Travel had always meant pain.
For Na Yi and Na Shui, "going somewhere" had never been about horizons or new cities. It meant rough wagons with rotting planks that cut into bare feet. It meant iron chains biting bone. It meant stumbling behind caravans until their soles split and bled, or creeping through swamp water under the gaze of things that wanted to eat them.
Travel with Ren meant something else.
The Fire Martial Intent domain folded again.
The ruined valley, the ash of the Fire Worm Tribe, the heavy, oppressive energies of the Southern Wilderness—all of it rolled up like an old scroll and was set aside.
For an instant, the two witches hung between scenes.
Within the red-gold light that wrapped around them, they saw him.
Not Ren's body, but the Heaven inside him.
They only caught a glimpse; he shielded the core without thinking, reflexive as breathing. But even that sliver was enough.
A star hung overhead, heavy with Martial World's familiar, dense laws—mountains, rivers, blood and steel given form. Around it, other, stranger lights pulsed: one cold and distant, another thick with slaughter intent, a third coiled like a silent dragon around a world of eight desolates.
Between those "stars" flowed neutral chaos, colorless and pure, like the original breath of a world. Thin threads of Dao wove from light to light, tying different systems, different realities, into a single, coherent path that all bent toward one will.
Ren's will.
Then the vision snapped shut.
The domain unfolded.
They stepped out into open air.
...
Sky Fortune Kingdom.
The first breath was a shock.
Gone was the swamp rot and cannibal stench of the Southern Wilderness. The air here tasted of dust and steel, of cooking smoke and the faint ozone tang of formations. It smelled… almost clean.
Rolling mountains ringed the horizon, green and gray, their flanks carved into terraces where spirit herbs grew in neat rows under the watchful glow of simple arrays. Between those slopes, broad plains stretched out like a giant's palm.
Ahead, a city sprawled across the earth like a crouching beast.
High walls studded with defensive arrays rose from a foundation of ancient stone. Flags snapped in the wind, each bearing the swirling emblem of Sky Fortune Kingdom. The main gate was a grand arch wide enough for ten carriages to pass abreast. Armored soldiers stood in ranks beneath it, while formation eyes embedded in the stone watched with faint blue light.
Na Shui's breath caught.
"Big…" she murmured, almost under her breath.
Na Yi's eyes narrowed, the way they did when she dissected a spell matrix.
She scanned the traffic flowing in and out; merchants guiding laden carts, wandering martial artists with swords at their hips, small sect disciples in matching uniforms. Her gaze slid up over the gate, picking out the array patterns etched into the stone, the patrol routes of the guards, the faint flows of qi above the walls that betrayed hidden formations.
Ren watched their reactions, amused.
"Welcome back to the mortal world," he said, voice light. "Compared to the Southern Wilderness, this is… mm, a bit closer to what passes for 'civilization' out here."
Na Shui fidgeted with her sleeve, fingers worrying the cheap fabric.
"So many people," she whispered. "Do you really… want to bring us here? We're…" She hesitated. The words tasted ugly on her tongue. "We are witches of the Sorcerer. People in the central lands…"
"Will see what I want them to see," Ren said calmly.
He turned toward them.
For the first time since they'd left the swamp, his gaze swept down their figures in a practical way—not as a man, but as someone evaluating weapons he planned to sharpen.
"You can't walk into a Martial House dressed like you've spent the last few years dodging slave caravans in the Southern Wilderness," he said. "That screams 'trouble' from fifty li away. Let's fix that first."
Na Shui's ears heated. "We're not that bad…"
Na Yi's brows rose, just a little.
"…Martial House?" she asked. "You intend to take us directly into a sect?"
"Not exactly a sect," Ren corrected. "More like a kingdom-run training ground. But their backers are real. Good enough as a first stage."
He smiled faintly.
"Seven Profound Martial House," he said. "You'll like it. Their foundations are decent, if a bit rough around the edges."
Na Yi and Na Shui exchanged a look.
They had no idea what a "Seven Profound Martial House" was.
But they trusted him.
That was enough.
...
They entered Sky Fortune City like any other travelers.
Ren compressed his aura until he felt like a slightly above-average Pulse Condensation martial artist—impressive enough to earn respect, not so overwhelming that cultivators higher up the food chain would immediately start sniffing around.
Na Yi and Na Shui followed his example.
