Bo Mile stood upon his flying sword as the cosmos unfolded endlessly around him, rivers of starlight flowing beneath his feet like living constellations. Galaxies drifted past at a leisurely pace, some young and brilliant, others ancient and dim, their light stretched thin by time itself. His parents flew beside him with effortless grace, their presence steady and reassuring, discussing which newborn galaxy would be suitable to gift their son when the time came. To Bo, the moment felt calm and eternal, as if nothing in the boundless universe could interrupt this quiet passage between stars.
Then the heavens twisted. Space shuddered without warning, light folding inward as a violent vortex tore itself open directly ahead. Before anyone could react, an overwhelming force surged outward, striking Bo's sword and hurling him away. His balance shattered in an instant, the familiar hum of his blade vanishing beneath a roaring pressure that swallowed sound and light alike. He reached out instinctively, his parents calling his name as their hands grasped only empty space. In the next heartbeat, Bo Mile was torn from the cosmos he knew and dragged into the depths of the vortex, vanishing as if he had never been there at all.
The fall had no direction. Bo Mile felt himself pulled forward and backward at the same time, his body weightless yet crushed beneath an unseen force. Sound returned in fragments, first as distant whispers, then as screams that scraped against his consciousness. Laughter followed, sharp and unhinged, echoing from nowhere and everywhere at once. The noises overlapped until they became a single, maddening chorus that seemed to burrow directly into his mind rather than his ears.
Images bled into existence around him, twisting and collapsing before he could grasp them. Faces of women and men stretched unnaturally, their expressions frozen between joy and terror. Children reached out with blurred hands, their forms unraveling into mist. Cities rose and shattered in the same breath, towers bending like soft clay as rivers flowed upward into broken skies. Mountains folded inward, stars burned out and reignited, and vast seas turned over themselves, revealing impossible depths before vanishing. Through it all, Bo's Immortal Body endured, his cultivation sea roaring like an endless tide, anchoring his sense of self as the vortex dragged him deeper into chaos, carrying him farther from everything he had ever known.
At some point, the noise ceased. Bo Mile drifted in a silent, endless void where even darkness felt thin and unreal. There was no sense of time, no up or down, only his own breathing anchoring him to existence. His thoughts surfaced one by one, stripped of panic, leaving behind a cold clarity. He knew he was no longer within the nine realms, nor anywhere his parents could immediately reach. The vortex had torn him free from the laws he was born under, yet his Immortal Body remained steady, his cultivation sea vast and unmoving, a boundless ocean beneath the calm surface of his mind. Alone in the void, Bo did not despair. Instead, he tightened his resolve, knowing that wherever he was sent, he would endure, cultivate, and carve a path back through the cosmos with his own blade.
As Bo Mile continued to drift, a faint speck of light appeared in the distance, barely more than a suggestion against the endless void. It pulsed softly, as if breathing, growing brighter with each moment he moved closer. There was no sensation of motion, yet the light steadily expanded, transforming from a distant star into a vast glow that filled his vision. With every passing heartbeat, the surrounding darkness thinned, replaced by unfamiliar colors and shifting layers of space. Bo felt the presence of foreign laws pressing gently against his Immortal Body, testing it, acknowledging it, as the light swelled until it consumed him completely, pulling him out of the void and toward an unknown world.
The light collapsed inward, and gravity returned all at once. Bo Mile fell from the sky and crashed into a moving carriage laden with tightly packed bundles of cotton, the impact scattering white fibers into the air like drifting snow. The wooden frame groaned beneath his weight but did not shatter, cushioned by the soft cargo beneath him. Shouts erupted from the driver as the horses reared, yet Bo had already pushed himself upright, his body unharmed. He lifted his gaze just as the carriage rolled beneath towering stone walls, where massive gates stood open to welcome merchants and travelers. Carved above the entrance in weathered characters was the name of the city he had fallen into. Myriad City.
