In the days that followed, the sea wind over Sky Fortune City seemed cleaner.
The demonic altar on the black island was only rubble now, its stones split and charred, its filth burned away. But the flame that had been lit there did not fade.
It followed Murong Zi, Bai Jingyun, and Qin Xingxuan back to the Seven Profound Martial House, burning quietly in their bones.
…
Ren Ming's small courtyard became their world.
Morning mist clung to the spirit spring, turning the air cool and damp. The old pine by the wall shed needles in slow, lazy spirals. The simple stone platform at the center—often stained with sweat, now faintly etched with charred spear-marks—was where the girls spent most of their waking hours.
Murong Zi stood on that platform, spear in hand.
Her hair was tied up in a high ponytail; a red sweatband wrapped firm around her wrist. The moment she set her stance, her aura shifted—bright, overbearing, like a spear thrust toward the heavens. Heat coiled around her ankles, rising in invisible waves.
"Again," Ren said.
His tone was mild, like he was talking about the weather.
Murong Zi grinned, teeth flashing. "You're going to regret saying that when I start testing my strikes on you."
Her spear blurred.
No roaring flames, no flashy true essence exploding outward—just a clean, straightforward thrust. Yet the pressure it carried made the air hum. Heat spiraled along the shaft in tight coils, Fire Laws compressed into a vortex that gathered everything inward and then drove it through a single point.
Behind that thrust was not just brute strength, but the imprint of a domain she had carved through blood and fear on the sea that night.
Ren watched with half-lidded eyes.
True essence circulated through his body as naturally as breathing, sinking into bones tempered by Physique arts far beyond this world. The Ancient Ming Bloodline coiled quietly in his cells, like a predator basking in the sun.
On the steps behind him, Na Shui sat cross-legged, chin in her hands, watching as if she were at a play.
Na Yi stood under the pine, arms crossed, her gaze steady and sharp, tracking the flow of spear and breath.
Murong Zi's spear stopped.
The tip hovered half an inch from Ren's chest.
She didn't dare push further.
Cold sweat rolled down her back—because the moment her spear tried to enter that last half inch, it felt like stabbing into a silent abyss. All the gathered heat, all the spiraling true essence, simply vanished, swallowed by some formless whirlpool around his heart.
Not dispersed.
Devoured.
Ren's smile deepened, eyes amused.
"Your spiral is cleaner," he said. "Last time, it still scattered around your wrist before it reached the tip."
Murong Zi clicked her tongue and drew back, spinning the spear once before resting it against her shoulder.
"Last time," she muttered, "I also didn't have to try stabbing a bottomless pit wearing human skin."
Na Shui burst into laughter on the steps, nearly toppling backward.
Na Yi's lips curved slightly, the corner of her cold expression softening.
Ren only shrugged, casual. "If it were really bottomless," he said, "you'd already be on the ground, wondering why your spear snapped and why your arms don't listen to you anymore."
Murong Zi snorted, but the pride in her eyes couldn't be hidden.
Her Fire Martial Intent had deepened. The red-gold rune-wheel behind her heart—her embryonic flame domain—was denser now, every spoke engraved by real battle. When she thrust, the vortex that formed around her spear wasn't something she forced into being. It moved like a habit, like flexing a muscle.
Ren could see that at a glance.
He could also see the faint tremor in her arms, the subtle drag in her breath, the exhaustion hiding beneath her forceful grin.
"Rest your shoulders," he said.
Murong Zi blinked. "I can still—"
"Rest." Ren repeated, voice gentle but unyielding. "You didn't just spar with me this morning. You spent half the night pushing your Fire Laws through your meridians, didn't you?"
Murong Zi opened her mouth, then shut it.
Na Shui let out a soft, guilty "ah."
Na Yi glanced sideways at her sister, expression saying everything: So you're the one who leaked it.
Murong Zi scratched her cheek with the back of her hand, face warming.
"…If I said no, you'd just see through it anyway," she grumbled.
Ren laughed softly.
"You've already stepped to the peak of the first level of Burning Heat," he said. "For now, don't chase breakthroughs. Temper what you have. Tempering is the most boring part, but that's where real foundations are made."
His tone softened, warmth sliding into his eyes.
"You did well," he added. "Take the praise when it's given."
Murong Zi's heart skipped a beat.
