"We'll give you a little sample," Ren said lazily. "Let them say hello."
His voice wasn't loud, but it rolled across Acacia Peak like a stone dropped into a still lake.
Every ripple struck a heart.
On the Seven Profound Martial House side, countless disciples watching through the fading projection held their breath without realizing it. On the Seven Profound Valleys' islands, Sovereigns and elders who had just watched a third-grade sect's pillar faction be erased in a single day felt their backs tense again.
Ren stepped forward.
He didn't release any killing intent.
He didn't need to.
His presence alone made heaven and earth origin energy flow around him instead of through him, as if even the world was cautious not to brush too close.
He stopped beside Na Yi and Na Shui first.
The Na sisters stood slightly behind him, shoulders straight, eyes calm—but their fingers were faintly clenched in their sleeves, the habits of slaves and captives not fully erased even now.
Ren's hand lifted.
He ruffled Na Shui's hair first, fingers threading through the silvery strands with a care that made the girl's heart jump. Then he turned that same hand and smoothed Na Yi's hair back from her forehead, knuckles brushing her temple in a fleeting, intimate touch.
Warmth flowed down their spines.
Not true essence. Not Dao.
Just simple, human warmth—soothing in a way no cultivation art could imitate.
Na Shui's eyes glowed, her lips pressing together as if to stop the smile that insisted on appearing. Na Yi's long lashes dropped for a brief moment, something soft and complicated flickering through her witch-like gaze before she forced it back down, letting only quiet calm remain.
Then Ren moved on.
He walked to Murong Zi's side.
She stood there in her crimson dress, the fiery young lady who had once carried herself as Sky Fortune's proud genius, now looking at the ruined peak where Sovereigns had been forced to kneel.
Her fingers were curled tightly around the hilt of her sword.
Ren didn't say anything to her. He didn't need to.
He reached out and brushed a speck of dust from her shoulder, as if that tiny mark offended him more than the sight of shattered pavilions. His hand drifted up, fingertips grazing through her hair in a slow, absent-minded caress that lingered for a fraction of a breath longer than necessary.
Murong Zi's heartbeat jumped into her throat.
Her cheeks burned. The memory ofthe Acadia faction's disgusting "gentleness", the suffocating pressure of being promised away for benefits, clashed violently with the easy, unquestioning way Ren treated her now—like a woman whose worth had never needed anyone's permission.
Ren left no time for her to drown in it.
He stepped in front of Qin Xingxuan.
Qin Xingxuan's long hair was tied back, her posture perfect. Even now, in this world-shaking scene, she stood as the noble young lady of Sky Fortune—calm, composed, eyes clear.
Ren lifted both hands and adjusted the angle of her stance by a hair.
A slight twist of her waist. A brush of his palm along her spine to loosen a line of tension. Fingers sliding down her wrist to relax her grip on the spear, turning the weapon's point just so.
His touch was light, precise, focused only on martial matters.
Qin Xingxuan's eyes softened.
Her spear-heart, which had once trembled between duty and desire, settled quietly. In this instant, standing on a mountain where Sovereigns knelt, she felt more like a true cultivator than she ever had in any palace hall.
Ren stopped in front of Bai Jingyun last.
She stood there in plain blue robes that couldn't hide the faint pallor of old fear that still clung to her. The girl who had once been dragged toward an Acacia oven by an "envoy" of the Valleys now stood at the center of Acacia Peak's ruins, all of those people watching her.
Her hands trembled almost imperceptibly at her sides.
In front of all Seven Profound Valleys, in front of all the Martial House disciples watching through the sky, Ren reached out and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind Bai Jingyun's ear.
His fingers brushed her cheek.
Bai Jingyun's breath caught; her lashes trembled like butterfly wings.
"You've been dealing with Acacia trash long enough," he said quietly, voice pitched so only she could hear. There was no mockery in it. Only a calm, matter-of-fact statement that cut clean through her lingering shackles. "Now let them see who you stand beside."