The carriage driver turned, his face flushed with anger as he opened his mouth to reprimand Bo, but the words died in his throat. His eyes had caught the sword on Bo Mile's back, then the flowing white and black robe that marked him unmistakably as a cultivator. A flicker of caution crossed the man's expression, and he quickly bowed his head, swallowing whatever complaints he had prepared. With an awkward smile, he straightened and spoke carefully. "Ah, welcome to Myriad City. I am certain you were just tired from flying."
Bo Mile stepped lightly off the carriage, the scattered cotton drifting down around him as if nothing unusual had occurred. Before walking away, he paused, reaching into the small pouch at his side. His fingers brushed past spirit stones and rare materials before settling on a simple gold nugget. Without ceremony, he tossed it toward the carriage driver. The man caught it on instinct, his eyes widening as he stared at the weight of real gold resting in his palm. He stood frozen in place, shock written across his face, having never owned, nor even held, a single piece of gold in his life.
Bo Mile walked through the streets of Myriad City at an unhurried pace, his gaze calm as he took in his surroundings. The city was vast by mortal standards, its streets wide and paved with worn stone, yet to him it felt modest, even restrained. Merchants lined the roads beneath cloth awnings, calling out prices for herbs, tools, spirit grains, and trinkets infused with faint Qi. Mortals and low level cultivators moved together in a constant flow, their conversations blending into a steady hum of life that felt grounded and real in a way the cosmos never had.
As he passed deeper into the city, Bo sensed the thin spiritual energy saturating the air, far weaker than anything he had known before. Cultivation here was difficult, the laws sluggish and uneven, favoring slow accumulation rather than explosive breakthroughs. He saw guarded sect banners fluttering above distant rooftops and the subtle tension in the way people lowered their voices when cultivators passed. This was a lower realm city, one where strength ruled quietly but absolutely. Bo's expression remained composed as understanding settled in his heart. This world was fragile, constrained, and struggling, yet it was here that his path would continue.
After nearly an hour of wandering through the city, Bo Mile slowed to a stop. His eyes had caught a familiar pattern fluttering weakly above a narrow street tucked away in an obscure corner of Myriad City. The banner was faded and frayed, its fabric thinned by age and neglect, yet the emblem upon it was unmistakable. The Mile Clan. It hung above a weathered mansion with cracked stone walls and a sagging gate, a shadow of grandeur long since lost. Bo stood in silence, staring at the worn banner bearing his family's name, a quiet heaviness settling in his chest as he realized that fate had not brought him here by chance.
Bo Mile stepped toward the manor and pushed open the creaking gates, their hinges protesting softly as they swung inward. Inside the courtyard, a small group was gathered, moving in deliberate, practiced motions. An elderly couple guided their blades with steady restraint, their forms precise despite their age. Nearby, a middle-aged man and woman practiced in tandem, correcting each other's stances with quiet murmurs. Two youths, no older than thirteen and fifteen, followed behind them, their movements earnest but unrefined, sweat dampening their hair as they repeated the same sword techniques again and again. The courtyard was simple and worn, yet the air carried a stubborn resolve, as if this place refused to let its spirit fade.
The instant Bo Mile stepped fully into the courtyard, every sword came to a halt. The elderly couple straightened, the middle-aged pair instinctively shifting in front of the two youths, their hands tightening around their hilts. Yet no killing intent rose, no fear or hostility followed. Instead, an unexplainable sense of familiarity settled over them all, as if the presence before them belonged there. Bo felt it as well, a quiet resonance tugging at something deep within his blood. He met their gazes calmly and spoke, his voice steady. "You are my family members?"
Silence stretched across the courtyard. The elderly man was the first to lower his sword, his eyes fixed on Bo's face as if searching through layers of time. His hand trembled faintly, not from fear, but from something closer to disbelief. The middle-aged woman drew in a slow breath, her expression softening as the strange sense of kinship deepened. Even the two youths felt it, their unease fading into quiet curiosity. At last, the elderly man spoke, his voice rough but sincere. "I do not know who you are, young cultivator... but when you stepped through those gates, it felt as though one of our own had finally returned."
