A voice—cold, mechanical, and louder than any thunder—echoed from the deepest trenches of the abyssal lake, resonating inside his mind. The suffocating cold of the water vanished, replaced by a blinding golden matrix that exploded from his core to shatter the dead silence of the deep.
[WARNING: HOST LIFE ESSENCE AT 1%. MORTAL THRESHOLD CRITICAL.]
[DETECTING UNPARALLELED KARMIC DESPAIR... MAXIMUM VALUE REACHED.]
[CORE IDENTITY VERIFIED: SOLE RIGHTFUL HEIR OF THE LONG SOVEREIGN BLOODLINE.]
[SOVEREIGN ASSET REPOSSESSION SYSTEM INITIALIZING... 10%... 50%... 100%.]
A blinding, violet light erupted from the center of Jingchen's shattered chest, cutting through the eternal darkness of the abyss like a rising sun. The water in his lungs turned into warm, pulsing energy as a massive grid of glowing digital lines rapidly mapped his entire body.
[WELCOME, MASTER LONG JINGCHEN. COMMENCING SOVEREIGN RECLAIM.]
[HOST SYSTEM INITIALIZATION COMPLETE. CORE AUDIT ENGAGED.]
[SCANNING GENETIC HISTORY... IDENTIFYING SYSTEMIC MALICIOUS CORRUPTION.]
[TOTAL BLOODLINE INVENTORY IN PROGRESS... WARNING! UNAUTHORIZED ILLICIT ACCESS DETECTED.]
Jingchen couldn't move his physical lips, but his mind reeled as a transparent blue screen flashed before his eyes, rewriting his entire life. The "Cursed Trash Talent" that had forced him into slavery for six years wasn't a birth defect or a curse from the heavens. It was an artificial, cold-blooded lie manufactured by the monsters who had murdered his parents.
[ANALYSIS: SOVEREIGN LEECH-SEAL INFLICTED SIX YEARS AGO BY CHU MANA-ARCHITECTS.]
[TARGET SECT EFFECT: CONTRACTED SYPHONING OF THE LONG CLAN'S ROYAL PRIMORDIAL BLOODLINE.]
[RECIPIENT DECLARED: CHU TIANYOU. CURRENT STATUS: ARTIFICIAL GOLD CORE CULTIVATION.]
A wave of hot, unadulterated fury cut through the freezing water as Jingchen realized the sickening truth behind his suffering. Every single day he had spent bleeding in the dirt, Chu Tianyou was growing stronger by drinking his stolen destiny. The genius of the Chu family was nothing more than a parasite wearing his father's crown.
[LEGAL CLAUSE ENGAGED: UNLAWFUL ADULTERATION OF THE SOVEREIGN ASSETS DECLARED AN ILLEGAL LOAN.]
[INITIALIZING 10,000X IMMEDIATE ASSET FORECLOSURE AND ASYMMETRIC COMPOUND INTEREST LIQUIDATION.]
[REPOSSESSING STOLEN DESTINY, EIGHTEEN YEARS OF SPIRITUAL INTEREST, AND ANCESTRAL LUCK FROM THE CHU BLOODLINE.]
The black lake around him began to boil as a massive vortex of golden energy erupted from the depths, drilling straight into Jingchen’s chest. A terrifying surge of raw power flooded his veins, turning his blood into liquid lightning as the stolen fortune of the Chu lineage was forcibly ripped back. The sheer volume of energy was multiplied ten thousand times by the system's merciless protocol.
Inside his flesh, his shattered, broken skeleton began to pop and snap as the energy remolded his bones into pure, celestial ivory. His severed, twisted meridians tore open, widening into roaring cosmic rivers that devoured the incoming tide of primeval power. The agonizing pain of the reconstruction was instantly drowned out by a thick, heavy wave of pure authority.
[UPGRADING SOUL-CORE... BREAKING MORTAL LIMITS... 100% SUCCESS.]
[MYTHIC PRIMORDIAL CHAOS FOUNDATION ACHIEVED. CURRENT POWER RANK: SUPREME UNBOUND.]
Jingchen opened his eyes beneath the ice, his gaze now burning with a deep, terrifying violet light that illuminated the entire lake. He could feel the pulse of the entire mountain, the flow of the palace’s spiritual arrays, and the weak, pathetic energy of the mages walking on the surface. He was no longer a slave; he was a god sleeping in the dark.
"Chu family," Jingchen whispered, his voice creating a localized shockwave in the water that shattered the ice layer twenty meters above him. "Every single drop of blood you took from my sister and me... you will pay it back in screams."
[ALERT: DETECTING ENTRENCHED FORCE LEVELS OF THREE SOVEREIGN HOUSES. IMMEDIATE EXPOSURE RISKS FATAL ALLIANCE RETALIATION.]