The nascent Fire Martial Intent coiling in their bodies wanted to flare at every new stimulus, but they reined it in. Their true essence sank, their presence folded up tightly until they were "only" Altering Muscles juniors with firm foundations.
The city received them.
Gray stone streets wound between shops with wooden fronts and tiled roofs. Martial artists came and went in robes of every color, some with the rough, scarred hands of those who fought with fists, others with polished sword hilts at their waists. Hawkers shouted; spirit fruit sellers argued; somewhere, an old storyteller spoke of "Seven Profound geniuses" to a cluster of wide-eyed children.
Along the way, Ren bought clothes.
He didn't head for the most expensive tailor in the inner city. No need to paint a target on their backs that large—yet. Instead, he chose a solid, well-regarded shop favored by martial artists: good fabrics, sturdy stitching, discreet enchantments.
He picked out outfits with a practiced eye.
For Na Yi: deep blue robes with white edging and subtle cloud patterns along the hem. Clean lines, straight cut, emphasizing her calm, composed bearing. A white sash to bind her waist, a simple hair ribbon to pull her dark hair up into a high tail that left the graceful line of her neck bare.
For Na Shui: lighter blues, the color of clear sky after rain, with a faint flame motif licking around the cuffs. The robe's lines were softer, allowing for swift shifts and explosive movements—better suited to her expressive, impulsive nature. For her hair, he chose a replacement for the fragile wooden flower hairpin: simple jade, carved into the shape of a small blossom that would not snap the first time someone tried to cave her head in.
Na Shui protested, naturally.
"This is too much," she muttered, fidgeting as the tailor adjusted the hem. "I can fight in anything. Why waste—"
"You're spoiling her," Na Yi remarked dryly from the side, arms folded, allowing her own sleeves to be measured without complaint.
"Am I?" Ren said.
He didn't look up from examining a bolt of cloth, but amusement curled at the corner of his mouth. "Then I'll have to spoil you more, to keep things balanced."
Na Yi opened her mouth.
No sound came out.
Her ears warmed; she abruptly became very interested in tightening her sash, fingers moving a little too precisely for such a simple task.
By the time they stepped out of the shop, the difference was striking.
They still carried the wild edge of the Southern Wilderness in their eyes—that sense of people who had walked through places polite society pretended did not exist.
But now, they also looked like they belonged here.
Two young women in proper martial attire, their steps light, backs straight, bearing the faint, forged presence of Altering Muscles realm cultivators whose bodies and meridians had been shaped far more carefully than most.
Ren walked between them, hands loosely tucked into his sleeves. His black travel clothes suddenly looked… deliberate. Like the casual robe of some unfathomable expert who had wandered down from a mountain, curious about how the mortal world was turning these days.
They didn't make it three streets before he started trouble.
Not the bloody kind.
The other, more fun kind.
The street they walked was one of Sky Fortune City's main arteries, paved in smooth gray stones worn by decades of boots and wheels. Tea houses and weapon shops lined either side. Banners with various sect insignias—flames, swords, coiling dragons—fluttered overhead.
In the middle of it all, the three of them walked and drew eyes without trying.
Na Yi in deep blue and white, hair tied in a high tail, every step straight and measured—like a sword still sheathed, edge hidden but clearly there. Na Shui in sky-blue, flame motifs licking at her cuffs, a fresh jade blossom glinting in her hair. The robes followed the lines of bodies that had been reforged in dragon fire and witch rituals, turning years of running and hunger into lean strength.
Ren had chosen well.
"Which sect are they from?"
"Those girls' auras… Altering Muscles, but that feeling is strange…"
"Who's that man in black? His cultivation… I can't see it."
Whispers rippled like wind in wheat as they passed.
Ren pretended not to hear.
He tilted his head, looking first at Na Yi, then at Na Shui, taking his time as if he had all of it.
Na Shui flushed under the scrutiny, hand rising instinctively to touch the new hairpin.
"W-what?" she muttered. "You were the one who picked these. Don't look like it's some kind of surprise."
"It is," Ren said.
He reached over and gently adjusted the angle of her hairpin, fingers brushing the shell of her ear.
"I knew you'd clean up well," he went on, tone lazy. "I wasn't prepared for 'turn the main street of Sky Fortune City into a parade ground'."
Na Shui almost tripped over absolutely nothing.
