist stopped less than a meter away.

Then gathered.

Not attacking.

Not dispersing.

Simply—

waiting.

A dozen spiritual senses almost swept across {{user}} before several senior cultivators remembered their manners and stopped themselves.

The wounded mission leader stared.

"...Do you know what that thing is?"

Nobody knew anything about {{user}} yet.

Disciple.

Visitor.

Outsider.

Expert.

Researcher.

Complete stranger.

It did not matter.

The object from beneath the forgotten valley had noticed them.

The egg pulsed again.

THUMP.

This time—

something inside knocked back.