Then, without any trace of shame, he leaned down and pressed a firm, unhurried kiss to her temple.
He didn't steal.
He didn't devour.
He simply touched his lips to that spot beside her eye and stayed there for a few heartbeats, long enough for his warmth and breath to etch themselves into her bones, long enough that her knees almost went weak.
The world watched.
Gasps rippled across the floating islands.
Even among the Sovereigns and old monsters, a few expressions twitched—shock, disbelief, even a faint, grudging admiration. This kind of open intimacy, on the Seven Profound Valleys' own Acacia Peak, under the gaze of Valley Masters and Sovereigns—
Ren clearly didn't care.
Honestly, if it were up to him, he'd have kissed her properly and let those old men choke on it. But Bai Jingyun's Martial heart had just been pulled out of a cage for the first time. He wasn't about to push her until she passed out in front of the entire South Horizon Region.
He drew back.
Bai Jingyun's face was crimson, eyes slightly moist, but there was a calm, steady light in her gaze that had never been there before. The fear, the shame, the suffocating helplessness that Acacia Faction had carved into her had been burned away and replaced with something else.
Belonging.
Ren turned.
His relaxed smile returned to his lips, but there was a quiet sharpness behind it now—as if, beneath that casual façade, an ancient blade lay half-drawn from its sheath.
"All right," he said, voice spreading across Acacia Peak. "Show them."
The five women exchanged glances.
Murong Zi inhaled sharply, the fire in her meridians stirring along the paths Ren had carved into her body through endless nights of cruel, precise training. Qin Xingxuan's spear-heart focused, every scattered thought falling away. Bai Jingyun let the pain and relief of the past collapse into a single point in her chest, feeding it into her Dao. Na Yi and Na Shui's eyes met for a heartbeat, a wordless conversation passing between sisters who had crossed death together.
Then—
They moved.
True essence surged.
Fire flared.
Behind Murong Zi, a red-gold rune-wheel spun into existence.
It wasn't true flame in the ordinary sense.
Lines of light formed a complex, circular pattern, each stroke condensed from her comprehension of Fire—burning pain, purifying heat, the gentle warmth of a hearth, the wild dance of a forest blaze. Every battle, every night she had spent sweating under Ren's guidance, burning herself again and again to touch a higher level of Law, all of it had been compressed into this wheel.
Within its field, the ambient fire attribute of heaven and earth compressed, purified, elevated. Stray warmth in the air suddenly bent toward her, drawn into the wheel, emerging sharper and more intense.
Qin Xingxuan's rune-wheel followed.
It shone with the same red-gold light, but there was a distinct difference. Her Fire didn't spread wide—it pierced. The aura wrapping around her rune-wheel was like an invisible spearhead, sharp enough that even the stones beneath her feet seemed to flinch.
Where Murong Zi's wheel expanded, Qin Xingxuan's narrowed.
Where Murong Zi's wheel ruled the field, Qin Xingxuan's wheel searched for a point.
Bai Jingyun's rune-wheel emerged last among the three.
At first glance it was smaller, less dazzling. Its glow was subdued, like banked coals rather than roaring flames. But as it spun, the fire within it grew deeper, heavier, each revolution sinking into a lower, more stable orbit.
Every breath she took made the light in that wheel grow more refined.
Her Fire didn't burn outward at all. It burned inward, tempering itself, becoming more concentrated and terrifying with every heartbeat—as if one day it would erupt in silence and erase everything in front of it.
Na Yi and Na Shui—
When their Fire Martial Intents erupted, the temperature of Acacia Peak truly changed.
A pair of red-gold rune-wheels rose behind them, similar to the other three… but around those wheels, threads of azure light coiled, faint yet undeniable.
Deep in Na Yi's body, an Azure True Dragon Infinity Seed stirred.
Dragon scales made of Dao-light slid over one another as it drank in the chaotic heaven and earth origin energy Ren had previously stirred into madness. The Modified Chaotic Virtues Combat Meridians that Ren had carved into her transformed body roared to life, every meridian remembering force, every vibration of bone storing nascent Dao Fruits of Fire and movement.