She had carved through a middle Houtian demonic cultivator's Blood Sea Domain. She had walked through waves that wanted to crush her mind and strip her bones clean.
Yet now, she suddenly didn't know where to put her eyes.
She turned away with a short cough. "…Fine," she said stiffly. "Then I'll… reluctantly accept it."
Na Shui's laughter turned into a delighted squeal.
Na Yi shook her head helplessly, but the faintest smile lingered in her gaze.
Ren just let the moment sit, unhurried.
The mist rolled, the old pine creaked softly, and Murong Zi finally stepped away from the platform, shoulders relaxing as she sat under the eaves, spear across her knees.
…
At noon, the courtyard grew bright.
Bai Jingyun sat by the spirit spring, legs tucked neatly to one side, sword laid across her knees. Her posture was flawless—back straight, shoulders relaxed, gaze lowered. From a distance she looked like a painting: quiet, restrained, like a cool jade tablet standing alone in winter.
But inside, her true essence rolled in dense, tightly compressed waves.
Ren sat a step away from her. Between them, on a smooth stone, he'd drawn two circles with a bit of charcoal—one wide and rough, one narrow and razor-thin.
"Your Fire Laws are already pressed to a fine edge," he said. "But you're still trying to cut everything at once."
Bai Jingyun's fingers tightened slightly on the hilt of her sword.
"…It felt like that," she admitted. "On the island. When I cut at the blood waves, I realized how much energy I wasted before."
Ren tapped the wider circle.
"This is how most people use Burning Heat," he said. "They flood an area with flame and hope sheer volume crushes whatever's in front of them. It works. But it's crude."
His fingertip slid to the narrow circle.
"This," he continued, "is what you touched for a moment that night—cutting routes, not results. When you slashed the Blood Sea Domain's veins, the wave collapsed on its own."
Bai Jingyun stared at the circles, then slowly closed her eyes.
She remembered.
The blood-lake phantom towering above. Screaming faces twisted in scarlet waves. Murong Zi's spiraling spear tearing apart a shield. That single instant when all of it—wave, phantom, pressure—had become lines in her eyes, threads of force linking cause to effect.
Her sword had cut just one of those lines.
And the whole structure had fallen.
Bai Jingyun's heartbeat quickened.
"I want to engrave that feeling," she said softly. "On my sword… and in my heart."
Ren leaned back on his hands, watching her profile.
"Then don't just sit and remember it," he said. "Stand up. Draw your sword."
Bai Jingyun rose in one smooth motion.
She exhaled, breath long and even. Distractions, worries, the shadow of a man's name she did not want to hear—she pushed them all aside.
Her sword left its sheath with a soft hiss.
No true essence flared around her. No blaze erupted. Only her gaze changed—sharpening, narrowing, locking onto an invisible point in the air as if some unseen line had appeared there.
Ren watched, expression calm.
He could feel her Fire Martial Intent—thinner than Murong Zi's, sharper, like a needle. Every wisp of heat moving through her meridians was controlled to the extreme, a discipline that bordered on self-punishment.
She moved.
A simple, straight cut.
The blade traced through the air, leaving behind a line of red-gold light so thin it was almost not there at all.
It did not roar.
It did not explode.
But when the line ended, the mist above the spirit spring split neatly down the center. Steam billowed aside, parted by an invisible edge. For several breaths, the line refused to close, as if an unseen barrier barred the vapor from reuniting.
Na Shui, who had sneaked over without anyone noticing, gaped.
"…Scary," she whispered. "If that landed on someone…"
"It wouldn't just cut flesh," Na Yi said quietly from where she leaned against the wall. "It would slice their true essence's flow. Their meridians would feel like shattered glass."
Bai Jingyun lowered her sword, chest rising and falling a little faster than usual.
"…It still isn't perfect," she said, brows knitting. "I can see more lines than I can cut."
Ren stood and stepped closer, stopping just within arm's reach.
"Of course it isn't perfect," he said lightly. "If it were, you'd already be stepping into a realm above Pulse Condensation without paying the price. Don't be impatient."
He held out his hand.
"Let me see."
Bai Jingyun hesitated a breath, then placed the sword in his palm.
Ren weighed it, fingers brushing the hilt where years of her cultivation had polished the leather smooth. Her true essence, ice-cold and burning at the same time, lingered faintly along the blade.
