The next morning, the heavy doors of the Moon Lotus Sect's Main Hall creaked open. Disciples bowed low as Haotian strode forward, his robe neat, his expression solemn. He stopped at the dais where Sect Master Yinxue sat flanked by the sect's elders, their figures graceful in their ceremonial robes.
Haotian cupped his fists and bowed deeply."Sect Master. Elders. I request leave from the sect — temporarily."
The hall stirred. Murmurs rippled among the female elders seated along the sides.
Sect Master Yinxue's sharp gaze fell on him. "Leave? And for what reason?"
Haotian straightened, his voice calm but heavy. "It is time I tell you all the truth of who I am, and why I must go."
The Confession
He began slowly, his words deliberate.
"I was not born of the Northern Continent. Before Moon Lotus Sect, before any of you knew me, I lived in the West. I was once a disciple of the Burning Sun Sect, and later… of the Azure Dragon Sky Sect."
The elders exchanged sharp glances. For generations, Moon Lotus Sect had treated men as attendants, as laborers, as shadows. To hear one stand so boldly in the hall and name those sects—shocked whispers broke out immediately.
Haotian's eyes did not waver. "There, I rose quickly. By age seventeen, my cultivation had already reached the peak of the Soul Transformation Realm."
Gasps rippled through the chamber. One elder, her hand trembling on her seat, muttered, "Seventeen? A man, and already at Soul Transformation's peak?"
Another shook her head in disbelief. "No woman in the continent's history has reached that height so young, let alone a male cultivator."
Haotian continued, his tone steady. "But that rise brought enemies. My sect was attacked. I suffered grievous injuries — injuries that would have ended me. An expert intervened, saved me, and brought me across the sea to this continent. That same expert, you should know, also repelled the forces that would have destroyed the Azure Dragon Sky Sect."
The murmurs quieted, every elder leaning forward now.
At last, Haotian bowed his head slightly. His voice lowered. "I am Haotian of the Zhenlong Family. The Divine Son of Azure Dragon Sky Sect. Descendant of the Four Saint Dragons themselves. And… I have a wife waiting in the West. Her name is Lianhua. She bears my unborn child."
The hall erupted. Elder after elder rose to their feet, voices overlapping.
"The Divine Son?!""Descendant of the Saint Dragons?!""A wife… and a child already?"
Their Reactions
Elder Ziyue sat frozen, her heart hammering in her chest. She had recruited him once, believing she was giving sanctuary to a broken alchemist. Now she realized she had unknowingly sheltered a dragon in disguise. Divine Son of Azure Dragon… descendant of Saint Dragons… and only seventeen when he stood at the peak of Soul Transformation.
Her pulse quickened. The weight of his identity pressed heavily in her chest.
Shuyue stood among the attendants at the side of the hall, her hands tightening on her robes. The seal in her heart flared, sending a tremor through her body she didn't understand. His words raised him to a peak so far away, she could only watch from below.
The elders whispered feverishly, voices tinged with awe and disbelief.
Even Sect Master Yinxue's expression shifted. Though she sat proud, youthful face calm, her eyes betrayed something rare — disbelief, yes, but also respect. In her two hundred and forty-seven years, she had seen countless prodigies rise and fall. But this? Even she had never matched such speed.
Finally, her voice cut through the storm, steady and sharp. "So. The Moon Lotus Sect has sheltered the Divine Son of Azure Dragon Sky Sect, heir to the Saint Dragon line, without knowing it."
The words rolled like thunder, and silence fell again.
Haotian bowed low, his voice steady. "Yes. And now, Sect Master, Elders — you know why I must leave. My child, my wife, my family… they wait for me across the sea. I cannot remain here forever."
The silence that followed was absolute. For once, the women of Moon Lotus Sect, who had always prided themselves above men, found themselves shaken to their core.
Sect Master Yinxue's long sleeves brushed against the jade armrest as she leaned back, her gaze fixed on Haotian. For a moment the great hall was silent, the weight of his words pressing down on every elder present. Finally, she let out a quiet sigh, her voice calm yet heavy with thought.
"…You have walked a path far beyond what we imagined, Haotian. To have carried such truths within yourself and still endured in silence here—" her eyes softened, "—the sect cannot hold chains around one like you."
She straightened, her tone returning to the authority of a sovereign. "Very well. I will grant your request. You may leave the Moon Lotus Sect temporarily to settle what you must."