Her blood boiled with dragon might.
Na Shui's body mirrored hers.
Chaos-tempered meridians hummed, azure lines flickering along her bones. In her dantian, an identical dragon seed flexed. Its Law adapted and expanded, taking Ren's guidance and rewriting the rules of her body. Her True Essence pool expanded, capacity stretching beyond what any ordinary Bone Forging martial artist could dream of.
The aura that poured out of the sisters—
It was Houtian.
Any experienced master could see at a glance that they had not yet broken through the Pulse Condensation boundary. Their life force, their meridian structure, their breathing—everything screamed "mortal realm".
And yet that Houtian aura was thick, heavy, oppressive. It pressed down on the surroundings with a presence that made even many early Pulse Condensation and some late Houtian elders feel a faint tightness in their chests, as if someone had placed a weight on their lungs.
Average Peak Houtian combat strength… but with foundations that were anything but "average".
On the Martial House side, murmurs finally broke the silence that had followed Ouyang Shenxiu's fall.
"Th-this… this true essence… they're still at Altering Muscle?"
"Impossible. How can Altering Muscle and Bone Forging martial artists… feel like this?"
"Fire Laws… all five of them…"
Many had heard that Ren had led them into Fire Laws. Rumors of "Fire Martial Intent" had already spread through the Valley like wildfire. But hearing was one thing.
Seeing five Fire Martial Intents appear at once—each at Small Success, each manifesting as a rune-wheel that compressed and purified flame—was something else entirely.
On the Seven Profound Valleys' islands, the chosen disciples' faces twisted.
Huo Yanluo's heart pounded as he stared at those Fire wheels.
He had been called a genius from childhood, a prodigy of the Refiner Faction. Fire bent easily to his will. He had been told that if he worked hard, he might reach the threshold of Fire Concepts in the future.
Now—
His own Fire path, painstakingly cultivated under the Refiner Faction's elders, suddenly felt… crude. Childish.
"That pressure…" Jiang Baoyun's pupils shrank.
Even across the distance, standing high atop Sword Faction's island, he could feel it.
Those girls' cultivation bases were far beneath his. They hadn't even taken the step into Pulse Condensation. By all common sense, he should be able to crush them with one finger.
But if he stepped forward now with his current sword-heart and faced one of them head-on—he could not say with certainty that he would win.
Qin Wuxin's slender fingers trembled slightly as they hovered over the invisible strings of her zither. Her Martial heart, which had always been as calm as still water, quivered. She unconsciously tried to match the rhythm of those Fire wheels, to weave them into a melody.
Fang Qi, the Array Faction's chosen, whose talent at weaving formations had left many elders nodding in approval, stared with wide eyes.
They aren't even Pulse Condensation…
Behind them, elder after elder silently recalculated their understanding of "talent" and "foundation".
Acacia Peak's air grew hotter.
Heaven and earth origin energy gathered around the five women like moths to a flame. The ruined formation pillars, the shattered pleasure pavilions, even the broken jade tiling on the ground—all of it seemed to glow faintly in the reflected light of their rune-wheels.
Ren watched those reactions, eyes warm.
"That's enough," he said gently.
The Fire rune-wheels spun once more, then slowly faded. The oppressive heat withdrew, the ambient temperature dropping back down. Heaven and earth origin energy, which had begun to swarm around the five like a living tide, reluctantly dispersed.
The five women stepped back behind Ren.
Murong Zi's cheeks were still flushed, but pride burned in her gaze. Qin Xingxuan's eyes were calm and firm, her spear-heart more solid than ever. Bai Jingyun's expression mixed shyness with a newfound steadiness that would not bend. Na Yi's lips curved in the faintest of smiles; Na Shui's whole face glowed, chin lifted high, as if she wanted to shout to the world: yes, these are my sisters; this is my man.
