Ling Feng's expression didn't change much.
"Mm," he said. "I understand."
The jade transmission plate in his hand trembled with residual light. He flicked it once, almost lazily, letting the last echo of Chi Xiaodie's frantic report fade.
"Understood," he replied, voice calm. "Keep everyone steady. Don't rush into their mountain to die for free. I'll be there soon."
The jade dimmed. Silence returned to the subterranean cavern.
Above him, the Realm God's colossal branches creaked, leaves rustling like a million tiny blades.
"Trouble?" the demonic tree asked. Its voice was slow and heavy, like mountains grinding against each other.
Ling Feng looked up at the massive trunk. In the reflection of that dark, ancient bark, his own eyes gleamed with something sharp.
"Nothing huge," he said lightly. "Just a pack of tigers who thought kidnapping a little brother was a clever move."
He rolled his shoulders, joints popping one after another, crisp in the still air.
"Realm God," Ling Feng went on, grin sharpening, "your body just recovered. Best not to move for a bit. So—sit here, take root, and watch."
"Watch…?" the demonic tree echoed slowly.
"Yes," Ling Feng said. "A good show is about to start in the Eastern Hundred Cities. Consider it your first little entertainment after crawling out of that cage."
He stepped forward and patted the Realm God's bark twice, like an old friend he genuinely meant to amuse rather than use.
The Realm God's roots stirred, sinking deeper into the starlit underground lake. The faint, newborn pulse of its Dao sped up with anticipation.
Then Chaos folded.
No Dao Gate, no rumbling void. Space simply pinched around Ling Feng's figure and swallowed him whole, leaving behind only the fragrance of World Tree leaves and the quiet beating of a demon tree's expectant heart.
The cavern fell still.
Aboveground, the world shifted.
...
Lion's Roar's temporary residence in Heavenly Dao Academy clung to an upper courtyard, high enough that one could see an entire mountain range rolling away in smoky blue waves.
On normal days it bustled with retainers, visiting nobles, and young cultivators going in and out, banners with the roaring lion emblem snapping proudly in the wind.
Today, the air was different.
The courtyard was heavy with a tension thick enough to chew.
Chi Xiaodie stood at the terrace rail, knuckles white against the cold stone. Far in the distance, the line of the Eastern Hundred Cities shimmered under the afternoon sun. Between here and there, runes from the academy's communication formations flickered on and off in midair—overlapping layers of jade projections, messenger lights, and anxious voices.
Reports came one after another. Lion's Roar. Bao Yun Clan. Allies. Fair-weather friends testing the wind. Each message more frantic than the last.
Her teeth worried her lower lip until it almost bled.
"Tiger's Howl… those bastards…" she whispered.
Behind her, Bao Yun Clan elders and Lion's Roar retainers argued in hoarse, exhausted voices.
"We must beg the academy to interfere! Tiger's Howl sits on the White Tiger Vein—if they go mad and activate the Four Ominous Graves, even Virtuous Paragons would be in danger!" one elder hissed, sweat beading on his bald scalp.
"Beg?" another spat. "The prince and our clan's precious daughter are in their hands! If we show weakness now, they will make us kneel forever!"
A third elder slammed his palm on the table, jade slips jumping. "If we gather all our forces and strike their mountain at once—"
"To die?" someone cut him off, voice bitter. "You want to feed the Four Ominous Graves fresh blood so they can sing louder?"
No one dared to voice the ugliest fear: that Chi Xiaodao and Bao Yun might already be dead.
Tiger's Howl School was an overlord of the Hundred Cities, founded by the Tiger God himself. It sat atop the White Tiger Great Vein, controlling a country, wielding the Four Ominous Graves—an ominous weapon formation said to be capable of slaying even Virtuous Paragons if fully unleashed.
If Tiger's Howl truly chose to tear all face and burn both jade and stone, the Hundred Cities would drown in blood.
Wind stirred the banners. The lion sigil seemed to snarl silently against the sky.
A hand landed lightly on Chi Xiaodie's shoulder.
She jolted, spinning half-around, eyes wild.
Her sword intent surged instinctively—and then froze.
"Easy," Ling Feng said.
He stood there with his usual infuriating casualness—black hair loose, cloak tossed back, hands empty. No Immortal Emperor treasure floated above his head, no vast blood energy roared around him. To an ordinary eye, he was just a young man with a lazy smile and clear gaze.
But Chi Xiaodie had seen him on the World Tree.
She had seen him devour tribulation light, bend a Heavenly Dao like it was soft metal. That memory coiled at the back of her mind, hot and unreal.