The elders shifted, their expressions still a mixture of awe and hesitation, but none dared to challenge her decree.
Her gaze lingered on him again. "When do you intend to depart?"
Haotian lifted his head, his voice steady. "In two days' time."
A faint ripple passed through the hall. Two days—so soon. Ziyue's hands clenched at her sleeves, her heart racing with confusion and panic. The elders whispered among themselves, though not loud enough to break decorum.
Yinxue's lips pressed into a thin line. "…Then the sect will prepare what it must. But know this, Haotian: though your ties may lead elsewhere, the Moon Lotus Sect has already been marked by your presence. Do not forget it."
Haotian bowed deeply. "This disciple will never forget the sect's grace."
For a moment, silence reigned again. Yinxue finally lifted her hand, dismissing him. "Go. Rest and prepare. When the day comes, you will walk out of here not as a disciple bound to us, but as a cultivator walking his destined road."
The moonlight lay soft over the courtyard stones when Haotian stepped outside after his meeting with the Sect Master and elders. The air was quiet, only the faint rustle of the frost lotus leaves breaking the silence.
Ziyue was already waiting for him. She stood beneath a lantern-lit arch, her robes shimmering faintly, her eyes unreadable. When she saw him approach, she forced a small smile.
"You've been busy," she said gently, as though the meeting had drained them both.
Haotian returned the smile with a wry tilt of his lips. "And you've been watching over me again, Elder Ziyue."
She shook her head, her voice carrying a note of softness he rarely heard from her. "Don't call me elder right now. Just… Ziyue."
He paused, taken aback, but nodded quietly.
They walked slowly together across the courtyard, the silence between them stretching comfortably at first. Then, as though she could no longer hold it back, Ziyue spoke.
"Do you remember when we first met? You were half-dead, carried here with nothing but your alchemy furnace and that stubborn look in your eyes. I… recruited you then. To me, you were simply a talent worth nurturing. Someone whose skill in alchemy could strengthen the sect." She gave a bitter little laugh. "I wanted to take advantage of your talent. Nothing more."
Her voice softened as her gaze lifted to him. "But now… you've become more than that. You've become the brightest pillar of support this sect has. And… to me as well."
Haotian froze. The words hung in the night air heavier than any sword strike. He looked at her, searching her expression, and saw no jest, no calculation—only truth trembling in her eyes.
"…Was that a confession?" he asked quietly.
Ziyue said nothing. Her silence was answer enough.
Haotian's chest tightened. He wanted to give her an answer, but the weight of the letter from Lianhua pressed against his heart. The memory of her waiting, the unborn child, the family he had left behind—all of it pulled him to the west.
"I…" His voice faltered before he steadied it. "Ziyue, I understand your feelings. But when I read that letter, everything I had… everything I am… was refocused. To her. To my lover. To my child."
Her lips trembled.
He lowered his gaze. "…I'm sorry."
The words cut her deeper than any blade, but before she could recoil, he stepped closer. Slowly, he reached out and drew her into his arms.
Ziyue stiffened at first, then melted into his embrace, her tears betraying the calm face she tried to hold.
"All I can offer right now is this much," he whispered into her hair. "But I promise you, Ziyue… I will return to this sect. That much I swear."
Ziyue clung to him desperately, her fingers tightening against his robes. She didn't want to let him go. The tears she had fought to restrain slipped free, falling onto his chest.
Unbeknownst to them both, in the shadow of the colonnade, Shuyue stood frozen. She had come only to bring word of preparations for his departure—but what she heard instead pierced her heart. Her breath caught, her chest aching as though bound in iron.
She turned away, forcing her steps to be silent, yet inside she could barely contain the storm breaking within her.
Two days later, the great gates of the Moon Lotus Sect stood open, frost-tipped pines swaying gently in the mountain wind. The entire sect had gathered, lining the steps and courtyard to see him off.
Haotian stood before them, his robes plain but immaculate, his back straight. With a slow breath, he turned to face the women who had sheltered him these years.
"I will take my leave," he said, voice steady yet heavy with meaning. "Until I return—take care of yourselves, and of this sect that has given me more than I can ever repay."
A ripple of emotion swept through the crowd. Many of the younger disciples broke into sobs, tears streaming as they clutched at one another's sleeves. Others, older and more disciplined, remained silent, though their eyes betrayed the same sorrow.
