Sharp Tooth Gang Headquarters
Inside a dimly lit chamber, Sui Zheng sat motionless on his throne of blackwood, his dull eyes fixed on a line of fire-blood ants crawling across the stone floor. Their tiny bodies shimmered like molten rubies in the flickering firelight, each movement strangely mesmerizing.
Moments passed in silence, the crackle of burning coals the only sound in the hall.
Then, a cold wind slithered through the half-open window, rustling the scrolls on the table and causing Sui Zheng's loose robe to flutter faintly.
At that, his eyes flickered—relief flashing briefly within them. Good… I can finally relax. The old monster's gone back to sleep.
He exhaled shakily, wiping the beads of cold sweat rolling down his forehead. He had carried the black obsidian ring for years now, and he had long since learned to tell when the thing inside it slept.
For the past few months, he had felt like a man walking on thin ice—each breath, each step weighed and watched by something far beyond mortal comprehension.
That thing in the ring… it wasn't just powerful; it was ancient, and it was planning something vast. The entire Imperial City had become a chessboard, and he—its once-mighty Sharp Tooth Gang Leader—was merely a pawn.
Sui Zheng laughed bitterly at himself. "On the surface, a feared leader... but in truth, just a puppet. A weak one."
The fire crackled. Then—
The ring pulsed.
Sui Zheng, caught off guard, almost choked on his own saliva, hurriedly like a chameleon changing colors, a reverent expression appeared on his face.
A dark light oozed from the obsidian gem, and a sound like fingernails scraping glass echoed through the hall.
"Kekeke… it seems the leader of the Blood Fang Gang is not as stupid as you, little worm," the demonic voice rasped. "So—they plan to force the true culprit into the open. Interesting."
Then the voice shifted, becoming sharp and cold enough to pierce bone.
"If they think that will make me show myself… they are still too green."
Sui Zheng dared not breathe too loudly. His shoulders trembled as he bowed his head toward the ring.
The voice continued, lower this time, almost musing:
"Spread the word… Demon Queen is here."
Sui Zheng's blood ran cold. His lips trembled. "It… it can't be her?"
The laughter stopped. When the demonic master spoke again, even he sounded wary.
"It is indeed her. But why would she care for some measly Nascent Soul treasure…?"
The words hung heavy in the air. Even the shadows seemed to hold their breath.
Sui Zheng's mind screamed in panic. Damn it, I'm doomed!
He wanted nothing more than to tear the ring off his finger, throw it away, and run back to his village—back to the quiet life he'd once known before all this madness.
But he couldn't. He remembered the day decades ago when he'd found the ring in a forgotten shrine—how the voice inside had asked, "Do you wish for power?"
He had said yes.
Now, there was no going back.
Phoenix and Dragon Dojo
"Hm… this isn't a coincidence," Wang Chen murmured, eyes narrowing as he watched dark thunderclouds fade away in the distance.
Only moments ago, Lin Huang had stopped muttering, and like always, the gathering tribulation clouds had dispersed instantly.
It wasn't the first time.
For days now, Wang Chen had noticed this eerie pattern—each time Lin Huang spoke of modern knowledge, the heavens reacted as though he'd uttered something forbidden.
At first, Wang Chen thought he was imagining things. But as it happened again and again, his certainty hardened into dread.
"This makes no sense," he whispered. "How could simple knowledge about the world provoke such a heavenly reaction…?"
He leaned back, brows furrowed in thought. Cultivation in this world was advanced beyond imagination, yet the most basic truths about the universe—the kind that every child on Earth once knew—were absent, suppressed.
It was as if someone, or something, had deliberately erased that knowledge from the fabric of the world.
A cold wind swept through the dojo, carrying with it the faint scent of rain.
Lin Huang, who was meditating in the courtyard, shivered slightly as a chill ran down his spine.
.
.
.
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
Zi Han's voice was calm, her gaze fixed on the painted sky. To anyone else, it looked serene and motionless, but her eyes pierced through the illusion of stillness—as if searching for something hidden in the vast void beyond.
Her tone was detached, yet deep within her irises flickered a faint glimmer of longing.
Below her, a young woman knelt respectfully, her forehead pressed against the cold stone floor.
The girl was breathtaking—skin like snow, lips tinted crimson, a slender waist that could shame even a serpent. Her aura trembled under Zi Han's mere presence, but she held her bow without breaking.
When she finally rose, she spoke through gritted teeth, her voice steady despite the invisible weight pressing on her.
"I am willing to follow Master. Being a gang leader may grant me wealth and fame, but it is nothing compared to receiving your teachings."
Zi Han's expression remained indifferent, but inwardly, satisfaction bloomed. As expected, the child fated to cross my path.
Just days ago, she had been stirred from her slumber by a ripple in the fabric of space—a disturbance that led her to Xin Yi, the leader of the Seven Flowers Gang.
And now, standing here before her, the fated disciple had chosen willingly.
Zi Han turned without another word. "Follow me."
Xin Yi bowed deeply, her eyes shining with determination, and followed.
.
.
.
The Phoenix and the Dragon
Their steps soon brought them before a peculiar wooden gate crowned by a weather-worn sign:
Phoenix and Dragon Dojo.
Xin Yi blinked. What kind of fool names their dojo with such arrogance? she thought—but didn't dare voice it.
Together, master and disciple stepped through the gate.
Inside, the dojo grounds were wide and tranquil, bathed in the golden glow of the afternoon sun. Birds chirped among the rafters, and a faint smell of sandalwood lingered in the air.
Yet the serenity shattered a moment later.
Xin Yi's eyes caught a peculiar sight—a young man in ragged clothes, face pressed to the ground, grunting as he did push-ups.
Her expression hardened instantly. What is this nonsense?
Meanwhile, Zi Han merely glanced at the boy and continued walking, unbothered.
"Ninety-eight… ninety-nine… one hundred!"
Lin Huang exhaled sharply and grinned, sweat glistening on his skin. His meridians felt clearer than before—these simple physical exercises were working.
He had noticed the two women but didn't bother greeting them. This was a dojo, after all—they could be masters guests.
He moved on to sit-ups.
Meanwhile, inside the hall, Wang Chen sat on his rocking chair, fingers steepled under his chin, lost in thought.
Should I challenge the second floor of the Tower today, or speedrun the first again?
His musings were interrupted by a calm, echoing voice—one that carried a weight powerful enough to crush stone.
"Fellow Daoist… are you planning to make me wait?"
The words resonated through the wooden walls like a temple bell.
Wang Chen's chair creaked. He nearly fell off it.