The air between them crackled, heavy with the scent of ozone and impending violence.
"Li, I dare you to spew that filth one more time," Zhang He growled, his voice dropping to a dangerous, vibrating bass.
He didn't wait for a response before acting. With a sharp flick of his wrist, space seemed to distort, and a long blade materialized from thin air. It wasn't just a weapon; it was a manifestation of intent, shimmering with a blinding, aggressive spiritual light that forced the onlookers to squint their eyes.
Li Hongyan, representing the Fire Sun Faction, didn't flinch. He merely curled his lip in a sneer that was practiced, arrogant, and dripping with disdain. "What's the matter, Zhang? You lot are weaklings—bottom of the barrel. Are you telling me I'm not allowed to state a simple fact?"
That was the spark. Zhang He's eyes went wide with fury. He raised the luminous blade, the air around him twisting as he prepared to unleash a devastating technique right there in the open.
"Stop! Both of you, hold it!"
Yu Xing and Wen Biyun moved instantly, stepping into the fray to physically restrain the enraged blade master. It took a flurry of soothing words, logical pleas, and physical intervention to talk Zhang He off the ledge.
Gradually, the blinding light of the blade faded as Zhang He huffed, retracting the weapon with a look of lingering indignation. Li Hongyan, noting the sheer suicidal recklessness in Zhang He's eyes—the look of a man willing to burn the world down over an insult—felt his own arrogance deflate. He stepped back, the jeer dying in his throat.
From the sidelines, Luo Zhen watched the entire exchange with a calm, analytical gaze. Slowly, he nodded.
To an outsider, Zhang He might have looked unstable. To Luo Zhen, this display was a perfect advertisement for the Blade Transformation Sect. It revealed their core philosophy: they might be outmatched, but they would never be out-dared.
If we disagree, we fight.
It was a simple, brutal code. It said, I may not be your equal in raw power, but I possess the will to drag you down to hell with me.
Luo Zhen appreciated that. In a world governed by the ruthless laws of cultivation, joining a sect of cowards was a death sentence. If Zhang He had swallowed the insult and looked at his shoes, Luo Zhen would have been mentally packing his bags, looking for a new affiliation. The sect chose the disciple, yes, but the disciple also chose the sect.
Composing himself, Zhang He stowed his magic treasure and turned to Luo Zhen, his chest still heaving slightly.
"You heard that," Zhang He said, his voice rough but honest. "I won't lie to you. Right now, statistically speaking, the Blade Transformation Sect is the weakest of the four major powers. I admit that."
He paused, his eyes hardening with conviction. "But that is temporary."
"I believe in our trajectory," Zhang He continued, his voice rising with renewed passion. "Sooner or later, we will soar. There will come a day when we are the ones looking down on the Qingzhou Prefecture."
"Keep dreaming," Li Hongyan muttered from the side. He had lost his aggressive edge, but his sarcasm remained intact. "You think you can dominate Qingzhou? Maybe in the next epoch."
Li Hongyan gestured expansively, his robes fluttering. "The Fire Sun Faction has stood for a thousand years. Our roots run deep into the bedrock of history. We fought for a millennium to secure the throne as the number one sect. And you? Your little club hasn't even seen its three-hundredth anniversary. You lack the pedigree to even look us in the eye."
Zhang He let out a cold snort but didn't argue. The timeline was a fact he couldn't dispute.
Luo Zhen, however, narrowed his eyes, processing this new information.
Three hundred years?
He had assumed the Blade Transformation Sect was an ancient, decaying institution. But if they had risen to become one of the four major powers in only three centuries, surpassing countless older organizations... that didn't speak of weakness. It spoke of explosive, terrifying potential.
"Alright, that's enough," Yu Xing interrupted, stepping between them like a weary grandfather breaking up a sibling squabble. "The rankings are set in stone for now; arguing changes nothing. We have actual work to do."
He looked around the circle. "I propose we head to the Silver Flood Dragon clan's lair immediately to assess the situation. If the rumors are true and the clan has been exterminated, we move on to the State of Lu." Yu Xing paused. "Objections?"
The group shook their heads in unison.
"Good. The route is set. Let's move."
The Hierarchy of Flight
Five streaks of light erupted from the ground, piercing the sky as they shot toward the ocean.
Luo Zhen traveled within the formation, maintaining his pace. To the others, he was merely a Junior at the Late King Level—a talented youngster, but a youngster nonetheless. Yu Xing and Zhang He deliberately throttled their speed to accommodate him. Li Hongyan looked like he wanted to complain about the leisurely pace, but, seeing the consensus, kept his mouth shut.
As the wind roared past them, Zhang He drifted closer to Luo Zhen, his voice carried by spiritual energy so only Luo Zhen could hear.
"Listen closely," Zhang He warned, his tone grave. "The animosity between the Fire Sun Faction and us runs deep. It's not just talk. If our disciples meet theirs in the wild, conflict is the default setting."
