Within the deepest sanctum of the Sun Clan's ancestral estate, the air had turned into a physical weight. The main chamber was spacious, grand enough to host a small army, yet it felt suffocatingly cramped under the gaze of the man sitting upon the central dais.
The Patriarch of the Sun Clan did not need to shout to command attention; his mere presence radiated a temperature so icy that the moisture in the air seemed to crystallize into invisible needles.
To the guards and lesser elders standing at the periphery, it felt as though a jagged blade was held perpetually against their throats, a single heartbeat away from drawing blood.
In front of the dais, a high-ranking clan elder stood with his head bowed so low his chin nearly touched his chest. His body was trembling with a rhythmic, uncontrollable fear that made his silk robes rustle in the silence.
"The Mu Clan has sent their reply," the elder stammered, his voice thin and brittle. "They… they said that the branch clan's actions have nothing to do with them. They claim the person and the allies who killed Young Lord Sun Jiang are from a remote place called Feather City."
The elder swallowed hard, the sound echoing in the stillness. After the death of Sun Liang, the Sun Clan had been on the verge of declaring a total, scorched-earth war. However, both clans were old foxes; they knew a full-scale conflict between two major powers would only leave them vulnerable to being devoured by the other clans circling like vultures.
The Mu Clan's reply was strategic. Their meaning was simple: If you want revenge, go to Feather City.
As for the Dao Protector who had failed, his punishment had been severe. He had not been executed, but his cultivation resources had been slashed by seventy-five percent.
In the world of high-level cultivators, where one's very life and progress depended on the steady consumption of spirit stones and pills, such a reduction was a living death. It was the equivalent of feeding a mortal man a single meal once a week.
The Patriarch rose from his throne.
The moment his feet touched the floor, the internal suppression he had been maintaining simply vanished. A pressure descended upon the hall that was not wild or chaotic, but absolute. It felt as if a massive, invisible mountain had been placed directly upon the souls of everyone in the chamber.
The architecture of the hall groaned. Stone pillars began to spider-web with deep fissures. The floor beneath the Patriarch's boots sank several inches as if the earth itself could no longer bear the weight of his existence.
Every elder and guard was slammed into the ground. Their bones creaked under the weight, their internal organs churned, and even the simple act of drawing air became a monumental struggle. Spiritual energy froze within their meridians, refusing to circulate out of pure, primal terror. Crimson trickles of blood began to seep from the corners of their mouths.
This was the peak of the Nascent Soul realm—a force that did not need to strike to kill.
"Feather City…" the Patriarch let out a low, chilling laugh that vibrated through the floorboards. "Good. Good."
His voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it carried to every corner of the hall like a sharpened blade being dragged across dry bone.
"I will go there myself," he declared, his eyes burning with an unholy, blood-red light.
He took a slow step forward, and the pressure in the room deepened until the air shimmered with distortion. "I will kill that person's family. Every single one of them. Not even a dog or a chicken will remain."
He took another step, his face twisting into a mask of pure, unadulterated malice. "And before that… I will make sure they understand what despair truly means. I will—"
His voice stopped.
There was no warning. His body simply froze mid-step, his foot hovering an inch above the cracked tiles.
Thud.
The Patriarch collapsed onto the floor.
The suffocating pressure vanished in the span of a heartbeat. The invisible mountain was lifted, and air rushed back into the lungs of the survivors. The elders and guards gasped violently, their bodies trembling as they scrambled to their feet in a state of utter confusion and shock.
"Patriarch!"
"Patriarch!"
They rushed forward in a panicked swarm. An elder reached him first, his hand shaking as he reached out to touch the Patriarch's shoulder. The moment his fingers made contact with the cold skin, the elder froze. His eyes widened into dinner plates, and a look of primal horror washed over his features.
He staggered back, his legs failing him as he fell onto his rear, frantically crawling away as if he had touched a poisonous viper.
"H-how… is this possible…?" he stammered, his voice shaking uncontrollably. He looked around at the other panicked faces, his lips trembling so hard he could barely form the words. "Patriarch… the Patriarch is dead!"
A collective gasp of disbelief echoed through the chamber. The elder's breath hitched as he stared at the lifeless husk on the floor. "His soul… it's gone. It has been completely erased. There is nothing left!"
A heavy, suffocating silence followed. No one spoke. No one moved. Then, as if guided by an ancient survival instinct, everyone in the room took a step back. A new kind of fear spread through the Sun Clan—not a fear of war or death, but a fear of a power so absolute that it could erase a peak Nascent Soul master without even leaving a footprint.
...
In the quiet Mu Clan Manor back in Feather City, Mu Chen sat at a stone table in his garden, a cup of tea held loosely in his hand. He looked toward the distant horizon, in the direction of the Sun Clan's territory.
His face was a mask of absolute calm, devoid of even a hint of anger or satisfaction.
Shen Xi, who was sitting beside him, noticed the subtle shift in his gaze. She watched him for a moment before asking softly, "What happened?"
Mu Chen took a slow, methodical sip of his tea and set the cup down. "Nothing," he replied plainly. "Just some people who forgot their place."
Shen Xi gave a small, knowing nod. She didn't ask for details; after traveling with him, she understood that when Mu Chen spoke of "corrections," the result was final.
After finishing his tea, Mu Chen began to walk toward his private yard. He had been away for months, and the familiar, earthy scents of the manor were a welcome change from the strange dimensions he had traversed.
As he crossed the threshold of the garden, a soft, delicate figure suddenly appeared. Accompanied by a burst of fresh fragrance, she fluttered toward him like an agile butterfly and threw herself into his arms with a force that would have knocked a lesser man down.