Her breath escaped in a shudder.
"Brother Feng," she said, voice rough from sleepless nights. "Xiaodao, Bao Yun, they—"
He squeezed her shoulder, fingers steady and warm.
"They're alive," he said.
Just three words. No grand oath, no elaborate explanation. His tone was calm, like stating the color of the sky.
"If Tiger's Howl had dared to actually kill the Lion's Roar prince and Bao Clan princess," he went on, "the Hundred Cities would already be boiling over. Every old monster with an opinion would be screaming. They want leverage, not corpses."
His words slid into the knot of fear in her chest like hot wine on a winter night.
She stared at him, searching his face.
"…Are you sure?" she whispered.
"Mm." He nodded once, without drama. "I just finished patching up the Realm God. Today is not a day that's kind to people who want to court death."
A tiny, broken laugh escaped her—half hysterical, half disbelieving, but it was there.
He let her breathe.
Let the panic ebb just enough that her Dao Heart could grab on to something solid.
Then he straightened, hand falling from her shoulder.
"Go change into armor," he said, tone turning brisk, matter-of-fact. "We're going out."
Her eyes widened. "We—"
"Of course." He gave her a look, half teasing, half sharp. "Your little brother got snatched off the street. If we don't show up in person, those tigers will think Lion's Roar only raises soft cubs."
The words cut through her like a blade—but it was the kind of cut that let poison bleed out.
Lion's Roar's royal pride stirred in her bloodline. Her back straightened, chin lifting.
"…En," she said quietly. "I'll get ready."
"Good girl."
His hand brushed her head once, fingers ruffling her hair in a quick, natural motion that made her ears heat despite the situation. Before she could protest, that hand was already gone.
Ling Feng didn't bother walking.
Space bent.
One step carried him from the terrace to an inner courtyard several layers of formation deeper—an area the academy had quietly ceded to him, where Chaos-sensitive patterns hummed faintly under the paving stones.
His territory.
...
Inside, four auras stirred the instant his foot touched the stone.
Li Shangyuan looked up from the jade tablet she'd been quietly analyzing. Pure Jade Physique aura clung to her like a thin, crystalline shell, light refracting off her skin in subtle angles. Her Fate Palaces had the feeling of perfectly carved jade—no cracks, no wasted lines.
On a boulder not far away, Chen Baojiao sat cross-legged, Immortal Spring power surging and ebbing under her skin like a restless tide. Every breath seemed to reach down into some deep, unseen spring in her body, then explode upward, violent yet controlled.
Xu Pei leaned against a red pillar, arms folded, storm intent coiled tight around her like a compressed thundercloud. Lightning flickered at the edge of her gaze even when she didn't move.
Bai Jianzhen sat in the shade of a crooked pine, eyes half-closed, sword laid across her knees. Her presence was a sheathed blade—no obvious killing intent, but the air around her seemed reluctant to move, as if afraid to brush against an edge it couldn't see.
All four had changed since the World Tree.
Their qi was thicker, denser. Their Fate Palaces felt as if they'd been polished from within; flaws ground away, foundations deepened. They hadn't fully stabilized yet, but their combat auras already brushed past Heavenly Sovereign level when coupled with their Life Treasures.
Ling Feng's mouth crooked.
"Ladies," he said, voice lazy but eyes bright. "Get your toys. We've got a mountain to flatten."
Chen Baojiao's eyes lit up immediately. The dull irritation that had been simmering in her chest for days vanished.
"Finally," she said, springing to her feet in a single, graceful motion. "I was this close to breaking academy peaks just to pass the time."
Li Shangyuan exhaled softly, setting down the jade tablet, fingers lingering on its surface. "Tiger's Howl?" she asked. Her voice was calm, but the stone bench under her hand had faint hairline cracks from unconsciously increased strength.
"Mm." Ling Feng nodded. "They put their claws on my people. That's enough."
Xu Pei's lips curved, her usually gentle eyes sharpening. "So we're not negotiating."
"What's there to negotiate?" he asked, amused. "I'll take Xiaodao and Bao Yun out. You four can test what you learned on the tree. Consider it live practice."
Bai Jianzhen's fingers brushed the hilt of her sword.
"Targets?" she asked, simple and direct.
"Prime Imperial Sire and the pack around him," Ling Feng replied, flicking a strand of hair back. "You and Pei'er can take the school master and elders. Try not to kill them too quickly. Let the Hundred Cities get a clear look."
