Five years later…

  Atop the Iron Law tribunal on the mountain peak, two figures stood before the jade throne.

  At the forefront, radiating haughty grace, was the Tianjiao Elder.

  Behind her loomed the dark, powerfully built adjudicator of the Iron Law.

  The Tianjiao Elder gazed at the breaking dawn—today’s light unusually radiant.

  She had changed utterly; her renown now echoed far beyond these walls.

  “Any chance of surprises?”

  Her wistful murmur lingered.

  The adjudicator’s eyes flickered with dark essence.

  He listened to the distant roars of sky beasts amid the clouds and offered a faint, knowing smile.

  “In these five years under your leadership, the Watch Legion has changed beyond recognition.

  Our gems, spirit veins, beast bones—prized beyond measure.

  We dominate the alliance trade council: resources, wealth, authority.

  What troubles you, Elder?”

  The Tianjiao Elder only smiled, silent.

  Lei Tang turned, surveying the transformed camp below.

  Steel structures had replaced wood—unyielding fortresses, streets laid arrow-straight.

  Even the Iron Law halls behind them had changed utterly, fused with suspended magitech from the Five Alliances: ornate, enigmatic.

  “Only that stubborn old Lin Gan refuses to reshape the inner and outer camps.

  Our people cannot sway him.

  He’s too conservative—fears the heavy armor troops losing control of iron essence, slipping from his grasp on power.”

  At those words, the Tianjiao Elder’s smile vanished in the first true ray of morning.

  “Adjudicator—remember your place.

  This is the era of the Tianjiao Elder, not Lei Tang’s domain.

  My trust in Lin Gan far exceeds yours.

  I will not hear you sowing discord.”

  Lei Tang straightened his massive frame and bowed low—right hand to chest, head dipped deeply.

  “Elder—I spoke out of turn.”

  As she turned away, the golden patterns on her shaved scalp caught the light in fiery halos.

  Her eyes sharpened; her lips curved faintly.

  “Hmph. Out of turn—or afraid?

  Had the chance arisen, you might have claimed the Spirit-Taming Cult leader’s sacred artifact for yourself.”

  Lei Tang dropped to one knee before the jade throne, fervor blazing in his voice.

  “Elder—I swear on my life: never.

  That year, I feigned closeness to the leader per your plan—to deliver the artifact to you.

  Who could have foreseen the Mother of Earth storming the black forest?

  Wounding her was necessity.”

  “Necessity,” she echoed coolly.

  “A convenient word.

  Across the entire Watch Legion, who matched your essence save the Mother of Earth?

  Without the Sacred Envoys’ testimony, I might never have believed the artifact simply… vanished.”

  She gazed down at the kneeling man—loyalty unwavering.

  Her pale, elegant hand reached out, maternal, stroking his shaved head.

  Sin absolved.

  Lei Tang rose slowly, eyes lowered.

  “Strange, though.

  The Cult leader perished—yet her remnants linger in the black forest, refusing to fade.

  If they held the artifact, why skulk in shadows?”

  “I suspect…” Lei Tang ventured, testing her mood.

  She did not object.

  He continued.

  “A ploy by the Sacred Domain—to keep the Evil Cultivator survivors entangled with us.

  All fear the might of our field legion.”

  Worry shadowed her eyes.

  “Speak on.”

  “I witnessed it myself: the leader’s essence detonated—reduced to ashes.

  Who else could have discerned and spirited away the artifact unseen but the Sacred Envoys?”

  The Tianjiao Elder exhaled, long and slow.

  “Now the Envoys’ strength… even the Commander and four deacons combined might fall.

  Losing the Mother of Earth—true regret.”

  “Regret indeed.

  Yet her absence opened doors among the alliances.

  But I have a bold thought—may I speak?”

  “As long as it is no slander—speak.”

  “If… we absorbed those cultivator remnants, swelled our ranks…

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  Might the throne of World Lord become ours?”

  Her expression hardened.

  Even she kept such ambition buried deep—shared with no one, not even in her final farewell to her father.

  “Your hunger is vast.

  Careful—it may devour you.”

  “Never!

  My heart serves only to ease your burdens.

  The lure-and-destroy stratagem was perilous—yet we prevailed.

  Now we reap the continent’s finest cultivation resources.

  Only the World Lord’s seat honors our sacrifice.”

  Warmth from the rising sun gathered in her palm—soft red fire essence dancing between her fingers, merging with the light.

  “I will consider your words.

  When I reach the peak of envoy realm—I will decide.