"A good sword," he said. "But what makes it sharp isn't the metal. It's the will holding it."
He returned it to her, his gaze meeting hers directly.
"Jingyun," he said quietly. "When Ouyang Dihua comes, he'll believe your future belongs to him. He'll think he can choose your road, choose who you bow to, choose which way you look when you smile."
Her pupils shrank.
Her engagement contract—cold words forced into existence by status and power. The man whose gaze made her skin crawl, whose "affection" had always felt like hands on a collar.
"He's wrong," Ren said.
His tone was calm, but the words landed like a falling hammer.
"Your road is yours," he continued. "Today, tomorrow… as far as I walk, I'll stand by your side. Don't let his shadow dull your edge."
Bai Jingyun swallowed.
Heat rose in her chest, but it was not Burning Heat. It was something far more dangerous to a disciplined heart—a warmth that threatened to melt all the walls she had stacked up.
"…En," she answered softly.
Her voice was very low.
But it did not waver.
The rune-wheel of her Fire Martial Intent turned slowly within her chest, its spokes catching new light.
…
Night came quietly.
The moon hung above the Martial House like a white jade plate. Lanterns glowed along the corridors, their light soft and steady, painting the stone paths in pale gold.
In Ren's courtyard, the girls had long finished their evening cultivation and eaten. Na Shui had claimed Ren's lap first, only to be dragged away by Na Yi with a stern, "Stop spoiling him." Murong Zi had retreated to soak in the spirit spring, muttering that her muscles were killing her. Bai Jingyun had gone to meditate in silence, digesting the day's insights until they sank into bone.
Only Qin Xingxuan remained on the stone platform.
She sat with her spear across her knees, eyes turned up toward the night sky.
A faint halo of fire lingered around her—so subtle that, at first glance, it seemed no different from the lantern's glow. But if one looked closely, they would see it: a stubborn, steady flame, more akin to a lantern in winter snow than a raging blaze.
Ren approached without announcing himself.
Qin Xingxuan sensed him anyway and rose, bowing slightly.
"Instructor Ren."
Her movements were clean, nearly austere. Compared to Murong Zi's bold ferocity and Bai Jingyun's restrained sharpness, Qin Xingxuan's aura was like a winter lantern—soft, steady, unwilling to go out even when the wind howled.
"Can't sleep?" Ren asked.
Qin Xingxuan thought for a moment.
"…Not exactly," she said quietly. "It's just… when I close my eyes, I still feel that blood sea pressing down. The weight of the domain. The smell… the fear…"
Her fingers tightened around her spear shaft.
"I thought I had already carved away fear," she admitted. "But when that wave came, my heart still shook. I had to burn it again."
Ren tilted his head, a faint smile at his lips.
"Who told you you had to erase fear completely?" he asked. "Fear means there's still something you don't want to lose. As long as it doesn't chain your feet, it can be used."
Qin Xingxuan blinked.
Ren pointed at the lantern hanging from the eaves.
Its flame flickered gently, rocking in the night breeze.
"When the wind blows," he said, "a lantern flame shakes. That doesn't mean it's weak. It means it's alive."
He looked back at her, gaze calm and steady.
"Xingxuan. Your Dao heart isn't about acting fearless," he said. "It's about choosing not to step back, even when you are afraid."
The words sank into the quiet night like stones into a clear lake.
For a long breath, Qin Xingxuan said nothing.
Then she bowed deeply, spear held horizontal in both hands, a soldier offering her weapon forward.
"…Thank you," she said. "For teaching me. For… giving me the chance to stand on that island."
Ren lightly tapped the end of her spear with his finger.
"You earned it yourself," he replied. "I just pushed open a door."
Her lips curved into the smallest of smiles.
It wasn't as bright as Murong Zi's grins, nor as subtle as Bai Jingyun's rare smiles. But it was sincere—like the first thaw of snow at the end of winter.
"Mm," she murmured.
The night breeze flowed through the courtyard, carrying the faint scent of pine, spirit spring mist, and smoldering embers.
Under that calm sky, the distance between the two shrank—quietly, naturally. No vows were spoken, no promises declared, but a thread of trust thickened between them, invisible and firm.
…
The peaceful days did not last long.
They never did, in the martial world.