Killing intent glimmered, cold and clean, in Bai Jianzhen's eyes. Xu Pei's storm aura stirred, thunder rolling faintly in the depths.
Li Shangyuan's lashes lowered. "Tiger's Howl Prime Imperial Sire…" she murmured. "In the academy records, his forty-nine divine rings are compared to a dragon of laws coiling around him."
"And?" Chen Baojiao grinned, rolling her shoulders. Bronze bangle at her wrist trembled, responding to her fighting spirit. The phantom weight of the Imperial Violent Hammer settled into her hands a heartbeat later, its oppressive aura like a small mountain.
Li Shangyuan's Pure Jade light flickered once, sharp and thin as a blade of ice.
"…And we will break him," she said softly.
Ling Feng laughed, pleased.
"That's the spirit," he said. "Besides—"
He turned his head slightly.
The courtyard entrance rippled with cold wind.
Bing Yuxia stepped through, Heaven Cutting Tablet resting on her back, Immortal Emperor cold mirror hanging at her waist. She didn't bother to hide the scowl already forming on her face.
"What are you plotting now?" she demanded. "The academy is still settling from the Timeless Portal collapse, and you're already wandering around with that 'I'm about to bully somebody' face."
Ling Feng considered that, then nodded. "Accurate."
She clicked her tongue, folding her arms.
"Tiger's Howl?" she guessed. "They really dared to touch Lion's Roar's people?"
"They dared," he said. "And now we're going to undare them."
He let his gaze slide over her, from ink-black hair to the set of her jaw, eyes amused.
"Come watch," he added, tone light. "Get ready to see your future husband scare a city again."
Silence. Then—
Bing Yuxia's fan snapped open with a sharp crack, almost hard enough to break the ribs inside.
"Wh–who is your wife?!" she spluttered. "This young master merely accepted your teachings once or twice. Don't talk nonsense in front of everyone!"
"Mm." Ling Feng hummed, head tilting, eyes deliberately warm. "Remember what I said before? You didn't throw my mirror or my tablet back. In this world, that's already half a marriage contract."
Her ears turned pink. "You—you're truly shameless!"
Xu Pei coughed into her fist, lips curving in quiet laughter. Chen Baojiao laughed outright, slinging an arm around Bai Jianzhen's shoulders.
"Sister Bing," Baojiao drawled, "you'd better get used to it. Our Young Noble doesn't let good catches run away."
Even Li Shangyuan's usually composed expression loosened a fraction, tension in her eyes easing.
Chi Xiaodie stepped into the courtyard just then, armor on, hair tied up in a neat battle knot. The Virtuous Paragon Sword Life Treasure at her waist hummed faintly, reacting to the killing intent gathered in the air.
She still carried the scent of wind from the upper terrace—fear, resolve, and the faint, clean smell of academy incense.
Ling Feng swept his gaze over her once. Satisfied, he crooked a finger.
"Everyone ready?" he asked.
Chen Baojiao hefted her hammer. Xu Pei's azure halberd emerged from its ring with a low, eager hum. Bai Jianzhen's sword sang a note so soft it was barely audible, yet the courtyard's shadows flinched. Li Shangyuan's Black Tortoise Hammer appeared in her hand, heavy and steady as a small world.
Bing Yuxia rolled her eyes but tightened the straps on the Heaven Cutting Tablet. Chi Xiaodie settled her hand on her sword hilt, eyes bright with suppressed fury.
"I'm ready," she said, voice firm.
"Good." Ling Feng's smile thinned to a sharp, straight line.
"Let's go knock on a tiger's door."
Chaos folded.
The world vanished.
...
Tiger Emperor Citadel.
Built over the White Tiger Great Vein, its mountains rose like crouching beasts, each ridge a spine, each peak a fang. At the center lay the main citadel—a golden palace complex perched on a flattened mountaintop, banners with roaring tiger heads snapping in the high wind.
From afar, the entire range looked like a colossal white tiger coiled to pounce upon the Eastern Hundred Cities. Worldly essence from the vein surged beneath its foundations, deep and turbulent, feeding layer after layer of ancient formations and fierce killing arrays.
Above that crouching beast—still, calm, utterly out of place—hung a small group of cultivators.
Ling Feng stood in the air with one hand tucked loosely behind his back, cloak stirring lazily in the high wind. Chen Baojiao and Xu Pei flanked him on one side, Bai Jianzhen and Bing Yuxia on the other. Li Shangyuan and Chi Xiaodie stood slightly behind, like a secondary blade line.
For a single heartbeat, no one in Tiger Emperor Citadel noticed.
Then Ling Feng exhaled.
