The two months that followed the Third Prince's humiliating retreat were a golden age for the Green Mountain Sect. The northern storm had not broken them; it had tempered them, forging their spirit in a fire of existential threat and impossible victory.
The tale of the Sect Master's divine wrath had become a legend whispered in every corner of the cultivation world, a story that had transformed their reputation from that of a reclusive, minor sect into an enigmatic power. No one was foolish enough to test the veracity of the tale. Peace, bought with a terrifying display of power, had finally settled upon the mountains.
This peace was not idle; it was a fertile ground for explosive growth. The sect's treasury, once carefully managed, was now overflowing with the spoils of two imperial warships. The resources were immediately put to use. The sect's grand defensive formation, an ancient and powerful legacy, was fully repaired and upgraded for the first time in three hundred years, its runes now glowing with a brilliant, steady light.
The disciples' resource stipends were increased, and the sect's contribution hall was flooded with high-grade elixirs, powerful talismans, and cultivation arts that had previously been locked away in the deepest vaults.
A new, vibrant energy coursed through the sect. The disciples trained with a feverish intensity, their morale at an all-time high. They were no longer just members of a quiet, southern sect; they were disciples of the Green Mountain Sect, the sect that had made an empire bow its head. Their pride was a palpable, powerful force.
At the heart of this new generation's spirit was Han Jian. The Sect Heir, having returned from his arduous five-year mission, had seamlessly re-integrated himself into the sect's fabric. He was not a distant, aloof prodigy. He was a leader. He spent his days in the training grounds, his sharp, sword-like aura a constant presence as he sparred with his fellow inner disciples.
Bolstered by the sect's newfound wealth of resources and his own relentless drive, he had finally broken through his bottleneck, his cultivation advancing from the 6th to the 7th level of the Foundation Establishment realm. He was respected not just for his status, but for his genuine dedication to the strength of his peers and the future of his home.
His relationship with Su Ling was one of quiet, respectful distance. He saw her not as a princess, but as a fellow disciple who had been burdened with a heavy fate. He would often see her on the First Elder's peak, where she now spent most of her time with her mother, Lin Ruyan. The two women, reunited after a decade of fear and separation, were slowly healing the wounds of the past.
Lin Ruyan, the former imperial consort, had found a quiet, simple peace in the serene gardens of the First Elder's peak, a world away from the gilded cage of the imperial palace. The First Elder himself, his stern face now often softened by a rare, gentle smile, was like a doting grandfather, his fierce, protective love a shield around the two women.
For Brother Kai, Hu Jian, and Lin Tao, life was better than ever. The Deepwater Menagerie, now the primary supplier for the continent-spanning Golden Shell Guild, was a river of unimaginable wealth. But more than that, their Junior Brother had returned.
They would often visit his valley, their friendship as easy and uncomplicated as it had always been, blissfully unaware of the true, terrifying scale of the empire their quiet friend now commanded. They too were growing, not by any impressive amount but were still growing stronger.
And at the center of this new, peaceful, and prosperous world, Li Yu was finally, truly, at rest.
He spent his days in the utter tranquility of his valley, his world shrinking to the simple, profound pleasures of cultivation. The breakthroughs and battles were over, for now. This was a time for consolidation, for understanding.
His consciousness was a constant presence in the abyss-black ocean of his spiritual core. He had reached the 2nd level of the Core Formation Realm, but his focus was not on advancing further. It was on deepening his foundation. The impossibly dense, heavy energy of his spiritual sea was a new and wonderful tool, and he spent weeks simply learning its weight, its flow, its immense, contained power.
His physical body was undergoing its own profound transformation. He practiced the «Abyssal Leviathan Physique» every single day. He had long since mastered the Eighth Stage: Leviathan's Tidal Flow, and he could feel himself slowly, inexorably, working towards the next evolution: the Ninth Stage: 'Celestial Leviathan Form'.
This was the peak of the physique before it evolved and the body would no longer be considered 'human', where the boundary between his physical body and his soul would begin to blur, granting him immense durability and a natural, sovereign-level authority that could suppress lesser beings with his mere physical presence. It was the final step before his body became a true divine vessel.
But his true passion, his most exciting new frontier, was the exploration of his own soul.
He would sit for hours in his pagoda, his physical body as still as a statue, while his mind was a universe of activity. He was not creating new techniques from scratch; he was refining the ones he had already discovered. He would use the «Leviathan Heart Sutra» as his language, his guide, to better understand the divine instrument that was his nascent soul.
