The journey toward the heart of the Canglan Kingdom was surprisingly relaxed. With Ning Wang, a seasoned Marshal, acting as their guide, the path was cleared of most mundane obstacles.
However, despite the ease of travel, Ning Wang found himself perpetually baffled by the young man he was escorting. On the third day of their trek, unable to contain his curiosity any longer, the Marshal had asked why they were casually strolling along the dirt paths like autumn tourists.
"Young Master," Ning Wang had asked, gesturing to the vast horizon, "with your capabilities, we could cross this distance in the blink of an eye. Why not simply fly directly to the capital?"
Mu Chen had merely looked at him with an expression of mild confusion, as if the concept of rushing were a foreign language. "What's the hurry?" he replied simply, before turning his attention back to a particularly interesting wildflower.
Two months passed in this leisurely fashion. As they moved deeper into the Sky Moon Forest, the atmosphere grew heavy with the scent of ancient pine and damp earth. They encountered numerous spiritual beasts—predominantly at the Foundation Realm, with a few Golden Core terrors lurking in the darkened thickets.
However, Mu Chen never had to lift a finger. Xiao Diao, eager to test his restored body, and Ning Wang, feeling a debt of gratitude, handled every threat with clinical efficiency.
Throughout the journey, Ning Wang's perception of Mu Chen shifted. The "Senior" who had terrifyingly bisected assassins was gone, replaced by a youth who seemed more like a mortal sightseeing through the woods.
Mu Chen ate, slept, and wandered with a laziness that bordered on the divine. He didn't cultivate, he didn't practice techniques; he simply existed. Xiao Diao eventually pulled the Marshal aside and confirmed the most absurd truth of all: Mu Chen really was just sixteen years old.
Knowing that such world-ending strength resided in a teenager made Ning Wang's heart skip beats for a week, but eventually, he accepted that in the presence of Mu Chen, common sense was a liability.
Finally, the forest thinned, and as they crested a final hill, a massive silhouette emerged against the horizon. Canglan City. The sight was a far cry from the small, provincial charm of Feather City.
This was an imperial metropolis. The city walls loomed fifty meters high, constructed from heavy, spirit-reinforced stone that shimmered with a dull, protective luster. A towering entrance stood like the maw of a titan, and a wide moat filled with murky, gray water, likely laced with defensive formations—encircled the perimeter.
Ning Wang paused, looking at the gates with a mixture of nostalgia and duty. "Young Master, this is Canglan City. Shall we head inside?"
Mu Chen looked at the sprawling urban expanse, a rare glimmer of genuine interest appearing in his eyes.
"Let us go."
There was a faint note of excitement in his voice; he was curious to see what an imperial city had to offer in terms of snacks, scenery and some hidden secrets.
Just as they reached the outskirts of the gate, a jade tablet hanging from Ning Wang's waist began to flash with a frantic, rhythmic light. The Marshal frowned, unhooking the device and scanning the spiritual message etched within.
Almost instantly, his expression shifted from calm to icy cold. A vein throbbed in his temple, and he looked at Mu Chen with an expression of deep guilt.
"Young Master," Ning Wang said, his voice low and tight with suppressed rage. "I am truly sorry, but I must leave you for the moment. Prime Minister Wu Feng has organized a summit in the court today... he is slandering my name and claiming I have perished or deserted. I must report my return to the King immediately. The court believes I am still missing."
Also Ning Wang reached into his robes and produced a gleaming, intricate token made of dark gold. He pressed it into Mu Chen's hand.
"This is my personal token," Ning Wang explained hurriedly. "With this, Young Master can visit any restaurant or wine shop in the city, including those strictly reserved for the high nobility. I recommend the Fragrance Restaurant—it has the finest delicacies and wine in the kingdom. As soon as I have settled this business with that snake Wu Feng, I will meet you there."
Mu Chen toyed with the heavy token, the gold feeling cool against his palm. "That works for me."
Ning Wang bowed deeply, then kicked off the ground. In an instant, he became a streak of light, soaring over the city walls. In Canglan City, the laws were strict: only the Imperial family and the Great Marshal had the permission to fly over the capital. Everyone else had to walk.
...