  The humiliations endured among the Five Alliances…

  I will repay them all.”

  “How fares the medical division lately?”

  Lei Tang’s eyes flickered dark once more.

  A smile touched his lips—skin-deep.

  “Since Physician Yue Yang’s imprisonment in the ice prison, the division grows harder to control.

  Even our plants inside dare not act rashly.

  Do you truly intend to keep her entombed forever?”

  The Tianjiao Elder lifted her gaze to the massive chains.

  Five years ago—the boy leaping from the cliff, heavenly thunder descending in judgment.

  How could she forget?

  “The medical division heals, not fights.

  Grant them due freedom—they pose no threat.

  But this Yue Yang…

  Struck by heavenly thunder twice—yet she lives.

  Not simple.

  These five years in ice—still silent?”

  “Like the living dead.

  Thunder scars twist her form—neither human nor ghost.

  Only…”

  “Only?”

  “She mutters nonsense.

  Her mind is fractured.”

  A faint curve touched the Tianjiao Elder’s lips.

  She studied her own increasingly fair hands, deeply satisfied.

  Now she was the unrivaled beauty.

  “That lovesick Fei—still visits often?”

  Lei Tang nodded, admiration in his tone.

  “Yes.

  Fei has risen to scout captain, commanding six.

  His talent rivals his parents in their prime.

  Each return from the border—he visits the prison.”

  The Tianjiao Elder sighed, regret soft.

  “So many fine women—and he pines for a ruin.

  Had Feng Yi not fallen, Fei would never have risen so.

  I hope Kai Yi—and our Commander Yi—bring honor.

  Ease our path.”

  “Speaking of Commander Yi…

  Haven’t you noticed he seems… different?”

  Seeing the adjudicator about to continue, the Tianjiao Elder raised a hand to silence him.

  Through those pale, graceful fingers, the years had not aged her; her skin glowed tighter, finer—timeless.

  “I’m weary.

  I wish solitude.”

  At her words, Lei Tang withdrew down the steps.

  As he descended, he could still hear the Tianjiao Elder’s low, mournful song for the dead.

  Feng Yi’s team’s annihilation had truly surprised him.

  Yet without feeding that weakness to the Spirit Lord…

  Neither he nor the Tianjiao Elder would stand here today.

  The Tianjiao Elder’s song rose into the air, each note laced with sorrow, dancing among the clouds as sunlight broke through and bathed her figure. Her shadow stretched long behind her, as though in that instant she stood alone at the center of heaven and earth.

  Yet in her mind, older memories resurfaced: her arrival in the Five Alliance Nations, the scornful stares, the curses, the relentless oppression, the whispers that she was nothing more than a washed-up beggar scraping for a new life.

  Soon the song dissolved into a low, bitter laugh. Lei Tang turned and gazed up at that towering silhouette with reverent awe.

  Far below, in the forgotten lands beneath the abyss, a lithe figure moved through the shadows of a sheer cliff.

  He leaped and swung with effortless grace, his powerful, sun-darkened muscles rippling like a sculptor’s masterpiece. The moment his fingers brushed the mist-shrouded clouds above, thunder cracked through the sky. Lightning lashed the rock face, shattering stone that rained down in jagged shards.

  As massive shapes loomed closer, the figure summoned wind beneath his feet and vanished without a trace, landing lightly on a broad reef jutting from the black sea.

  The youth was Timo Yang, now seventeen. The soft contours of childhood had sharpened into unyielding lines; his eyes gleamed with the piercing intensity of a hawk.

  He wore a battle suit of gold-patterned snakeskin, every inch of his body sheathed in deep-blue fish-scale leather that shimmered with faint phosphorescence—even at his throat. A hooded mask of the same scales concealed his keen gaze as he scanned the surroundings.

  As expected, the clatter of falling stones had stirred the depths. From the roiling mist of the Black Sea came the hiss of wind and the restless churn of fog.

  Timo gathered water essence, parting the haze to reveal a clear line of sight. Massive waves surged toward him, cresting high.

  Just as they threatened to crash down, blue light flared in his eyes. In an instant, the waves froze solid.

  Then, from behind the ice, a colossal shadow emerged. With a deafening boom, a pillar-thick tentacle shattered the frozen surface.

  The tentacle swept across the reef, coiling around it with a sickening crack before snapping the stone in two.

  As the broken reef sank, the sea fell still once more.

