On the deck of the Eternal Horizon, Ao Xian watched the three-front disaster unfold on the celestial mirror. He saw the righteous faction bogged down by puppets, the demonic faction being consumed by soul-flames, and the Void Sovereign locked in a duel with the Silent Scholar. He saw Jian Yi's desperate, brilliant plan, and the subsequent, reluctant agreement of the faction leaders.
A profound, weary sigh escaped his lips.
"This is a disaster," he said, his voice laced not with disappointment in his "allies," but with a deep, cosmic boredom. "The righteous faction is about to be bludgeoned to death. The demonic faction is being roasted alive. And the schemer is about to be assassinated by a librarian. The plot is completely falling apart."
General Ying nodded grimly. "They have failed the test, Young Lord."
"Indeed," Ao Xian said. "And a failed test reflects poorly on the teacher." He stood up, his lazy demeanor gone, replaced by an aura of absolute, unquestionable authority. "It seems a more... direct form of instruction is required."
He did not move from his pavilion, but his will descended upon the fortress. In the eastern chamber, a projection of Ao Xian appeared, casually erasing the puppet legion and the traitors. In the southern corridor, Hu Mei'er appeared, taming the soul-flames and eliminating the saboteurs with a flick of her wrist. In the northern maze, Long Jing's mere presence froze the Silent Scholar in terror, allowing the Void Sovereign to proceed.
The three leaders, now free from their immediate threats and more terrified of their "ally" than their enemies, had no choice. The message was clear. The test was not over. It had just been reset. With a new, desperate urgency, they raced towards their targets, the countdown clock still ticking.
Ao Xian watched them go, but the interest in his eyes had completely faded. He had already seen the outcome. They would succeed, barely, and then they would return to him, a pack of beaten dogs, ready for their next command. This grand, strategic game of moving empires like chess pieces... it was all so... indirect. So slow.
"I'm bored," he announced to his maids and General Ying. The statement was so abrupt, so final, that it seemed to suck the very sound from the pavilion.
"Young Lord?" Hu Mei'er asked, her playful demeanor vanishing, replaced by a look of concern.
"This," Ao Xian said, gesturing to the celestial mirror, which showed the three leaders finally destroying the energy regulators, "is tedious. Watching ants fight other ants from the sky. I set up a grand stage, and all they do is squabble and fail. I wanted to be involved, but this isn't involvement. This is management. And management is a chore."
He turned his back on the mirror, where the Silent Bastion was now beginning to implode. "I'm done with this game."
He closed his eyes, and his consciousness projected back into his inner world, appearing before the cosmic chess game where his parents' clones were still playing.
"Father," Ao Xian said, his tone that of a child who had grown tired of his toys. "I'm bored of this. Clean it up for me."
Ao Tian's clone paused, a galaxy held between his fingers. He looked at his son, his eyes holding a hint of amusement. "You started this fire, Xian'er. It is your responsibility to put it out."
"It's not a fire, it's a mess," Ao Xian countered. "The Immortal Alliance, the Abyssal Court... they're just cockroaches. I could spend the next thousand years playing whack-a-mole across the realms, but it would be a waste of my time. I want to do something else."
Mo Lisha's clone laughed, a sound like tinkling stars. "Let him, Tian. He's right. This grand strategy is more your style than his. Let him go play."
Ao Tian sighed, a sound that caused a minor tremor in the fabric of the inner world. "Very well," he conceded. "This one time, I will clean up your mess. But moving forward, you will be responsible for the consequences of your own games." He turned to General Ying, whose projection had appeared beside Ao Xian. "General. You have my authority. Take the Third and Seventh Legions. Sweep through the thousand realms. Eradicate every last trace of the Immortal Alliance and the Abyssal Court. Leave nothing but dust and legends."
"As you command, Your Majesty," General Ying said, his voice a low rumble of suppressed excitement. He gave Ao Xian a final, respectful bow and vanished, his vacation officially over.
Ao Xian's consciousness returned to the Eternal Horizon. He looked at the stunned and terrified faces of the Alliance leaders, who had just escaped the collapsing fortress and were now staring at the sudden appearance of two new, impossibly vast heavenly legions that dwarfed their own fleets.
"The Myriad Realms Alliance is hereby disbanded," Ao Xian announced, his voice projecting across the void. "My father's legions will handle the rest. You may all go home."
Without another word, the Eternal Horizon, its escort of primordial dragons and its three legions, simply vanished, leaving the leaders of a thousand realms floating in the chaotic void, utterly bewildered, terrified, and insignificant.
"Now," Ao Xian said to his maids, back in the serenity of his inner world. "For something new. Something more... personal." A new, genuine excitement lit up his eyes. "I want to experience a proper cultivation story. From the ground up. The rivalries, the sect missions, the arrogant young masters... it all sounds so wonderfully simple and direct."
"You wish to join a sect, Young Lord?" Feng Wu asked, her serene expression finally showing a flicker of surprise.
"Precisely!" Ao Xian declared. "We will find a decent, mid-level realm. Something not too primitive, but not too advanced. We will find a respectable, mid-level sect within that realm. And I," he said, a wide, mischievous grin on his face, "will become an inner sect disciple."
"But your cultivation, Young Lord..." Long Jing began.
"Is irrelevant," Ao Xian finished with a wave. "My true power is beyond their comprehension. To them, my cultivation will naturally manifest at the Golden Core realm. A perfect, stable core, but nothing more.
His cover story was already forming. "I will be the arrogant, wastrel heir of a distant, mysterious noble family. I have no talent for cultivation, so my family used their immense wealth and connections to buy my way into the inner sect. I will be the classic backdoor disciple that everyone loves to bully."
Lian Xin's eyes twinkled with a perverse light. "Oh, the face-slapping opportunities will be endless. The young masters who will try to show off in front of you, the elders who will look down on you... it's a perfect setup."
"Exactly!" Ao Xian said. "Now, we just need to find the right sect." His eyes scanned a celestial map. "And we need to find our 'connection.' Someone who will be too terrified to refuse my entry." His gaze settled on a small, unremarkable world. "The Green Maple Realm. And within it... the Thousand Sky Sect." He smiled. "Their Sect Master... a man named Li Qingyun. How interesting. According to the celestial records, his great-great-grandfather was a captain in my father's Ninth Legion, who retired to that lower realm after being injured in the Primordial War."
He looked at Long Jing. "Go and have a... chat with Sect Master Li. Inform him that the heir of his ancestor's supreme commander will be gracing his humble sect with his presence. He is to be given all the privileges of an inner disciple, a private mountain peak, and is to be treated with the utmost respect, but is otherwise to be left to his own devices. No one is to know his true identity."
Long Jing gave a single, solemn nod and vanished.
"The rest of you," Ao Xian said, his voice filled with a genuine, boyish enthusiasm he hadn't felt in eons. "Pack your things. We're going to school."