His aura spread.
It did not roar.
It did not explode in blinding light.
It simply arrived—like a vast, unseen hand pressing down, fingers sinking into stone and bone alike.
Below, disciples staggered.
A gate guard halfway through shouting at a caravan on the road choked on his words, throat constricting. A group of inner disciples practicing a tiger-pouncing formation felt their knees bend without consent. In the Scripture Hall, an elder's brush trembled, ink splattering across a scroll as his hand shook.
Every tiger emblem carved into pillars and gates rattled in its frame.
The White Tiger Vein's pulse stuttered, then resumed—but now, its rhythm unconsciously matched the steady beat of Ling Feng's Dao Heart instead of its own distant root.
"What—?!"
"An enemy attack—"
"No… this aura… what realm…?!"
Voices broke across the citadel. Alarm formations lit up one after another, flaring gold along the ridges. Lines of dao runes crawled out of the cliffs like awakened snakes, weaving into killing arrays that had once made even Virtuous Paragons hesitate.
Sound transmission bells rang shrilly.
Within breaths, Tiger Emperor Citadel woke up like a beast stabbed awake.
Tigers roared from the mountainsides—the echo of formations activating. Golden light erupted from carved fangs along the ridges. Mist blew away in violent gusts as the sect's main protective formation flared to full power, a faint image of a chained white tiger looming above the main mountain.
Disciples poured out of their halls and training yards, armor half-buckled, hair still loose, eyes wide.
Every gaze turned upward.
A young man stood in the sky with his hands behind his back, robe fluttering in a wind that seemed to blow solely for him.
He didn't hold an Immortal Emperor Life Treasure. There were no phantom dragons coiling behind him, no nine suns wheeling above his head, no collapsing heavens.
Just black hair tied back with a simple strip of cloth. Just a cloak moving lazily. Just a faint, nameless pressure that made breathing difficult.
Beside and behind him, several women floated in the air as well—each with an aura more oppressive than most of Tiger's Howl's old ancestors.
"Who… who is that…?"
"Could it be some old monster borrowing a young body—"
"What 'young body'? Shut up, can't you feel it? That's a Named Hero realm aura, but why is it—"
Before panic could really sink its claws in, space twisted.
No one in the citadel's lower levels saw it clearly.
Deep beneath the main hall, the dungeon lay sealed tight. Black iron pillars carved with ferocious runes supported a vaulted, oppressive ceiling; chains etched with suppression patterns veined like spiderwebs across the walls.
Two silhouettes sat cross-legged in the gloom, shackles biting into their wrists.
Chi Xiaodao's hair was a mess, eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep, but his back was straight. Every breath scraped against the icy yin energy of the dungeon like a file over rusted metal.
Bao Yun's lips were pressed into a thin line. Blood crusted at the corner of her mouth; the proud arc of her neck had never bowed, but her meridians screamed from constant suppression.
"…Sister Bao," Xiaodao rasped, "if they… force you to kneel later, don't. Even if they cut me apart—"
"Shut up," Bao Yun said softly. "My legs are not that easy to bend. Save your breath. We need it."
Chi Xiaodao closed his eyes, fists clenching against the cold iron.
The dungeon's layer upon layer of restrictions hummed.
Then, without warning, they went quiet.
The air trembled like disturbed water.
A hand reached through space—no, space itself folded, and a familiar, casual aura spilled into the dungeon as if someone had opened a window.
Two figures vanished.
Above the mountain, reality rippled.
In front of Ling Feng, two silhouettes flickered into existence, still half in the posture of sitting cross-legged.
Chi Xiaodao's wrists were still ringed with iron shackles inscribed with crude suppression patterns. Bao Yun's hair was disheveled, eyes bright with feverish coldness. The dungeon's deathly chill still clung to their blood and bones.
For half a breath, they stared in confusion at the open sky, wind slapping their faces, the scent of sun and mountain air crashing into senses dulled by underground rot.
Then they both turned.
"Big Brother Ling…?" Chi Xiaodao's voice cracked.
Ling Feng looked them over once, gaze sweeping across bruises, torn sleeves, the faint deathly chill clinging to their meridians.
He smiled.
Not a mocking smile. Not the cruel arc he gave enemies.
An easy, warm smile, as if they'd run into each other on a street instead of above the sect that had tried to use them as bargaining chips.
"Yo," he said. "You two picked a pretty ugly place for a vacation."
Bao Yun's shoulders trembled. The hard line of her mouth quivered; tears gathered in her eyes, stubbornly refusing to fall.
