Arshan Mountain loomed over the landscape like a silent titan, its jagged peaks piercing the clouds to embrace the Enlightenment Lake within its stony bosom.
Among the many mountains that encircled the water, Arshan was undeniably the tallest and most formidable, a natural watchtower that provided a panoramic view of the entire shimmering expanse below.
At the highest point of this peak, silhouetted against the vast horizon, stood a man who seemed to command the very air around him. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties, his features refined and stoic, yet there was a weight to his presence that suggested centuries of authority.
He was draped in a deep golden-yellow robe, the fabric shimmering with an ethereal quality. Most striking were the eight lifelike, potent dragons embroidered across the dark yellow silk, their golden threads catching the light as if they might leap off the fabric and roar at any moment.
The man stood perfectly still, his hands clasped casually behind his back. He gazed down at the Enlightenment Lake with an apathetic focus, his momentum exuding an invisible, noble aura.
It was the kind of presence that made the sky feel like his canopy and the earth below like a footstool; he was someone born to stand above the masses, looking down upon the world as if it were his personal plaything.
The silence of the peak was eventually broken by the sound of numerous footsteps. A group of individuals ascended from the base of the mountain, their breathing labored despite their obvious cultivation.
They came to a halt before the yellow-robed man, their movements synchronized by a deep-seated fear and reverence. Each person in the group wore a look of profound respect, bowing low in a synchronized salute.
"We humble Ministers pay our respect to His Young Lord, Sun Liang!"
In the center of this kneeling group was none other than the Canglan Kingdom's King Lu. Beside him were high-ranking envoys from various neighboring kingdoms, men who held the power of life and death over millions within their own borders.
Here, however, they were nothing more than common petitioners. These kingdoms—Canglan, Cloud Sea Kingdom, Ling Xiao, and others—had long sworn fealty to the Great Xia Dynasty.
Yet, their respect for Sun Liang wasn't merely due to imperial politics. Sun Liang hailed from the Sun Clan, one of the four Overlord Clans of the Great Xia. In the hierarchy of power, an Overlord Clan stood on equal footing with the Imperial Family itself.
When word had reached the valley that a scion of the Sun Clan had arrived at Enlightenment Lake, every regional leader had dashed toward Arshan Mountain, desperate to offer their loyalty and avoid any perceived slight.
Sun Liang did not turn around. He remained a statue of golden silk, his voice floating on the soft mountain breeze, cool and detached. "Rise."
"Much obliged, Young Lord!" King Lu and the others replied in a chorus of gratitude. They rose slowly, keeping their heads slightly bowed, waiting for the young lord to speak again.
Sun Liang's gaze never left the lake. "Although I am here at the Enlightenment Lake, all of you have no reason to worry. When the great treasure appears in the coming few days, I will allow all of you to join in the fray. I shall not bar your path."
A wave of hidden joy rippled through the gathered ministers. This was the exact reassurance they had been seeking. They feared that if a member of an Overlord Clan wanted the treasure, they would be cleared out like pests before the event even began.
Hearing that they would be allowed to "join the fray" gave them a sliver of hope, however small.
"Much obliged, Young Lord!" they echoed once more, their hearts lightened by his apparent generosity.
Sun Liang waved a dismissive hand, the gesture as casual as brushing away a fly. "All of you can go now."
Acknowledging the command, the group retreated with quiet efficiency, disappearing down the mountain path until they were completely out of sight.
Once the peak was empty save for Sun Liang and his immediate circle, a man stepped forward from the shadows. He was the Dao Protector assigned by the Sun Clan to ensure Sun Liang's safety during his travels.
"Young Lord," the Dao Protector began, his voice low and questioning. "You actually allowed those people to fight for the treasure? When the time comes, won't it be... a bit troublesome if they get in the way?"
Sun Liang's stoic face remained calm, a faint, mocking curve touching his lips. "So what if I allow them to try their luck? Do you truly believe a Heavenly Treasure is something these clowns can subdue? Letting them have a sliver of hope costs me nothing, and it keeps them obedient. Besides, there is still time before the super sect recruitment begins. This Enlightenment Lake's Heavenly Treasure can only be mine."