Ren looked back at the kneeling Sovereigns.
Shi Zongtian.
Jiang Huan.
Jiang Wuji.
The Sovereigns of the seven factions, their robes stained with blood and dust, their true essence still circulating sluggishly as they suppressed the injuries his earlier strike had carved through their meridians.
"Spread word however you like," Ren said, as if discussing something as trivial as market prices. "Use your Seven Profound Decrees, send envoys to the thirty-six countries, beat drums in every Martial House if that's what makes you feel dignified."
His eyes swept lazily across their pale faces.
"Three… no."
He paused, gaze flicking from Shi Zongtian to Jiang Huan to the other Sovereigns, taking in their states, their cracked Revolving Cores, the half-ruined meridian networks still knitting themselves back together with each slow, painful circulation.
"Four months," he decided. "I'll give you four months."
His tone remained light. There was no pressure in his voice.
The pressure lay in the fact that the Sovereigns he was "giving time to" were still kneeling on their own sect's sacred mountain.
"Four months for you to heal your injuries," Ren continued. "Four months for your chosen disciples to cultivate with the pressure of death on their backs. Four months for my women and my disciples to learn something new."
He smiled.
It wasn't a gentle smile.
It was the kind of relaxed, unhurried smile that he shows to an ant he had decided to feed for a while before stepping on.
"Then we'll hold a Martial Meeting."
He looked up at the sky, at the vast array protecting the Seven Profound Valleys—the grand formation that sealed this mountain range off from the outside world, whose countless lines of power had just watched their own masters kneel.
"Not the kind you're used to," he added lazily. "No complicated brackets, no faction politics, no carefully arranged matches to balance face."
His eyes dropped again, locking onto the chosen geniuses scattered across the islands.
"Just one simple goal—"
He let the words hang for a breath.
"Let your so-called pillars stand in front of my people and see how long they last."
Jiang Baoyun's fingers curled tightly around his sword hilt.
Mugu Buyu's jaw clenched until it creaked.
Huo Yanluo's eyes burned with a mixture of anger and fascination.
Qin Wuxin lowered her eyelashes, hiding the ripples in her gaze that rarely appeared.
Ren's voice softened, but the words turned even sharper.
"I hope, in four months," he said quietly, "that your disciples can survive… at least ten seconds."
The sentence struck like thunder.
Ten seconds?
Against Altering Muscle and Bone Forging martial artists?
On the surface, it sounded like arrogance so great it had stepped beyond insanity.
But no one dared to protest.
Their Sovereigns were kneeling.
Their Highest Elder's Revolving Core had been nearly cracked open with a single move.
An entire Extreme Xiantian Sovereign and his faction's upper echelons had been annihilated like weeds in a field.
In the face of this, who dared to bring up "status"? Who dared to mention "sect protection"?
Jiang Huan drew a deep, ragged breath.
He had once gone into seclusion to drag out his lifespan, all for the sake of watching Jiang Baoyun break into Extreme Xiantian and lift Sword Faction to new heights.
Now, staring at that relaxed youth and the five flame-wreathed women behind him, he understood something with painful clarity.
The world had changed.
If the Seven Profound Valleys didn't cross this threshold… they would be crushed under the feet of these monsters, trampled into a mere footnote in someone else's story.
He forced his aching body to straighten as much as he could in his kneeling position. Then he bowed his head until it almost touched the shattered jade.
"Sir Ren," he said hoarsely, voice carrying throughout the sky, "I… Jiang Huan… on behalf of the Seven Profound Valleys… accept this Martial Meeting."
Shi Zongtian's eyes closed for a brief moment.
In that instant, countless images flashed through his mind: the six hundred years of the sect's history; the internal struggles between factions; the countless times the Seven Profound Valleys had devoured Sky Fortune's talents without a second thought.
Then they opened again.
The last remnants of hesitation had disappeared.
"Seven Profound Valleys' Valley Master, Shi Zongtian," he said slowly, each word heavy as a mountain, "also accepts."
