Chi Xiaodao stared, mouth open.
"Brother Ling," he whispered. "That was…"
"Too much?" Ling Feng asked, amused.
The courtyard of Lion's Roar was still ringing.
Stone walls spider-webbed with cracks. A section of the flagstone plaza where the Tiger's Howl envoys had stood was simply gone, pulverized into powder that still hung in the air as a faint gray mist. One of the palace pillars leaned at an impossible angle, the metal inlay along its base warped as if a giant hand had squeezed it.
Far away on the horizon, two streaks of light were already nothing but pinpricks, fleeing toward the Saint Immortal Country.
Chi Xiaodie's lashes trembled. "…Tiger's Howl School will hate you even more now," she said quietly.
Ling Feng rolled one shoulder as if trying to get a kink out of it.
"They already weren't going to send me a fruit basket," he said. He turned, smile easy and infuriatingly relaxed. "Relax, Princess. Tiger's Howl? That so-called Saint Immortal Country? I'll step on them as many times as needed. You focus on running your country. Let me handle the noisy ones."
Chi Xiaodie's heart gave a strange, treacherous lurch.
He spoke so lightly—as if crushing a Saint Country's face was a chore he'd fit in between meals—but the broken courtyard around them said otherwise. This was not bragging. This was simply… how he moved through the world.
She pressed her lips together, steadying the stir in her chest.
"…If you say that," she replied slowly, "then our Lion's Roar can only… be greedy and trouble you again."
Ling Feng's grin widened, a flash of white teeth.
"Friends trouble each other," he said, echoing his earlier words. "Otherwise it's boring."
He clapped his hands once, dust and sunlight jumping in the air at the sharp sound.
"Alright," he said. "We're done here. Heavenly Dao Academy time."
Before Chi Xiaodao could gasp again or Chi Xiaodie could compose a more proper farewell, the world twisted.
Space folded like someone grabbing reality by the corners and wringing it out. Lion's Roar's imperial palace—its golden roofs, its guardian formations, its banners snapping in the wind—blurred into streaks of color and then into a field of gray.
Their feet never moved.
The world did.
...
When color returned, it came back in layers.
A sky of deep, endless blue. A chain of mountains like slumbering dragons. Peaks upon peaks—some crowned in perpetual cloud, some split open by waterfalls that fell in silver torrents, some terraced with halls whose roofs caught the sunlight with quiet, ancient glory.
Heavenly Dao Academy.
It did not sit on any single mountain. It sprawled across an entire range—an academy founded in the Desolate Era, standing shoulder to shoulder in seniority with the War God Temple, and one of the oldest pillars of the human race.
Wide stone platforms floated up and down along the mountainsides like slow-moving ships, carrying students and elders between halls. Rivers coiled through the landscape like silver dragons, each bend guarded by carved stele inscribed with Dao runes that had seen more eras than most kingdoms.
The main square, halfway up the mountains, was already a sea of people.
Young cultivators from all over the Hundred Cities stood in clusters—disciples of great sects in coordinated robes; imperial heirs surrounded by attendants; lone geniuses in plain clothes whose eyes shone sharp as blades. Banners of imperial lineages and ancient kingdoms fluttered above them, shading the square in a forest of colors.
At the outermost edge, a row of stone arches stood like gateways to fate.
Jade tables had been set beneath them. Exam elders, hair tied up with simple wooden pins, sat behind the tables recording names, checking tokens, and sending nervous candidates toward different hall trials—Grand Era Hall, Idle Era Hall, Zenith Era Hall, Sacred Era Hall, Emperor Era Hall.
When Ling Feng's group appeared at the edge of the square, the nearest conversations stumbled and broke.
Heads turned. A ripple of whispers spread outward like the first ring on a pond.
"That's him…"
"The youth from Lion's Roar—"
"The one who preached—"
"…I heard he overshadowed Fairy Mei Suyao herself…"
Under a distant pavilion, a few older academy disciples paused mid-conversation. Their eyes narrowed as they felt it: a faint, lingering trace of Dao fragrance around the newcomer that did not belong to Heavenly Dao Academy.
Ling Feng ignored the looks.