"It's Xiaoyu," Mu Chen noted with a chuckle, reaching out to pat the young woman's shoulder. "You haven't forgotten your brother Mu Chen? That's good, very good. It seems I didn't spoil you in vain all those years."
Xiaoyu huffed, a playful pout on her delicate face as she clung to him. "Hmph! Xiaoyu hasn't forgotten Brother Mu Chen, but Brother has clearly forgotten me! Why else would you only come back after so many months away?"
The figure, dressed in pristine white, pulled back slightly so Mu Chen could see her clearly. The little girl who used to follow him around like a shadow, now carries a hint of maturity in her.
She wore a long white dress that accentuated her ethereal aura. Her face was exquisitely delicate, with eyebrows as fine as a moth's wings and bright, expressive eyes that darted about with a lively, mischievous intelligence.
"Oh," Mu Chen said, a hint of genuine surprise in his voice. "It looks like my little girl has really grown up."
"Hmph, Brother Mu Chen, enough talking!" Xiaoyu declared, her eyes sparkling with a sudden competitive fire. "Now, take my sword!"
With a blur of motion, she put a gap between them in a fraction of a second. She didn't waste a heartbeat, immediately circulating her spiritual energy. Her blade hummed as she struck toward Mu Chen, executing five continuous, overlapping slashes.
The dense sword energy compressed the air into visible, shimmering ripples. Each slash tore pale scars through the atmosphere, whistling with lethal intent. The fifth strike seemed to fuse with the previous four, condensing into a single, massive crescent of blinding silver light that howled as it raced forward.
The pressure from the attack was so intense that the ground beneath it began to fissure, threatening to crush everything in its path.
Mu Chen simply raised his hand as the silver crescent reached him, catching the edge of the devastating energy between two fingers. Then, he gave it a light, casual pinch. The massive sword strike collapsed soundlessly, shattering into thousands of white motes of light that scattered like ash in a dying wind.
Mu Chen looked at Xiaoyu, a proud glint in his eyes. "It looks like my silly girl really has been working hard. This is much stronger than last time."
The attack power in Xiaoyu's strike had been formidable—certainly enough to severely injure anyone below the Nascent Soul realm. Considering she was only fifteen and at the peak of the Middle Golden Core stage, her progress was nothing short of miraculous.
Xiaoyu pouted, her shoulders drooping as she saw her best attack crushed so effortlessly. "Brother Mu Chen, you are still much stronger than me," she grumbled, though she couldn't hide her smile.
Mu Chen walked over and pinched her cheek affectionately. "Okay, Xiaoyu. Now, how about you tell your friend to come out of hiding?"
Xiaoyu's expression shifted to one of brief surprise before she planted her hands on her hips. "Hmph! Brother, you really are no fun at all!"
As she spoke, a figure dressed in black stepped out from a distortion in the air behind a nearby tree. The stranger's presence was sharp and oppressive, and a scorching Qi immediately spread through the courtyard, pressing against the walls like a drawn blade.
Mu Chen turned his gaze toward the newcomer. It was just a glance—casual, unhurried, and devoid of weight.
The black-clothed figure's pupils shrank to the size of pinpricks, scorching Qi collapsed instantly, sucked back into the body as if by a void. Knees buckled, hitting the stone floor with a heavy thud before mind could even process what was happening. A primal cold spread through the body—not a cold born of fear, but a cold born of an absolute, terrifying absence of power.
"Family lives here, not cultivators," Mu Chen said calmly, his voice a steady anchor in the pressurized air. "Don't try to be loud in this house."
The mysterious person tried to open its mouth to respond, to defend its dignity, but no words would come out. Throat felt as though it had been sealed. For the first time in many years, a sensation that had been forgotten hit back: total, crushing powerlessness.
Mu Chen looked back at Xiaoyu, a soft, teasing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Both of you come inside. I think we need to have a talk."
Xiaoyu nodded quickly. She didn't ask why the powerful expert had suddenly fallen to his knees, nor did she question the strange atmosphere. To her, her brother was simply the strongest person in existence. Though she challenged him, it was only because she enjoyed the playfulness of their relationship.
...
Inside the quiet reception room, Mu Chen placed a steaming cup of tea in front of the mysterious guest. He sat down, resting one hand on his chin, and looked at the figure with a calm, inviting gaze.
"Speak," he commanded.
The mysterious figure was revealed to be a woman, her hood pulled back to show a face marked by tension. She gracefully picked up the cup, though her hands were still trembling visibly.
She was an expert at the Soul Infusion realm—the first stage of Soul Transformation. In any kingdom, she would be a god-like figure. But sitting across from this boy, she felt that her entire life of cultivation had been rendered irrelevant.
Damn it, who is this kid? the woman in black thought, cursing her luck under her breath. If I had known someone this strong was hiding in a place like this, I would have stayed far away from Xiaoyu.
She took a deep breath and decided to take the initiative. "Xiaoyu has already agreed," the woman began, her voice regaining some of its professional edge. "After she meets with you and says her goodbyes, she will leave with me to cultivate."
Mu Chen didn't offer a comment. He simply leaned back and listened, his expression unreadable.
The woman continued, her eyes brightening as she spoke of her pupil. "Xiaoyu's talent is at a heaven-defying level. She possesses a rare Elemental Body, a constitution that appears only once in several millenniums."
Mu Chen took a sip of his tea, his eyes meeting hers. "Where."
The woman straightened her posture, a hint of pride returning to her voice. "The Sun Continent."