Sect Master Yinxue's figure was as composed as ever upon the steps, her presence commanding silence. Yet her voice, when it came, carried an edge of weight. "Go, then. But be careful, Haotian. Do not forget—there are still eyes here that await your return."
Haotian bowed deeply. "I will not forget."
He straightened, his gaze sweeping over the gathered disciples one last time. For a moment, he lingered. His eyes caught Shuyue—her face pale, her brows knit in anguish, lips pressed tight as though to hold back words she could not speak. The sight made his chest ache faintly.
Then his gaze moved to Ziyue. She stood calm among the elders, a faint smile resting on her lips, steady and warm. Their eyes met, and he returned the smile.
At last, Haotian half-turned toward the open road. He looked back once more, and with a faint grin said, "Be right back."
The next instant, his figure blurred and vanished into the horizon.
Silence hung heavy in the courtyard. The younger disciples sniffled, some calling his name softly as though hoping he might reappear. Others wiped their eyes, their hearts struggling to accept the departure of the one who had saved them.
Sect Master Yinxue stood still for a long moment before releasing a quiet sigh. "Enough. He has gone. Return to your duties."
The disciples hesitated, reluctant to move, but under her firm gaze they began to disperse slowly. The sobbing faded to quiet murmurs, the courtyard emptying until only the echoes of Haotian's promise lingered in the cold mountain air.
The northern mountains fell away behind him, peaks dissolving into mist as Haotian walked alone along the ancient road. His pace was unhurried, but each step carried a weight, as though every stone he tread remembered the battles fought upon it.
The cold winds of the North bit at his robe, yet inside, his heart was not chilled. The letter from Lianhua burned faintly against his chest, close to where he had tucked it. Her handwriting, her words, her vow to wait—it all gave direction to his steps, as though every mile carried him closer not only to her, but to the child he had yet to meet.
But even with the warmth of that thought, his mind remained restless. He could still see the faces he had left behind at the gates.
Ziyue's calm smile—steady, strong, hiding the tears he had felt in her embrace.Shuyue's anguished eyes, confused and aching, though her heart-seal bound her from knowing why.Sect Master Yinxue's gaze, full of quiet warning and the unspoken weight of responsibility.
For years, Moon Lotus Sect had been his sanctuary. He had walked its halls as an anonymous alchemist, cultivated its arts, laughed and bled beside its disciples. And now, though his body was heading west, a part of him still lingered there, refusing to be cut free.
Haotian exhaled, tilting his face toward the pale sky. "I'll return," he murmured, voice swallowed by the wind. "I promised."
Haotian walked the winding road westward, the peaks of the Northern Continent fading behind him. His robe fluttered lightly in the mountain wind, but there was no weight upon his shoulders, no bundle strapped to his back. He carried nothing in sight, and yet everything he required was with him.
At his waist, two simple jade bands gleamed faintly—the spatial rings that held his true wealth.
One ring carried his essentials: recovery pills, spirit stones, and carefully prepared talismans. Another held his more personal belongings—robes, cultivation manuals, and the refined tools of an alchemist. Even the ingredients he had gathered over years in the Moon Lotus Sect, sorted meticulously, rested in organized arrays within the ring's quiet space.
If he needed shelter, he could summon a pavilion. If he needed food, spirit grains and preserved herbs were always at hand.
Though he walked alone on the vast road, Haotian was never without.
Memories and Resolve
As he traveled, his hand brushed lightly over the colder ring—the one he had almost forgotten at times. Inside, carefully sealed, was the Azure Dragon insignia he had kept hidden since the day he first crossed into the Northern Continent.
Now, with every mile westward, the insignia seemed to weigh heavier, as though it too yearned to return.
His thoughts turned inward. Ziyue's tears, Shuyue's anguished eyes, Sect Master Yinxue's sigh—all reminders of what he had left behind. But pressing against his chest was the letter, still faintly fragrant, still whispering of Lianhua's voice and the child waiting for him.
West. I must return west.
Haotian's steps did not falter.
After weeks on the road, Haotian finally crested a ridge and beheld the sprawling port city below. Its walls shimmered faintly with protective formations, and above its harbors and towers floated vast silhouettes that blotted out the clouds — flying ships, their sails inscribed with glowing runes, hovering gracefully over the city like leviathans of wood and jade.
Haotian stepped through the gates with the steady stride of a traveler who had no burden but carried entire worlds within his rings. Merchants shouted their wares, cultivators bargained over rare ores and spirit beasts, and the hum of qi-powered machinery echoed faintly from the shipyards.