One of the youths, the boy, suddenly spoke up, his eyes bright with sudden realization. "Grandpa, the painting in the ancestral hall. Remember?" The elderly man froze for a heartbeat, then his eyes widened as memory surfaced. "Ah... yes." He turned toward Bo Mile, studying him with renewed intensity before nodding slowly. "Young cultivator, follow me." Without another word, he sheathed his sword and began walking toward the mansion. The others exchanged glances, then followed in silence, their steps carrying them through the worn halls and toward the ancestral hall where the Mile Clan's past quietly endured.
When they entered the ancestral hall, Bo Mile's steps came to an abrupt halt. His gaze locked onto the mural dominating the far wall, and his breath stilled. The figure depicted there was unmistakable. The first patriarch of the Mile Clan. The features, the bearing, even the sword intent carved into the strokes of paint were identical to those recorded in his own clan's history. Yet the scene was wrong. The mural showed the patriarch tumbling through a raging vortex, his form stretched toward another world, light and darkness tearing around him as he fell from this realm into an unknown beyond. Bo stared in disbelief, the realization striking him with quiet force. This was not coincidence.
The elderly man broke the silence, his voice low as he faced the mural. "Over four hundred years ago, during the realm war of that era, our clan leader fell through a vortex much like the one depicted here. He was the most powerful cultivator our Mile Clan had ever produced, one who had reached the Ascendant stage." His expression dimmed as he continued. "After his disappearance, the clan began to decline. With each generation, fewer were able to advance. Golden Core cultivators became rare, and those beyond it vanished entirely." He turned to Bo, his gaze searching, filled with both hope and uncertainty. "It would seem you are his descendant... but from that other world?"
Bo Mile continued to stare at the mural as fragments of history aligned in his mind. In his world, the first patriarch was said to have appeared without warning during a great battle, descending like a divine blade from the heavens. He had ended the war in a single campaign, forged a new empire from the ashes, and established the Mile Clan as a supreme force. No one had ever known where he came from. Now the truth revealed itself with quiet clarity. That sudden appearance had not been a miracle, but a crossing. The patriarch had been torn from this very world and cast into Bo's. The Mile Clan had not begun there at all. It had begun here. The people standing behind him, worn yet unbroken, were not strangers. They were his ancestral kin, bound to him by blood, fate, and a history that had come full circle.
The moment the realization settled, the elderly couple were the first to move. They stepped forward together, then lowered themselves to their knees, bowing deeply. The middle-aged couple followed without hesitation, pulling the two youths gently down with them. Their foreheads touched the cold stone floor as one voice spoke, firm and reverent. "We welcome the return of the patriarch's lineage. We greet the young master." The words echoed softly through the ancestral hall. Though this was a different world, the truth was undeniable. Blood and inheritance did not change across realms. Bo Mile stood before them as he always had been. The young master of the Mile Clan.
Bo Mile stepped forward and raised his hand gently. "Rise," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Tell me your names." The elderly man was the first to stand, bowing once more before speaking. "This one is Mile Ren." Beside him, the elderly woman followed, her expression warm. "I am Mile Hua." The middle-aged man straightened next, placing a fist to his chest. "Mile Chen." His wife inclined her head respectfully. "Mile Lian." Finally, the two youths stepped forward, eyes bright with nervous excitement. The older boy spoke first. "I am Mile Jun." The younger followed quickly. "And I am Mile Tao."
Bo Mile inclined his head slightly in return. "My name is Bo Mile," he said evenly. "In my world, names are spoken in reverse. The given name comes first, followed by the family name. It seems that here, things are a little different." A faint pause followed as he took in their faces once more, the unfamiliar yet familiar weight of kinship settling between them. Then he continued, his tone steady and direct. "Tell me what this world is like."
Mile Ren led them into the main hall, its interior simple yet carefully maintained, the traces of former prestige lingering in carved pillars and faded floor patterns. Once everyone was seated, he spoke slowly, each word carrying the weight of centuries. "Over the past four hundred years, the upper realms have stripped the lower realms bare. Every treasure, every spirit mine, every spirit vein they could seize was occupied and redirected upward. The lower realms were left parched, starved of spiritual energy and cultivation resources." His eyes darkened as he continued. "If not for a single permanent and immovable natural vein of spiritual energy, one formed by the laws of this world itself, the lower realms would already be barren, unable to produce cultivators at all."