On the third morning, as the girls finished their cultivation and Ren lazily brewed tea, a sharp bell rang from the direction of the main hall.
The sound was different from the usual formations, clear and piercing, echoing through every courtyard of the Martial House.
Na Shui's ears perked up.
"That's…" She frowned. "The welcoming bell?"
Na Yi's gaze tightened. "For important guests," she said. "The House Master wouldn't ring it without reason."
Murong Zi tossed her towel aside, still half-damp from washing her face.
"Important guests?" she muttered. "Is it someone from the Valleys?"
Bai Jingyun's fingers trembled slightly where they rested on her sword hilt.
She didn't say anything.
But her heart had already sunk.
Ren set the teapot down.
A knock sounded at the courtyard gate.
A Martial House disciple stood outside, face flushed from hurrying, breath slightly disordered as he bowed.
"Guest Instructor Ren," he said, cupping his fists. "House Master Qin orders that you and your disciples proceed to the main hall. The Seven Profound Valleys' Envoy… has arrived."
The courtyard fell silent.
Na Shui blinked. "…Envoy?"
Murong Zi's eyes narrowed. "From which faction?"
The disciple swallowed.
"…Acacia Faction's Envoy," he replied carefully. "Seven Profound Envoy to Sky Fortune Kingdom—Ouyang Dihua."
The air seemed to cool.
Bai Jingyun's hand clenched so tightly that her knuckles turned white.
Qin Xingxuan's brows knit, gaze flicking unconsciously towards her closest friend.
Na Yi's eyes grew cold, the warmth from earlier fading from her face.
Na Shui's usually bright expression dimmed, her mouth curling in a faint, unfamiliar line of distaste.
Ren Ming… smiled.
It wasn't a big smile, just his usual lazy curve of the lips.
But something in that smile made the courtyard's atmosphere change—like the stillness that comes before lightning splits the sky.
"I see," he said lightly.
He stood, dusted imaginary specks from his robe, and rolled his shoulders as if about to go on a casual walk.
"Let's not keep him waiting," Ren said. "After all, he came such a long way…"
His eyes narrowed a fraction, and the Ancient Ming Bloodline stirred once, like a beast opening one eye.
"…to court death."
Na Shui choked on a laugh, half startle, half delight.
Murong Zi's gaze sharpened, feral joy flickering in her pupils.
Even Qin Xingxuan, whose heart had tightened with cold disgust at the name Ouyang Dihua, felt a layer of fear peel away.
Bai Jingyun looked at Ren's back as he walked toward the gate.
Her heart, which had started to sink the moment she heard "Acacia Faction," warmed again.
If he's here… I don't have to bow my head.
That thought, fragile and daring, bloomed quietly in her chest.
…
The main hall of the Seven Profound Martial House was already filled.
Core disciples, inner disciples, outer disciples—everyone who could find an excuse to stand in the corridors or peek through the doors had gathered. Whispers flowed like waves under a tight lid.
"Seven Profound Envoy…"
"Acacia Faction…"
"I heard even the House Master has to give him three points of face."
"Then what about Guest Instructor Ren…?"
On the central dais, Qin Ziya sat stiff-backed, expression dignified but tense. Beside him stood several deacons and elders, faces caught between respect and caution.
Below them, robes embroidered with the Seven Profound Valleys' emblem caught the light.
Ouyang Dihua sat at ease, as if the hall belonged to him.
He wore a high-collared robe of dark red, patterns of entwined vines and blossoms woven subtly into the fabric. At first glance, his features were handsome and his smile gentle. But the longer one looked, the more that smile seemed oily; the more his eyes felt… wrong.
Greedy. Calculating. Appraising.
As if he were judging goods in a market.
Zhang Guanyu stood at his side.
His expression was calm on the surface. But his eyes were dark, venomous. Ever since he had lost his contact formation and been forced to crawl back, his temper had curdled into something poisonous.
When Ren's party entered, countless gazes turned as one.
Ren walked in front, unhurried, hands folded behind his back. His presence was relaxed, almost lazy, but every step landed with a natural rhythm that made weaker disciples unconsciously shift aside.
Na Yi and Na Shui followed half a step behind, their steps aligned, twin spears hidden behind soft faces.
Murong Zi, Bai Jingyun, and Qin Xingxuan came after them—the three girls wearing simple Martial House robes, but with a sharpness in their brows that hadn't been there weeks ago, as if they were blades newly drawn from the forge.
