At first, no one noticed.
The patrol routes were the same. The mountains were still there. The rivers still flowed. The city walls hadn't moved an inch.
But the qi changed.
Spirit energy that once answered their formations began to hesitate. Array nodes that had been stable for thousands of years flickered for a brief moment, then stabilized—just slightly weaker. The ancestral totems carved into stone gates lost a fraction of their glow.
It was subtle.
Too subtle for mortals.
Too subtle for ordinary cultivators.
But not for them.
Inside the Heart Ancestral Hall of the Heavenly Black Sun Dynasty, incense burned day and night. Bronze lamps illuminated murals of ancestors who had ruled for nearly five thousand years—Qi Sea experts, Divine Bridge masters, even one rumored Half-Step Tao Pagoda who had once shaken a region.
At the center, an old man opened his eyes.
They were cloudy.
But deep within them, suns burned.
"…"
His fingers twitched.
"Something… took our land."
The hall fell silent.
Elders stirred.
A woman in black robes frowned. "Ancestor, our borders haven't been breached. Scouts report nothing unusual."
The old man slowly rose from his seat, supported by a dragon-headed cane.
"I did not say invaded," he said calmly.
"I said taken."
He lifted his gaze toward the north.
"Our dynasty has existed for five thousand years," he continued. "We did not survive this long by trusting only what the eyes can see."
Another elder's voice tightened. "Ancestor… are you saying a higher dynasty moved against us?"
The old man shook his head.
"No banners. No war intent. No karmic ripples."
His voice dropped.
"This is worse."
The elders exchanged glances.
"What kind of force does not announce itself?" one asked.
"One that doesn't need to," the ancestor replied.
He slammed his cane lightly against the ground.
The murals trembled.
"Our spirit veins are being overwritten."
A sharp intake of breath echoed through the hall.
"Impossible!"
an elder snapped.
"Only ancient empires or Higher Dynasties—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
Because he realized something.
There was no Divine Dynasty registered anywhere near them.
The old ancestor closed his eyes.
"Send envoys," he said. "Not soldiers. Envoys."
"To where?" someone asked.
The ancestor opened his eyes again.
"To the direction where the qi bows."
Far above.
Beyond borders.
Beyond reason.
The Nine God Dynasty continued to expand in silence.
Inside the ancestral palace, Feng Hao stood before the Mountain and Seas Map once more, watching a tiny golden point flicker on the edge of his newly claimed territory.
A dynasty.
Tier 6.
Five thousand years of inheritance.
He smiled faintly.
"…So you felt it."
He didn't give an order.
He didn't need to.
From the golden throne, his will spread outward like a tide.
The sky above the border darkened.
Not with clouds.
With pressure.
And the first native dynasty had finally noticed him..
The envoys arrived at dawn.
They came on spirit beasts—ancient, disciplined, clearly trained over generations. Their banners were lowered, not in surrender, but in caution.
At the very edge of the shrinking border, they stopped.
Because they couldn't go any further.
The air ahead felt… wrong.
Not hostile.
Not killing intent.
One step more and their hearts thudded violently, as if the land itself was asking a single question:
Who are you to step here?
The lead envoy swallowed and raised his hand.
"Halt."
Behind him, elders of the Heavenly Black Sun Dynasty exchanged grim looks.
"This land…" one muttered. "It recognizes a owner I can feel it.."
Another clenched his sleeve. "Since when?"
Before anyone could answer—
The sky split.
No thunder.
No lightning.
A golden radiance descended, vast and calm, like a curtain being drawn aside.
And then—
They saw it.
A flying throne.
Forged from unknown golden metal, carved with divine runes they could not comprehend, lifted effortlessly by spiritual qi condensed so densely it distorted space. Around it stood rows of soldiers—silent, unmoving—yet every single one radiated a cultivation base that made the envoys' scalps tingle.
Foundation Establishment soldiers.
Thousands of them.
At the front—
Cavalry with winged mounts, eyes cold, formations flawless.
Behind—
Commanders. Generals.
And above them all—
A young man, seated casually on the throne, one elbow resting against the armrest, fingers tapping lightly as if bored.
Black hair.
Calm eyes.
A presence that didn't try to suppress them—
And yet crushed them completely.
The lead envoy's knees buckled.
Qi Sea… no—
He couldn't tell.
That terrified him more than anything else.
Feng Hao looked down at them.
"…You're early," he said mildly.
The sound wasn't loud.
