In his quiet valley, Li Yu stood atop his nine-story pagoda, a calm, serene expression on his face. He took out a high-grade communication talisman, infusing it with a wisp of his spiritual energy. This one was keyed to his most distant, and most important, commercial hub. "Kui," he said, "The battle is won. Here are the details about what happened here at the sect. We need to talk."
"Wise Host!" Kui boomed through the communication device, his face alight with excitement. "A magnificent performance! "
"The immediate threat is gone," Li Yu said, cutting straight to the point. "But the world now knows this mountain holds a hidden power. They will connect it to the events in the south. The secrecy we have maintained is now a liability. What do you think we should do now?"
"My counsel, Wise Host?" Kui's cheerful expression turned sharp and shrewd. "My counsel is to lean into it. Our previous strategy of hiding in the shadows was born of necessity. We no longer have that necessity. We have been revealing bits and pieces of our power as we journeyed through the lands. To continue to hide it is to invite suspicion and endless probing from every major power. By trying to hide more we will only be inviting more eyes to us."
He then took a deep breath and said, "I propose a new strategy. A flamboyant one. Instead of hiding the connection between the Guild and the Sect, we announce it to the world. We do not let them guess who protected the Green Mountain Sect. We tell them. We declare, loudly and arrogantly, that this sect is our protected territory. We turn this mountain from a mysterious target into an unbreachable fortress with a terrifyingly powerful owner."
Li Yu was silent for a moment, processing the proposal. It went against the instinct he had cultivated, every fiber of his reclusive nature.
It was at that moment that a new, colossal presence sent him his thoughts. Khaos, in his true, galaxy-shelled form, had emerged from his seclusion, drawn by the conversation.
"The turtle is, for once, correct," Khaos's deep, booming voice echoed through the sanctuary. "To hide one's power is to invite provocation from lesser beings who are too stupid to understand their own insignificance. It is better to burn a single, insolent village to the ground as a warning than to be bothered by the buzzing of a thousand flies."
He continued to speak to Li Yu. "Your desire for a quiet life is a weakness, boy. The only true path to peace is to be so overwhelmingly, terrifyingly powerful that no one in their right mind would ever dare to disturb you. Embrace it."
The advice was arrogant, brutal, and utterly pragmatic. And coming from both his master of commerce and his grandmaster of war, the message was clear. His old strategy was obsolete. What they were saying made sense and he himself was starting to see the holes in his previous strategy. He thought by hiding and showing no power, they would be left alone. That would work when no one was interested in the area. However, when there was interest, you needed a big fist or stick. One to scare away the pest or it will be endless.
"You are right," Li Yu said, his decision made. "Being too low-key is not always the best path. It is time for the Golden Shell Guild to step out of the shadows. It will be my shield and act as the deterrent."
The next day, a declaration, carried by the fastest messenger birds of the Whispering Wing Pavilion and delivered to every major sect, clan, and trading hub, shook the cultivation world to its core.
The message was simple, arrogant, and terrifying.
"The Golden Shell Guild hereby declares that the Green Mountain Sect and all of its subsidiary interests are under our personal, unconditional protection. The recent, unprovoked attack by the forces of the Boreal Frost Empire's Third Prince was an act of profound disrespect, not just to a minor sect, but to our own organization. An attack on the Green Mountain Sect is an attack on the Golden Shell Guild. Let the world take note."
The declaration was a bombshell. It was an open, unambiguous statement that the small, reclusive Green Mountain Sect was now the protected territory of the same mysterious, monstrously powerful entity that had crushed the Riptide Legion.
But they were not finished.
In a hidden valley on the border of the northern demonic territories, the Sect Leader of the Black Iron Fortress—one of the Third Prince's key allies—was leading a small legion of his sect's elite disciples on a secret mission. He was a cautious man, a 1st-level Core Formation expert, and when he felt a sudden, profound sense of danger from the sky above, his instincts screamed at him to flee.
It was too late. Descending from the clouds like a silent, iridescent arrow was Fengliu. Before the Sect Leader could even issue a warning, a wave of cold, sovereign pressure washed over his legion, freezing the Foundation Establishment disciples in their tracks. The Sect Leader, a powerful Core Formation master, looked up in horror at the Mid-stage sovereign who had just appeared. It was an opponent he could not hope to defeat.