He drew a quiet breath before going on. "The lower realms are made up of three realms together known as the Mortal Realms. For four centuries, we have tried to rebuild our strength, hoping to reclaim sovereignty and independence from the upper realms. But it has not been easy." His gaze swept the room before settling on Bo. "The Mile Clan could no longer compete. Other clans are supported by major families from the upper realms, while we stand alone. Myriad City is the only place we remain, with no allies to rely on. Many branches have already died out. Others refused to marry into a declining clan." His voice softened at the end. "This is all that is left of us."
Bo Mile nodded slowly, then asked, "So Myriad City is ours?" Mile Ren hesitated for only a moment before answering. "Yes. It was built two hundred years ago as a refuge for cultivators rejected by other clans and academies. Those without background, those unable to travel to the upper realms, they come here to trade, to live, and to cultivate in safety." His voice carried a trace of pride. "Powerful formations surround the city. Anyone below the Martial Lord stage cannot break in by force. It is the only place where those without great backing can survive in peace."
His expression soon grew weary. "But safety breeds pressure. Over the years, many factions have formed within the city, each with their own ambitions. Some plot to overthrow us. We cannot truly blame them." He looked down at his hands. "Our numbers continue to decline. I am already one hundred seventy years old, yet I have been stuck at the Foundation Establishment stage for eighty years. Maintaining the formation grows harder with each passing year." Mile Ren lifted his gaze to Bo, resignation clear in his eyes. "Perhaps it would be best to hand over the city before we lose control of it entirely."
Bo Mile shook his head gently. "No," he said, his voice calm yet absolute. "I shall revitalize this clan. Worry not. Myriad City will remain with us and shall become a rising power within the Mortal Realms. As for those in the upper realms, their time will come." The words settled over the hall with quiet force, stirring something long dormant in every heart present.
He reached into his pouch and withdrew a small jade bottle, placing it into Mile Ren's trembling hands. Inside rested a three patterned breakthrough pill, its surface marked with flowing lines of condensed spiritual intent. "Go into seclusion and cultivate," Bo said. "With this pill, you will break through the Golden Core stage. If your foundation holds, you may even reach the mid stage." Mile Ren stared at the pill in disbelief, his breath unsteady. Bo turned his gaze toward the hall and the clan beyond it. "In the meantime, I will restore the Mile Clan."
Over the course of the following month, the Mile mansion was transformed piece by piece. Cracked walls were torn down and rebuilt, roofs were reforged with reinforced spirit wood, and the neglected courtyards were cleared of weeds and debris. Bo Mile supplied everything without hesitation, gold flowing as freely as water, spirit stones stacked like ordinary pebbles. Craftsmen from Myriad City were hired, then dismissed once their work was complete, leaving behind a structure that no longer resembled a declining clan residence, but the foundation of something formidable.
While the physical renovations progressed, Bo turned his focus to what truly mattered. At night, when the city grew quiet, he moved through the mansion's grounds, carving formation lines into stone, soil, and hidden pillars with precise movements of his sword. A Spirit Gathering formation took shape first, drawing the thin spiritual energy of the Mortal Realms inward and condensing it into a steady flow. Beneath it, layered and interlocked, he established a defensive formation capable of withstanding sustained attacks, followed by a sword striking formation that could unleash condensed sword Qi upon any intruder with merciless accuracy.
The final formation was one rarely seen even in the upper realms. Using rare materials from his pouch, Bo constructed an Imperial Soldier Spiritual Puppet formation, embedding control arrays deep beneath the mansion. Once complete, spectral armored figures could be summoned to defend the grounds, each carrying the aura of a disciplined battlefield force. By the end of the month, the Mile mansion stood reborn, its spiritual energy thick and vibrant, humming quietly beneath the surface. What had once been a fading remnant was now a fortified stronghold, and the first step toward the Mile Clan's resurgence had been completed.