"Wh–who's parading what," she sputtered, ears turning red. "Don't say stuff like that in the middle of the road…"
"So I should wait until we're back in a room?" he asked mildly. "Duly noted."
Her face went scarlet.
On his other side, Na Yi's lips pressed together, eyes fixed straight ahead. For a moment, Ren thought she would ignore him entirely.
Then she spoke.
"Your mouth," she said, voice cool as ever, "is more dangerous than your sword."
Ren chuckled.
"Mmm. You noticed that late."
Na Yi's gaze flicked toward him, just a fraction. Morning light caught on her lashes, on the curve of her cheek left bare by the high tail.
"And yet," she said, "we are still here."
Her words were calm, but the corner of her mouth—which had once seemed carved from stone—tilted almost imperceptibly upward.
Ren saw it.
His smile softened, just a little.
"Still here," he agreed. "And about to make some noise."
He lifted his eyes.
The Great Zhou Mountains rose like a wall at the city's back, green slopes giving way to gray peaks that pierced the clouds. At their foot sprawled a complex of stone and jade buildings, wide training fields, and tall pavilions linked by covered walkways.
Seven Profound Martial House.
Even from this distance, the air around it felt different.
Origin energy was thicker there, more obedient. True essence and true qi from thousands of cultivators washed against each other, forming currents that an expert could read like the flow of a great river.
Na Shui swallowed.
"So that's…"
"Seven Profound Martial House," Na Yi finished quietly.
In the swamp-side slave markets, the name had been a rumor spoken by guards and passing nobles. A place geniuses boasted about, a place people like them would never see except from behind bars—if at all.
Now they stood on the road leading to its gates.
Ren slowed a little, letting the sight sink into them.
"Last chance to run away and open a small noodle stall in some back alley," he said, tone conversational. "Steady income if you don't mind getting up before dawn."
Na Shui made a strangled sound.
"After everything you've done?" she burst out. "We're already in front of a 'holy land for martial artists' and you want us to… sell noodles?"
"Don't look down on noodles," Ren chuckled. "Spirit beast bone broth, hand-pulled noodles, a pot of wine—"
Na Yi's sleeve brushed his.
"We follow," she said simply.
Her eyes were steady now. Darker than before, but no longer hollow.
Ren looked at her for a breath, then nodded.
"Good," he said.
He let go of the last layer of suppression on his cultivation.
True essence stirred.
The faint presence he'd been maintaining thickened and deepened, like a still pond revealing the abyss hidden beneath the surface.
A Pulse Condensation aura rolled out from him—calm, restrained, but undeniable.
Nearby martial artists froze mid-step.
Several lower-stage Body Transformation juniors turned pale, knees weakening as if a mountain had suddenly dropped into the street. Their instincts screamed at them to bow their heads.
Na Shui caught her breath.
Even standing so close, she felt the difference between this "leaked" aura and the true vastness she'd sensed when he tore apart the Fire Worm Tribe. This was merely the part he allowed the world to see.
Na Yi's eyes narrowed slightly, the way she looked at formations.
She could feel how he shaped the leakage—just enough pressure to demand respect, not enough to alarm the hidden powers watching the city.
"This is…" she murmured.
"First step," Ren said lazily. "When you walk into someone else's house, it's better if their dog recognizes you as a guest instead of a trespasser."
Na Shui blurted before she could stop herself, "Are you calling Seven Profound Martial House a dog?"
Ren smiled.
"No," he said. "I'm calling them a house with teeth."
He stepped forward.
...
The main gate of Seven Profound Martial House was built to impress.
The archway soared several zhang high, carved with reliefs of ancient battles and the seven weapons that gave the house its name—spear, saber, sword, staff, bow, zither, and blade. Arrays were embedded in every line of stone; faint blue lines traced through the reliefs like veins, connecting to the walls that stretched out in either direction.
A line of candidates stretched before the entrance.
Each stood before a tall stone pillar inscribed with flowing lines. Supervisors in Martial House robes moved up and down the line, calling out names and recording results.
Na Shui's eyes widened.
"That's…"
"Strength Trial," Ren supplied, voice mild. "First gate. They have three in total—strength, movement, comprehension."
Na Yi glanced up at him. "You know their system."
Ren's mouth quirked.
"I've picked up some things on the road," he said.
He didn't elaborate.
At that moment, several heads turned.