  Timo parted the mist again. Chunks of floating ice drifted on the surface, and atop them rested the wreckage of an abandoned ship. On the splintered mast stood Timo Yang—he had ridden the wind to safety the moment the ice began to fracture.

  Over the years, he had learned to match wits with the adult sea demons that lurked here. The boulders he had lifted, the ice-crystal fruits he had eaten—none had gone to waste. Now, when he rode the wind, his movements were lighter, his spiritual essence spent far more sparingly.

  Yet even though his water essence had reached the pinnacle of the First Realm’s twelfth tier, his wind essence remained stalled at the initial stage. Ever since devouring a young sea demon years ago, it had refused to advance.

  Timo stared at the water, not daring to relax. He knew that to escape this place, he would need to survive as his master had—clinging to life for another decade or more.

  Not far away, on a reef by the shore, waves crashed and hurled fish into shallow pits among the rocks. In the shallows, a child-sized figure darted after schools of fish fleeing the sea demons, selecting the largest and flinging them shoreward with precise bursts of water.

  Timo watched intently. Then faint bubbles rose from the depths. His ears twitched. As the floating ice he had conjured melted away, a ripple spread across the surface.

  A faint smile touched Timo’s lips. In five years, he had mapped this adult sea demon’s habits perfectly.

  The ripple veered toward the reef. Timo condensed mist into ice and hurled it downward. Before the disturbance faded, a thick tentacle shot from the water.

  Through the murky surface, two enormous eyes rolled wildly, searching.

  For five years, this sea demon had prowled these shallows. It had grown larger, stronger, its tentacles swifter.

  As Timo observed, the wreck beneath him shuddered. Something tore through the hull; the ship began to collapse.

  He summoned wind and leaped deeper into the mist. More corroded hulks emerged—massive wrecks stranded on hidden reefs. In the sea breeze, they creaked and groaned, metal scraping metal with a sound that set teeth on edge.

  Timo moved among them with practiced ease. This, his master had told him, was a graveyard of bones.

  From the tallest wreck, he spotted something grander still: an iron ship, its hull pitted and flaking yet imposingly majestic compared to the wooden relics around it.

  According to his master’s escape plan, he had covered a third of the distance. Beyond lay the true domain of the sea demon clans.

  “Kid, don’t wander off! Come back—your fish brother has caught plenty of the meat you love!”

  Words formed in swirling sand beside him, visible through a thin tunnel of cleared mist. Far off on the cliff, Yan Tang watched his disciple’s powerful frame evade the adult sea demon with ease, pride swelling in his chest.

  In just five years, the boy’s growth had been astonishing—and so had his appetite. One meal could see him devour ten pounds of grilled fish. Yan Tang’s cooking had long since reached masterful heights.

  Timo prepared to retreat at his master’s warning when a fleeting human shape scrambled into the iron wreck.

  As Yan Tang waited for his disciple to turn back, mist-formed words appeared beside him: “Master, I think I saw someone. I’m going to check.”

  “No living person could be here. This area has only humanoid fish demons. It might be an illusion—be careful!”

  “Master, I’ll be cautious. To push my wind essence to the twelfth tier, I have to take risks. You said the ships might hold records of cultivation techniques!”

  Yan Tang stared at the misty words. He had gathered enough wind-essence herbs, yet his disciple’s wind essence refused to rise. Without a breakthrough, no amount of physical strength would let a mortal body swim free of these waters.

  “Half an hour at most. Go and return quickly. Once the sun rises, the mist thins and the sea demons’ vision sharpens. They’ll be harder to evade.”

  Reading the sand-script reply, Timo gathered his strength and leaped onto the largest abandoned vessel.

  At the bow stood the lower half of a colossal statue, severed at the waist, its upper body lost to the depths. Metal filigree still traced its surface, marred only by years of corrosion. Whoever had sailed this ship had been someone of immense stature.

  Timo’s ears twitched—he heard the unmistakable sound of someone rummaging through debris.

  He summoned wind essence, leaped twice, and landed silently atop the iron hull.

  Through the corroded dome overhead, the remnants of opulent fittings were still visible despite the decay.

  A sudden rush of movement—the humanoid figure darted into a passageway. Through gaps in the floor, Timo saw the intruder prying open a cabinet, clearly able to read the markings.

  Timo’s eyes brightened.

  “I see you,” he called softly. “I’m human too. Don’t be afraid.”

  The faint glow that had guided the figure vanished. Silence fell inside the ship.

  Timo dropped into the hull. The instant he appeared, a black fireball hurtled toward him.

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