"Young Noble Ling," she said hoarsely. "Tiger's Howl… they—"
He raised a hand and gently tapped her forehead with one finger.
"Talk later," he said, voice dropping. "You did well. Both of you."
Chi Xiaodao swallowed hard. "Big Brother Ling, those beasts—if not for you, I—"
Ling Feng flicked his forehead.
"Didn't I tell you before?" he said. "You're Lion's Roar's prince. You're not allowed to say stupid things like 'if not for you I'd be dead.'"
Chi Xiaodao's eyes stung. "Yes…"
Ling Feng patted his shoulder once, then casually snapped his fingers.
The so-called suppressive shackles turned into powder, falling away in a fine ash that the high wind scattered.
The seals on their bodies shattered at the same time. Worldly essence surged back into their meridians like a tide that had been held back too long. Blood energy flared; suppressed Fate Palaces turned fiercely, roaring back to full rotation.
Far below, several dungeon guardians, only now realizing their prisoners had vanished, coughed blood as the backlash from broken restrictions tore through their cultivation.
"Xiaodie," Ling Feng called lazily without turning.
Chi Xiaodie stepped forward from behind him, eyes still rimmed red from days of helpless fury. Seeing her brother there, alive, made her voice catch—but she held it in with force.
"Take your little brother," Ling Feng said. His voice shifted just slightly—gentler, like a hand smoothing bristling fur. "Stand back and watch the show. Today's lesson is what happens when someone thinks they can use your family as shackles."
Chi Xiaodao opened his mouth—but Ling Feng's gaze slid back to him, calm and sharp.
"You," he said quietly, "don't need to die heroically against a Heavenly Sovereign today. You just need to remember this feeling. Later, when I say 'bite,' you bite in the right direction."
Chi Xiaodao's throat tightened. His knees bent on instinct, and he dropped to one knee in midair, cupping his fists.
"Yes," he said hoarsely. "I will remember, Big Brother."
Chi Xiaodie's fingers brushed her brother's shoulder. The murderous light in her eyes hadn't faded, but it had turned cold and focused instead of wild.
She bowed her head slightly toward Ling Feng. "Thank you," she said.
Ling Feng winked at her. "You can thank me properly when I come back," he said. "Bring some good wine. Don't just glare at me with red eyes and scare my appetite away."
A breath of laughter escaped her despite herself.
Chaos rippled around them. With a casual wave, Ling Feng shifted the three siblings with spacetime like he was rearranging cups on a table.
A stable platform of condensed space blossomed behind his group, invisible to most eyes yet solid as iron underfoot. Sword qi, divine rings, crushing laws—anything that touched it would be quietly redirected and bled away.
He placed Chi Xiaodao, Bao Yun, and Chi Xiaodie there, behind layers of his own Dao.
Only then did he bother to look down at the roaring mountain.
"Alright," he said softly, as if finally ready to pay attention to a noisy neighbor.
"Let's see who Tiger's Howl is sending up first."
The answer came with a roar.
Not the roar of ordinary beasts. Not the rumbling of formations.
A demon roar that shook the White Tiger Great Vein itself.
Mountains quivered. White tiger shadows rose from the ridges, claws stretching toward the sky. World essence bubbled up from the depths of the earth like a tide, converging on a single point at the heart of the citadel.
Light tore open the air above the main palace.
A colossal tiger stepped out of a sea of blood energy—its body snow-white, fur gleaming like polished bone. Eight vast wings unfurled behind its back, each feather sharp as a blade, each flap of those wings warping the space around it.
Eight-Winged Divine Tiger.
Old Ancestor of Tiger's Howl School. Demon of the Difficult Dao Era, who had survived ages by relying on the White Tiger Great Vein and the sect's accumulated fortune.
Cold, feral light burned in its eyes as they swept across the intruders.
"You juniors are very bold," the Divine Tiger's voice rumbled—not in sound, but in Dao, a vibration in bone and soul. "To dare hover above this old one's Tiger Emperor Citadel…"
Behind it, a host of figures emerged.
Supreme elders with divine rings spinning behind their heads, each ring a halo of laws. The school master in golden armor, tiger patterns crawling along his sleeves like living things. At their center, an old demon in plain robes, no gaudy ornaments—but his aura pressed harder than all the others combined.
Prime Imperial Sire.
Supreme Elder of Tiger's Howl. Master of forty-nine divine rings whose coiling laws had once made countless enemies despair.
His gaze locked onto Ling Feng's group. For a brief moment, shock flickered across his pupils—then it hardened into killing intent.