"It starts with arguments," he continued. "It ends in blood. Injuries are common; deaths aren't rare. When you travel alone in the future, if you see Fire Sun colors, keep your guard up. Even if you don't look for trouble, they will bring it to your doorstep."
Luo Zhen frowned slightly as he flew. "Why? Is it really just about the rankings?"
"Rankings are vanity. This is survival." Zhang He sighed, a sound lost to the wind. "They are suppressing us. It's that simple."
"We are the new blood," Zhang He explained. "We've risen too fast in the last few centuries. We're currently last, but our momentum scares them. If we keep growing at this rate, we will eclipse them. They know it, and they are doing everything in their power to strangle us in the cradle."
"It is the inevitable war between the old guard and the rising star," Zhang He concluded. "Unless one side is thoroughly broken, this friction will never end."
"I see," Luo Zhen murmured, nodding. It was a tale as old as power itself.
"Don't worry, though," Zhang He added, a note of pride returning to his voice. "In terms of raw technique—cultivation methods and blade skills—we bow to no one. We are their equals, perhaps even their superiors in combat arts. Our only deficit is resources. They have the mines, the shops, the pill reserves. We have the steel."
Luo Zhen's eyes lit up.
Resources? He almost laughed. He didn't need a sugar-daddy sect to feed him pills. He had his Devouring ability. With the help of the System, he could turn a battlefield into a buffet. What he lacked—what he truly needed—was knowledge. High-level techniques. If the Blade Transformation Sect had the best manuals, the lack of money was irrelevant.
The Reunion
Thirty minutes later, the air grew salty and humid.
Below them lay the territory of the Silver Flood Dragon clan, a vast expanse of ocean stretching over ten thousand miles. The water was dark and foreboding.
"We're going down," Yu Xing signaled. "The Crystal Palace is on the seabed."
The group initiated a dive, breaking the water's surface with barely a splash. Luo Zhen, however, held back. He had a prior engagement.
"I'll hold the perimeter up here," Luo Zhen signaled to Zhang He, adhering to a pre-arranged cover story.
Once the ripples of the elders' descent had faded, Luo Zhen banked hard, turning into a streak of azure light that shot toward a secluded beach miles away.
He landed softly on the sand, the rhythmic crashing of the waves the only sound. He reached into his robes and tapped a specific magic stone.
A flash of light illuminated the beach, and Bai Susu stepped out from the pocket dimension.
The transformation was striking. Over the last few days, Luo Zhen had worked tirelessly, refining fifteen high-grade Mystic Infant Pills. He had fed them all to her.
The results were visible. The pallor was gone from her skin, replaced by a radiant vitality. Sharp, aggressive sword energy seemed to hum beneath her skin, invisible but palpable.
"These pills are incredible," Bai Susu said, flexing her hand. "The Blood Skull Curse Seal has been completely suppressed. My demonic power... It's all back."
Luo Zhen smiled, though he felt the need to manage expectations. He explained the time limits.
"That's more than enough," Bai Susu assured him. "Fifteen pills, fifteen months. That gives me over a year to operate at full power. I just need to find a way to exorcise the curse permanently within that window."
Luo Zhen nodded. He flipped his hand, and a heavy token appeared in his palm. The Ascension Token.
"Susu," he said seriously. "The Cold Moon Sect in Qingzhou. They only recruit women, and they are the premier experts in the Sword Path. It's tailored for you."
He pressed the token toward her. "With this, they won't turn you away."
Bai Susu looked at the token, hesitating.
"You don't understand my lineage," she said softly. "I am a Sky Crystal Ant. When we awaken our bloodline, we don't just get strength; we inherit ancestral memories. Techniques. Methods. The more I awaken, the more knowledge floods into me. I don't need human sword manuals. My heritage is enough."
Luo Zhen stared, dumbfounded. "You get free technique downloads?"
"Essentially," she nodded. Then, a thoughtful look crossed her face. "However... I am still chained by this curse. If the Cold Moon Sect has the means to remove the Blood Skull Curse... then perhaps it is worth it."
The Bidding War
Their conversation was cut short by the sonic boom of four approaching figures.
Yu Xing, Zhang He, and the others descended onto the beach, their investigation complete. They landed in a loose semicircle, their eyes immediately drawn to the stranger standing next to Luo Zhen.
"Luo Zhen," Zhang He asked, eyebrows raised. "Who is this?"
"This is my friend," Luo Zhen said smoothly. "Bai Susu."
Zhang He squinted, his spiritual sense probing outward and hitting a wall. "Lady Bai... forgive me, but I can't seem to gauge your cultivation level."
"Nor can I," Yu Xing added, his casual demeanor vanishing.
Bai Susu offered a polite, shallow smile. Then, she let go.