Mu Chen and Xiao Diao approached the massive city gates. The atmosphere was bustling, filled with the sounds of merchants, travellers, and the clanking of armoured guards.
As they joined the queue, a Guard Captain with a scarred face stepped forward, blocking their path. He looked at Mu Chen's plain, dust-covered clothes and then at the small mink on his shoulder, his lip curling in a sneer.
"Admission fees," the guard barked. "Ten gold coins per person!"
Ten gold coins was an astronomical sum for a traveller—it was enough to cover the living expenses of a common household for an entire month.
At that moment, the sound of rhythmic hooves echoed from the bridge. A young man and woman, dressed in silks and riding a massive, two-headed spiritual beast mount, swaggered past the line. The guards, who had been so arrogant a moment ago, immediately snapped to attention and bowed deeply, allowing the pair to enter without a word.
Xiao Diao, sitting on Mu Chen's shoulder, pointed a tiny claw at the retreating backs of the riders. "Looks like the rules aren't quite the same for everyone, eh?"
The mink's voice was full of mockery; he was not oblivious to this kind of hierarchy.
The Guard Captain overheard him and let out a harsh bark of laughter. "Them? They are members of the Marquis Household! They are nobles. Do you even know what a noble is, brat? Of course they don't pay admission. How can you lowly outsiders even compare yourself to them? Pay up or get out of the line!"
It was clear the guard had judged Mu Chen as a penniless commoner based on his simple attire.
At this moment, the ground beneath their feet began to tremble.
From the distance, the sound of thunderous hoofbeats and the roars of beasts approached. A group of ten or eleven riders, mounted on Foundation Realm spiritual beasts, raced toward the gate at breakneck speeds. They showed no intention of slowing down, even as they entered the crowded bottleneck of the entrance.
The commoners in line shrieked and scrambled aside in terror, fearing for their lives. Mu Chen, however, remained exactly where he was, standing dead-center in the pathway.
The Guard Captain recognized the lead rider—a young man in flamboyant yellow robes—and his face paled. He scrambled into a corner, shouting at the top of his lungs. "Young Master Zhou is back! Quickly, move aside! Move aside!"
The Captain glanced back at Mu Chen, who was still standing still. Seeing that his warnings were being ignored, the guard simply stopped yelling and turned away with a cold look. The lives of penniless commoners were worth nothing in the Canglan Kingdom. If this kid wanted to die under the hooves of a noble's mount, that was his business.
The lead rider, Zhou Pan, noticed the boy blocking his path. A bloodthirsty light flickered in his eyes. Instead of veering away, he urged his mount—a massive Flame Tiger beast—to go even faster. He loved the sound of bones snapping under his tiger's paws.
The onlookers watched with bated breath, fully expecting to see the boy sent flying as a broken corpse. Zhou Pan's Flame Tiger was mere inches from Mu Chen when the tiny creature on the boy's shoulder finally opened its mouth.
"Roar!"
The sound wasn't loud to human ears, but a wild, desolate pressure erupted from Xiao Diao's small frame. It was the aura of a Heavenly Demon Mink, a primordial overlord of the beast world.
The effect was instantaneous. The Flame Tiger's bloodcurdling scream echoed through the gate as its legs simply gave out. The beast didn't just stop; it collapsed so violently that its bones shattered from the sheer weight of its own suppressed terror. Blood spurted from its mouth and pores like a geyser, and Zhou Pan was catapulted off its back, tumbling through the dirt like a discarded rag.
In the beast world, bloodline is everything. Xiao Diao's lineage was one of the four great overlords of the Beast Continent. How could a mixed, low-level Flame Tiger withstand the crushing weight of a primordial mink's soul?
The tiger's wails lasted only a few seconds before it went limp. As the tremors ceased, the only sound left was the pained moaning of Zhou Pan. The guards and spectators stood paralyzed, staring at the dead beast twitching in a pool of its own blood.
"What was that?" a voice whispered from the crowd.
"Did you feel that? That pressure... it felt like something from the beginning of time."
"Look at that little creature. Imagine if it's that strong as an infant, how powerful would it be when it's fully grown?"
The Guard Captain felt his throat go bone-dry. He stared at Mu Chen and the little mink floating casually in the air beside the boy's head, his heart hammering against his ribs.