The Dao Protector bowed his head, a smile of realization spreading across his face. "Indeed. When the Heavenly Treasure is born, only the Young Lord has the talent and the aura to subdue it. With such a prize in hand, the Young Lord will surely become a core disciple of a super sect!"
Sun Liang nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the faraway horizon, where the spiritual energy of the lake continued to pulse in anticipation.
...
While the "clowns" were busy paying their respects on the highest peak, Mu Chen and Xiao Diao were making their own leisurely way toward the Enlightenment Lake.
They didn't fly or use grand carriages; they simply strolled along the jagged paths like tourists on a weekend outing. Eventually, they found a smaller, secluded peak in close proximity to the water's edge. The air here was heavy with a strange, oppressive energy.
Just as they were about to find a comfortable spot to sit, a series of weird, sorrowful cries erupted from the center of the lake. The sound was haunting—sometimes it was a sharp, piercing shriek that made the eardrums throb, and other times it sounded like a heavy, lamenting sigh, laced with an ancient, sorrowful anger that seemed to be bubbling up from the depths.
It was an unsettling noise that made the skin of most cultivators crawl.
Xiao Diao, perched on Mu Chen's shoulder, twitched his ears. "Ning Wang mentioned this once. He said that ever since the vision manifested a month ago, these kinds of weird noises started to echo from the Enlightenment Lake. He said the frequency was growing. Judging by how loud that was, it's probably happening once every hour now. Looks like the old soldier was telling the truth for once."
"Mn." Mu Chen didn't say much. He looked toward the center of the lake.
The initially calm surface of the water had begun to ripple and surge in chaotic patterns, resembling a monumental, menacing beast that was struggling to free itself from the dark silt of the lake floor.
They were about to settle down again when the sound of rustling robes and confident footsteps approached from behind. A group of roughly twenty people, made up of young men and women, marched into the clearing.
They were dressed in soft black robes, each featuring a mystical bird totem embroidered in silver and red across the chest. These were disciples of the Nine Phoenix Valley, a powerful sect for the nearby Kingdoms.
When the group stopped in front of Mu Chen and Xiao Diao, their eyes roved over the pair with clear disdain. One young man, who seemed to be a leader of sorts, walked forward. "This little brother, we took a fancy to this location first. We'd trouble you to leave this place immediately."
Mu Chen didn't move. Xiao Diao, however, let out a bored yawn, his golden eyes remaining aloof. "Fancy it first? We're already sitting here. What if we refuse to leave?"
"Little beast, don't push your luck!" Another young man, tall and skinny, snarled as he stepped out from the group. "Our Senior Brother Wu is telling you to leave. You should have gratefully kowtowed and left obediently. If you don't scram this very moment, don't blame us for being blunt!"
The skinny disciple, whose name was Zhang, turned his gaze toward Mu Chen, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. He saw a youth who looked barely sixteen and a small, cat-sized mink. To a disciple of a major sect, these were easy targets to bully and kill boredom.
Zhang planted himself in the middle of the path, spread his legs wide, and pointed a finger at the ground directly beneath his crotch.
"How about this—both of you crawl through here, and maybe I'll let you lea— " Zhang sneered.
He never finished the sentence.
A purplish-black blur detached itself from Mu Chen's shoulder with the speed of a falling star. Zhang had a fraction of a heartbeat to register a change in the air—a sudden, ancient pressure that felt hungry and absolute—before a clawed paw closed around his throat.
Zhang looked down, his eyes bulging. Xiao Diao was hanging from his neck, looking no larger than a housecat, yet his tiny paw was wrapped completely around Zhang's windpipe with the strength of a crushing mountain. The mink's golden eyes gleamed with a terrifying light, the casual disregard of a primordial overlord sizing up a piece of livestock.
Zhang tried to scream, but all that emerged was a wet, pathetic gurgle. He desperately tried to circulate his spiritual energy—the late-stage Foundation Realm power that had allowed him to bully commoners and lesser disciples for years—but he found his dantian completely frozen.