Jiang Wuji let out a bitter breath, then laughed suddenly—low, sharp, like a sword dragged over stone.
His sword-heart had been wounded today.
But it had not collapsed.
How could a man like him shrink backward now?
"Sword Faction's Jiang Wuji," he said, voice like steel, "will personally temper the blades of this generation. In four months—"
He looked directly at Ren, eyes bright with warlust that cut through his pain.
"I hope my Jiang Baoyun and Jiang Lanjian will not die too ugly."
The other Sovereigns followed, one by one.
Array.
Mirage.
Zither.
Refiner.
Puppet.
Each voice carried a different shade—reluctance, bitterness, solemnity, resentment, resignation—but all shared one thing.
Not a single one dared to refuse.
Ren nodded, satisfied.
"Good," he said. "Then cultivate well."
His gaze swept across the assembled disciples, lingering on the chosen geniuses one by one.
"Your era doesn't have to end here," he said, tone turning almost gentle—almost. "If you work hard enough in these four months, you might still be able to stand after ten seconds."
A faint, amused chuckle slipped out of him.
"If you can make my women take a step back, I'll even praise you."
He reached out and draped an arm casually around Na Shui's shoulders on one side and Bai Jingyun's waist on the other, drawing them both in. Murong Zi and Qin Xingxuan moved instinctively to his flanks; Na Yi stepped half a step behind, eyes half-lidded, a faint smile on her lips that held both satisfaction and an old, lingering sadness.
"Let's go," Ren said.
His figure blurred.
Space folded around him and the five women, heaven and earth origin energy flowing like water around a drifting leaf. There was no thunderous explosion, no twisting of light—just a quiet ripple.
In the next instant, Ren and the five girls vanished from Acacia Peak.
...
At the same time, the projection over the Seven Profound Martial House flickered.
The image of the shattered Acacia Peak, of kneeling Sovereigns and broken Ouyang elders, of empty air where Ren and his companions had stood—
Faded like mist as the grand observation array shut down.
The curtain of light dispersed.
What replaced it was an oppressive, suffocating silence.
In the Martial House plaza, tens of thousands of disciples stood frozen.
Human Hall.
Earth Hall.
Heavenly Abode.
Not one of them dared to speak.
Only their last images lingered in their minds:
Ren standing at the peak of Acacia, one hand buried in his women's hair, the other tearing apart Revolving Core strikes.
Ren kissing Bai Jingyun's forehead without the slightest hesitation, under the eyes of the entire South Horizon Region.
Ren's relaxed smile as he spoke of ten seconds.
Qin Ziya stood in the center of the plaza, face drained of color.
The former master of the Seven Profound Martial House, once merely an outer court elder of the Seven Profound Valleys, felt as if his heart had been taken out of his chest and thrown into the sky.
Joy—for Murong Zi, for Qin Xingxuan, for Bai Jingyun, for Na Yi and Na Shui. Relief that the shackles that had been closing around them had been shattered.
Fear—for Sky Fortune Kingdom, for the Martial House, for the entire South Horizon Region.
And something else.
A helpless understanding that from the moment Ren Ming had stepped onto the stage, the path of this land would never again follow the quiet, predictable lines it once had.
No one in the Martial House knew what to say.
No one dared to break that silence.
Across the Profound Sky Mountain Range, on the Seven Profound Valleys' islands, the silence cut even deeper.
Acacia Peak's ruins still smoked faintly.
The Ouyang clan's remaining disciples knelt among the broken formation pillars and shattered jade, their sobbing suppressed to stifled whimpers, as if they feared that too much noise would draw a glance from the heavens and invite annihilation.
The kneeling Sovereigns slowly, painfully stabilized their wounds. Every breath dragged. Every circulation of true essence reminded them of the terrifying lines that had torn through their bodies.
Their minds replayed that casual remark again and again.
Four months.
Ten seconds.