[RECOMMENDATION: ENGAGE SOVEREIGN CONCEALMENT PROTOCOL. MASK POWER SIGNATURE.]
Jingchen clenched his fists, his mind clearing as the system’s warning reminded him of the hundreds of elders sitting on the peaks. Rushing out to slaughter the disciples would only bring the high-tier patriarchs down on his head before he could secure his sister. He needed a calculative, cold execution, not a reckless suicide mission.
"Mask it," Jingchen commanded in his mind, his eyes narrowing. "Make me look exactly like the trash they threw into the water."
[CONCEALMENT PROTOCOL ACTIVE. AURA REGISTERED AS FLUID INFUSED, MORTALLY WOUNDED HUMAN.]
The violet light vanished, the massive pressure around his body pulling back until he looked like nothing more than a shivering, pale boy. He floated to the surface, his hands gripping the jagged edge of the cracked ice as he pulled himself out of the freezing water. He didn't look at his healed skin or his new clothes; he focused entirely on the path to the slave quarters.
He moved through the dark storm like an invisible wraith, his footsteps leaving no prints in the thick mud as he sprinted toward the shack. His heart hammered with a sudden, sharp panic as he remembered the red light on Xiaoxiao’s extraction watch. He had been gone too long.
When he reached the outer edge of the ruined sector, the sound of a harsh, tearing sob made him stop dead in his tracks. Through the broken wooden slats of the shack, the dim yellow light of a spiritual array flickered, casting a long, twisting shadow on the dirt outside.
"Please... please stop," Xiaoxiao’s weak, trembling voice came through the cracks, followed by a wet, painful cough. "I don't have any more nectar... it hurts..."
"Shut your mouth, you little drain on resources!" a rough, angry voice roared from inside the small room. "The extraction room needs to be cleared for the new batch of spirit herbs, and you're taking up space. Get up!"
Jingchen approached the door, his vision turning completely red as he saw a massive Chu family guard gripping Xiaoxiao by her thin hair. The guard didn't care that her body was burning with fever; he lifted his heavy leather boot and kicked her small thigh to force her onto her knees. He wanted her to crawl out so he wouldn't have to carry her to the furnace room.
"Master Tianyou said we can still mine your bones even if you're unconscious," the guard spat, pulling her hair tighter until she let out a sharp cry of agony. "So don't pretend you're too weak to walk. Move your legs, you pathetic little freak, or I'll break them myself."
Xiaoxiao collapsed against the leg of the rotting bed, her tiny hands covering her face as she wept, her spirit entirely broken. She didn't look at the door; she was just waiting for the next blow to land, her tiny frame shaking under the guard’s shadow.
Jingchen stepped through the broken doorway, his voice dropping into a flat, freezing whisper that cut right through the dim room. "Take your filthy hands off my sister, and back away from the bed. Now."
The guard froze, then turned his head slowly, a look of utter disbelief crossing his rugged face when he saw the drenched, bleeding slave. On the bed, Xiaoxiao’s tear-filled eyes widened to the absolute brink of bursting. She had just heard the guard brag about her brother being tossed into the bottomless abyss. Seeing him standing upright and tall—completely healed—sent a shock of pure disbelief through her fragile mind.
The guard let out a loud, mocking laugh, intentionally yanking Xiaoxiao’s hair even harder until she whimpered in pain. "Or what, you mana-less piece of garbage?" the guard sneered, planting his heavy boot firmly onto Xiaoxiao’s trembling shoulder, pressing her down. "Master Tianyou threw you into the abyss to feed the fish, and you actually crawled back? You’re just a walking corpse."
Jingchen didn't blink. His eyes darted around the dark room, his newly awakened Primordial Chaos senses scanning the perimeter to confirm the coast was clear. No spiritual eyes were watching; no elders were patrolling this rotting sector.
In a fraction of a second, Jingchen blurred across the dirt floor, his hand moving like a streak of dark lightning as it wrapped tightly around the guard’s thick throat. The impact was heavy, his fingers digging into the flesh with a hyper-strong, crushing grip. Xiaoxiao let out a muffled gasp, her heart freezing in her chest as she watched her powerless brother handle a trained cultivator with raw, terrifying speed.
"Let go of me, you crazy rat!" the guard choked out, his face turning red, though his eyes were still filled with arrogant disgust. He dismissed the sudden burst of physical strength as nothing more than a dying loser’s powerless, frantic adrenaline.
The guard sneered, his right hand instantly flaring with a jagged, brown Earth-Armor spell to crush Jingchen's fingers. "You think a slave can choke a cultivator? I’ll shatter every bone in your arm, trash!"
