The heavy wheels of the spiritual transport rattled unevenly over the stone path, sending sharp vibrations through the iron floorboards of the cage. Long Jingchen sat with his back pressed against the freezing metal, his arms wrapped protectively around Xiaoxiao as the dense fog outside grew thicker. The carriage veered sharply off the main road, the smooth ride turning rough as it crawled along the isolated, dark edge of the misty Bamboo Grove.
Suddenly, the vehicle ground to a complete, sudden halt, the spiritual engine dying out with a low, sputtering hiss that left only the sound of dripping rain. The vast bamboo stalks towered over them like giant wooden prison bars, blocking out the morning light and leaving the area completely deserted. Jingchen slowly lifted his head, his violet eyes flashing through the dim space as he looked at the heavy partition door.
"Why have we stopped here?" Jingchen asked, his voice flat and calm, showing absolutely zero panic as he addressed the front cabin. "This isn't the path to the palace dungeon cages."
The heavy door was yanked open, but no words came out to answer his question; only a cold, heavy silence filled the cramped carriage. The five elite guards stepped inside, their faces hidden behind dark crimson iron masks as they surrounded the small metal cage. With five synchronized clicks, they unleashed their glowing spiritual blades, the sharp metal humming with a lethal, vibrating current of earth energy.
"You don't need to worry about the palace dungeons, slave," the lead guard sneered, his voice dripping with an absolute, bloodthirsty malice. "Young master Chu Tianyou personally ordered us to ensure you and your sister never make it out of this grove alive. He said your very presence is a jinx that brings ruin to our house."
The leader stepped forward, kicking the cage lock open with his heavy boot, his blade casting a sharp, red reflection across Xiaoxiao’s pale cheeks. "We are going to dissect you piece by piece right here, and then we will drag your little sister back to the extraction furnace. Nobody can save you now."
The guards threw a shimmering, silver mesh over the opening of the cage—a high-level Void-Lock Net that immediately hummed with a heavy power. The net sealed the entire radius, ensuring that no sound, no blood trail, and no energy signature could leak out to Saintess Ji Qingwu or the patrols. Xiaoxiao let out a tiny, frightened gasp, burying her face deeper into Jingchen’s chest as the blades drew closer.
Jingchen stood up slowly under the silver mesh, his slouched, broken posture vanishing in an instant as his shoulders straightened into a royal alignment. The fake trembling left his limbs, and the coldness in his eyes turned into a terrifying, deep violet light that made the net vibrate. Away from prying eyes, the sleeping lion finally woke up, his inner Primordial Chaos Foundation completely erupts into a silent, cosmic roar.
"You think a thin piece of wire can lock the sky?" Jingchen whispered, his voice echoing with a terrifying, dual-toned resonance that made the guards freeze. He didn't reach for a weapon, and he didn't try to tear the net with his hands; he simply extended his palm, activating [Sovereign Repossession: Spatial Domain].
An invisible, crushing vacuum instantly expanded from his skin, freezing the very molecules of the air within a fifty-yard radius of the grove. The roaring wind died, the falling raindrops froze mid-air like tiny glass beads, and every drop of oxygen was violently stripped out of the guards' lungs. The five "Peak Foundation Experts" gasped, their eyes widening to the brink of bursting as they realized their magic had completely vanished.
They dropped to their knees in the mud one by one, their heavy blades clattering onto the stones as their hands clawed frantically at their own throats. They couldn't form a single word, their faces turning a dark, suffocating purple as the absolute vacuum of the spatial lock crushed their inner organs. The pure terror in their eyes was absolute; they were looking at a monster they couldn't even comprehend.
The squad leader, his vision blurring as his veins began to pop, let out a desperate, guttural growl from his bleeding chest. He bit his tongue, spraying his own essence onto a dark talisman hidden inside his palm, triggering a forbidden, taboo art. He sacrificed twenty years of his own lifespan in a single second, his hair turning completely snow-white as a massive burst of explosive crimson energy forced its way through the spatial lock.
"Die! You demon!" the leader screamed with his final breath, hurling a world-ending, fiery strike directly toward Jingchen’s unprotected chest.
Jingchen didn't even blink, his expression remaining as still as a carved block of cold mountain stone as the massive wall of fire rushed toward him. He merely extended his left hand, his bare palm meeting the absolute fury of the life-burning strike with a soft, effortless slap. Crack. The terrifying crimson explosion was instantly swallowed by his violet aura, crushed into a handful of harmless sparks that drifted into the mud.
The squad leader’s white hair fluttered in the wind as he stared at his empty hands, his spirit completely and utterly shattered by the sight. He realized the horrifying truth—the mana-less slave was a primordial god who had been playing with them the entire time. He collapsed onto his stomach, dragging his shriveled, aging body through the dirt to beg for his life. "Please... mercy... we were only..."
Jingchen didn't let him finish the sentence, his face completely devoid of any human pity as he looked down at the pathetic, crawling killer. He flicked his fingers toward the surrounding bamboo trees, and five sharp green leaves were instantly infused with a brilliant current of golden energy. The leaves flew through the fog like divine daggers, their speed so immense they tore through the wind with a sharp, screaming whistle.
Slash. Slash. The five golden leaves sliced cleanly through the necks of the execution squad, decapitating every single guard in a single, flawless motion. Their heads rolled into the wet grass, their lifeless bodies falling forward into the mud with a series of soft, heavy thuds that were completely swallowed by the silent grove.