For the disciples on the islands, for the young geniuses of each faction, for the elders who had watched the sect's internal struggles for decades… the emotional impact was like a mountain suddenly pressing down on their backs.
The Acacia Faction had been annihilated.
The Seven Profound Valleys' highest dignitaries had been forced to kneel.
The South Horizon Region's sky—had changed color.
And somewhere beyond the Profound Sky Mountain Range, in a quiet place they could not see, a man with a charming, relaxed smile and merciless hands was probably leaning against some sun-warmed stone with five girls gathered around him, discussing how best to temper them in the next four months.
The Seven Profound Valleys' disciples raised their heads to the sky.
There was no trace of that man's aura left.
Only the faint echo of his words, carved into their Dao hearts like lines written with a blade:
Cultivate well.
I hope, in four months, your disciples can survive at least ten seconds.
...
When Ren and the five women stepped back into the world above Sky Fortune Kingdom, the Seven Profound Martial House was still silent.
The projection over the plaza had already dispersed. The light curtain that had shown Acacia Peak's ruin and the kneeling Sovereigns had faded like a dream, leaving only the clear morning sky hanging over the Martial House's training fields.
But in the plaza below—
Silence was heavier than any killing intent.
Tens of thousands of disciples stood rooted to the stone.
Their faces were pale, their eyes unfocused, breaths uneven. It was as if their souls were still kneeling on Acacia Peak, staring up at that youth standing above Revolving Core and Extreme Xiantian masters.
Space rippled above the central dais.
Ren's figure appeared there again, accompanied by Murong Zi, Qin Xingxuan, Bai Jingyun, Na Yi, and Na Shui.
It was like a boulder dropping into a still lake.
No one spoke.
No one dared.
The reverence they'd already held for him after the last few weeks—the awe born from lectures that had rewritten their foundations, from Houtian fists that had erased Xiantian elders—had already been terrifying enough.
Now…
It wasn't reverence anymore.
It was closer to worship.
Even the Heavenly Abode's proudest geniuses instinctively lowered their eyes. In front of the Martial House's main platform, a wave of disciples fell to their knees without being ordered, foreheads touching stone. Those who somehow remained standing did so with backs ramrod straight and fists cupped, shivering.
Ren glanced over the sea of bodies.
His gaze was calm.
Behind him, the five women stood in a neat line. Murong Zi's chin was lifted, still faintly flushed from the memory of standing under the Seven Profound Valleys' gaze. Qin Xingxuan's expression was cool but her eyes were bright, spear-heart still boiling quietly. Bai Jingyun's cheeks carried a trace of color that refused to fade. Na Yi was composed, like a tranquil lake with hidden depth. Na Shui's eyes shone, clear and hot, as if every breath was an overflowing pride she could barely contain.
"Rise," Ren said.
His voice wasn't loud, but it spread across the square with ease, settling into every ear like a quiet command from the heavens.
True essence that had unconsciously frozen began to move again. Knees pushed off the ground. Some disciples stumbled, legs numb, but no one dared remain kneeling after he spoke.
They didn't cheer.
They didn't dare.
They just stood there, waiting.
Ren let the atmosphere hang for a heartbeat.
Then he smiled.
"All right," he said lazily. "I'm back."
A few disciples almost choked.
Back?
He had just wiped a third-grade sect's branch faction from the map, forced their Valley Master and Highest Elder to kneel—men who stood at the peak of Revolving Core and Extreme Xiantian, existences who normally ruled regions like South Horizon for centuries.
And he said "I'm back" like he'd gone out to pick up breakfast.
At the front of the plaza, Qin Ziya's face was still bloodless.
He forced himself forward, each step feeling as heavy as mountains, and bowed deeply.
"Guest Instructor Ren," he said, voice hoarse, "this Qin… no, this Martial House… owes you a debt that cannot be repaid."
The other elders followed—Hong Xi, Sun Sifan, the old inscription instructors and refinement elders. They cupped their fists, bowing toward the young man on the dais as if bowing to an ancestor of some ancient, unfathomable holy land.
