The gates of the Nine God Dynasty's capital opened wide. Golden qi pulsed like molten sunlight over the land, tracing the footsteps of the Northern Holy Emperor Court as they arrived.
Atop the Heaven-Command Platform, Feng Hao stood calm, radiance spilling from him in waves. No war cries. No pomp. Yet the world seemed to bow beneath his presence. The Primordial Golden Core in his dantian glowed faintly, Tao Pagoda Seed spinning—half-step Sky Devastating, a force impossible to resist.
The Northern Holy Emperor approached, his robes fluttering in the golden wind of the Nine God Dynasty's aura. Kneeling slightly, he lowered his head, eyes flicking nervously toward Feng Hao.
"My Supreme Emperor… I bring all that you demanded," he said, voice tight, pride and fear mingling. Behind him, sons, concubines, generals, and officers followed, heads lowered, movements precise but hesitant under the invisible weight of Feng Hao's authority.
Then, the emperor spoke again, voice careful, almost trembling:
"My eldest daughter… she will serve as your maid, Supreme Emperor Feng Hao. As a symbol of our submission, and as proof of our loyalty to your dynasty."
Feng Hao's golden eyes swept across the entire court. Calm. Unflinching. Yet the faintest ripple of approval passed through the aura of his half-step Sky Devastating presence. He said nothing—only extended a hand, and the gesture alone carried the weight of law and command.
The eldest daughter, clad in simple ceremonial robes, stepped forward. Her head bowed, her movements precise. She did not falter, though the golden light around Feng Hao made every breath seem heavy. She was an offering, a symbol, a pledge of loyalty—and the Northern Holy Emperor's court knew it.
The emperor's face tightened, pride torn between resistance and necessity. The air itself seemed to hum with the absolute authority of a Mortal Tier 11 Half-Step Sky Devastating emperor, and all who were present understood: no force in the northern region could oppose him now.
Feng Hao remained still atop the platform, golden aura radiating through the city and into the surrounding lands, as the Northern Holy Emperor's court—his sons, officers, concubines—stood silent, obedient, and fully aware of their new place beneath the Nine God Dynasty.
The stage was set. Submission complete. The balance of the northern region had shifted irrevocably.
Feng Hao's golden eyes swept across the Northern Holy Emperor Court, now fully subdued. The eldest daughter had been presented as a maid, and the capitulation of the dynasty was complete. Yet the Northern Holy Emperor himself—kneeling but still aware—lifted his head slightly, as if compelled by necessity.
"Supreme Emperor Feng Hao…" he began, voice careful, reverent yet tinged with fear. "There is more you should know about this region. Your conquest of my dynasty… it was only the beginning."
Feng Hao's golden aura remained steady, half-step Sky Devastating, every unit and elder around him pulsing with reinforced cultivation. He motioned slightly, silently commanding the old emperor to continue.
"There are… roughly one hundred other Tier 12 dynasties within this region," the Northern Holy Emperor continued. "They are powerful, independent… yet most answer, at least in part, to a far greater force. The one who truly controls the northern region… is the Thunderclap Temple, a Spirit-Level Tier 1 force. They hold sway over Great Lords… the strongest among them even has a half-step heavenly Lord leading their operations. All others operate under their authority, either openly or covertly."
Feng Hao's golden eyes narrowed slightly. The Northern Holy Emperor swallowed hard, the fear of his former oppressors now replaced with the dread of revealing knowledge to someone far stronger.
"They… maintain control through gatherings," he added, voice trembling. "Once every ten years, the Thunderclap Temple summons all dynasties and forces under its influence. They collect the resources accumulated, distribute rewards, and… enforce their authority. No dynasty dares resist, for the consequences are… absolute."
Feng Hao's expression remained calm, unreadable. His half-step Sky Devastating aura pressed over the room like molten sunlight. Even the kneeling emperor felt the weight, and yet he continued, compelled to speak:
"These gatherings… all major Tier 12 dynasties attend. Hundreds, Supreme Emperor. And the Temple's direct forces… led by their half-step heavenly Lord… are unmatched in the northern region."
Feng Hao's mind turned over the information. Hundreds of Tier 12 forces, thousands of subordinates, and a Spirit-Level Tier 1 power with Great Lords orchestrating everything from the shadows. The region was a nest of mortal and spirit-level power, yet now… it would all be under the shadow of the Nine God Dynasty.
Golden light pulsed faintly around him. Every unit, every elder, every Dragon Guard felt the shift in awareness. The northern region had just become a chessboard—and Feng Hao was already plotting the next moves.
"Very well," he said quietly, almost to himself. "Thunderclap Temple… we will see what you have accumulated."
The Dragon Guards' formation lights flared. The Elders' auras rippled outward, resonating with the Nine God Dynasty. The battlefield of the northern lands was about to change forever.
The Northern Holy Emperor's words settled into the hall like dust after a collapse.
One hundred Tier 12 dynasties.
All operating in the same region. All believing themselves rulers. All, in truth, living under borrowed authority.
Feng Hao did not frown. He did not contemplate.
He simply spoke.
"Summon the High-Level Elders."
Acknowledged.
Golden light rippled across the capital as High-Level Elders stepped forward—each one now standing at Mid True Lord Realm, their presence alone stabilizing space. They did not kneel. They awaited instruction.
Feng Hao's voice was calm. Almost casual.
"Go."
"Subdue every Tier 12 dynasty in this region."
"No slaughter."
"No annihilation."
"Submission only."
A pause.
"Those who kneel live. Those who hesitate… will understand."
The High-Level Elders bowed once.
That was all.
The Subjugation
They did not march armies. They did not deploy formations.
Each Elder chose a direction.
One step— and space folded.
First Dynasty
A Tier 12 imperial capital spanning thousands of kilometers.
The emperor was holding court when the sky dimmed.
A single figure appeared above the palace.
No killing intent. No roar of power.
Just presence.
The emperor's strongest cultivator—Peak Mortal Transcending—rose in alarm.
Then froze.
Space locked.
Knees bent.
He slammed into the ground without resistance.
The Elder spoke one sentence.
"Kneel to the Nine God Dynasty."
The capital went silent.
Within ten breaths— the dynasty submitted.
Second. Third. Tenth.
The pattern repeated.
Some emperors tried to rally courage. Some attempted to activate grand formations. Some believed their foundation—Hundreds of thousands of years—meant something.
Every attempt ended the same way.
A wave of the Elder's hand. Formations unraveled. Dao laws dissolved. Authority crushed.
No bloodshed.
Just realization.
The Resistant Ones
A few dynasties hesitated.
One emperor shouted defiance.
The Elder did not argue.
He lifted a finger.
The dynasty's ancestral mountain—a symbol of Hundreds of thousands of years—collapsed into dust.
Not destroyed.
Compressed.
Refined into spirit ore.
The message was clear.
Submission followed instantly.
The Result
In less than a single day—
All one hundred Tier 12 dynasties were subdued.
No wars. No losses. No chaos.
Every imperial seal was rewritten. Every banner lowered. Every court swore fealty.
The region unified.
Return
The High-Level Elders returned to the capital.
They did not report victories. They did not boast.
They simply stood.
One Elder spoke.
"It is done."
The Northern Holy Emperor—watching everything through projection—felt his heart pound.
He finally understood.
What he had thought was a regional hegemon… was merely a local administrator.