He would practice the Leviathan Soul-Shield, focusing his will through the Sutra's defensive sequences. The shimmering, crimson-gold barrier around his consciousness would manifest, and he would work to make it more stable, more resilient, learning to hold it for longer periods and with less conscious effort.
Then he would turn to offense. He practiced his Death's Roar, not unleashing it, but feeling its formation, understanding the terrifying, silent vibration of soul-annihilating power it represented. He worked on controlling its scope, trying to envision it as a focused wave rather than an indiscriminate blast.
He also honed his Leviathan's Strike, using the aggressive, flowing movements of the Sutra to guide his nascent soul in a powerful tail strike, trying to make the projection of soul-force sharper, faster, and more precise. He was a swordsman sharpening his divine blades, and his progress was slow but deeply satisfying.
His peaceful seclusion was punctuated by the quiet, serene presence of Cyra. She had settled into her new role with a graceful, unassuming dignity. She was his shadow, a silent guardian who was always there, yet never intrusive. She would sit in a corner of his garden while he cultivated, her own powerful aura as calm and placid as a moonlit sea.
She too was getting stronger thanks to the Koi Sanctuary as well as her own talents. She seemed the most 'normal' out of all of the retainers Li Yu had gathered. What her true thoughts were, he wasn't completely sure, only time would reveal her inner thoughts.
One evening, as they sat together, watching the shattered moon rise in the sky of the Koi's Sanctuary—a sight Cyra found deeply, peacefully familiar—she finally asked the question that had been on her mind.
"Master," she began, her melodic voice a soft hum. "The Grand Elder, Khaos. His power is… absolute. It feels as if he is a law of nature unto himself. And yet, he is your partner. The others… Spine, Fengliu, myself… we are bound to you by oaths of service, by life debts. But him… what is the nature of your bond? How did you convince a being of such terrifying pride to ally himself with a human?"
Li Yu looked at the colossal, galaxy-shelled crab, who was in his usual state of deep, arrogant refinement on his distant, dark island. He thought of their first meeting, of the arrogant, dismissive monster who had seen him as nothing more than an interesting fish. He thought of the battles they had fought, the bargains they had made, the mutual, grudging respect that had grown between them.
"I feed him," Li Yu said simply, a faint, wry smile on his face.
Cyra simply blinked her luminous, silver eyes, and then, a soft, melodic laugh, a sound like the chiming of silver bells, escaped her lips for the first time.
The weeks turned into a month, then two. The peace was a deep, nourishing river, and Li Yu allowed himself to be carried by its current. He was stronger, his mind was clearer, and he was making progress each day.
It was during this time that the decision of the Grand Elders to emerge from their seclusion had also come to pass. Under the perfect cover of being 'Honored Envoys' from the Golden Shell Guild, they had moved into their new residences on the newly named 'Envoy's Peak.' Their emergence was a source of immense excitement and pride within the sect. The Sect Master said they were to teach so disciples should learn what they could.
The disciples were thrilled to have two more powerful, wise masters to learn from. The elders were relieved to have their burdens shared. And the two of them… they were like children who had been let out to play after a lifetime of being indoors.
Grand Elder Chen immediately took over the instruction of the outer court disciples, his kind, grandfatherly nature making him a beloved teacher. Grand Elder Mei spent her days in the sect's alchemy pavilions and herb gardens, her profound knowledge revolutionizing their production of high-grade pills.
The Sect Master, freed up from managing the sect all on his own, was finally able to enter a long period of secluded cultivation himself, seeking to break through to the next level. The entire sect was thriving, its foundations stronger than ever.
It was on a quiet afternoon, as he was about to enter another session of soul-art practice, that a communication talisman on his table began to pulse. It was a simple, routine report from Kui, a summary of the Guild's progress. He read of the booming trade in Traveler's Rest, of the successful expansion in Coralspire Harbor. Everything was proceeding on a good path, a well-oiled machine of commerce and power.
There were little issues here and there, certain forces probed their strength. Little skirmishes broke out here and there but all within reason and contained. It would never be truly without issues but manageable ones were okay.
But a part of his mind, the part that had been sharpened by a lifetime of caution, by the subtle warnings of his own instincts, felt a faint, almost imperceptible, flicker of unease. He looked out from his pagoda, at the peaceful, sun-drenched valley, at the thriving, happy sect, and for the first time in two months, he felt the cold, familiar whisper of a storm gathering on a distant, unseen horizon.