The first was a young martial artist in Seven Profound Martial House uniform near the end of the line. He had the solid aura of someone at the peak of Viscera Training. When his senses brushed Ren, his back stiffened automatically. He turned, bowed his head quickly.
"Senior," he said.
Behind him, another candidate blinked. "Pulse Condensation…"
On the wall above the gate, several guards exchanged glances. One quietly slipped away through a side door.
Ren's expression didn't change.
He inclined his head a fraction, accepting the greeting of a junior.
He did not join the line.
Instead, he veered toward the side of the gate, where a smaller path led to a secondary entrance marked discreetly:
"Instructors / Elders".
A middle-aged man in Martial House elder robes stepped out to block their way, movement sharp enough that ordinary eyes would have blurred. True essence flowed around him with the stable density of a veteran at the peak of Pulse Condensation.
His gaze swept over Na Yi and Na Shui first, taking in their robes, their Altering Muscles cultivation, the faint, almost completely-hidden witch marks beneath sleeves. A faint frown creased his brow.
Then he looked at Ren.
His face changed.
"…Sir?" he said, almost despite himself.
Ren's leaked aura was "only" that of an early Pulse Condensation cultivator. But beneath it was a compressed heaviness, a sense of latent danger that made every instinct in a martial artist's bones scream caution.
The elder cupped his fists, expression smoothing into respectful calm.
"This humble one is Hong Xi, instructor elder of Earth Hall," he said. "May I ask which honored Sir has come to Seven Profound Martial House? Our rules—"
"Relax, Elder Hong," Ren said, almost lazily.
He returned the salute with exactly the right measure of courtesy—neither arrogant nor humble.
"I'm not here to cause trouble for your house," he went on. "Just a wanderer who picked up some things in the Southern Wilderness and thought it would be a shame not to give them a longer life."
Hong Xi's eyes narrowed.
"Southern Wilderness…"
Even among elders, that name was shorthand for "dangerous" and "strange". Many geniuses had gone in; few had come back whole.
Ren smiled.
"I heard Seven Profound Martial House is the greatest gathering place for young talents in this kingdom," he said. "I specialize in guiding juniors. It seemed… mutually beneficial."
He tilted his head slightly.
"If you're worried I'm some hidden assassin sent by your enemies," he added, "we can talk in front of a bone-age crystal and a few more pairs of eyes. I don't mind being tested."
His casual mention of a bone-age crystal startled Hong Xi.
"You are well-informed," the elder said slowly.
"I make a habit of not walking blind," Ren replied.
For a heartbeat, veteran spear instructor and impossible stranger regarded each other.
Then Hong Xi stepped aside.
"Please," he said. "If Sir does not mind, let us move to the inner hall. I will inform Heavenly Abode Elder Sun Sifan and the others."
"Mn."
Ren nodded.
"These two are with me," he added gently, indicating Na Yi and Na Shui. "Na Yi, Na Shui. Remember his name."
They bowed.
"Elder Hong."
Their voices were soft, but their eyes were steady. There was steel there now, coiled with something else—Fire Martial Intent, deep and quiet.
Hong Xi's hand tightened imperceptibly around the scroll he held.
What kind of person had forged these girls?
He turned and led them in.
...
The testing hall was broad and high-ceilinged, its floor made of a dark stone that could endure blows from Pulse Condensation experts without cracking. Simple but profound formations were carved into the walls; faint light flickered within them like breathing.
Along the left wall sat several elders in Human Hall robes.
In the center, Earth Hall.
To the right, Heavenly Abode.
At the far end of the hall stood a crystal pillar the height of a man, its interior filled with shifting lights.
The bone-age crystal.
As Ren, Na Yi, and Na Shui entered, conversations tapered off.
"Hong Xi, who—"
A Human Hall elder stopped mid-sentence, pupils shrinking as his senses brushed Ren's aura.
Hong Xi offered a short introduction.
"This Sir calls himself Ren Ming," he said. "He has just arrived from the Southern Wilderness. His cultivation…" He hesitated, then simply said, "…is not something I can clearly see."
Several brows rose.
On the Heavenly Abode side, a thin, sharp-eyed man with a scholar's build and the calm bearing of a veteran expert leaned forward slightly. His robe's markings identified him as a Heavenly Abode elder.
Sun Sifan.
"The Southern Wilderness?" he said.
His voice was mild, but it carried weight.