She didn't move a muscle, but the atmosphere on the beach instantly grew heavy, as if gravity had doubled. A shockwave of pure, unadulterated spiritual pressure exploded outward from her small frame. The surrounding natural energy boiled, rolling over the dunes like a tsunami.
The four elders staggered back, their faces draining of color.
"Emperor Level!"
"Fifth Heaven!" Zhang He gasped. "She's the same rank as us!"
"Since when did Silver Flood Dragon Island hide a Fifth Heaven Emperor?" Yu Xing muttered, visibly shaken.
Just as quickly as it had come, the pressure vanished. The wind resumed its gentle blowing; the waves returned to their rhythm. Bai Susu stood there, looking as harmless as a porcelain doll.
Luo Zhen watched the elders' reactions. They weren't looking at a disciple anymore. They were looking at a peer.
Seizing the moment, Luo Zhen raised the Ascension Token again.
"Gentlemen, Lady Wen. I have a token. I assume one of your sects could find a place for a friend of mine?"
The dynamic shifted instantly. It was no longer an evaluation; it was an auction.
"Absolutely!" Zhang He shouted, practically tripping over himself. "Luo Zhen, bring her to the Blade Transformation Sect! We are starving for this kind of talent!"
"Oh, please," Li Hongyan scoffed, stepping in front of Zhang He. "The Blade Transformation Sect? Why would she degrade herself? Lady Bai, come to the Fire Sun Faction. We are the apex of Qingzhou. It's the only logical choice."
"Hehe, Lady Bai," Yu Xing stroked his beard, putting on his most grandfatherly smile. "Reaching the Fifth Heaven at such a young age makes you a monster, not a student. If you join the Prefecture City government, I can guarantee you a position as an Enshrined Elder. Same rank, same pay as me."
"Ignore the men," Wen Biyun interjected sharply. "Join the Cold Moon Sect. We are the second largest power, we focus on women, and we breathe the Sword Path. We will make you an Outer Sect Elder immediately."
"We'll make you an Elder too!" Zhang He yelled. "Come to us! You can be an Elder, and you can hang out with Luo Zhen! Think of the romance!"
"Shut your mouth, Zhang!" Wen Biyun snapped. "I offered the Elder position first! Stop copying my homework!"
"It's a free market!" Zhang He grinned shamelessly. "I'm just trying to close the deal."
Luo Zhen watched the chaos with amusement. They were throwing titles around like candy. Fellow Daoist, they called her. In the cultivation world, respect was a simple equation: show me your power, and I'll show you my manners.
The Contract
The shouting died down as everyone realized the decision lay with the woman standing calmly in the center of the storm.
Bai Susu turned her gaze to Wen Biyun.
"Fellow Daoist Wen," she said, her voice cool and composed. "I will join the Cold Moon Sect. But I have two conditions."
"Name them," Wen Biyun said instantly.
"First, I am afflicted by Daoist Qing Yang's Blood Skull Curse Seal. If you can remove it, I will consider the debt paid."
Bai Susu flared her energy, and a gruesome projection appeared over her shoulder—a bowl-sized skull, glowing with blood-red light and screaming silently. It radiated a sickening aura of decay.
Wen Biyun didn't recoil. She smiled.
"Fate is funny," Wen Biyun chuckled. "Of the four powers, only the Cold Moon Sect specializes in curse seals. Centuries ago, one of our own was hit by this exact curse during the crusade against Qing Yang. We cured it then; we can cure it now. Consider it done."
Luo Zhen let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
"My second condition," Bai Susu continued, her eyes sharp. "I require autonomy. I will not be a servant. I need the freedom to come and go as I please."
Wen Biyun frowned. "Lady Bai, a sect is a hierarchy. Without rules, there is chaos. If you take our resources, you must accept our command. That is the trade."
"I don't want your resources," Bai Susu cut in. "I want my freedom."
Wen Biyun paused, calculating. A Fifth Heaven Emperor was a strategic asset, even if she was uncontrollable.
"If that is the case," Wen Biyun said slowly, "we can compromise. You won't join as a core member. You will be an 'External Aid.' We remove the curse. In exchange, you owe us three favors."
"Three favors?" Bai Susu tilted her head. "If they are within my power, I agree. If you ask the impossible, I will refuse."
"We won't make it impossible," Wen Biyun promised. "Do we have an accord? Let us strike palms."
"Agreed."
Bai Susu extended her hand. Palm met palm with a sharp crack.
To a mortal, a handshake is a gesture. To a cultivator, striking palms on an oath is a binding metaphysical contract.
If you break a casual promise, you lose face. If you break an oath sealed by palms, you birth a Heart Demon. It buries itself in your psyche, waiting. You might live for years without noticing it, but the moment you try to ascend to a higher realm—when your mind is most vulnerable—the demon will strike. It is a spiritual landmine that results in madness or death.
On that beach, under the watchful eyes of the elders, the deal was struck. The game of power in Qingzhou had just gained a new player.