Jingchen waved his hand, a small current of violet fire instantly consuming the corpses, turning the flesh and armor into a pile of harmless, grey ash within seconds. He picked up a broken piece of a guard's sword and scratched a crude, specific emblem of a rival enemy clan into a nearby bamboo trunk to fake a clue. The evidence was completely erased, and the first true face-slap against Tianyou’s forces was complete.
"Brother," Xiaoxiao whispered, stepping out of the broken cage with a light, fluid movement, her energetic body completely free of pain. She looked at the ash on the ground, a knowing, small smile playing on her rosy lips. "What do we do now? The old grandfather has the map."
"We go directly into their house, Xiaoxiao," Jingchen replied, his violet eyes narrowing as his gold perception scanned the edge of the grove. He could feel a heavy, arrogant energy waiting just two hundred meters down the path. It was Chu Tianyou himself, pacing impatiently near a carriage, waiting for his squad to return with the news of a successful murder.
Jingchen’s inner soul boiled with a monstrous, dark fury, his fingers curling into a tight fist that wanted nothing more than to walk down there and snap Tianyou's neck. But his calculating mind quickly overrode his rage; the Chu Grandfather had taken the convulsing Patriarch back to the Chu Private Manor, and the vault map was locked behind their heavy ancestral defenses. To walk through their front gates legally and without triggering an alarm, he needed a key—and that key was standing right down the path.
"Xiaoxiao," Jingchen said, a cold, jagged smile breaking through his serious features as he looked down at his sister. "Are you ready to play a little game with this arrogant fool?"
Xiaoxiao smiled back, her eyes shining with a brilliant, understanding light as her body instantly slouched into a weak, pathetic posture. "I’m ready, brother. Let’s make him dance."
In a flash of movement, the siblings sprinted down the path, dropping to their knees the moment they cleared the bamboo line, crawling frantically through the mud toward Chu Tianyou’s polished leather boots. They panted heavily, their faces covered in wet dirt and their voices cracking with a masterclass, terrifying display of pure pretence.
"Young master! Master Tianyou, save us!" Jingchen shrieked in a faked, desperate panic, grabbing the edge of Tianyou’s fine silk robes with his muddy fingers. "An ambush! A group of masked assassins from the rival clan attacked the transport! They slaughtered the execution squad! They are killing everyone!"
Chu Tianyou jumped back in shock, his face twisting into a venomous, murderous rage when he saw the trash slave still breathing. He looked down at Jingchen, his fingers twitching with a frantic desire to kill him himself. "You? How are you still alive? Where are my men, you worthless piece of garbage?!"
"They died protecting the carriage, young master!" Jingchen cried out, tears of fake terror rolling down his cheeks as he pointed back toward the smoking grove. "The assassins said they wanted to frame the Chu family for a massacre! We barely managed to slip out through the bushes while they were hacking each other to pieces!"
Tianyou let out a guttural roar of pure, aristocratic frustration, his hand shooting down to grab Jingchen violently by the throat, hoisting him off the ground. "You lying rat! You bring nothing but ruin and bad luck everywhere you go! My father is dying in the hall, my cultivation is gone, and now my elite guards are dead! You should have just died in that lake!"
His grip tightened, his earth qi trying to flare around his knuckles, but because his core was siphoned, the energy was weak and pathetic. Jingchen easily absorbed the pressure with his hidden void-armor, letting his face turn red to maintain the illusion of a weak commoner as he delivered the ultimate, irresistible bait.
"Master Tianyou... listen to me!" Jingchen gasped out, his voice shaking with a calculated desperation. "The assassins... they bragged about it! They said they used a forbidden, untraceable secret poison to attack your father at the banquet! They said no doctor in the sect can cure it!"
Tianyou’s eyes widened to the absolute brink of bursting, his hand trembling as the weight of his family's survival crashed down on his head. If his father died right now, the other two houses would discover his own siphoned cultivation and strip the Chu family of their palace leadership within twenty-four hours. "A poison? What do you know about it, slave?!"
"My late father... he studied the ancient archives before the massacre," Jingchen lied smoothly, his eyes looking wide and frantic. "He passed down a unique Long Clan technique to me! It is a secret hand-seal that can neutralize that exact dark poison and restore the core’s balance! I can cure your father, young master!"
Tianyou froze, his breathing turning shallow as his arrogant mind raced through the options. He hated the trash, but he was completely desperate; his father’s life was the only thing keeping their family on the throne. He harsh-sternly slammed Jingchen back onto the ground, pointing a shaking, long fingernail directly at his face.
"Listen to me, you mana-less worm," Tianyou growled, his voice shaking with a cold, terrifying threat. "I will give you one single chance to step into my family’s manor. But I swear to you, if you fail to neutralize the poison and cure my father on the very first attempt... I will personally skin you and your little sister alive with my bare hands!"
"I will do my best, young master," Jingchen submissively whispered, lowering his head deep into the mud to hide the lethal, violet light expanding in his eyes. "Just take us to his room."
"Get into the carriage, you jinxed filth!" Tianyou roared, shoving them toward the luxury cabin as he barked orders to the driver. "To the Chu Private Manor! Fast!"
The heavy carriage doors slammed shut with an absolute, ringing snap, the wheels spinning as the transport sped straight toward the central peaks.
The fool had just opened the front door to his own execution. The trap was perfectly set, his feet were legally crossing their defenses, and he was stepping straight into the inner sanctum to reclaim his father's throne and make the Three Sovereign Houses bleed.
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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