"And yet, Sir, your true essence is pure," he went on. "Your bones have no trace of the distortions common to their shaman arts. This old man is curious."
Ren gave him a small, respectful smile.
"Some old man tossed me a few things and told me not to die," he said lightly. "I did my best to listen."
Several elders frowned at the wording.
But there was no ridicule in his tone, only a dry acceptance—as if he were speaking of the weather. It sounded less like disrespect, more like someone stating an odd but unchangeable fact.
Sun Sifan's gaze dropped briefly to Na Yi and Na Shui.
"The two behind you are…?"
"Na Tribe's witches," Ren said. "From the swamp region. I reformed their foundations and stepped them onto a proper martial path. Altering Muscles, but their bodies and meridians are no worse than many peak Bone Forging disciples of your Heavenly Abode."
He didn't boast.
The elders could feel it for themselves.
Several Human Hall elders exchanged looks of shock—and faint greed.
To reshape someone from the filthy foundations of wilderness tribes into this in just a few months… what kind of method was that?
"You speak boldly," a Human Hall elder snapped, unable to hold back. "Even Seven Profound Valleys would not claim they could casually take trash from the wilderness and turn them into geniuses."
"I'm not Seven Profound Valleys," Ren replied evenly. "And they are not trash."
His tone hadn't changed.
But the temperature in the hall seemed to drop a few degrees.
Na Shui's fingers curled involuntarily.
Na Yi's lashes lowered. For a heartbeat, the old reflex to bow her head, to make herself small, flickered through her.
Then she exhaled, quietly.
They stood straight.
The Human Hall elder's face flushed, but before he could speak again, Sun Sifan raised a hand.
"Enough," he said.
He looked at Ren.
"Sir wishes to guide disciples?" he said. "Without verifying your ability, that is impossible. But if what you claim is real…"
His eyes flashed faintly.
"…it would be a great fortune for the Martial House."
Ren nodded.
"That's fair," he said. "Then let's start. Bone age first, yes?"
He walked toward the crystal pillar without waiting for an answer. Na Yi and Na Shui followed at a respectful distance.
Usually, a new recruit who passed the physical trials would stand where Ren stood now. Their bone age and talent would be tested here. For someone who walked in through the side door, unknown and unbacked, bone age was even more important.
It separated "young genius with mysterious master" from "old fraud suppressing cultivation".
The hall quieted.
Even the elders leaned forward; they had all seen their share of "hidden dragons".
Ren placed his palm on the crystal.
Light flared.
It flowed up his arm like water, sank into the pillar. For a breath, the crystal's interior became an endless starry sky, filled with tiny points of light.
Then the stars rearranged themselves.
Characters formed.
—Bone Age: 17.
The Human Hall elder who had spoken earlier nearly choked.
"Seventeen…? Ridiculous!" he blurted.
Hong Xi's pupils shrank.
Seventeen.
A Pulse Condensation early stage at seventeen was already something Seven Profound Valleys would fight over. But the density of Ren's true essence, the pressure even under his suppression… that wasn't simply "early stage".
Sun Sifan's fingers tightened in his sleeve, knuckles whitening. His face remained outwardly calm, but his thoughts moved quickly.
Seventeen. From the Southern Wilderness. Two disciples whose foundations surpassed many inner court students.
Too strange.
"Bone-age crystals do not lie," another elder muttered. "Unless…"
Unless what stood in front of them simply didn't fit the categories they knew.
Ren lifted his hand from the crystal.
He glanced at the glowing characters with mild interest, as if they belonged to someone else.
"Seventeen," he echoed. "Good age. The world still expects you to be reckless and forgives you for being arrogant."
His eyes curved slightly.
"Unfortunately, I missed that stage."
Na Shui's lips twitched.
Na Yi looked at the numbers, then at him. For the first time, she felt the full gap between what this world thought he was and what he truly was.
Sun Sifan took a slow breath, pressing his thoughts back into the shape of an elder of Seven Profound Martial House, not an awed spectator.
"Bone age," he said. "Next is strength. Elder Hong?"
Hong Xi stirred.
"Ah—yes."
He led them toward a row of stone pillars embedded in the hall floor. Each pillar had a shallow handprint carved into its face.
"These are the same pillars we use for the Strength Trial outside," he explained. "They measure the force of your strike and display a number. For Body Transformation juniors, anything above 1,500 jin is qualified. For Pulse Condensation, the standard is higher…"
Ren smiled.