He took in the square with one lazy sweep of his gaze. He saw familiar banners—Zenith Era Hall prodigies from imperial lineages, Sacred Era Hall hopefuls from great sects, idle young masters with too much pride and not enough actual Dao. He saw nervous disciples from small sects clutching their last savings, hoping to buy their way into Idle Era Hall or Grand Era Hall.
He wasn't looking for any of them.
"…There you are," he murmured.
Near the line leading to the Idle Era Hall, a handsome "young man" in white stood with a lazy, confident posture, hands tucked into his sleeves as if nothing here could possibly be worth taking seriously. Two stunning girls stood on either side of "him," both with kingdom-toppling beauty and noble bearing, drawing countless stolen glances from male and female disciples alike.
Bing Yuxia.
Prime descendant of Ice Feather Palace. Habitual cross-dresser. In the original line of fate, she would have crossed paths with a certain Li Qiye at this academy, her destiny warped by a different monstrous young man.
In this timeline, she had never met him.
Her slate was clean. Her path wide open.
Perfect.
Ling Feng slid his hands casually into his sleeves.
"Come on," he said lightly. "Let's go make some trouble."
Li Shuangyan walked at his right, snow-jade aura wrapped around her slender frame. She gave him a sidelong look, eyes like a still lake reflecting distant mountains.
"You're already planning something," she said.
"When am I not?" he replied, lips quirking.
Xu Pei and Chen Baojiao fell into step on his left; Bai Jianzhen and the Chi siblings followed half a breath behind. The group moved as naturally as if they had always walked side by side—royal siblings from Lion's Roar, peerless beauties, a sword fairy, and a young man whose formal realm was only Named Hero, yet whose presence pressed on hearts like an invisible mountain.
As they moved through the crowd, heads turned in their wake.
It wasn't just their looks, though the four peerless women around Ling Feng would have silenced any gathering on their own. It was the scent of Dao around him—that intangible fragrance that had swept through the Eastern Hundred Cities the day before, searing his existence into countless souls despite his "low" cultivation base.
And today, that Dao was wrapped in something… stranger.
A softness that was not softness—Primal Chaos Genesis Physique quietly stirred, Chaos Force diffusing through his flesh and blood. His Chaos aura did not explode outward. It seeped like warmth after a long winter, a faint hint of spring wind that brushed against hearts and drew eyes toward him as naturally as water flowing downhill.
When they neared Bing Yuxia's group, Ling Feng still didn't greet them.
He simply let that Chaos aura breathe.
Conversations near the Idle Era line faltered. Laughter thinned, then died. Eyes slid toward him, one after another, as if someone had shifted the gravity of the square by half a step.
Even the two girls flanking Bing Yuxia—each with the air of noble ladies from distant sects—found their gazes pulled in despite themselves. Their dao hearts shook for a brief instant before their training kicked in and they looked away, cheeks tinged with the lightest red.
Ling Feng pretended not to notice.
He slipped an arm around Xu Pei's waist and drew her a little closer, fingers pressing casually into the small of her back.
"You're staring again," he murmured to her, voice low and amused, breath brushing her ear.
Xu Pei's storm-qi rippled once, then settled like thunderheads calming after a flash of lightning.
"Because someone likes making a scene," she replied. Her tone was calm, but the faint flush rising along her cheeks betrayed her. She allowed herself to lean into him, just a fraction.
On his other side, Chen Baojiao bumped her shoulder into his with a smirk.
"Flirting in public again?" she teased. "Young Master Ling trying to make half the square choke on dog food?"
Ling Feng laughed softly.
"If they want to die from jealousy, that's their business," he said. "I'm just appreciating my beautiful women. Free entertainment."
He leaned down and whispered something too soft for others to hear—something that made Xu Pei's ears go pink and her eyes shine, and drew a bark of shameless laughter from Chen Baojiao as she shot back an even more outrageous comment.
The three of them moved in a small, intimate orbit—touches, quiet smiles, lazy banter—as if the thousands of eyes watching them were just background noise.
Of course, they were not background noise.
The square's attention had fixed on them like iron filings aligning to a new magnetic field.
And among those gazes was Bing Yuxia's.
Her expression had been neutral at first, a cultivated calm befitting a "young master" whose name held weight even outside Ice Feather Palace. Then, as she watched Ling Feng's easy warmth—the way he doted on his women openly, with no vulgarity and no pretend aloofness—a faintly amused light appeared in her eyes.