Ouyang Dihua's gaze swept lazily over the group…
Then stopped on Bai Jingyun.
His eyes lit up with heat that had nothing to do with Fire Laws.
"Jingyun," he said, smiling as if greeting a beloved wife he had missed for years. "You've become even more beautiful since the last time I saw you."
Bai Jingyun's spine stiffened.
Revulsion crawled over her skin like ants.
She cupped her fists mechanically, not to the man, but to the status pressing down from behind him.
"…Envoy Ouyang," she said, voice restrained. "This disciple greets you."
She did not miss a beat.
She also did not miss a small step—leaning half a pace closer to Ren's side.
Ouyang Dihua's smile cooled a fraction.
Zhang Guanyu watched that tiny movement, and the hatred in his eyes flared.
"Guest Instructor Ren," Qin Ziya said quickly, trying to cut through the building tension. "This is Ouyang Dihua, Seven Profound Envoy and direct disciple of Acacia Faction's Third Elder."
Ren turned his head lazily, as if only now remembering there was another person present.
He glanced at Ouyang Dihua.
Just a glance. No bow, no extra courtesy—bare minimum required to acknowledge another breathing human existed in the room.
Then he looked away.
Ouyang Dihua's smile froze for a breath.
Wherever he went, nobles and sect elders bowed. Martial House Masters lowered their heads and spoke carefully. He was a direct disciple of the Seven Profound Valleys; his status was higher than most could even dream of.
But this young man—this guest instructor of unknown origin—treated him like an afterthought.
The hall's atmosphere tightened. Air grew thin.
Some disciples almost forgot to breathe.
Zhang Guanyu's lips curved into a cold sneer.
Arrogant, he thought. Too arrogant. Let's see how long that calm lasts.
Ouyang Dihua's gaze grew faintly gloomy.
But his voice remained mild and pleasant.
"So this is Guest Instructor Ren," he said. "I have heard much. To elevate so many Martial House disciples in such a short time… is not something an ordinary man can do."
Ren blinked lazily.
"It's nothing special," he said. "When disciples have hearts for martial arts, all they need is a proper road. If they were rotten wood, no matter how you carve them, they won't become pillars."
The words were polite on the surface.
But everyone in the hall could hear the real meaning.
Ouyang Dihua's expression did not change.
Zhang Guanyu's jaw tightened.
Qin Ziya's scalp prickled with cold sweat.
Ouyang Dihua gave a soft chuckle.
"Guest Instructor Ren is confident," he said. "Since this Envoy has come personally, it is only proper to see the fruits of your… teachings."
His gaze swept over Murong Zi, Bai Jingyun, and Qin Xingxuan.
"Of course," he continued, voice smooth as oil, "Seven Profound Martial House is under the jurisdiction of the Valleys. It is natural for us to be concerned about whether you are truly… beneficial to the House."
The words were wrapped in silk.
The knife beneath was not.
Ren rolled his shoulders once, as if loosening a knot.
"Then why don't we compare?" he said casually. "Your side and mine."
Ouyang Dihua's brows rose slightly.
Ren went on, still sounding like he was discussing weather.
"The Valleys have cultivated Zhang Guanyu for many years," he said. "I've only had a short time with my disciples. If you have doubts, let him test my teaching with his blade. That way, you'll know whose methods are sharper."
Silence.
Then the hall erupted into whispers.
"Test his teaching… with Zhang Guanyu?"
"Isn't that too much?"
"Zhang Guanyu is at Bone Forging… his combat strength is almost at the peak…"
Zhang Guanyu's eyes gleamed.
"If Guest Instructor Ren wishes to compare teaching methods," he said smoothly, "this Zhang naturally does not mind."
Ren's lips curved faintly.
"Naturally, if I fought you myself, there'd be no point," he said. "That would just be me bullying a junior."
Several people nearly choked.
Zhang Guanyu's face darkened.
He had trained in Seven Profound Martial House, stepped into Acacia Faction's demonic arts, and received attention from a direct elder. His combat prowess was already stronger than peak Bone Forging. In Sky Fortune Kingdom, he was a rarely seen genius.
And this man said fighting him would be "bullying a junior"?
Ren looked past him to Murong Zi.
"Zi," he said. "You're up."