"No need to fuss over numbers," he said. "I'll be gentle."
He walked up to the nearest pillar and raised his hand.
True essence coiled under his skin.
Instead of exploding outward, it flowed along the paths of the Modified Chaotic Virtues Combat Meridians—meridians he had reforged to suit his own Heaven. The strength compressed, refined, braided with the Ancient Ming Bloodline's terrifying weight and the heat of Fire Law.
He pressed his palm forward.
There was no thunderous boom.
His hand met the carved print with a soft, almost casual sound.
The stone shuddered.
For a heartbeat, nothing else happened.
Then the number etched near the top of the pillar flickered, like a candle in high wind, then began to climb.
2,000 jin.
3,000 jin.
5,000.
The elders' brows rose.
The number didn't slow.
8,000.
10,000.
12,000.
The stone pillar began to vibrate audibly. Micro-cracks spiderwebbed out from the handprint, trying to crawl across the surface and failing as Ren's control pinned the force inside.
12,600 jin.
It crept over 12,000, the formation lines inside the pillar howling in silent protest.
Ren stopped.
He gently cut off the flow, fingers relaxing.
Hairline fractures danced down the pillar's sides, glowing faintly as hidden protection arrays activated, frantically knitting the stone back together before it burst.
The number froze.
13,000 jin.
Silence.
Even Hong Xi—whose physical strength was his pride—felt his mouth go dry.
A seventeen-year-old "early Pulse Condensation" martial artist, casually putting out thirteen thousand jin of force with a single palm, without even taking a stance?
Even Ta Ku at the same age had never—
Sun Sifan's gaze sharpened.
"Sir Ren," he said slowly. "If Seven Profound Martial House recorded this result, you would automatically qualify as a core elite seeded for the Total Faction Martial Meeting. Are you truly… only seventeen?"
Ren blinked innocently.
"You saw the crystal, Elder," he said. "Unless your Seven Profound Valleys imported a fake from some back-alley pawnshop."
The corner of Hong Xi's mouth twitched despite himself.
Several elders coughed, expressions complicated.
"Strength is one thing," another Heavenly Abode elder said at last, forcing his mind back to the process. "Many geniuses have monstrous bodies. But Sir said you wished to teach?" His eyes narrowed. "This requires comprehension. Understanding of the martial path. Without that, how can you guide juniors?"
"Fair," Ren agreed.
"You have a law comprehension test, right? We can use that."
He stepped away from the pillar and lifted his right hand.
"Watch closely," he said.
Fire Martial Intent stirred.
A red-gold rune-wheel bloomed above his palm, its spokes etched with lines of Fire Law. This wasn't the crude, brutal blaze most martial artists coaxed from their true essence.
It was structured.
Ordered.
The difference between a wild brushfire and a furnace built by a master smith.
Heat folded into patterns. Destruction and creation nested together without clashing. The surrounding origin energy bent toward it, drawn like moths.
He extended two fingers.
A wisp of flame appeared at their tips.
It was small—no larger than a candle flame. At first glance, not even as bright.
Every elder present stiffened.
The wisp did not burn air, or smoke, or oil.
It burned concepts.
Within that tiny flame, heat, light, annihilation, purification, and life coexisted in a dense web of lines. Each strand moved according to invisible rules. The more sharply the elders focused, the less they could follow its structure; their own understandings of Fire Law felt clumsy beside it.
The hall grew very, very quiet.
Sun Sifan stood abruptly.
His chair scraped against stone.
"Law… essence," he whispered.
In Seven Profound Valleys, only Xiantian and above had the qualifications to talk about Law like this. For kingdom-level martial artists, "understanding the essence of fire" usually meant barely scratching the surface of elemental attributes.
What they felt now was something else.
Ren let the wisp hang in the air a moment longer.
Then he closed his fingers.
The flame vanished.
The hall exhaled as one.
"I prefer practical teaching," Ren said mildly. "But if you want me to draw diagrams on the floor about how Fire at the third level splits into paths of destruction and creation, we can do that, too."
His tone was casual.
The elders' hearts were not.
Even Na Yi and Na Shui felt it.
The difference between the world they had known—a world where "Pulse Condensation" was spoken of with reverence—and the world this man had walked in, where he treated law essence as something to demonstrate in a martial house hall, like a street performer taking out a flute.