For the first time in what felt like years, the Eternal Yin Orchid Sect basked in peace. No battles shook the skies, no sect wars or looming tribulations pressed against their gates. Instead, the courtyards were filled with laughter, lessons, and quiet growth.
In one sunlit chamber, Lianhua and the other wives gathered with Yueying and Xiaoque. Scrolls and brushes lay spread across low tables, ink smudges already staining Xiaoque's fingers. Lianhua's patient voice guided them as she traced characters across the parchment.
"Again," she said softly. "This is how you write 'moon.' Yueying, your strokes are too firm—it should flow like water."
The wives doted on Xiaoque endlessly, treating her less as a beast turned maiden and more like a beloved daughter. Shuyue playfully tapped her on the nose when she fumbled a word, while Yinxue corrected her posture with the same stern grace she reserved for Tianlan. Xiaoque beamed under their care, her shy smiles blooming brighter each day.
Yueying stood nearby, her expression steady but her eyes soft, pride glimmering as she watched her daughter embraced so naturally. For once, the fierce Moonfang seemed at peace.
But not everything was seamless. At dinner that evening, the two revealed their instincts still lingered. As the dishes were laid out, Yueying tore into roasted meat with her hands, Xiaoque leaning down to bite without pause. The wives gasped in unison, stunned.
"Wait—no! Use the chopsticks!" Ziyue cried, reaching out to stop them.
The tigers blinked, confused, before sheepishly trying again. The wives exchanged amused but exasperated looks, laughter bubbling through the hall. "It seems we must teach you more than just writing," Yueru said, shaking her head with a smile.
Meanwhile, Haotian and Tianlan spent their days outside in the wide skies. The three rainbow-feathered falcons screeched in joy as they soared, and Tianlan rode on their backs with unrestrained laughter, his hair whipping wildly in the wind.
"Father! Look! Faster!" he cried as Ling'er dove, Xue'er and Baiyun circling around her.
Haotian stood below, arms folded, watching his son's joy. A faint sigh escaped him, though not from weariness—rather from a quiet longing. If only these days could last forever.
Still, he would not waste the time. When Tianlan tired, Haotian turned inward, sitting in meditation with his body glowing like a sun. His Heaven Sundering Trinity Scripture pulsed through him, his three cores resonating like drums. Immortal chi swirled, but without more from the heavens, he could not advance further. Instead, he refined what already dwelled within, condensing it, purifying it, making it sharper than a blade.
When not cultivating, he poured over immortal scriptures, scrolls of the Ascension and Lord Realms, his golden eyes flickering with lines of Dao. Every word carved deeper understanding, preparing him for steps he knew must one day come.
Days slipped into weeks, weeks into months. Peace lingered, rare and precious, yet beneath it all ran the current of inevitability.
Then, at last, the event everyone across the Five Continents had whispered about, prayed for, and feared in equal measure—arrived.
The five continents trembled as though the heavens themselves were pulling apart. The skies cracked with light, and the distant veil at the far east rippled like a curtain strained by storm winds.
In the Eternal Yin Orchid Sect, Haotian stood with his wives gathered around him. By now, after four months, the signs of new life were clear—their bellies had begun to swell, soft proof of his heirs growing within.
"Stay here," he said firmly.
They protested at once, voices sharp with worry. Yueru gripped his sleeve, Ziyue shook her head, Shuyue pressed a hand to her stomach as if to emphasize her defiance. But Haotian raised his hand and his voice.
"No. Your first priority is the safety of the children. The veil will open soon, and when it does, immortal chi will flood across the continents. That is your time. Cultivate, break through. Strengthen yourselves with what comes. As for me—leave the envoy to me."
Their protests quieted, though unease lingered in their eyes.
He gave them a small smile. "Besides, if that thunder fool dares show his face again—Leigong or not—I'll kick his ass. He cannot strike everyone with crimson lightning. Even he wouldn't know where to start."
That earned reluctant smiles, though tears glistened in their eyes. They could only nod and press his hands one by one before letting him go.
Outside, Haotian's voice rolled across the continent, carried on waves of chi.
"All cultivators, prepare yourselves. When the veil opens, immortal chi will descend. Seize it. Do not hesitate. Cultivate without fear."
His words were heard everywhere. Across the Five Continents, sects, clans, and lone cultivators dropped into meditation, waiting.