He made his way directly to an information hall, exchanging polite bows before inquiring about passage to the Western Continent.
The attendant, a young woman with silver-threaded robes, consulted a jade slip before answering."To reach the Western Continent, you must first board a regional vessel to Brightwater City, three days south from here. From there, long-haul flying ships depart directly across the sea. The voyage takes eighteen days, assuming no storms or attacks along the route."
Haotian inclined his head, sliding a pouch of spirit stones across the counter. "Then I'll purchase a berth on the next departure."
The clerk's eyes widened slightly at the ease with which he paid — many cultivators bargained for weeks to afford such a trip. She quickly inscribed his name on a jade token and handed it to him. "Boarding begins at dawn tomorrow."
At sunrise, the city gates bustled as travelers streamed toward the docks. Haotian walked with them, but his presence drew quiet stares. His aura, though suppressed, carried the calm steadiness of someone who could not be measured.
The ship itself towered above them, a hundred meters long, with carved dragon-prows and sails of woven spirit silk. Runes along its hull glowed faintly, the wards humming with restrained power. Disciples in uniform ushered passengers aboard, checking tokens and storing baggage into auxiliary rings.
Haotian presented his token, received a bow, and stepped onto the deck.
From above, the world spread wide: mountains fading into mist, the ocean glittering like molten silver. A low hum vibrated through the planks as the runes activated. The sails unfurled with a crack of qi, and slowly, majestically, the ship lifted higher, breaking free of the harbor and gliding into the skies.
Haotian stood at the rail, wind streaming through his hair, eyes fixed on the horizon. The East grew smaller behind him with every breath.
Eighteen days, he thought, one hand brushing the letter hidden within his robe. Eighteen days, and I'll see her again. Eighteen days until I face everything I left behind.
The flying ship cut smoothly across the skies, its sails shimmering with runes as it glided over endless seas and cloud-wreathed horizons. For the ordinary passengers, the voyage was an awe-inspiring spectacle. For Haotian, it was both a time of reflection and quiet vigilance.
The ship carried more than merchants and common cultivators. Among them were rogue wanderers in patched robes, a few disciples from minor sects, and wealthy aristocrats bound for business in the West. The deck was always alive with chatter—rumors about demonic disturbances at sea, gossip about sect rivalries, even speculation about the mysterious "miracle at the Sea Bridge."
Haotian kept to himself at first, his aura suppressed to that of an ordinary late-stage cultivator. Even so, whispers followed him. His bearing, his calmness, the way his qi seemed perfectly balanced—it made him impossible to dismiss. Some thought him a hidden young master, others an alchemist traveling incognito.
On the fifth day, a drunken mercenary tried to provoke him, boasting of his sea battles. Haotian deflected the man's swing with nothing but a flick of his sleeve, sending him stumbling without harm. The mercenary avoided him after that, and the rest of the passengers gave Haotian an even wider berth, respect mixed with quiet curiosity.
The journey was not without danger. Twice, the crew roused passengers to help repel sky-beasts—massive scaled birds that shrieked and slammed against the protective barrier. Disciples from minor sects rushed to strike with their swords and talismans, while the ship's formation masters tightened the wards. Haotian joined briefly, a single arc of qi from his palm shredding a beast's wing and sending it spiraling into the sea. His restraint kept his true depth hidden, but those who saw it were left shaken.
At night, when the deck quieted and only the stars wheeled above, Haotian retired to his cabin and sat in lotus position. Within his sea of consciousness, the ninety-nine flood dragons still spiraled around him. Each time one entered and exited his body, his meridians toughened, his torn muscles knit tighter. Slowly, his strength recovered beyond what pills alone could achieve.
Yet the backlash lingered. At times blood welled in his throat without warning, forcing him to suppress it with sheer will. His three cores pulsed unevenly, like drums slightly out of rhythm, reminding him that his stand on the Sea Bridge had nearly torn his foundation apart.
Still, he persisted. Each night, his qi flowed smoother. Each day, he felt the weight of his return drawing nearer.
One evening, standing alone at the railing, he gazed westward across the endless ocean. He touched the letter from Lianhua tucked in his robe. Her words repeated in his heart—I wait for you. I carry your child. Do not take too long.
Haotian closed his eyes, the wind tugging at his hair. "I'm coming back," he murmured to the night. "No matter what it costs me."