"This guy…" she murmured, voice pitched low for her companions.
"Brother Bing?" one girl asked softly. "Do you know him?"
"I saw him once," Bing Yuxia said. "He stole the entire sky during that Dao preaching. Now he's stealing people's eyes."
Her lips curved.
As if sensing the focus on him tighten, Ling Feng lifted his head.
His gaze met Bing Yuxia's. Up close, her disguise was flawless: white robes, confident posture, the faintly roguish smile of a pampered young master. If he hadn't already known better, even he could have been fooled at a glance.
He smiled, eyes bright with mischief.
"Yo," he said casually. "Ice Feather's little heir playing at being a gentleman again?"
Bing Yuxia's brows climbed.
"Oh?" she drawled. "You recognize me?"
"Hard not to," Ling Feng replied. "Prime descendant of Ice Feather Palace. Famous cross-dressing troublemaker. If I pretend not to know, Heaven might strike me for lying."
Her two companions stiffened slightly at his directness.
Bing Yuxia… laughed.
Not a polite chuckle, not a restrained smile—the sound that slipped out of her was brief and genuine, cutting through the murmurs around them.
"You speak as if we're old friends," she said, eyes dancing. "But I don't recall having such a handsome friend before."
Behind Ling Feng, Chen Baojiao's fingers found a soft spot at his waist and pinched mercilessly.
"Ice girl is bold," she commented. "Already flirting with our man?"
Xu Pei coughed into her hand, trying and failing to hide her smile.
Ling Feng only chuckled. He squeezed their hands in turn, grounding as much as teasing.
"Relax," he said to his women, voice low. "You're all still first in line."
Then he looked back at Bing Yuxia.
"We can fix that, though," he added, grin crooked. "The 'not knowing' part, I mean."
Bing Yuxia tilted her chin, playing the suave young master to the hilt.
"Oh?" she said lazily. "And how does Brother Ling intend to do that?"
"Let's make a bet," Ling Feng said.
...
The words dropped into the square like a stone into a quiet lake.
Around them, conversations dimmed. More heads turned. The name "Ice Feather" carried its own weight; the presence of Ice Feather Palace's prime descendant had already drawn attention. Now, with this audacious youth from Lion's Roar speaking so boldly in front of her, ears leaned closer from all corners of the square.
"A bet?" Bing Yuxia repeated. "With what stakes?"
Ling Feng glanced past her toward one of the stone arches.
Under that arch, the Emperor Era Hall's exam entrance glowed faintly—subtle, but unmistakable to anyone who had read the academy's histories. The Emperor Era Hall was the greatest and most mysterious of the five halls. Its exams were so harsh that most years, no student managed to enter at all. Only a handful across countless eras had passed through its door and walked out as its disciples; beings like Immortal Emperor Hao Hai and Jikong Wudi were among its alumni.
"The Emperor Era Hall is taking in new students today too, right?" Ling Feng asked, though he already knew the answer.
Bing Yuxia followed his gaze. Her eyes narrowed, amused.
"You want to join the Emperor Era Hall?" she said. "You have ambition."
"I like good stages," Ling Feng replied. "Would be a waste to perform on a small one."
He raised his hand.
Chaos energy rippled from his palm, subtle but undeniable. A slender hairpin took shape in the air—a snow-white feather forged from some unknown metal, Dao patterns interwoven along its spine like frost-etched veins. Cold intent coiled around it, yet there was also a soft, understated elegance—something that would fit an ice-themed empress perfectly.
"So here's the bet," he said. "I'll walk into their exam and take the highest score this round. If I fail, this goes to you. A little toy for the Ice Empress image."
Several nearby girls, including Bing Yuxia's companions, leaned forward despite themselves. Even at a distance, they could sense the hairpin was not simple—it resonated faintly with the academy's own cold Dao, but… deeper, thicker, like it had tasted a different world's ice.
"And if you win?" Bing Yuxia asked, eyes narrowing.
"Then," Ling Feng said, "you follow me for a while."
He said it lightly, but the air around them tightened.
