Outside the Bodhisattva Temple, the blizzard seemed frozen in place by an overwhelming presence.

  Du Longyang approached step by step through the snow.

  Nie Changqing drew a deep breath; the terrifying pressure felt as if it might collapse the entire temple.

  Mo Tianyu clutched three copper divination coins, his eyes locked on Du Longyang.

  The man’s sheer power sent a chill through Mo Tianyu’s heart.

  “You came back?”

  Du Longyang stared at Nie Changqing, his face devoid of any smile, laced instead with icy coldness.

  He had searched for days, only to find... Nie Changqing had returned.

  No wonder he couldn’t locate him, even after turning the area around Martial Emperor City upside down.

  “I gained some insight and retreated to cultivate for a few days.”

  Nie Changqing met Du Longyang’s gaze and replied calmly.

  Mo Tianyu glanced between them. Was there some shady deal going on here?

  Du Longyang’s oppressive aura dissipated, a smile creeping onto his face.

  “You certainly gave me a hard time finding you…”

  “The plan is about to launch. Contact Young Master Lu. We’ve taken his money, so we eliminate his disasters. Remind him not to forget.”

  Du Longyang said.

  Nie Changqing narrowed his eyes slightly.

  Before he could respond, a lazy, rumbling voice echoed from inside the temple.

  “Got it.”

  “When the plan starts, this young master will show up.”

  It was Lu’s voice.

  Even Nie Changqing felt a jolt of alarm.

  Du Longyang scanned the temple, his expression growing grave. After a long pause, he forced a smile.

  “As long as Young Master Lu remembers.”

  In the next instant, his figure shot backward out of the temple.

  The snow outside exploded into a deep crater, but Du Longyang had already vanished.

  “What exactly is the plan between Young Master Lu and them?”

  Mo Tianyu frowned slightly, turning to Nie Changqing.

  Nie shook his head.

  Mo Tianyu knew better than to press further.

  The two left the temple, heading toward Martial Emperor City.

  Nie Changqing was ready to challenge the inner disciples once more.

  ...

  Inside the grand hall of Martial Emperor City.

  Du Longyang returned, and waiting for him—along with many other powerhouses—were figures like the Empress and Master Yuanshang.

  These two were righteous masters; their presence in the city wouldn’t raise too many eyebrows.

  Even if spotted, the world wouldn’t bat an eye.

  But beyond them stood Young Master Tianxu of the Tianxu Palace and the sect leader of the Absolute Blade Sect.

  These were demonic path experts.

  Their appearance here, if known, would shake the entire world.

  Young Master Tianxu loathed the atmosphere of Martial Emperor City. After clashing with Du Longyang for years, becoming a guest here was the ultimate irony.

  The one-armed sect leader of the Absolute Blade Sect, Ye Shoudao, was also present in the hall.

  “City Lord Du, has Young Master Lu arrived?”

  Master Yuanshang pressed his palms together and asked hurriedly upon Du’s return.

  “He hasn’t shown. Clearly, Young Master Lu is cautious.”

  “He won’t appear lightly, fearing our alliance is a trap.”

  Du Longyang said gravely.

  “Heh…”

  Young Master Tianxu, seated to the side, sneered. “That kid wouldn’t dare show his face. Last time, he hijacked my body. If he dares come, I’ll beat him to death!”

  Ye Shoudao frowned; he had his own grudges with Lu.

  He hadn’t expected Du Longyang to rope Lu into this alliance.

  In Ye’s view, they were making a deal with the devil.

  “Cut the crap. If I were you, I’d shut up. Last time, that Lu kid slipped into your body without a trace, and you’ve still got the guts to run your mouth?”

  The Empress shot Tianxu a disdainful glance.

  Tianxu’s eyes bulged, as if struck where it hurt.

  “Ni Chunqiu, you think I’m afraid of you? Fight me if you’ve got the balls!”

  He snarled.

  The Empress laughed, sizing up the frail Tianxu from head to toe.

  “With you in that state?”

  Tianxu felt an insult like never before.

  He slammed the armrest of his chair, unleashing a surge of terrifying aura that clouded the hall.

  The Empress smirked, her pale hand resting on her own armrest, exuding regal poise.

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  Their auras clashed.

  The brewing explosion threatened to shatter the hall.

  “Enough!”

  Du Longyang roared.

  He thrust his spear upward, its cold, razor-sharp tip pointing at Tianxu.

  Tianxu’s aura faltered and dispersed.

  “Fine! You two lovebirds are ganging up on me!”

  “Nobody’s got my back, huh?”

  “Old Ye, chop him down!”

  Tianxu shrieked.

  Ye Shoudao glanced at him, gave a cold smile, and stayed put.

  “Great! Everyone’s bullying me! I’m out—this alliance is done!”

  Tianxu screeched.