Haotian himself vanished in a single flicker of light, reappearing above the far eastern seas. Below him, a massive gathering had already assembled—armies of Sovereigns and Emperors, their eyes fixed on the trembling veil. Some were grim, hands on their weapons, ready to fight the coming envoys.
Haotian floated above them, his aura steady, his gaze sharp.
The trembling stopped. Then, like the heavens tearing apart, the veil split.
A wave of immortal chi burst through. It was richer, denser, purer than anything the world had ever known. It swept across the land, flooding into meridians like rivers breaking their banks.
All around him, Emperors gasped. Many sat down immediately, their legs folding beneath them as they drew the chi into themselves. Their auras flared, their realms trembling at the edge of breakthrough.
Haotian alone remained standing, but he was not idle. His body glowed like a sun as the Heaven Sundering Trinity Scripture roared to life, his three cores resonating with every breath.
Incredible, he thought. This immortal chi… it is so pure. If I cultivate with this, my path forward will skyrocket.
His body surged as if flames of the Dao poured through his veins, his foundations tempering under the flood.
Then he raised his eyes.
From the widening veil, three great flying ships emerged, their hulls etched with immortal runes, sails glowing with starlight. They cut through the air effortlessly, massive yet silent, descending toward the gathering.
On the flagship, a tall man stood at the bow. His robes shifted in the wind, his presence commanding but calm. He gazed upward as if sensing something, one eyebrow arching faintly.
An attendant rushed to his side. "Elder, it seems someone here is breaking through to the Immortal Realm!"
The man raised a hand, waving the words aside. His expression remained composed, though a faint sigh escaped him. "This was to be expected. Once the veil opened, the immortal chi would spill forth. Any Emperor breathing this air would step into immortality with ease."
Even as he spoke, the skies darkened. Tribulation clouds churned, and arcs of crimson lightning crackled within, writhing across the heavens like serpents of destruction.
Haotian narrowed his eyes, golden light flashing in his gaze as he stared up at the storm. His lips curved faintly.
So it begins.
The first Emperor trembled as immortal chi surged through his body, his meridians glowing like molten rivers. His aura exploded upward, piercing the sky—he had broken through.
The heavens responded instantly. Clouds churned, crimson lightning snaking across the horizon, the first strokes of tribulation forming to strike.
But before the thunderbolt could fall, another Emperor cried out, his chi bursting into the air. His body glowed with immortal radiance as he too ascended.
The tribulation clouds grew thicker, the lightning more violent. Yet even as they rumbled, a third Emperor shattered his bottleneck. Then a fourth. Then a fifth.
In moments, the sky was a storm of power.
All around Haotian, the gathered Emperors burst into breakthroughs, one after another, their roars mingling with the rolling thunder. The immortal chi pouring from the veil was too pure, too vast. It consumed every bottleneck, broke every chain.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Hundreds ascended in minutes. The tribulation clouds spread, stretching wider, darker, lightning writhing like crimson serpents across the heavens.
Then the impossible happened.
Thousands joined the chorus, their immortal auras flaring in every direction. The storm swelled to engulf the entire eastern horizon, the seas and skies trembling under the weight of countless ascensions.
The crimson storm should have struck them down, yet the clouds only swelled larger, rolling endlessly. The weight of heaven's fury grew unbearable—until a voice split the sky.
"What in the world is this?!"
Leigong's voice. The heavens themselves roared with his indignation.
Haotian chuckled low, his golden eyes gleaming. "Well, well. Even you can't keep up with this."
The envoys aboard the three flying ships froze. Their attendants clutched the rails, their mouths hanging open.
Even the elder at the flagship's bow, dignified and composed only moments ago, broke character. His jaw tightened, his eyes wide.
"This… this cannot be…"
All around him, he saw it—hundreds, thousands breaking through to the Immortal Realm in unison. Their auras climbed higher, immortal radiance weaving together into a tapestry of light that covered the sea.
"How do I report this?" he muttered under his breath, disbelief strangling his voice. "We crossed the veil, the chi flooded the continents, and now… thousands have ascended. No one will believe it."
He did not know the full truth. That across all Five Continents, not thousands, but millions of Emperors were surging toward immortality, their bottlenecks shattering under the tide of chi.
But what truly chilled his heart was what came next.
The storm did not disperse. The crimson lightning did not fall. The heavens themselves seemed to hesitate.