"Not as a servant or anything stupid," he continued, waving off the very idea. "You'll walk with me. See how I pick up girls properly and cultivate properly. Real techniques. Real Dao. If you're going to dress like a young master, you might as well learn how to be a good one."
For one beat, the square went dead silent.
Then somewhere in the crowd, someone choked on their own breath.
Bing Yuxia stared at him.
He met her gaze without flinching, pupil deep and casual, as if inviting her to laugh in his face—or step forward.
For a heartbeat, she said nothing.
Then a bright, clear laugh burst from her—unrestrained and ringing, startling her companions and half the nearby disciples.
"You…" she said, laughter still in her voice. "You're really… something."
Her eyes, however, had sharpened. Beneath the humor, there was interest—and a flicker of instinctive wariness that any genius felt when facing something they did not fully understand.
"Fine," she said. "This young master will see if your boasting has any weight. If you can truly take the top spot in the Emperor Era Hall exam today, I'll walk with you for a while."
Ling Feng's smile deepened, victory already sitting comfortably on his shoulders.
"Deal."
"Brother Bing—" one of the girls beside her began, worried.
Bing Yuxia lifted a hand, still playing the suave gentleman.
"Relax," she said. "If he fails, we gain a treasure. If he wins…" She tilted her head, studying Ling Feng with new eyes. "Then perhaps this academy will be a bit more interesting."
Ling Feng gave a tilted smile, more modern tease than solemn cultivator.
"Wait for me," he said. "I'll be right back."
...
The exam grounds of the Emperor Era Hall were not open to the public.
Ling Feng approached the stone arch marked with ancient characters that seemed to hum faintly with Emperor wills. As he neared, an older exam protector in plain robes stepped forward, blocking his path with a courteous but firm gesture. The man's hair was half-white, yet his eyes were still sharp as a sword edge.
"Candidate?" the elder asked. "Name. Origin."
"Ling Feng," he said. "From… everywhere."
The elder gave him a look at that answer, lips twitching despite himself. Then his gaze deepened, taking in the Dao fragrance that clung to Ling Feng like the afterglow of a grand Dao lecture.
He had heard the rumors.
"The Emperor Era Hall is not a place one enters lightly," the elder said slowly. "The exam today will not kill you… but failure may cripple your Dao heart. Are you sure—"
Ling Feng stepped through before he could finish.
The stone arch swallowed him.
...
The world fell away.
The square, the mountains, the noise, the banners—all of it peeled back like a discarded skin. For a moment there was only darkness, thick and velvet, without up or down.
Then stars bloomed.
An endless vault of them stretched overhead, so close it felt as if he could raise a hand and stir them. Ancient wills lingered in the air, vast and aloof—the imprints of Emperors and peerless ancestors who had once walked this very academy and left behind fragments of their Dao.
Heavy Dao marks flowed through the void like rivers of molten gold. Each current carried concepts so dense that a normal disciple would have been crushed just by breathing here for too long.
"This is the Emperor Era Hall's exam ground, huh," Ling Feng murmured, almost to himself. "Nice décor."
Invisible forces moved.
The environment shifted with his first step.
A weight pressed down on his shoulders—not physical, but conceptual. The Dao here tried to wrap around him, to define him, to assign him a place below the shadows of past titans.
Illusions formed.
He saw the rise and fall of eras. Kingdoms turning to ruins. Proud sects burning to ash. He saw silhouettes of Emperors striding onto the Heavenly Dao, their backs to all other living beings as they cut through fate and destiny with casual, merciless simplicity.
The exam tried to drown him in awe.
It whispered: Look at them. Look at what came before. Compared to them, you are an ant. Kneel.
Ling Feng yawned.
"Brother," he said softly to the silent starry world. "I've seen worse."
Chaos flickered beneath his skin.
Within his Inner Void, four Chaos Emeralds stirred—green, red, yellow, cyan. Space, power, energy, time. The Chaos Force threaded through them like a living river, feeding his Primal Chaos Genesis Physique. Concepts that would have taken ordinary geniuses days or weeks to unravel unfolded in front of him like a children's picture book.
The first illusion stepped forward—a towering figure formed from condensed Dao marks, radiating the imposing aura of a Virtuous Paragon.
Its voice echoed, vast and cold: "Kneel. The Emperor Dao is not yours to grasp."