Ren waved a hand lazily.
"Don't make it sound so dramatic," he said lightly. "I just don't like rats."
A faint, shuddering breath rippled through the crowd.
He let his gaze sweep across the disciples again.
"In any case," he went on, tone turning brisk, "since all of you just watched the show, let's get to the actual business."
The words "actual business" after what they'd just witnessed made more than one disciple swallow hard.
Ren clasped his hands behind his back, posture relaxed, expression faintly amused.
"You all heard it," he said. "Four months. Martial Meeting."
At the mention, a tremor ran through the disciples. Those who had been present earlier—who had heard him give the Seven Profound Valleys' Sovereigns that time limit and those ten seconds—couldn't help but replay the scene in their minds.
"In four months," Ren continued calmly, "your seniors in the Seven Profound Valleys are going to stake their so-called pillars, their chosen geniuses, and their face against my people."
His eyes narrowed slightly, a sliver of a smile tugging at his lips.
"I told them I hoped their disciples could last at least ten breaths."
Gasps broke out quietly.
Ten breaths.
Against Murong Zi, Qin Xingxuan, Bai Jingyun, Na Yi, Na Shui… against the Heavenly Abode's reforged foundation, against Human and Earth Hall's honed bones.
Even those who didn't fully understand what that meant felt their scalps tingle.
"For you," Ren said, voice smoothing into something almost gentle, "this Martial Meeting is a knife at your neck… and a path under your feet."
He spread his hands slightly, as if making room in front of them.
"With your current foundations," he went on, "most of you can already fight one small realm above your level. Some of you—"
His gaze brushed Ling Sen, Zhu Yan, Ta Ku, and several other standouts hidden in the crowd.
"—more than that."
Ling Sen stiffened unconsciously, Asura Intent stirring like a blood-red shadow behind his eyes.
"But that's not enough," Ren said flatly. "Not for what's coming. Not for what I want you to be able to do."
He tilted his head, eyes half-lidded, as if he were looking past the Martial House's walls, past Sky Fortune Kingdom, toward a horizon only he could see.
"So," he said, "I'm going to give you a new art."
The plaza went still again.
Ren's smile deepened slightly at the collective intake of breath.
"This Martial Meeting will push all of you to a higher stage," he said. "If you want to participate—if you want to stand there in four months and not be swept away in a single blink—then you'll have to learn it."
His voice turned cool.
"This art will take your bodies and minds to their limits. It will sharpen your comprehension of Fire, Thunder, and Wind… and scrape away everything soft and sloppy inside your Martial Hearts."
His eyes swept over Human Hall, Earth Hall, Heavenly Abode.
"I'm not going to force anyone," he added. "Not everyone needs to be a peak expert. Some of you just want to live decent lives, serve as elders, guardians, city lords. That path isn't wrong."
He smiled again, slow and easy.
"But if you want to climb onto that stage… if you want to stand where my women stood today… then you'll have to be willing to bleed. A lot."
He didn't even need to ask who was willing.
Murong Zi stepped forward first.
"This disciple is willing," she said without hesitation, eyes blazing. The image of the Fire rune-wheel still spun in her mind's eye, searing itself deeper.
Qin Xingxuan followed a heartbeat later, bowing with calm grace.
"If this Qin can temper her spear-heart further," she said, "even if her body breaks, it is worth it."
Bai Jingyun's voice was softer, but no less firm. "This Bai is willing."
Na Yi and Na Shui didn't even bother with words at first.
Na Yi cupped her fists with a serene smile, as if accepting a long-delayed fate. Na Shui nodded fiercely, eyes shining with a mixture of anticipation and possessive stubbornness—her sisters would not walk this path without her.
As if their willingness were a signal, the plaza erupted.
"Human Hall's Zhang Xiaofan is willing!"
"Earth Hall's Liu Yong is willing!"
"Heavenly Abode disciple Ling Sen is willing!"
Names, voices, declarations of intent—like arrows fired into the sky, they rose one after another.
