The Qin Clan had finally returned to a semblance of peace.
After the tournament's uproar, the clashes between factions, and the unseen currents stirred by wandering cultivators and lurking demons, the clan grounds once more breathed with ordinary life. Bamboo groves whispered beneath the wind. Training fields rang with disciplined shouts as disciples practiced their forms from dawn until dusk. Elders gathered beneath flowering plum trees, tea steaming gently in their cups as they debated scripture, cultivation, and clan affairs. Servants moved between halls carrying scroll cases, medicinal baskets, and trays of incense.
To an outsider, the Qin Clan appeared unchanged.
But those who truly paid attention could feel it—the subtle tension beneath the calm, the sense that fate itself had brushed past the clan and left invisible marks behind.
And the source of much of that quiet disturbance lay in two new figures now residing within the Qin compound.
Feng Lian and Feng Rou.
Mother and daughter, both renowned beyond the borders of this land. One carried the composed elegance of experience, her presence refined and commanding without arrogance. The other shone like a sharp flame—bright, bold, and impossible to ignore. Their arrival alone had caused waves of curiosity, speculation, and barely restrained awe among the disciples.
Yet their purpose in the Qin Clan was not merely temporary refuge.
Under the calm but unyielding authority of Madam Qin, matters progressed with remarkable efficiency. Formalities that might have taken years in other clans were completed in mere days. Dowries were arranged. Clan elders were consulted. Ancestral rites were prepared and acknowledged. Official notices were sealed and announced.
And when the dust settled, a single truth remained—one that left the entire Qin Clan reeling.
Both Feng Lian and Feng Rou were to be married to Qin Su.
Many expected hesitation from Madam Qin. Some whispered that she might object, that such an arrangement would invite endless complications. Yet when she looked upon the two women—one graceful and resolute, the other fiery and sincere—she merely smiled and spoke with decisive warmth.
"These two are far too good. What mother would not want such daughters-in-law?"
With that, the matter was settled.
The clan erupted into hushed discussions and poorly concealed stares. Feng Lian and Feng Rou began integrating into daily clan life, their presence impossible to ignore. Wherever they went, whispers followed. Admiration mixed with envy. Curiosity turned into speculation.
But amidst all of this—
One person was profoundly displeased.
Yuan Ai.
The golden-haired phoenix woman bore her anger with terrifying grace. She did not shout. She did not storm halls or overturn furniture. Her fury was quiet, sharp, and refined—like a blade polished to perfection.
And Qin Su, brilliant in cultivation yet catastrophically obtuse in matters of the heart, found himself caught at the center of a storm far more dangerous than any demonic tribulation.
To survive it, he did the only thing his instincts suggested.
He vanished.
For an entire week, Qin Su disappeared from the Qin Clan without leaving a trace. Not even the clan's most vigilant guards sensed his departure or return. When he finally reappeared, his robes were torn, his expression weary, and his aura unstable—as though he had barely endured a heavenly thunder trial.
No one asked where he had gone.
No one wanted to know.
And so, once again, the Qin Clan returned to its fragile peace.
Far from that human warmth, buried beneath layers of crimson stone and blood-soaked formations, another presence seethed.
Deep within a labyrinthine cavern, the Blood Demon sat cross-legged upon a throne carved from dried marrow and ancient bone. The air around him pulsed with oppressive demonic qi, thick enough to distort vision and weigh upon the soul. His aura surged and receded in uneven waves, betraying agitation beneath his composed exterior.
For the first time in centuries—
He felt uneasy.
The cavern trembled as a ripple spread through space itself, thin yet unbearably heavy. The Blood Demon's eyes snapped open.
Then—
A pillar of golden light tore open the air.
From it stepped a towering figure, broad-shouldered and powerfully built, his presence commanding even before he spoke. Long golden hair cascaded down his back like a war banner caught in an unseen wind. An ancient spear rested upon his back, its shaft etched with seals scorched by thunder and time.
The Blood Demon's pupils constricted.
Bai Khan.
Even a clone of this man radiated authority that pressed down upon the cavern like an unyielding mountain. His gaze swept across the lair with casual disdain before settling on the Blood Demon.
"Blood," Bai Khan said calmly, "you summoned me."
His tone was light.
The killing intent beneath it was not.
The Blood Demon inclined his head, suppressing his irritation.
"I have encountered a variable," he said. "One that threatens the foundation of our plans."
Bai Khan raised an eyebrow."A variable?"
"A man—unknown, unrecorded—teleported one of my captives directly into my hidden domain."
For a moment, silence reigned.
Then Bai Khan laughed.
It was short, sharp, and disbelieving.
"Impossible. Even my true body does not casually breach continental distances or bypass spatial laws. The veil separating the Mainlands from this isolated region is unstable—tampering with it invites calamity. Even Monarchs tread carefully."
The Blood Demon spoke again, voice lowered.
"He did it effortlessly. As though my location were carved into the world itself."
Bai Khan's laughter ceased.
A chill radiated from him, his clone's aura expanding just enough to crack the cavern walls.
"…Even my true body would struggle to achieve such precision," he said slowly."You're telling me a mysterious individual in this desolate corner of the world surpasses me?"
The Blood Demon hesitated—then nodded.
"He should not exist. Not here. Not anywhere."
For the first time since manifesting, Bai Khan fell silent. Something unreadable flickered in his golden eyes.
Fear.
Long-buried memories surfaced within the cavern.
Once, the Blood Demon had not been a monster lurking in the shadows of a forgotten land. He had been a high elder of the Crimson Rebirth Sect—one of the three greatest demonic sects of the Mainlands.
A millennium ago, the sect had stood at the pinnacle of power.
Then came the war.
A battle so vast it shattered skies and overturned oceans. Continents fractured beneath divine and demonic clashes. The Crimson Rebirth Sect was reduced to ruin, its foundations erased from history.
Only fragments survived.
A handful of elders fled across seas and shattered spatial barriers, scattered like embers before a storm. The Blood Demon was one of them, cast into this distant, isolated land—cut off from the Mainlands by ancient war scars embedded in space itself.
Here, he rebuilt in silence.
He gathered power.
He waited.
The revival of the Crimson Rebirth Sect had been inevitable—or so he believed.
Until now.
Bai Khan's voice cut through the cavern.
"We halt the plan."
The Blood Demon's eyes widened."But—"
"There is no 'but.'" Bai Khan's words were absolute."If this individual can violate spatial law, locate your lair, and toy with your formations, then he is not an opponent we gamble against."
He folded his arms, gaze sharp.
"Even my true body would hesitate."
The cavern trembled.
"You will cease all operations. You will retreat into hiding. And you will not provoke him again."
The Blood Demon clenched his fists.
"And the sect's revival?"
Bai Khan's voice softened, yet carried terrifying weight.
"Threatened?""No."
"He overshadows it."
Golden light enveloped Bai Khan's form as his clone began to dissolve.
"The sect waited a thousand years," his voice echoed."It can wait a little longer."
Silence returned.
The Blood Demon stood alone, nails carving into his own flesh.
Far away, beneath a peach tree in the calm Qin Clan, a certain lazy young master lounged with half-lidded eyes.
And the world—unaware and unprepared—had already begun to change.