The newly renovated main hall of the Mile Mansion was quiet, its air thick with refined spiritual energy drawn in by the formations Bo Mile had laid. Sunlight filtered through carved windows, illuminating polished stone floors and pillars etched with fresh clan markings. Bo sat at the head of the hall, listening as Mile Tao stood before him, his posture straight despite his youth. The boy's expression was serious, far removed from the nervousness he had shown before.
"Myriad City may bear the Mile Clan's name as its ruler," Mile Tao began, "but in truth, we are only figureheads." He hesitated briefly before continuing. "For many years now, the Myriad Court has operated without our involvement. City officials no longer report to us directly, and major decisions are made without seeking our approval. We maintain the formations and the city's safety, but beyond that, our authority is largely ignored."
Mile Tao took a steady breath. "Power within the city has been divided among four clans. The Wei Clan controls trade and spirit stone circulation. The Han Clan commands the city guard and private militias. The Luo Clan oversees pill refining and medical resources. The Qiao Clan manages information, contracts, and covert dealings." His gaze lifted to meet Bo's. "Together, they have monopolized Myriad City's economy, military strength, and political influence. Though they acknowledge us publicly, in practice, the Mile Clan no longer governs."
Bo Mile nodded once, his expression unreadable. "Then we will begin with a grand banquet," he said calmly. "Invite the four clans to the mansion. We will host them properly and announce the revitalization of the Mile Clan." The words were simple, yet they carried an unmistakable weight, as if the course of Myriad City had already begun to shift.
Mile Tao blinked, momentarily caught off guard. He did not fully understand what the young master intended, nor how a banquet alone could change years of imbalance. Yet as he looked at Bo, standing beneath the renewed banners of the clan, doubt never surfaced. He believed in him. In his strategy, and in the quiet confidence that seemed to bend the air itself. Tao straightened and bowed deeply. "At once, young master."
Mile Tao departed at once, his steps light despite the gravity of the task ahead. Messengers were dispatched throughout Myriad City, each carrying sealed invitations bearing the restored emblem of the Mile Clan. Word spread quickly. A banquet at the Mile Mansion, hosted by the long silent rulers of the city, was not a small matter. Merchants paused mid transaction, guards exchanged wary glances, and clan elders frowned in quiet contemplation. The Mile Clan had not made a public move in decades, and this sudden display of confidence unsettled the balance that had grown comfortable in their absence.
Alone in the main hall, Bo Mile remained seated, his gaze drifting toward the high ceiling where formation lines pulsed faintly beneath the stone. A banquet was never just a meal. It was a stage. Those who arrived would measure him, test him, and seek to uncover his intent. Bo welcomed it. Myriad City had grown accustomed to treating the Mile Clan as relics of the past. Soon, they would be reminded of why this city had been built under the Mile name in the first place.
In his own world, Bo Mile had never been a stranger to authority. He was born the young master of the Mile Clan and had governed two cities in his lifetime, learning early how power truly functioned beyond cultivation alone. By the time of his separation from his family, he had long since reached the Golden Core stage and stood at its very peak. Though his appearance remained that of an eighteen year old, Bo was more than three hundred years old, far older than Mile Ren and his wife. He understood governance, negotiation, suppression, and reward. Cities were not ruled by strength alone, but by balance, pressure, and timing. Reclaiming one's rightful place required patience as much as decisiveness, and Bo had mastered both.
His Immortal Body and the cultivation sea of an Immortal did not mean he possessed the full might of an Immortal. Yet they gave him something far more dangerous in the Mortal Realms. As a peak Golden Core cultivator, his raw power already rivaled that of an Ascendant. No weapon below Immortal grade could harm him, and no force produced by anyone beneath the Immortal stage could pose a true threat. These were not boasts, but immutable truths written into his constitution. Bo understood this clearly, and he intended to use it without hesitation. In the Mortal Realms, where strength dictated order and fear shaped obedience, such an advantage was absolute.