But the moment his magic touched Jingchen's hand, the earth energy didn't just fail—it shattered like cheap glass against an iron wall. Jingchen’s grip didn't loosen by a single millimeter; instead, his fingers tightened, slowly lifting the massive hundred-kilogram guard entirely off the floor.
Xiaoxiao watched the scene unfold, her hands trembling as a wave of pure shock washed over her. Her brother, the one born without a single drop of mana, was actively suppressing a high-tier guard's spell with his bare skin. The sudden, suffocating pressure filling the room was a god-like energy she had never felt from him before.
A wave of pure, primal terror finally broke through the guard’s eyes as he realized his magic was completely useless against this boy. "What... what kind of forbidden black magic is this?" he gasped, his legs kicking wildly in the air as his throat began to collapse under the weight of his own misunderstanding.
"This isn't black magic," Jingchen whispered, his violet eyes locking onto the guard's face with a lethal, unforgiving glare. "This is the bloodline you stole from my family."
Realizing he was completely outmatched, the guard’s arrogance dissolved into pure panic as Jingchen slammed him back onto his feet. The man stumbled backward, fearfully trying to sprint toward the open door to shout for the outer patrol guards. "Help! There's a—"
Before the first real shout could escape his mouth, Jingchen flicked his left hand, releasing a microscopic pulse of his repossessed gravity energy. The invisible weight slammed directly onto the guard's lower limbs, pinning his boots to the dirt floorboards.
"Move... why can't I move?!" the guard screamed internally, his legs completely locked in place, paralyzed by an immense pressure. Before he could try to scream again, a wet cleaning rag flew from the floor, wrapping itself tightly around his mouth like an iron gag.
The guard’s muffled cries were swallowed by the dirty cloth as Jingchen walked up to him, his presence like a dark mountain closing in. The massive cultivator was trembling violently, tears of absolute horror streaming down his face as he stared at the slave he had been kicking moments ago.
"You said the weak are meant to be stepped on in this city," Jingchen murmured, his hand wrapping around the top of the guard's head. "I like your rules, guard. Let’s see how well you follow them."
With a slow, deliberate twist of his wrist, Jingchen unleashed a concentrated burst of his cosmic rivers, completely obliterating the man’s inner soul-core. The guard’s eyes widened to the brink of bursting, his body convulsing in sheer agony before his consciousness was totally erased.
The lifeless corpse fell forward, landing with a soft, muffled thud as Jingchen effortlessly caught it by the collar, dragging it into the dark space beneath the rotting straw bed with total silence.
He stood over the hidden spot, his gaze cold and unblinking as he looked down at the area where the body lay. "You brought this upon yourself by touching my sister," Jingchen whispered to the silent corpse, his voice dropping into a dark, dual-toned resonance that made the room’s wooden frames tremble. "And from now on, anyone who touches her in this world doesn't get to breathe the next day."
He turned back to the bed, the coldness vanishing from his face the moment his eyes landed on Xiaoxiao’s small, shivering form. She was still curling into a ball, her eyes tightly shut, too terrified to realize that the monster who had been beating her was gone.
"Xiaoxiao," Jingchen said softly, sinking to his knees and wrapping his arms around her frail shoulders, pulling her close to his chest. "It’s over. I’m here. Your brother is back."
Xiaoxiao gasped, her eyes snapping open as she recognized the deep warmth of his tight embrace. She looked up at his face, her tiny, trembling fingers reaching up weakly to touch his bruised cheek, her voice cracking with a mixture of immense relief and pure terror.
"Brother Jingchen? Is... is this really you?" she whispered, hot tears rolling down her pale cheeks and soaking into his frayed collar. "They said... the guards said they threw you into the bottomless lake. I thought I’d lost you forever, brother."
"The lake couldn't hold me, and neither can this wicked family," Jingchen said, his eyes flashing with a dangerous, violet light as he adjusted the thin blanket around her shivering shoulders. "I will never leave you alone again, Xiaoxiao. I promise you."
He leaned in close, pressing his forehead gently against hers, his voice dropping into a fierce, resolute whisper that echoed from the depths of his soul. "We just have to endure a little longer until we systematically destroy our parents' murderers and reclaim every inch of this magnificent manor."