And in that silence, every cultivator felt it—something more terrible, more unfathomable than tribulation was about to descend.
The skies boiled crimson as tribulation clouds spread across the eastern horizon. Lightning writhed like serpents of judgment, and every cultivator below—Emperors and Sovereigns alike—held their breath.
Haotian rose into the storm, golden light trailing him as though he were parting heaven itself. His voice rang clear across the Five Continents.
"Leigong!"
The clouds rolled, thunder answering in fury. "This land dares defy Heaven's will. I am to stop them. I am to strike them down!"
Haotian chuckled, folding his arms as he floated in the storm. "Stop them? Look below, thunder fool. There are not one or two breaking through. There are millions. D'you dare touch them? D'you dare try?"
The thunder shook harder. "It is my duty! Heaven decreed it! How am I to report this if I do nothing?"
Haotian's grin widened. "Then report the truth. Millions broke through at once. Your decree no longer stands, and you are not strong enough to punish this land alone. Even your power isn't infinite, Leigong. Not against this."
The storm rumbled, as though the god himself choked on the words. But Haotian leaned forward, voice dripping with mockery.
"You're a fool, but fine. I'll give you a way out. Strike your strongest lightning—your proud crimson judgment. But split it. Split it across every last one of them. Let the heavens believe you punished us."
Below, silence reigned. The Emperors who had been trembling moments before stared upward in disbelief. Even the envoys aboard the flying ships gaped, their faces pale.
The elder at the bow, normally composed, muttered under his breath, "He… he's bargaining with the heavens…"
Leigong roared, "You mock me, mortal!"
Haotian spread his arms wide, laughter in his golden eyes. "Mock? No, I dare you. Go on. Strike us all at once. Let me see how terrifying your crimson lightning is when divided among millions. Hit them all. Hit harder!"
For a moment, the storm hesitated. Then Leigong bellowed in rage, raising his colossal hammer. Crimson lightning spiraled around him, each coil thick enough to burn a mountain to ash.
The envoys screamed. Even the elder raised his hand, summoning a shield of law to cover his ship. "Brace yourselves!"
The hammer fell.
The heavens cracked. A single bolt of crimson lightning split the clouds and roared toward the earth. It was colossal, god-slaying, a bolt that once shattered cities.
But then it split.
Not once. Not twice. But into millions—threads of crimson unraveling across the sky, scattering like rain. By the time they reached the Emperors below, the lightning was nothing more than static. Tiny snaps of red light brushed against robes, sparked harmlessly off skin.
One cultivator even flicked it away with his hand, muttering, "Seriously? This is tribulation?"
The courtyards erupted in disbelief. Some laughed, some cried, most simply sat down again to cultivate as if nothing had happened.
Haotian threw his head back and laughed. "Is that it, Leigong? Strike harder! Give me more! Dance for me, thunder fool!"
The storm boiled with rage. The hammer fell again. Another crimson bolt split—and once more unraveled into millions of sparks. The disciples below batted them away like gnats, their breakthroughs uninterrupted.
On the flagship, the elder's eyes bulged. His lips twitched into hysterical laughter. "The crimson tribulation… the terror of Emperors… reduced to sparks!"
A servant stumbled forward, bowing. "Elder, don't worry. I recorded everything as proof!"
The elder snatched the scroll, holding it like a divine relic. His laugh cracked the sky. "Good! Good! The sect will never believe this, but I will show them! Hahahaha!"
Above, Haotian hovered in golden light, watching the storm sputter into shame. His laughter was soft but sharp, cutting straight through the heavens.
This was my plan all along.
The crimson clouds above the Five Continents boiled and churned, lightning sputtering weakly. Haotian floated in their heart, arms folded, his golden eyes gleaming with scorn.
Below, countless Emperors sat in meditation, their bottlenecks shattering, immortal chi pouring into them freely. Not one was struck down. Not one had faltered.
And above, Leigong's hammer sagged. His breathing grew heavy, shoulders heaving. For the first time in countless ages, the God of Thunder appeared tired. His face twisted with shame.
The clouds split, revealing his towering form. His voice cracked with rage, echoing across heaven and earth.
"You… mortal! Not once! Not twice! Not even three times! You mock me, you humiliate me, and now this!"