In the end, it would have been easier to count those who stayed silent.
Ren listened, a faint warmth in his gaze.
Good.
These seedlings still had spirit.
When the swell of voices finally died down, he nodded once.
"Fine," he said. "Those who aren't willing, you can carry on with your usual cultivation. No one will force you."
He turned his eyes to Qin Ziya.
"In a few hours," Ren said, "have all disciples willing to participate gather on the main field. Human Hall, Earth Hall, Heavenly Abode. I'll carve the path, and then it'll be up to them."
Qin Ziya bowed deeply.
"As Guest Instructor commands."
Ren nodded, then turned as if to leave.
He had taken only a few steps when he paused, glancing back over his shoulder at Qin Ziya and the gathered elders.
"Ah, right," he said casually. "One more thing."
Qin Ziya's heart lurched.
Ren's tone was light, but after what they'd just seen, no one dared take any of his "little things" lightly.
"For the Martial House," Ren said, "nothing really changes."
Qin Ziya blinked, taken aback.
Ren continued.
"You keep running it the way you always have," he said. "You handle the politics. The Seven Profound Valleys' transmissions. The scheduling for the Martial House exams. The quotas, the resource distributions, all that tedious stuff."
He smiled faintly.
"I'll handle making the disciples better."
Qin Ziya opened his mouth, closed it, then bowed once more, even deeper than before.
"…That is more than enough," he managed.
Ren's gaze sharpened just a little.
"And if anyone annoying comes knocking," he added, tone turning cold for a heartbeat, "I'll deal with them. Don't waste your lifespan worrying about who you can or can't offend. Let me worry about that."
The elders' hearts trembled.
They had just watched a third-grade sect's Sovereigns kneel. In the face of that, the countless "people you can't offend" in the South Horizon Region suddenly felt… flimsy.
Ren turned away, satisfaction flickering through his eyes as he walked off the dais.
Na Shui caught up to his side immediately, slipping her hand around his arm with open ease. Bai Jingyun followed half a step behind, the memory of that kiss on Acacia Peak still burning in her cheeks like a brand of reassurance. Murong Zi, Qin Xingxuan, and Na Yi moved like stars orbiting a quiet sun, their footsteps unconsciously aligning with his.
They were almost out of the plaza when Ren's fingers snapped.
It was an absent gesture, as casual as a man brushing dust off his sleeve.
Two thin, almost invisible strands of sword-light shot into the air.
They didn't curve.
They didn't roar.
They simply vanished.
At the edge of the plaza, where the Martial House's administrative buildings stood, a soft sound echoed—two muffled thuds, like sacks of rice dropping onto stone.
Every elder in the plaza flinched.
Qin Ziya's head whipped around. His pupils shrank fiercely.
Deputy House Master Bi Luo lay sprawled over the threshold of his residence. A hair-thin red line traced his throat. His eyes were open, frozen in the last moment of his shock.
Not far from him, in a side hall where communication arrays had recently been dismantled, Zhang Guanyu's body slumped over a collapsed formation plate. His expression was twisted in disbelief, a matching faint red mark bisecting his brow.
The plaza was utterly silent.
Ren didn't even turn around.
"I forgot," he said mildly, as if reminding himself of something trivial. "There were still a couple of Acacia rats nesting in my backyard."
His tone didn't change at all from when he'd been discussing cultivation.
"Nasty habit," he added. "Leaving loose ends."
He kept walking.
Behind him, no elder spoke.
Bi Luo and Zhang Guanyu.
Anyone with eyes had already guessed that they both had deep ties to the Acacia Faction.
But knowing was one thing.
Daring to act was another.
Ren's simple, casual execution made a few of the older instructors feel their scalps go numb. The younger disciples only tightened their fists, eyes blazing with fierce, helpless gratitude and a faint, instinctive fear.
Without slowing his steps, Ren left the plaza with his girls, letting the Martial House's elders deal with the aftermath.
For him, that matter was already finished.