Murong Zi's eyes lit up instantly.
Her fingers tightened on her spear, knuckles standing out. "Finally," she breathed, eagerness blazing in her gaze.
She stepped forward, armorless, in a simple Martial House robe. Her cultivation realm aura was still at Altering Muscle, a whole great stage below Zhang Guanyu's Bone Forging.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"What!? Murong Zi?"
"Isn't she only at Altering Muscle?"
"Even with a good cultivation method, how can she cross that much…?"
Zhang Guanyu laughed coldly.
"Guest Instructor Ren's confidence is truly impressive," he said. "Sending an Altering Muscle junior to face me… I almost feel insulted."
Murong Zi flipped her spear once, letting it spin in the air. The spearshaft hummed as the Fire Laws running through her meridians bled into the metal; then it settled cleanly back into her palm.
Her lips curved.
"You think too highly of yourself," she said. "To me… you're just the next stepping stone."
Zhang Guanyu's eyes flashed with killing intent.
"…Fine," he said, voice dropping. "Since you are so eager to suffer, I will fulfill your wish."
…
The Martial House's main training field was opened.
Disciples poured in from all directions, crowding around the central stone platform until the edges looked like a boiling sea of robes. Even some noble youths who usually cultivated at home rushed over when they heard the news.
On the platform, Zhang Guanyu stood with his long blade at his side.
The weapon's edge was bone-white, its surface faintly stained a dull red that could never be wiped clean. Dark patterns like twisted vines crawled along its spine.
Life Severing Dead Bone Blade.
As the blade left its sheath with a low, grating ring, a wave of pressure swept out. Bone Forging aura surged, thick and heavy. To disciples still in Altering Muscle or below, it was like a mountain suddenly pressing against their lungs.
"So strong…"
"As expected of a Heavenly Abode disciple…"
"They say his combat strength is even stronger than peak Bone Forging…"
Whispers shivered through the crowd.
Divine Acacia Power's demonic true essence seeped along Zhang Guanyu's meridians, making his qi slick and insidious. Lust, greed, killing intent—he had never bothered to clean any of it. He had only polished the outside.
He raised his blade slightly and looked across the platform.
Murong Zi stood straight, spear planted lightly before her. Her ponytail flicked in the wind. Compared to his imposing silhouette, she looked almost ordinary—no armor, no treasure robes, just a simple Martial House uniform.
"Murong Zi," Zhang Guanyu said lightly. "You should regret agreeing to this."
His voice carried, polite on the surface, dripping with condescension beneath.
"In front of all these elders, to be crippled by your own senior…" His smile curved wider. "It'll be hard for you to show your face again."
Murong Zi's lips twitched.
"Senior?" she echoed. "Are you sure you're qualified to say that?"
Nervous laughter jumped around the nearest disciples, short and quickly stifled.
Zhang Guanyu's eyes cooled.
"She's only at Altering Muscle…"
"No matter how weird her cultivation method is, that gap is—"
Murong Zi ignored it all.
She shifted her grip once, fingers tightening and then relaxing. The spear butt tapped the stone with a crisp sound.
Dong.
Her heartbeat matched it.
She remembered the blood sea that had risen against them. The faces screaming in the waves. The middle Houtian demonic cultivator whose domain had pressed down like a falling sky.
She remembered how her Fire Martial Intent had roared then, the rune-wheel spinning behind her heart, compressing her flame until it was no longer just burning, but refining.
Ren had stood behind them, calm, letting her fire burn as wildly as it pleased.
The rune-wheel stirred now.
Fire Laws—first level, peak stage—circulated through meridians that had been remodeled by the Modified Chaotic Virtues Combat Meridians and Heaven-Opening Origin Art. Her true essence didn't flow straight; it spiraled, tempering flesh and bone with every loop.
Heat gathered.
On the sidelines, Ren sat with one leg crossed over the other on a stone bench, expression lazy, as if he were here to watch a simple sparsely attended match instead of a duel that might shift the whole balance of the Martial House.
Na Shui leaned so far forward that her chin was almost on the railing.
Na Yi stood just behind him, arms folded, eyes narrowed, measuring angles, lines, and aura fluctuations.
Bai Jingyun and Qin Xingxuan stood at the very front of the disciples' area, their gazes fixed on Murong Zi's back.