Latest Chapter
CH122
The morning bell of the God-Level Pavilion chimed with a deep, resonant clarity that washed over the floating cloud-terraces.Its tone was not an alarm for mobilizing defensive formations, but a gentle reminder that the sunrise had cleared the high mountain passes.Down along the jade-paved avenues of the lower sanctuary, the first morning classes of the newly founded Genesis Academy were already taking their seats.Long Jingchen walked slowly through the open-air colonnade of the eastern library wing, his hands resting easily behind his back.He had exchanged his heavy dark cloak for a simple, unadorned robe of charcoal silk, its hems swaying softly in the mountain breeze.Beside him, Ji Qingwu carried a bound stack of freshly inked star-charts, her silver gown shimmering like water under the morning sun."The emissaries from the Seven Cloud Sects crossed the southern mist barrier an hour ago," Qingwu said softly, her silver eyes bright and clear."Did they bring the tribute chests t
CH121
The twilight deepened into a rich indigo hue as the last stars aligned across the high heavens.The laughter by the waterfalls quieted, replaced by the soft whisper of evening mountain breezes through the pines.Long Jingchen and Ji Qingwu walked down the winding stone path hand in hand, their steps matching in an effortless, familiar cadence.Ahead, the warm golden lanterns of the central pavilion illuminated the stone verandas in a welcoming embrace.Inside the courtyard, Kael and the young scholars were carefully winding the silver kite string around its polished cedar spool.The dragon boy handed the spool to Mina with both hands, his posture straight, unburdened by the ancient dread of his lineage.On the cushioned daybed near the veranda, Xiaoxiao was already sound asleep, her cheek pressed against Lady Olivia’s lap.Her small fingers still loosely clutched a tiny ribbon from the dragon kite, rising and falling with her gentle breathing.Lady Olivia stroked her daughter’s dark h
CH120
The afternoon sun bathed the upper terraces of the God-Level Pavilion in a rich, luminescent gold, casting long, peaceful shadows through the ancient plum trees. The heavy, formal atmosphere that usually accompanied the gathering of scholars and warriors had completely dissipated, replaced by the gentle, unhurried rhythm of a community learning how to breathe.Inside the quiet eastern wing of the central manor, long silk curtains fluttered softly against the polished white cedar floorboards. Long Jingchen sat cross-legged at a low, wide table, his broad shoulders relaxed beneath a simple linen tunic. Spread out before him were not the cosmic maps of warring galaxies or the blood-stained ledgers of broken empires, but a collection of thin, pliant bamboo reeds, spools of bright crimson silk thread, and large sheets of thick, fibrous paper.His hands—hands that had crushed Tier-12 Saint Generals into grey sand, hands that had effortlessly sliced through two-hundred-foot sky-iron gates—we
CH119
The morning mist that clung to the high terraces of the God-Level Pavilion did not carry the bitter tang of burned iron or the suffocating heat of imperial arrays; it smelled of wet cedar bark, crushed gentian petals, and the sweet, earthy steam of newly turned loam. Below the stone promenade, the genesis springs bubbled in a slow, tranquil rhythm, sending thin veins of crystalline water cascading down the carved marble waterways to nourish the terraced lotus beds.Under the spreading canopy of an ancient white cedar whose branches had survived three millennia of cosmic turmoil, a long table of dark slate had been set with simple wooden platters. Steaming loaves of coarse barley bread, bowls of golden millet porridge sweetened with wild mountain honey, and small ceramic pots of steeped herbal tea filled the air with an aroma so simple, yet so profoundly peaceful, that the newly arrived youths dared not even reach out their hands.They stood in two quiet clusters—the dragon-born youngs
CH118
The first light of dawn spilled over the eastern ridges not as a piercing glare, but as a soft, liquid gold that dissolved the mountain mist into drifting threads of silver. In the high terraces above the genesis springs, the dew gathered heavy on the petals of the newly planted white lotuses, dripping with a quiet, rhythmic cadence into the clear pools below.Long Jingchen stood by the lower gate pavilion where the ancient stone path met the valley road. He wore no ceremonial mantle or starlight armor—only a simple, dark tunic of unembroidered linen, his long hair tied back loosely against the morning breeze. In his hands, he held a wooden basin carved from ancient cedar, used by the disciples to carry fresh spring water to the seedlings along the memorial wall.From down the winding ridge, the sound of hesitant footsteps broke the quiet. A dozen young disciples—half of them dragon-born youths with amber eyes and faint scarlet scales along their jawlines, the other half provincial sc
CH117
The afternoon shadows lengthened across the cascading terraces of the memorial garden, softening the sharp edges of the iron-etched monuments into gentle silvers and blues. Below the mountain, the dust of the old provincial roads was stirred not by the iron-shod hooves of imperial war-beasts, but by the quiet, unhurried footsteps of returning exiles. Men and women who had spent decades hiding their names in the hollows of the lower peaks now walked openly through the valley, carrying bundles of mountain herbs, hand-woven cloths, and ancestral tablets long thought buried in the ash.Long Jingchen watched them from the stone promenade above the lower springs, his hands resting naturally at his sides. For years, every landscape he looked upon had presented itself as a tactical grid—angles of approach, lines of retreat, weak points in spatial barriers to exploit or collapse. To look upon a valley and calculate only the yield of its harvest and the safety of its children was a discipline h
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