Zhou Pan, covered in dust and scrapes, struggled to his feet. When he saw his beloved mount—lying dead in the dirt, his face twisted in a mask of pure, unadulterated fury.
He pointed a shaking finger at Mu Chen and Xiao Diao. "Rebels! Rebels! You are cheap, lowly commoners! You dared to kill my mount! Guards! First, cut off that little punk's hands! Then their legs! Feed them to the dogs while they're still breathing! As for that beast—capture it! I want it as my new pet to replace the one I lost!"
Zhou Pan's personal guards, who had managed to regain their footing, heard the order and didn't hesitate. They pulled out their heavy steel sabers and rushed forward in a pack. In the Royal City, they were the ones who harassed others; they had never encountered anyone who dared to retaliate.
Ten guards converged on Mu Chen from all sides. Their attacks were merciless, aimed specifically at his limbs to maim him just as their master had ordered. But as the steel blades swung toward Mu Chen's body, something impossible happened.
The blades passed through him.
There was no resistance, no sound of metal hitting flesh. It was as if Mu Chen were a ghost, or a reflection in a pond. The guards stumbled, their momentum carrying them through the space where the boy should have been.
Their faces paled as horror set in. Their hands began to tremble so violently that their swords clattered against each other. Their years of combat experience were useless here; they felt like children swinging sticks at the moon.
They began to swing their weapons randomly, desperately hoping to feel some resistance that would prove the boy was real and not some nightmare.
Mu Chen looked at them, his eyes filled with a weary, bored light. He sighed softly. "That's enough."
Their strikes froze mid-air, as if the concept of forward motion had reached its terminal point. No matter how much they strained—their veins popping out on their foreheads, their faces turning a violent shade of purple, their muscles bulging until they bruised—the sabers remained fixed in space.
Mu Chen extended his index finger toward them and made a casual, downward gesture.
In the next second, the ten guards felt as if the entire sky had suddenly collapsed onto their shoulders. They were flattened. But they weren't crushed into a mess of gore and bone. Instead, their bodies shimmered and shrank.
A moment later, ten golden coins—pristine and gleaming fell to the ground and settled in the dust.
The silence that followed was deafening. Whether it was Zhou Pan, who was now the only survivor of his group, the Guard Captain, or the hundreds of onlookers, everyone was so profoundly traumatized that their bodies shook uncontrollably. Cold sweat soaked through their clothes. Knees buckled. Throats were too tight to form words.
Zhou Pan fell back onto his rear, his eyes glazed with terror. He began to crawl backward, his voice failing as he tried to speak. "You... you can't kill me! You can't! I am the Young Master of the Duke's Mansion! My father is a Duke! If you touch me, no matter how strong you are, you and everyone you know will die like dogs!"
He wasn't bluffing. Years ago, a man had slightly wounded Zhou Pan in a tavern brawl. Within three days, that man and his entire clan of more than a hundred people had been systematically slaughtered by the Duke's hidden enforcers.
To anyone else, this threat would have been a death sentence. But to Mu Chen, it was just a noisy nuisance.
And then, Zhou Pan's left hand and right leg simply... detached. No blood spilled. There was no sound of tearing flesh. It was as if a divine eraser had been swiped across a drawing, removing those parts of him from existence.
Zhou Pan stared at the empty space where his limbs had been, his mouth opening in a silent scream. His vocal cords refused to function; it was as if his very biology had forgotten how to make sound.
Mu Chen paid him no further heed. He waved his hand, and the ten golden coins—the former guards—flew up from the dirt and landed neatly in his palm.
He walked toward the Guard Captain. The man saw Mu Chen approaching and felt his soul literally trying to leave his body. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he collapsed into a heap, having fainted from pure, unadulterated fear.
Xiao Diao looked at the fallen guard and chuckled. "Mu Chen, I think you scared him to death."
Mu Chen looked at the ten coins in his hand. "Never mind. I'll leave the admission fee on him. When he wakes up, he can collect them."
He casually dropped the coins onto the unconscious man's chest and walked through the gate. Behind him, the city entrance remained as silent as a tomb. It was as if the world had forgotten how to speak in the wake of the child that had just walked through its doors.