  Master Yuanshang pressed his palms together, smiling gently. “Tianxu, don’t throw a tantrum. We’re gathered for the sake of the world, to shatter the lie of immortality. Our enemy is the mighty immortals. We must stand united.”

  Tianxu huffed but held his tongue.

  He shot glares at everyone else.

  Du Longyang lowered his black spear, his expression softening.

  “The Demon Realm is in upheaval. The Heavenly Demon Tower is raging, demonic qi soaring to the skies… Legend says the tower was built by immortals. This unrest likely means they’ve caught wind of something and plan to release the great demons inside to derail us.”

  “Our plan must move up.”

  Du Longyang declared.

  Master Yuanshang, the Empress, and the one-armed blade master Ye Shoudao all nodded.

  “Hmph… move it up? How? You think summoning heavenly thunder is as easy as snapping your fingers?”

  Tianxu snorted.

  The Empress rolled her eyes and scoffed.

  “Amitabha.”

  “This monk has prepared a Minor Restoration Pill. Once the Empress takes it, her power will surge—she can shatter the void and draw down thunder punishment!”

  “That will mark the start of the plan.”

  Master Yuanshang explained.

  Tianxu sneered again. “Who’s to say the thunder won’t get hijacked like last time?”

  Boom!

  The Empress slammed the table; it splintered into dust.

  “You’re insufferable! Want the pill? You take it and draw the thunder. Coward—if you haven’t got the guts, zip it! One more word, and I’ll end you!”

  Killing intent boiled from her.

  Tianxu jumped, then forced a creepy grin but kept quiet.

  Du Longyang was used to Tianxu’s antics and ignored him.

  They resumed plotting.

  This scheme had been in the works for ages, yet caution ruled them still.

  Failure meant doom.

  “We’re risking our lives here—what’s that Lu kid contributing? We fight the immortals to a standstill, and he swoops in to claim the prize?”

  Tianxu said sinisterly.

  “Will you shut up?”

  The Empress’s glare made Tianxu’s heart skip.

  He clearly feared her.

  “Young Master Lu will join the fight and help us slaughter the immortals.”

  Du Longyang stated.

  Tianxu opened his mouth to argue, but the Empress’s icy stare—promising death for another word—silenced him.

  He muttered under his breath: “Women are trouble. Beautiful ones even more so.”

  “In three days, the Empress undergoes her tribulation. We… prepare to slay immortals!”

  Du Longyang announced.

  “Where will she cross it? Back at the Great Qian palace?”

  Ye Shoudao frowned.

  “No—the ruined Bodhisattva Temple on the old ridge outside Martial Emperor City.”

  The Empress shook her head with a smile.

  Du Longyang and Master Yuanshang froze.

  Why there, of all places?

  What was this woman planning?

  ...

  Beiluo, Lake Center Island.

  Lu propped his chin with one hand, pinching a chess piece with the other, arranging the board.

  Suddenly, the hand holding the piece trembled.

  He raised a brow.

  “Three days from now?”

  Lu smiled, shrugged it off, and placed the piece.

  As it fell, his vitality surged, faintly forming a storm.

  ...

  Dongyang Prefecture.

  A disheveled scholar staggered along, swigging wine.

  Behind him, Meng Haoran followed with quick, small steps, book box on his back.

  Master and disciple from the Haoran Sect, Kong Nanfei and Meng Haoran.

  After leaving Beiluo, they’d traveled south, then east, wandering the world, visiting famous mountains and rivers, drawing closer to nature and sensing heaven and earth.

  Meng Haoran’s cultivation had reached the peak of Qi Core.

  He’d even mastered righteous qi—one shout could shake snow from a hillock.

  “This is Dongyang Prefecture, where the Master fell in battle?”

  Meng Haoran asked, curiosity tinged with gravity.

  The slovenly Kong Nanfei ahead ignored him.

  City guards bowed slightly to the scholars.

  They respected Confucians—not for anything else, but for the old man who once stood alone outside Dongyang against invaders.

  Meng Haoran noticed Kong Nanfei straighten up upon entering the gates.

  Each step was deliberate, as if tracing something.

  Meng followed, puzzled.

  Beyond the city lay endless desert seas.

  Kong Nanfei, robes tattered, hair greasy and curled, trudged through the sand.

  He gulped wine, eyes gleaming as if seeing the Master holding off armies alone.

  After a long while, he found a spot and sat cross-legged.

  The prefect of Dongyang arrived atop the walls, gazing down. Kong’s seated form seemed to overlap with the elder’s silhouette from that day.

  Suddenly.

  A low chant echoed through heaven and earth.

  Kong Nanfei sat laughing, reciting the “Song of Righteous Qi,” each word resounding like iron in every ear.

  Guards on the walls felt blood boil, eyes red, killing intent surging.

  Fearless in the face of death.

  The chant faded.

  Kong smiled as righteous qi coalesced above his head into a milky-white orb.

  It spun, whipping up a spiritual storm.