It was as if his power had encountered its natural predator and gone into hiding. For the first time in years, Zhang felt like a helpless mortal.
"Little beast?" Xiao Diao's voice was a soft, dangerous whisper. He tilted his head, his whiskers twitching. "Crawl? Did I hear that correctly?"
The claw tightened. It wasn't enough to kill, but it was a promise of what was to come. Xiao Diao then did something worse—he smiled. It wasn't a predator's snarl; it was the expression of something so high on the food chain that cruelty was simply a matter of curiosity.
He looked at Zhang like a farmer might select a chicken for the Sunday pot.
"Your Senior Brother Wu," Xiao Diao mused, his voice carrying clearly to the entire frozen group, "told us to leave. You told us to crawl." He glanced back at Mu Chen, who was currently examining his fingernails with an expression of profound boredom. "My master is a patient man. I, however, am not."
The claw shifted. Zhang felt his feet leave the ground as Xiao Diao lifted him one-pawed until they were eye to eye. The mink's nose wrinkled in disgust.
By now, the other Nine Phoenix Valley disciples had finally recovered from their shock. They hadn't even been able to trace the mink's movement. One of the disciples near the back let out a cry of rage. "Let him go, you bastard beast!"
He lunged forward, spiritual energy flaring in his palms.
Before he could take a second step, Xiao Diao casually pointed a single finger toward the attacker. A streak of purple light shot out, moving too fast for the eye to follow. It passed clean through the disciple's thigh, leaving a cauterized hole.
"Aaaahhhhhh!" The disciple collapsed, a shrill shriek echoing across the peak.
The rest of the group froze mid-motion. They felt their legs lose their strength, their expressions morphing into masks of pure terror. Cold sweat drenched their backs, and a primal chill crawled up their spines.
"You smell like fear," Xiao Diao leaned closer to Zhang, his whisper echoing in the clearing. "Good. The beasts on my continent say that fear is the best seasoning. Shall I show you what the Heavenly Demon Mink clan does to livestock that forgets its place?"
He opened his mouth. It wasn't wide, but it revealed rows of teeth that shouldn't have fit in such a small body—obsidian needles that caught the light like dying stars. Zhang's bladder gave way.
A warm sensation spread down his legs, soaking his black robes.
"Xiao Diao."
Mu Chen spoke only two words. His voice was casual, unhurried, and devoid of anger.
The mink's ears twitched. He let out a long, genuine sigh of disappointment. "Tch. Fine."
But before he let go, Xiao Diao delivered a sharp, blurring kick with his small hind legs, aimed directly at Zhang's crotch.
A clear, crisp sound rang out—the unmistakable sound of an egg breaking.
Zhang let out a tragic howl, a sound like a pig being slaughtered, as he clutched at his 'tool' and cried out in absolute agony. "My thing! My thing is broken!!"
He screamed nonsensically, his voice cracking into a high-pitched wail. Xiao Diao lost interest and opened his claw, letting the man collapse to the ground. Zhang lay there gasping, clutching his throat with one hand and his groin with the other.
The nearby disciples were so frightened they didn't want to stay for another second. A stout disciple hurried forward, grabbing Zhang by the shoulders.
"Senior Brother Zhang!" the fatty yelled anxiously, dragging the screaming man away, not even bothering to lift him. "Senior Brother Zhang, how badly are you hurt? Can you still walk?"
Evidently, the question was superfluous. Zhang's 'tool' was clearly pulverized into a paste. The group didn't look back; they scrambled down the mountain peak as if the god of death himself were chasing them.
The fatty disciple made a silent vow that he would never make another arrogant comment for as long as he lived like senior brother Zhang.
Outside world was simply too scary.
"You're no fun," Xiao Diao complained, hopping back onto Mu Chen's shoulder. He settled into the crook of the boy's neck, looking entirely satisfied with himself.
He licked a single paw, grooming his fur like a housecat that had just chased off a particularly annoying stray.