Su Xiaotian and the Su family elders had just stepped out of the main hall into the front courtyard when they froze. At the mansion's entrance, figures clad in the insignias of rival clans flooded through the gates. At their forefront stood two men: Huang Yuantu, patriarch of the Huang family, his expression smug and predatory, and Wang Li, head of the Wang family—Su Xiaotian's once-trusted friend.
A cold dread settled over the Su family.
"Brother Wang," Su Xiaotian's voice was laced with disbelief, his eyes narrowing at the betrayal. "What is the meaning of this?"
Huang Yuantu threw back his head and laughed, the sound grating and triumphant. "Su Xiaotian! Your 'dear friend' Wang Li has seen reason! He's joined us and revealed your pathetic little plan to smuggle your daughters out of Fengyang City!"
Wang Li avoided Su Xiaotian's gaze, his face a mask of cold pragmatism. "The Netherworld Sect is a hegemon-level force, Su Xiaotian. Resisting them is suicide. I won't let the Wang family be buried alongside your stubborn pride."
Su Hai, Su Xiaotian's fiery-tempered younger brother, shoved forward, his face crimson with rage. "We never asked for your help, Wang Li! But to side with these vultures? This is how you repay decades of friendship? With a knife in the back?"
Huang Yuantu waved a dismissive hand, his eyes glinting with malice as they locked onto Su Qingxue and Su Qingshuang, who stood pale-faced behind their father. "Enough whining. Hand over Su Qingxue and Su Qingshuang. Now. Or we reduce the Su estate to rubble and paint the streets with your clan's blood."
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "You wouldn't want the entire Su lineage extinguished because of your foolish defiance, would you?"
A collective growl rose from the Su family disciples. Swords whispered from scabbards; spiritual energy crackled in the tense air. The Huang and Wang families might match the Su in strength individually, but united, they formed an overwhelming force. Hope seemed to drain from the Su family's ranks.
The Sky Splits Open
At that moment, an unimaginable pressure descended. It wasn't mere force—it was the weight of divinity, crushing lungs and buckling knees. Across Fengyang City, cultivators cried out, collapsing where they stood. Birds fell silent mid-flight; even the wind seemed to die.
Nine colossal shadows blotted out the sun.
"N-Ninth-rank… Demon Beasts… B-Blue Luans…!" a Su family disciple stammered, pointing a shaking finger skyward, his face bleached of color.
"Heavens preserve us… Nine Transcendent Realm beasts… Fengyang is doomed!" an elder whispered, terror choking his voice.
The nine Blue Luans, each radiating power that dwarfed the mightiest ancestors of hegemon-level sects, circled high above. Their sapphire feathers shimmered with contained lightning, eyes like molten gold scanning the insignificant city below. And behind them…
"A chariot…!" a Wang family cultivator shrieked, his voice breaking. "They're… pulling a chariot!"
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Towed by chains of crackling void-energy, a chariot wrought from celestial jade and starlight floated serenely behind the monstrous birds. Its presence radiated ancient, incomprehensible power.
"Impossible…" Huang Yuantu breathed, his earlier arrogance evaporating. "Who… who harnesses Transcendent Realm beasts as mere draught animals? Only a Holy Land… Only a Holy Land's Holy Son could command such power!"
"Look! It's heading straight for the Su mansion!"
"Could it be… Su Chen? But he's just an outer disciple of Wuji Holy Land!"
"Fool! No outer disciple commands this! It must be the Holy Son himself!"
Qin Tian's Humiliation
Qin Tian chose this moment of cosmic awe to burst from the main hall, his earlier humiliation burning like acid in his veins. Dust and vomit still stained his robes, but his eyes blazed with wounded pride.
"Elder Su Hai!" he yelled, his voice cutting through the stunned silence. "That last bout was unfair! I wasn't prepared! Face me again! Use your full strength this time! I demand—"
His tirade died in his throat. His head snapped upwards, following the gazes of the terrified crowd. The sight of the nine Blue Luans, the sheer, soul-crushing pressure of their presence, turned his blood to ice. He felt infinitesimal, an insect gazing upon mountain ranges. And the chariot… the casual, obscene display of power it represented…
The chariot door slid open without a sound.
A figure stepped out. Clad in robes of immaculate white that seemed to reject the very concept of dirt, he stood tall and straight. His features were sculpted by the heavens themselves—flawless skin, eyes holding the calm depth of glacial lakes, brows like strokes of ink on snow. An aura of transcendent grace surrounded him, making the very air shimmer. He was less a man and more a piece of the celestial realm momentarily displaced.
Qin Tian's breath hitched. Every ounce of his hard-won confidence, his belief in his own handsome charm and destined greatness, evaporated like morning dew under a scorching sun. Standing before this vision, his own features felt coarse, dull, utterly insignificant. It wasn't just beauty; it was a presence that redefined the possible. A wave of visceral, gut-wrenching inferiority washed over him, sour and choking. How? The thought screamed in his mind. How can anyone… be like that?
Recognition and Dread
"Brother Su Chen!" The cry tore from Su Qingshuang's lips, pure joy and disbelief shattering the tension.
The effect was electric. Gasps exploded from the Su family. "Su Chen? It's really him!"
For Huang Yuantu, Wang Li, and their followers, the name was a death knell. The blood drained from their faces. Su Chen? The Su family's supposedly mediocre outer disciple? Commanding nine Transcendent Realm Blue Luans? The world tilted on its axis. Their bravado vanished, replaced by the cold sweat of impending doom. If this was Su Chen… their presence here wasn't just arrogance; it was a suicide pact.
The figure descended gracefully, flanked by four golden-armored guards whose auras radiated profound, terrifying power, and an elderly man in simple grey robes whose calm eyes held the weight of epochs – Elder Chu Liang, Deacon Elder of the Wuji Holy Land.
They touched down lightly on the Su mansion's scarred courtyard stones.
Su Chen's gaze swept over the familiar faces – the stern lines of his father, Su Xiaotian, etched with worry and now slack with shock; the broad, reliable frame of his uncle, Su Hai; the tear-streaked, breathtaking beauty of Su Qingxue; the vibrant, relieved grin of Su Qingshuang. Though he carried the memories and perspective of a transmigrator, the deep, visceral connection to this family, forged through years of shared life in Fengyang City, resonated powerfully within him.
"Father," Su Chen's voice was a warm breeze after a long winter, calm and filled with unspoken reassurance. He turned, a genuine, bright smile softening his transcendent features. "Uncle."