Bo Mile wasted no time. Within the day, the Mile Vault was opened and filled to the brim, gold, silver, and copper stacked in orderly rows, spirit stones piled so densely that spiritual energy leaked into the air. Mile Lian stood frozen at the entrance, her composure shaken for the first time. Bo turned to her and spoke with calm authority. "From this moment on, you are the clan's Chief of Staff. You will oversee all preparations for the banquet to be held in one month. Use whatever resources you require from the vault to fulfill your duties." Lian bowed deeply, her expression firm as resolve replaced shock.
Bo then faced Mile Chen. "You will take charge of clan law enforcement. Govern internal affairs alongside your wife. Order must be absolute within the Mile Clan." Chen responded without hesitation, bowing with a clenched fist. Turning to the two youths, Bo handed each of them a jade slip and sealed pill vials. "These are sword art manuals and breakthrough pills. Go into seclusion. Reach the Foundation Establishment stage before the banquet." Mile Jun and Mile Tao accepted them with trembling hands, their eyes burning with determination. With the arrangements made, Bo turned toward the gates of the mansion. "While you prepare," he said evenly, "I will recruit cultivators for the clan."
Bo Mile's search led him beyond the central streets of Myriad City and into the Eli District, a place known for having the densest concentration of cultivators in the entire city. Stone markers stood at every entrance, warning non cultivators to turn back for their own safety. Within the district, cultivation techniques were practiced openly in courtyards and alleys alike, sword Qi flashed without restraint, and clashes erupted as naturally as conversation. It was a place where strength was tested daily, where disputes were settled by the blade, and where those who survived grew sharper with every encounter.
Bo Mile moved through the Eli District without drawing attention to himself, his presence calm amid the constant undercurrent of aggression. Cultivators sparred openly, their techniques crude yet fierce, while others bartered for manuals, pills, and weapons in makeshift stalls. The air was thick with mixed Qi, unstable and violent, carrying the residue of countless breakthroughs and failed attempts. Here, ambition burned openly. Those who walked these streets either sought power desperately or had nowhere else to go.
As Bo observed them, he began to understand why this district existed. These cultivators were not weak, but they were unwanted. Without backing from major clans or sects, they were denied entry into academies and pushed aside by those with influence. Fights broke out not merely from hostility, but from survival. Bo's gaze sharpened. This was exactly the kind of place where loyalty could be earned rather than bought, and where the Mile Clan could find blades hungry enough to carve a new future.
Bo Mile made his way toward the heart of the Eli District, where the noise of clashing techniques and raised voices gradually converged into a single, thunderous roar. At the district's center stood a massive circular arena, its stone walls rising layer upon layer into the sky. Weathered arches lined its outer structure, each carved with scars from countless battles fought within. The arena's design echoed something ancient and brutal, its tiered seating enclosing the battlefield like a ring of judgment, allowing thousands to watch cultivators test their strength beneath open skies.
Inside, the ground was reinforced with formation etched stone, cracked and mended so many times it bore the history of every duel it had endured. Flags of various factions hung from the upper levels, while independent cultivators packed the lower tiers, shouting wagers and challenges. Sword Qi flared like flashes of lightning across the arena floor as combatants exchanged techniques meant to be seen and feared. Bo stood at the entrance for a moment, his eyes sweeping over the scene. This was where reputations were forged and broken in a single bout, and it was here that he hoped to find individuals worthy of standing beneath the banner of the Mile Clan.
As Bo Mile observed the arena more closely, a quiet realization took hold. Every cultivator he had passed through the Eli District, and nearly every one fighting within the arena, wielded a sword. Blades of all shapes and grades flashed across the battlefield, their techniques crude or refined, but unmistakably rooted in sword cultivation. Myriad City was not merely a refuge for the discarded. It was a sword haven. The thought lingered in Bo's mind, something to be remembered and cultivated further. Without drawing attention, he ascended the stone steps and took a seat on the third floor balcony. Above him, a faded banner bearing the Mile Clan emblem hung motionless. Bo sat directly beneath it, his presence calm and deliberate, as he began to watch.
