The Azure-Cloud Sect had been a minor parasite on the skin of the Upper Realm, but its infrastructure was perfect for Shen Yuan's needs. Within forty-eight hours, the "Stronghold of the Eternal Void" was no longer a mine—it was a fortress.
Shen Yuan sat in the Sect Master's private meditation chamber, surrounded by plundered Spirit-Stones. Beside him lay a tattered, ancient scroll he had pulled from the hidden floor of the library.
"Master," Tian Yu's voice echoed within his soul. "This map... it's the [Star-Map of the Ninth Heaven]. It shows the location of your old Obsidian Palace, the one the traitors claimed was destroyed."
"It wasn't destroyed," Shen Yuan replied, his fingers tracing a faded line on the parchment. "It was hidden. They couldn't break the locks, so they tried to bury the memory of it. But I need more power before I can reclaim it. My current vessel is still too fragile for the True Void."
He looked at Sect Master Zhao, who was kneeling at the door like a loyal hound. The man's violet eyes were vacant, his free will replaced by Shen Yuan's absolute command.
"Zhao," Shen Yuan barked. "Report."
"The neighboring Iron-Tusk Sect has sent a messenger, Master," Zhao replied in a hollow tone. "They are a High-Tier sect under the banner of the Silver Moon Pavilion. Every month, we provide them with thirty percent of our Dragon-Ore as 'protection'. The messenger is at the gate. He is... displeased."
Shen Yuan stood up. His skin shimmered with a dull, metallic luster—the [Star-Forged Flesh] was now at 50%. He felt like he could punch through a mountain.
"Displeased? Let us go and soothe his spirit, then."
The Stronghold Gates
The messenger from the Iron-Tusk Sect, a man named Gong, sat atop a massive, six-legged beast. He was a Peak Core Formation expert, and his aura radiated a crude, oppressive heat. Behind him stood fifty elite warriors, all mocking the "slave-guards" on the walls.
"Where is Zhao?!" Gong roared, his voice cracking the stone of the gate. "Why has the tribute not been brought to our borders? If the ore isn't delivered by sunset, the Iron-Tusk will trample this pathetic hill into the mud!"
The heavy gates creaked open.
Shen Yuan walked out alone. He wasn't wearing fine robes; he wore the simple, black-stained linen of a miner, but he carried himself with the weight of a dying sun.
"Zhao is busy," Shen Yuan said, his voice quiet but carrying over the wind. "As for the tribute... I've decided to change the terms."
Gong blinked, then let out a booming laugh. "A miner? You sent a miner to negotiate with me? Who are you, boy?"
"I am the new owner of this mountain," Shen Yuan said, stopping ten paces from the beast. "And the new terms are simple: You will return to your Sect Master. You will tell him that the Iron-Tusk Sect now owes the Eternal Void a tribute of fifty percent of your resources. If you refuse, I will use your tusks as footstools."
The laughter stopped. The air turned freezing.
"You seek death!" Gong screamed. He leaped from his beast, his fist glowing with a brown, earthen Qi. "[Iron-Tusk Strike: Mountain Crusher!]"
The strike was heavy, designed to pulverize internal organs through armor.
Shen Yuan didn't dodge. He raised a single hand, his palm open.
THOOM.
The shockwave blew the dust back for fifty meters, but Shen Yuan didn't move an inch. Gong's fist was caught in Shen Yuan's grip. The Peak Core Formation expert's eyes went wide—it felt like he had punched an indestructible pillar of diamond.
"My turn to negotiate," Shen Yuan whispered.
He didn't use a technique. He simply squeezed.
CRACK.
Gong's hand bones turned to powder. Before the man could scream, Shen Yuan drove his other fist into Gong's chest.
"[Body Art: Void-Fracture]"
The impact didn't send Gong flying. Instead, a ripple of black energy passed through his body. Gong's armor remained intact, but his internal organs and his Golden Core were instantly vibrated into liquid.
Gong fell to his knees, blood pouring from his ears and eyes. He was dead before he hit the ground.
The fifty elite warriors of the Iron-Tusk Sect stood frozen. Their leader, a Peak Core Formation master, had been killed in one move by a man who looked like a servant.
Shen Yuan looked at the survivors. "Does anyone else have questions about the new tribute policy?"
The warriors dropped their weapons and fell to their knees in a synchronized thud.
"Good," Shen Yuan said. He turned to Xiao Chi, who was watching from the wall. "Take their beasts. Load them with the heads of the fallen. Send them back to the Iron-Tusk Sect Master with a message."
"What is the message, Master?" Xiao Chi asked, her voice filled with fanatical devotion.
Shen Yuan looked toward the distant horizon, where the great palaces of the Upper Realm floated in the clouds.
"Tell them the Sovereign has returned. And his rent is due."