But it echoed.
The envoys forced themselves to kneel.
"This humble one greets the Lord of this land," the envoy said hoarsely. "We are from the Heavenly Black Sun Dynasty. Our ancestor sensed a disturbance and sent us to inquire—"
Feng Hao raised a hand.
The envoy froze mid-sentence.
"I know who you are," Feng Hao said.
His gaze shifted slightly—to the land beneath their feet.
"This territory," he continued, tone casual, "now belongs to the Nine God Dynasty."
No arrogance.
No threat.
Just a statement.
One of the elders behind the envoy couldn't hold back. "Lord—this land has been ours for over five thousand years! Spirit contracts—ancestral seals—"
Feng Hao glanced at him.
Just a glance.
The elder's blood froze.
His cultivation shook violently, as if something ancient inside him was screaming kneel.
Feng Hao sighed.
"Five thousand years," he repeated. "That's… respectable."
He leaned forward slightly.
"But this era just started."
Silence fell.
The wind stopped.
Even the spirit beasts lowered their heads.
"I didn't come to wipe you out," Feng Hao continued. "I expanded. Your borders happened to be in the way."
He tilted his head.
"So here are your choices."
The envoys listened as if their lives depended on it.
"First," Feng Hao said, raising one finger.
"Submit. Become a subsidiary dynasty. Keep your inheritance. Keep your people. Pay tribute."
A second finger rose.
"Second. Leave. Abandon the borderlands. I won't pursue."
A third finger.
"Third."
His smile vanished.
"Test me."
The lead envoy's forehead hit the ground.
"We… will report to our ancestor immediately."
Feng Hao waved his hand.
"Go."
The pressure vanished.
The sky closed.
The golden throne turned—and vanished toward the heart of the Nine God Dynasty.
Only then did the envoys realize something horrifying.
Throughout the entire exchange—
Not a single soldier had moved.
Not one.
And yet every one of them had felt like they were standing before an execution ground.
Far away, within the Heavenly Black Sun Dynasty…
Their ancestor coughed blood the moment the envoys finished speaking.
"Does he really my Dynasty is a waste who can be bullied at will?!"
"Prepare all combatants we will go to war."
Just then a young man in black clothes ran in.
He immediately plopped down in front of the ancestor of heavenly black sun dynasty.
"Ancestor! Please reconsider your decision!."
"Who is this? The ancestor inquired.
"This junior is the thirteenth son of the current emperor."
Said the black clothed youth.
"Tell me why do you think I should reconsider this?"
"That dynasty is mysterious Ancestor, I heard from some envoys that people known as the Chosen ones suddenly descended 5 days ago. And that mysterious young emperor is rumored to be a chosen one ancestor."
In the Heavenly Black Sun Dynasty, there was once a thirteenth prince no one remembered.
Not because he was dead.
But because history had erased him.
In his first life, his name had been Hei Yunchen.
He had been born into prosperity—royal blood, spirit roots above average, access to techniques others could only dream of. Yet compared to his elder brothers, he was unremarkable. No heaven-defying talent. No fate-defining luck.
So when that dynasty appeared, no one listened to him.
Back then, the Nine God Dynasty did not announce itself.
It expanded exactly as it was doing now—silently, irresistibly.
Hei Yunchen had been among the few who noticed early.
Spirit veins weakening. Formation nodes failing. Qi behaving… obediently.
He remembered standing in this same ancestral hall, kneeling just like now, begging with bloodshot eyes.
"Ancestor, this dynasty cannot be fought. Their emperor does not cultivate like us—he commands."
They laughed at him.
Called him coward. Called him weak. Called him unworthy of royal blood.
And then they chose war.
The Day the Dynasty Died
There had been no heroic final battle.
No epic clash between ancestors.
Just order descending.
The sky turned gold.
Every formation shattered at once—as if the land itself rejected their activation.
Spirit veins reversed. Totems cracked. Ancestral spirits screamed.
Hei Yunchen watched from the city wall as golden soldiers marched forward without haste.
Then the emperor appeared.
Young. Calm. Bored.
One sentence ended it all.
"Erase."
The Heavenly Black Sun Dynasty—
Five thousand years—
Was gone in half a day.
Cities flattened. Bloodlines severed. Even history itself… blurred.
Hei Yunchen survived only because he was insignificant.
A forgotten prince. Crushed beneath rubble. Buried alongside corpses and broken ancestral seals.
He crawled out three days later.