Haotian picked idly at his ear, his expression one of bored amusement. "Are you done shouting?" His voice rang sharp and calm. "If you want to try me, that is fine. But remember who you are facing. Let me spell it out for you."
He traced glowing letters in the sky with his finger, each rune shimmering with immortal light.
A – L – T – E – R.
Haotian's smile sharpened. "Are you sure you want this fight?"
Silence followed. The thunder god's eyes narrowed, fury and hesitation warring within. Haotian leaned closer, his words a dagger. "Just accept your loss. Return."
Leigong's jaw clenched. His grip on the hammer shook. His pride roared for him to strike again—but before he could, another voice split the heavens.
"Return."
It was not thunder. It was not lightning. It was the quiet weight of inevitability, of law itself.
Leigong froze. His face drained, his form stiffened. With a single bow of his head, he vanished, his crimson clouds unraveling into nothing.
The storm cleared.
The Emperors below gasped, their eyes wide. "Who… who was that voice?" they whispered. "Even Leigong obeyed…"
But Haotian knew. His lips curved faintly as he cupped his hands toward the empty sky, bowing in silence. Gaia.
No more words were needed.
He turned, golden light trailing him as he descended. His eyes fell upon the three flying ships hovering just beyond the veil. The envoys, still frozen in disbelief, stared as he landed on the flagship's deck.
The elder's hands twitched, still clutching the scroll with the recording of crimson lightning's disgrace. His eyes bulged as Haotian strode forward, each step radiating a calm, crushing authority.
Haotian inclined his head slightly. "I am Haotian, Emperor of the Five Continents. Welcome."
The elder struggled to compose himself, but his voice cracked all the same. "…Elder Xu of the Eternal Dawn Sect greets you."
Behind them, the sky glittered as one after another, the Emperors of the Five Continents broke through. Their auras roared into the heavens, immortal chi blazing like stars being born.
Hundreds. Thousands. Soon, millions.
Haotian's lips curved into a smile. This is what I wanted.
The Eternal Yin Orchid Sect's central hall had never borne such weight. Golden lanterns lined the carved pillars, immortal runes glowed across the walls, and the air itself pulsed with the density of immortal chi.
On one side of the long jade table sat Haotian, calm as stone, his golden eyes watchful. Beside him were the titans of the Five Continents: Xuanming, Qianye, Yuelian—the four immortal dragons reborn, their forms condensed into regal human guises. Yangshen, Yuying, Jinhai, Meiyun, and the heads of the continent's great sects and clans filled the seats beyond. Each carried an aura that could shake mountains, their presence united in anticipation.
On the other side sat the envoys of the Eternal Dawn Sect. Each one radiated immortal chi, their robes woven with runes of dawnlight, their gazes sharp but tempered by restraint. At their head sat Elder Xu, the same dignified figure who had stood at the bow of the flagship. Though his composure had mostly returned, his fingers still twitched faintly, betraying the memory of crimson lightning dissolving into sparks.
The atmosphere was taut until Elder Xu finally spoke. His voice carried the weight of centuries, yet it trembled faintly against the hall's resonance.
"We come as envoys of the Eternal Dawn Sect. Our purpose is recruitment. This world—isolated as it was—was once under the guardianship of another sect. But its master fell in war against the demon planet Ashveil, and its hold collapsed. By decree of the Immortal Council, we are now charged with stewardship of this land."
A ripple spread through the hall. Sect masters exchanged startled looks, while the dragons narrowed their eyes.
Elder Xu pressed on. "Yet now… the situation has changed. What was thought to be a quiet, forgotten corner has instead revealed itself as a land of millions of Immortals. Never in the history of our sect—or any sect—has such a phenomenon been recorded." He exhaled slowly. "For this reason, we extend an invitation. The Eternal Dawn Sect is willing to accept all who are willing into our fold."
Relief spread among the leaders of the Five Continents. For months, whispers had haunted them—would the envoys demand submission, strip their autonomy, or mark them as enemies? But acceptance—recruitment—was something even the proudest could bear.
A murmur of agreement rose. Smiles flickered across weary faces. For the first time since the veil trembled, hope swept the assembly.
But Haotian remained still.
He leaned forward, his gaze piercing. "You make it sound simple. Yet every sect has requirements. What are the conditions? What trials must be faced? What price do you ask to join?"
The hall fell silent again. All eyes turned to Elder Xu, awaiting his answer.