Deep beneath the imperial palace, in a secret chamber carved from soul-tempered jade and guarded by ancient formations, Lu Tianming sat cross-legged on a circular platform.
This room—The Imperial Void Chamber—was a place known only to those of the royal bloodline. Here, time flowed differently, and the spiritual energy was countless times purer than the outside world.
Lu Tianming held in his hands a gold-edged scroll, gifted to him by his father—the culmination of generations of refined imperial cultivation techniques.
But he frowned.
> "Too rigid… too shallow."
With his ability to comprehend and rewrite ancient techniques, he began altering the contents of the scroll mid-cultivation. Symbols danced in the air. Runes shifted shape. The qi around him thickened like a rising storm.
Within hours, the scroll's structure was completely transformed—elevated beyond what any imperial scholar had ever created.
By the end of the first day, Lu Tianming broke through to Level 3.
And yet… it wasn't enough.
> "I won't stop until I stand at the peak," he whispered. "I wasn't born to run—I was born to rule."
His eyes closed again.
The chamber rumbled.
---
Scene Shift — Royal Court, Imperial Hall
The throne hall shimmered under golden sunlight. Ministers and generals stood in ceremonial lines, their hands clasped respectfully as the emperor sat atop the Dragon Throne.
A wrinkled old official stepped forward, bowing deeply.
> "Your Majesty… allow this old servant to offer heartfelt congratulations. The Crown Prince has stepped into Level 2 within a single day of cultivation. Such talent is unheard of—truly, Heaven blesses the Empire."
The emperor nodded, eyes calm but proud.
One by one, the court followed suit.
> "Glory to the Crown Prince!"
But the harmony shattered when the doors burst open.
A Level 4 palace guard, bloodied and barely breathing, stumbled in. He fell to his knees, coughing blood onto the marble floor.
> "Y-Your Majesty… forgive my intrusion… I bring urgent news…"
Everyone turned. Even the emperor leaned forward.
> "Speak."
The guard trembled.
> "C-Commander Feng… o-one of our three Level 7 early-stage experts… is dead."
Gasps swept the room.
> "Impossible!"
> "Who could…?!"
The guard continued, voice hoarse.
> "It… it was the Demon Empire… They've moved. And worse…"
He looked up, terror in his eyes.
> "Their ancestor… has broken through to Level 8. He now leads the army… himself."
The hall fell into utter silence.
A Level 8 cultivator marching at the front lines?
Even for the Great Empire, this was catastrophic.
The emperor's expression darkened. His fingers tightened on the armrest of the throne.
> "So… the beast finally stir
The silence in the throne hall was suffocating.
A Level 7 commander—one of the most powerful cultivators in the empire—had fallen. And the Demon Empire's ancient ancestor, dormant for over a century, had finally awakened... and ascended to Level 8.
The ministers shouted. The generals argued. Fear was spreading like wildfire beneath the palace's golden roof.
Then, amid the chaos, the emperor rose from his throne.
All voices fell silent.
Lu Wuyue—the Emperor of the Great Empire, Sovereign of the Continent—stood tall, his aura commanding and absolute. A storm of qi rippled through the air, and even the pillars of the court trembled under his will.
> "I will go to the front lines myself."
The hall erupted.
> "Your Majesty—please reconsider!"
> "You must not!"
> "If something happens to you… the empire—!"
A man stepped forward with calm dignity and battle-hardened resolve. General Lin Hanyuan, the middle-stage Level 7 commander and supreme leader of the empire's military forces.
He knelt.
> "Your Majesty, allow me. I will avenge Commander Feng and hold the line. You must not endanger yourself."
But the emperor raised his hand, stopping him mid-bow.
> "No."
His voice was firm.
> "The enemy is a newly ascended Level 8. And I… I stand at the peak of Level 7. Though there is a gap between us, it is not yet insurmountable."
He looked around the court, eyes sweeping over the ministers, the generals, the scholars, and the guardians.
> "I may not kill him. But I can wound him. Cripple his momentum. Delay his march."
His gaze sharpened.
> "And that is enough."
Gasps echoed. Whispers followed. But no one dared oppose him now.
Still, one brave voice broke through.
An old minister stepped forward, trembling.
> "Your Majesty, I beg you… the entire empire rests on your shoulders. The Crown Prince is only six years old. Still in early-stage Level 2… If something were to happen to you…"
The room tensed.
The words weren't false.
The empire had no heir ready to rule. Lu Tianming was still a child in the eyes of the court—his terrifying cultivation potential still hidden from all but the emperor and a few trusted elders.
For a moment, even the emperor's expression darkened.
> Yes… if I fall now, everything could crumble.
Then he smiled—a sharp, tired, knowing smile.
> "The Crown Prince is stronger than any of you can imagine. And if fate deems I will not return… then let the heavens remember…"
He stepped forward, his golden robes billowing with imperial qi.
> "This empire does not fall with me."
The battlefield was drowned in blood and smoke.
Human soldiers lay fallen across the scorched earth. Their lines had broken. Some were wounded, others dead. Those who stood still gripped their blades with trembling hands, eyes darkened with fear.
The air was thick with despair.
Until he arrived.
Golden light tore through the clouds like the wrath of heaven itself. From the skies descended a solitary figure draped in imperial robes, his aura a sunburst that crushed the weight of hopelessness.
Emperor Lu Wuyue had reached the front.
And in that single moment, every soldier—wounded, bleeding, or barely standing—dropped to their knees with heads bowed and fists clenched over their hearts.
> "Your Majesty!"
> "Long live the Emperor!"
> "The Dragon of the Empire stands with us!"
His presence alone lit a fire in the hearts of the broken. Where there was once fear, now surged unshakable confidence. Soldiers who moments ago had accepted death now stood straight, eyes blazing, spears raised.
The enemy had the numbers. They had the beasts.
But now... the humans had hope.
---
Demon Empire – Shadow Cavern
Far from the battlefield, hidden deep in the Demon Empire's corrupted lands, a vast black cave pulsed with dark energy. Inside, the air was freezing, heavy with miasma and death qi. Strange runes glowed dimly on the walls—wards placed not to keep enemies out… but to keep something in.
A demon soldier entered, knees trembling, sweat rolling down his twisted face. At the far end of the chamber sat an old figure—tall, bone-thin, with hard blue skin, glowing red eyes, and a single jagged horn protruding from his forehead. His back was hunched, but the pressure he radiated would make mountains crack.
This was Ancestor Mo Xuan, the newly ascended Level 8 demon sovereign.
Without lifting his head, the elder spoke.
> "Speak."
The soldier dropped to his knees.
> "T-the human emperor… Lu Wuyue… he's come to the front lines… personally."
For a moment, silence.
Then, slowly, Mo Xuan opened his eyes.
They burned with fire from a century ago.
> "Lu Wuyue…"
His clawed hand tightened, the rock beneath his throne cracking.
> "He still dares…"
Memories flashed in his mind: a battlefield bathed in blood… golden qi cutting through demon elites like wheat… a younger Lu Wuyue standing tall as Mo Xuan himself was forced to retreat, defeated, humiliated.
For a hundred years, he had slumbered, feeding on hatred and
regret.
Now, the very man who drove him into hiding stood once again on the battlefield.
A slow, cruel smile curved on his cracked lips.
> "Good…"
He rose, his aura stretching like a shadow across the cavern.
> "Then let me repay that debt… with his blood."