Ling Feng scratched his cheek.
"Nah," he said.
He raised his hand. He didn't summon any flashy technique or world-shattering move. He simply let Chaos Force bleed outward, subtle and all-devouring.
To the illusion, it was like watching ink drip into clear water.
The Emperor shadow—carefully constructed from countless test layers, meant to pressure the candidate into instinctive subservience—met something more fundamental. The Chaos Force was not from this world. It wasn't bound to the River of Time, Heaven's Will, or the karmic structure that the Emperor Dao here relied on. So when it touched that Emperor shadow…
The illusion's Dao marks came apart like rotten thread.
The scene shattered.
The starry sky rearranged itself. Another test. Another illusion.
He walked.
Illusions of defeat, temptation, despair, arrogance—all the usual flavors of Dao heart trials—rose up before him. Rivers of time rewound, showing him possible futures of failure. Vast palaces of knowledge appeared, promising shortcuts if he would just bow his head. Ghosts of ancient geniuses stepped out, jeering that a mere Named Hero had no right to such a stage.
His Chaos-enhanced comprehension spun.
He treated them like puddles on a road.
A scene of his wives and women leaving him? He walked through it, hand lightly resting on the phantom Xu Pei's head as if to say, "Nice try," and kept moving.
An ocean of blood, all of it dripping from his own hands, asking if he regretted anything?
He looked at it. Considered. Smiled thinly.
"If they wanted to kill me, they can line up in Hell and complain," he said. "Next."
The ocean parted.
Outside the exam space, the elder guarding the arch stood before a stone tablet etched with countless names and symbols. Each candidate's progress through the Emperor Era Hall's trial lit up a path along the tablet—slowly, painfully, step by hard-earned step.
He glanced at it, more from habit than hope.
"What…?" he whispered.
One of the markers was moving.
Not creeping. Not advancing in careful, agonizing increments like the others.
It streaked up the tablet, layer after layer igniting in its wake.
In the square, a faint bell tone rang from somewhere deep within the Emperor Era Hall.
"Already?" someone exclaimed. "Someone triggered a change?"
"That's impossible. The Emperor Era Hall exam—no one finishes it that fast—"
The bell rang a second time.
Then a third.
The stone arch flared.
Ling Feng stepped out.
His robes were unruffled. His breathing was steady. The only change was the faint gleam in his eyes—as if he'd just tasted a new flavor of wine and found it acceptable.
He stretched his shoulders once.
"Not bad," he said. "A little noisy, but not bad."
The exam elder stared at him as if he were seeing a ghost.
"…You…" he began, voice hoarse. "You passed?"
Ling Feng tilted his head.
"Mm," he said. "I'd give you a more dramatic story, but it really was just walking."
Behind the elder, the stone tablet glowed. The symbol for Ling Feng's name sat at the very top, alone and far ahead of every other candidate.
Silence washed across the square, heavier than any roar.
Bing Yuxia's eyes sharpened where she stood by the Idle Era line.
"…Well, well," she murmured, lips curling.
Ling Feng turned, eyes sweeping the crowd until they found her. When their gazes met, he lifted his hand in a small, almost boyish wave.
Then he walked back, each step measured and unhurried, as if he hadn't just walked through one of the academy's harshest trials like it was a garden path.
"Looks like I didn't need to warm up," he said lightly when he stopped before her. "Bing, bet's settled."
Bing Yuxia held his gaze for a long moment.
The playful young master mask was still there, but beneath it, something else had emerged: genuine respect, and a spark of curiosity that even she couldn't completely suppress.
"This young master," she said at last, "has never liked going back on his word."
She smiled—sharp, amused, eyes bright like ice catching the sun.
"From today on," she said, "I'll watch you up close for a while. Don't make me regret it."
"Won't happen," Ling Feng replied. The edge of his grin softened for a fraction; for an instant, the casual flirtation gave way to a sincerity she hadn't expected.
Then he turned back to the exam elder.
"One more thing," he said, voice polite but relaxed. "I don't actually want to join the Emperor Era Hall."
The elder, who had just managed to pull his mind back together, nearly choked on his own breath.
"…What?"