The battle was over before it began. The disciples were knocked unconscious. The Sect Leader was killed. They didn't want to wipe everyone out, they wanted to maintain the balance of power of the two forces fighting. They would loot the sect, further funds to expand Fengliu's services. He didn't care, he had no attachment to the humans, his own goal being his revenge and how these pests were interfering with it.
Three days later, a second, even more shocking, declaration was sent out by the Golden Shell Guild.
"The recent, disrespectful incursion by the Third Prince's forces has caused significant emotional and spiritual damages to the peaceful, commerce-loving members of our organization. As an initial down payment for these damages, we have… acquired the assets of the Black Iron Fortress and its Sect Leader, Malakai. Let this serve as a first warning. Any further aggression will be met with a similar, and escalating, response. The debt for attacking our partner has not yet been paid in full."
The cultivation world was stunned. First, no one believed for a second that any 'damages' had been caused. The imperial legion had been annihilated before they had even scratched the paint on the sect's front door. Second, the sheer audacity of it was breathtaking. They had not just defended their ally; they had immediately gone on the offensive, hunting down and eliminating another Core Formation expert from a completely different sect, simply because they were on the wrong side. The Golden Shell Guild was not just a powerful entity; it was a ruthless, vindictive, and terrifyingly efficient one.
In the temporary war-palace of the Third Prince in the northern empire, the mood was apocalyptic.
"Another one?" the Third Prince roared, his handsome face contorted in a mask of pure fury as he slammed his fist on his strategic map, cracking the solid table underneath. "General Vorst and his entire legion, gone! The Frostwind Sword Sect's leader, gone! And now the entire Black Iron Fortress has been neutralized? What is this Green Mountain Sect? What is this Golden Shell Guild?"
His advisors could only tremble. The single, terrified survivor had returned, his mind shattered, babbling about a mountain that had come to life, of a Sect Master who could command death with a point of his finger, of an army being crushed by the weight of the sky itself. It was the tale of a madman, but the results were undeniable. They had kicked a steel plate, a steel plate that was now actively, aggressively, and terrifyingly kicking back.
"Your Highness," his chief strategist finally dared to speak, his voice a low, fearful whisper. "We… we cannot afford this. The Seventh Princess's forces have already begun to press our western flank. They have heard of our losses. They are taking advantage of our weakness. To lose two Core Formation experts and a general is a devastating blow. To commit more forces to this southern quagmire would be to risk losing the war for the throne itself."
The Third Prince raged, but he was a pragmatist. The strategist was right. He had made a catastrophic miscalculation.
Meanwhile, in the camp of the Seventh Princess, the mood was one of unadulterated, joyous celebration.
"He lost a general and two Core Formation elders?" the Seventh Princess, a woman of stunning beauty and a mind as sharp and cold as a shard of ice, laughed, a sound like tinkling bells. "All because he tried to swat a fly in the south? Oh, my dear, idiotic, brutish brother. Your arrogance will be your undoing."
She turned to her own commander, a slender, shadowy figure who stood by her side. "This Golden Shell Guild… they are a fascinating new player. Powerful, ruthless, and with a flair for the dramatic. Send them a gift. Something exquisite. A gesture of our… admiration. Let them know that we are not our brother. We are a potential friend."
She looked back at her strategic map, a cunning, predatory smile on her face. "Let my brother bleed against the southern mountains. We will take our prize in the north."
The message from the Guild had been perfectly delivered. They had not upset the balance of power too much. They had simply made themselves a force too costly, too terrifying, to provoke. They had made themselves a problem that was better left alone.
A week later, a formal, and deeply humiliating, envoy from the Third Prince arrived at the gates of Traveler's Rest where Kui went to meet them. They came bearing not threats, but a letter of formal apology. The attack on the Green Mountain Sect, the letter claimed, was a terrible misunderstanding, the result of a rogue general acting without proper authority. The Third Prince offered his deepest regrets and assured the "esteemed and powerful Golden Shell Guild" that he had no quarrel with them or their righteous partners.
Kui received the envoy with a magnanimous, cheerful smile. He accepted the apology. And then he sent out one last, terrifyingly audacious, public notice, ignoring that the price had hoped to settle things privately.
"The Golden Shell Guild accepts the Third Prince's apology. However, we do not feel his sincerity. Words are cheap. The profound spiritual and emotional damages our organization and our partners have suffered require a more… tangible form of restitution. If a tribute of sufficient value to soothe our wounded spirits does not arrive within the month, we cannot be held responsible if more of the Prince's assets… unfortunately go missing."
It was not a threat. It was a bill.