  Kong beamed.

  Meng Haoran watched from afar, book box on back, awestruck.

  So strong…

  Though Master failed to break the Heavenly Lock, Kong Nanfei was still Kong Nanfei—grand and bold as ever.

  Kong sat amid gathering black clouds.

  A bolt of lightning arced down, drowned by his laughter.

  At the site of the Master’s death, Kong chose breakthrough—not pressing the Heavenly Lock, but seizing the moment to cross thunder punishment.

  Forming a Golden Core!

  The Five Phoenix Continent’s first Golden Core cultivator was born!

  The instant Kong formed his core…

  On Lake Center Island, Lu sensed it—he gained at least 500 strands of spiritual qi as commission.

  “He chose the Golden Core path?”

  Lu was surprised, admiring Kong’s daring.

  But Golden Core didn’t mean weakness.

  Nine revolutions, and it could rival anything.

  Dongyang Prefecture.

  A radiant golden core hovered above Kong, pulsing mysteriously.

  Brilliant light poured from the clouds.

  Kong sat, comprehending his Dao amid the thunder’s feedback.

  Far off, Meng Haoran stood rooted, spiritual qi cycling freely.

  In a flash, he broke past Qi Core into Spirit Reservoir.

  ...

  Endless desert.

  King Yali and his men ran madly, half-crazed.

  The oasis looked close, but they exhausted themselves—still only desert ahead.

  Yali’s vision swam; even his strength faltered. He collapsed.

  Crawling, inching forward, hand outstretched toward the mirage of hope.

  His sight blurred, fading.

  Then…

  Just before darkness took him, “squeak-squeak” sounds reached his ears.

  From the eerie oasis poured upright-walking monkeys.

  Yali felt he’d slept days.

  Cool liquid—he gulped greedily.

  Clear water soothed his parched throat and stomach, pores opening in relief.

  Yali opened his eyes.

  He froze.

  Monkeys surrounded him, wielding wooden weapons, intelligent eyes fixed on him.

  Yali sprang up, terrified.

  Monkeys… in the oasis?!

  “Where am I?”

  He demanded.

  The group parted; a monkey astride a white wolf appeared.

  It repeated his words, mimicking speech.

  Yali spoke more.

  The monkey analyzed, soon managing simple conversation.

  Yali relaxed—these creatures meant no harm.

  The oasis reeked of strangeness, unsettling him.

  But he lived. With water, he could leave, return to the Marton Kingdom.

  Heaven never seals all exits.

  Yali wept with joy.

  Alive, he could regroup, strike east again at that ancient land.

  But calmer, he abandoned the thought.

  Against god-like foes, armies were fodder.

  Yali sagged, then let it go.

  He and his men survived—that was fortune enough.

  They settled in the oasis.

  Wary, the monkeys cordoned an area for them.

  Only Yali could communicate.

  Later, he learned the oasis was called “Demon Continent,” the energy “demonic qi.”

  Observing, Yali saw the monkeys’ power—odd arts like the eastern gods, though weaker. Only the Monkey King rivaled them.

  Yali earned the king’s trust with his gift for language, teaching the troop human speech.

  He burned to know their cultivation.

  But they guarded it closely.

  Yali feared angering the king—its aura suffocated him.

  Days later, hiding in bushes, he saw a monkey inhale and exhale a four-sided crystal.

  Demonic qi wrapped it, tempering it.

  This was their method.

  Yali watched, entranced.

  The crystal seemed the world’s greatest treasure.

  Greed surged—he could cultivate like gods!

  But he feared the king and suppressed it.

  He curried favor, teaching weapon-crafting, longbows…

  The king delighted, admiring Yali.

  Every two days, the king assaulted the soaring central pillar.

  Failing, injured a day, healed, tried again.

  Yali pondered, hatching a plan.

  On healing day, he bid farewell—returning home.

  The king reluctantly agreed.

  Yali cited the endless desert; he needed three monkeys as guides.

  The king hesitated.

  But Yali’s silver tongue won out.

  Three monkeys led the troops away, waterskins full, marching toward Marton.

  The king thought nothing of it, resuming pillar assaults.

  Soon after leaving the oasis…

  Yali’s warm smile turned cold. He drew his blade, qi and blood erupting.

  One slash decapitated a monkey.

  The others roared, demonic qi flaring, slaughtering.

  But Yali’s soldiers overwhelmed them—both monkeys fell under blades.

  Yali wiped blood from his face, dug crystals from skulls.

  Hot sand drank the red drops.

  Excitement blazed in his eyes.

  His men cheered.

  In the oasis…

  The king tumbled from the pillar, wounded again.

  But…

  As it prepared to heal, it froze.

  Yali’s army returned.

  The monkeys greeted them…

  Then blades flashed—toward the troop!

  The first contact between demon and man.

  Blood soaked the Demon Continent’s soil.