Ling Feng pointed toward a hall nestled deeper in the mountains—a cluster of buildings that looked comparatively plain next to the grand aura of Emperor Era Hall and the distant brilliance of Zenith Era Hall, yet whose foundations pulsed with a subtle, grounded Dao.
"That one," he said. "Grand Era Hall. Put us there instead."
"The Grand Era Hall…" the elder repeated, stunned.
Every disciple of Heavenly Dao Academy knew its reputation: the hall with the lowest entry requirements, the one that accepted the most students from small sects and wandering cultivators, where talent ranged from mediocre to rare hidden gems.
"Why?" the elder blurted, forgetting his composure.
Ling Feng's smile thinned.
"Because that's where a lot of fun things are going to happen," he said simply. "You'll see. And because the Emperor Era Hall is too empty. No atmosphere. I'd fall asleep."
His aura shifted—not in sheer force, but in… quality.
For a heartbeat, the square felt as though some vast, unfathomable Dao had leaned down and pressed a fingertip to everyone's chest. The sensation vanished as quickly as it came, like a wave withdrawing from the shore.
The exam elder's instincts screamed at him.
"…I will… report this to the ancestors," he managed. "The Emperor Era Hall exam is overseen by—"
A gentle, ancient voice floated down from the sky, cutting him off.
"No need."
...
Space rippled above them.
A figure appeared on a cloud terrace overlooking the square. His robes were plain. His hair was half-white, tied back in a simple knot. His eyes, however, carried the calm of countless years and the weight of too many eras watched in silence.
Old Daoist Peng.
One of Heavenly Dao Academy's three ancestors. Once a disciple of Everlasting Courtyard, now the academy's quiet, stubborn backbone.
The murmur that went through the square this time was different—lower, more reverent.
"Old Daoist Peng…"
"The ancestor came out in person…"
"Because of this guy…?"
The old daoist's gaze fell on Ling Feng.
"This old man has heard of you," he said slowly. His voice was not loud, but it rolled across the square with the strength of an unhurried tide. "The youth who stirred Realm God… and now, the one who walked through the Emperor Era Hall's exam as if it were a garden path."
Ling Feng cupped his fists in a proper salute, his posture respectful but not humble.
"Nice to meet you," he said. "I've been wanting to talk."
Old Daoist Peng's eyes narrowed slightly, studying not just the young man's aura, but the impossible mismatch between his formal realm and the weight lurking behind his Dao fragrance. Then his expression eased.
"Let him go to the Grand Era Hall," he said. "And those around him as well."
The square erupted.
"The ancestor agreed—"
"He's putting him in Grand Era Hall? But he just crushed the Emperor Era exam—"
"What kind of background does he have…?"
The elder at the exam arch bowed immediately.
"Yes, Ancestor."
Ling Feng smiled.
He turned slightly and gestured toward his group—Li Shuangyan, Chen Baojiao, Xu Pei, Bai Jianzhen, the Chi siblings, and now Bing Yuxia, who stood with arms folded, watching everything with bright interest.
"Let's go," he said softly. "Class is starting."
...
The Grand Era Hall of Heavenly Dao Academy was not the largest hall.
Its buildings were modest compared to the splendid towers of the Sacred Era Hall or the imposing formations around the Emperor Era Hall. Its courtyards were wide but simple, its training fields practical rather than ostentatious. At a glance, it looked like the most ordinary of the five.
But its foundation was the deepest.
Ancient Dao patterns ran through its stones like invisible veins. The hall still carried the lingering imprint of Second Sage Wang Yuan's reforms—the stubborn, grounded push that had once hauled Heavenly Dao Academy out of stagnation and forced it to remember its purpose. This was the hall meant not for those chasing instant glory, but for those who would shape an era from the ground up.
As Ling Feng's group crossed its threshold, curious gazes turned.
Some disciples recognized Chi Xiaodie and Chi Xiaodao's royal aura; whispers of "Lion's Roar" rustled through the air. More recognized the Dao fragrance clinging to Ling Feng—the now-famous scent that had swept through the Hundred Cities.
Bing Yuxia, still dressed as a handsome young master, drew her usual share of subtle looks. More than a few Idle Era Hall disciples watching from a distance did a double take when they saw her enter Grand Era Hall's territory beside that troublesome youth.
Ling Feng took it all in with a quick, lazy scan.
Then he clapped his hands once.
"Alright," he said. "Hall tour later. For now, you guys get settled. Grab rooms, find out where the Dragon Arbiter Stage is, figure out which elders like nagging and which ones let you skip class. We'll meet later for… extra lessons."
"Extra lessons," Chen Baojiao repeated, lips curling into a wicked little smile. "Sounds dangerous."
Xu Pei's eyes softened, the corners of her mouth tilting up.
"I'll prepare notes," she said quietly. "We should also review the academy's basic merit laws so we don't stand out too strangely."
Li Shuangyan nodded.
"We'll familiarize ourselves with the hall's standard curriculum first," she said. "Then see how it fits with our existing arts."
Chi Xiaodao was practically vibrating.
"Heavenly Dao Academy…" he whispered. "I'm really here…"
His gaze flicked from stone stele to training field to the distant silhouette of a lecture hall, as if trying to drink the entire scene into his bones.
Chi Xiaodie walked more calmly, but the way her hand absently brushed the carved pillars, the way her eyes lingered on the distant combat stages, betrayed her own emotions.
She had grown up hearing about this place—the hall that took in disciples from everywhere, that once nurtured sages and Emperors alike. To enter it now, not as a supplicant clinging to the academy's rules, but under the shadow of a man who had just torn through the Emperor Era Hall's exam… her heart, usually steady as a ruler, beat faster.
Bing Yuxia crossed her arms, watching Ling Feng.
"And you?" she asked. "What will Brother Ling do?"
Ling Feng's grin returned, softer now that they were away from the main square.
"Me?" he said. "I'm going to have a little chat with an old man about some… small news."
His eyes flicked toward the distant Everlasting Courtyard and the invisible presence coiled around the academy—the ancient demonic tree that the academy called Realm God, their so-called Heavenly Guardian. Then he looked back at her.
"You'll get the story later," he promised. "I'll even draw pictures if you're nice."
Bing Yuxia snorted, but her lips twitched.
"Then I shall wait and see," she said. "Don't die in a corner somewhere. This young master dislikes wasted bets."
"Who, me?" Ling Feng laughed. "I still have too many pretty women to bother."
He tapped his sleeve.
Chaos stirred.
His presence spread out like a soft bell chime through the academy's veins—through stone, through formations, through hidden arrays that had been sleeping since the Desolate Era, carrying a polite, unmistakable knock toward a specific, ancient consciousness.
...
High above another courtyard, Old Daoist Peng paused mid-step.
He felt it—someone tapping directly on the academy's spine, using a Dao that did not belong to Heavenly Dao Academy, yet slipped between its formations with disconcerting ease.
"…This brat," he muttered.
He turned, walking toward a secluded chamber.
...
The chamber was simple.
Stone floor. A worn meditation mat. A small low table with a teapot that looked older than most countries, glazed surface crazed with fine spider-web cracks. A single incense burner in the corner, cold and unlit.
Old Daoist Peng sat first.
Ling Feng sat opposite him without ceremony, folding one leg up and letting the other rest casually, posture relaxed but not disrespectful.
For a while, neither spoke.
The silence in the room was different from the square's noise or the exam's oppressive illusions. It was the quiet of an old mountain watching a storm form in the distance.
Old Daoist Peng broke it first.
"You…" he said slowly. "Your Dao fragrance roused Realm God for a moment. Today, you stormed the Emperor Era Hall's exam and then refused it. Now you call this old man directly."
His eyes were calm, but the weight of his cultivation pressed faintly on the air, like the pressure before thunder.
"What do you want, child?"
Ling Feng met his gaze evenly.
Up close, the ancestor's aura felt like sedimented centuries—layer upon layer of comprehension and failure and persistence. It was the kind of Dao only someone who had watched entire generations rise and fall could possess.
Ling Feng respected that.
He also had no intention of bowing his head.
"To keep your academy from getting wiped out," he said. "And to make sure Realm God doesn't drag half the Eastern Hundred Cities down with it when it finally snaps."
He smiled, but there was no humor in it.
"Because right now," Ling Feng added quietly, "too many people are staring at Heavenly Dao Academy and thinking the same thing: 'The guardian is unstable. The old tree is rotting. It's time to carve off a piece for ourselves.'"