Nearly two hours passed before the rhythm of the arena shifted. A hush spread as a cultivator in light blue robes stepped onto the central platform. Two swords were crossed upon his back, their hilts worn smooth from use, and the aura he released marked him clearly at the mid stage of Foundation Establishment. His gaze swept across the stands before he spoke, his voice carrying easily through the arena. "If anyone here can knock me off this platform, I will become their follower for life." Murmurs erupted at once. It was a reckless vow, one that bound pride and fate together. High above, Bo Mile's eyes narrowed. This was no empty bravado. It was an offer he could not decline.
Without hesitation, Bo rose from his seat. The emerald blade left his back in a blur, spinning through the air before embedding itself cleanly into the stone platform below. The sound rang out, sharp and clear, silencing the crowd. In the next breath, Bo leapt from the third floor balcony, descending like a falling star. He landed with one foot atop the sword's hilt, balanced effortlessly, his robes settling as if untouched by gravity. His gaze met the challenger's, calm and unwavering. "Let us begin."
The moment the duel began, sword Qi flooded the platform. The cultivator in blue moved first, drawing both blades in a smooth, practiced motion as arcs of light tore through the air. His footwork was swift and disciplined, his strikes relentless, each technique layered upon the last with surprising refinement. Bo Mile met every attack calmly, stepping aside by inches, parrying with minimal motion, his emerald blade humming softly as it redirected force rather than meeting it head on. To the onlookers, it appeared as though Bo was barely keeping pace, yet the challenger felt it clearly. Every exchange pushed him to draw deeper, to sharpen his intent, to fight at the peak of his ability.
As the battle continued, the arena grew louder. Sword techniques clashed again and again, sending shockwaves rippling through the formation reinforced stone. The cultivator unleashed everything he had, combining speed and power in a desperate attempt to overwhelm Bo. Sweat soaked his robes, his breathing grew ragged, yet his eyes burned with fierce resolve. Bo gave ground when needed, allowed blows to graze past, and answered only enough to keep the duel alive. It was not dominance he displayed, but control, as though he were shaping the battle itself, drawing out every hidden ounce of potential from his opponent.
At last, Bo stepped back and lowered his sword slightly. "Now it is your turn to defend," he said quietly. The air changed. With a single motion, Bo invoked Thousand Blade Fall. Above the platform, countless sword phantoms formed, dense and overlapping, their edges screaming as they descended like a collapsing sky. The cultivator braced himself, pouring everything into his defenses, his blades crossed as barriers shattered one after another. Just before the storm could strike him, the blades dissolved into nothingness. The pressure vanished, leaving silence in its wake. The cultivator stood frozen, unharmed, his defenses broken, his understanding complete.
The cultivator in blue lowered his swords and exhaled slowly before dropping to one knee. He bowed deeply, his head lowered in sincere acknowledgment. "I admit defeat," he said without hesitation. "My name is Yoon. Just Yoon." There was no bitterness in his voice, only respect, the kind born from having one's limits clearly shown.
Bo Mile nodded once and stepped off the platform, gesturing toward the arena exit. "Follow me." The crowd parted instinctively as they walked, murmurs trailing in their wake. As they passed beneath the stone arches, Bo spoke calmly. "I am Bo Mile, the young master of the Mile Clan. Welcome to our collective."
Yoon's steps faltered for just a heartbeat. His eyes widened slightly as the name settled in his mind. The Mile Clan. Among cultivators without backing from the great families, it was a name spoken with a mix of reverence and disbelief. The legendary founders of Myriad City. The rulers who built the only safe haven in the Mortal Realms for those cast aside by the upper realms. To most, the Mile Clan was a relic of the past, powerful yet distant, their influence reduced to stories and banners. To be acknowledged by them, to be accepted, meant more than protection. It meant belonging. Yoon straightened, his resolve hardening as he followed Bo, fully aware that his fate had just changed.
Bo slowed his pace as they reached the outer streets and spoke without turning. "Within the Mile Clan, you will not serve as an ordinary guard. You will become a Mile Guardian." Yoon's breath caught as Bo continued. "It is a position that stands above the city guard. A Guardian protects the clan's interests, its people, and its authority. Loyalty is absolute, and in return, the clan stands behind you without reservation." Bo flicked his wrist, and a small token arced through the air. Yoon caught it instinctively. The front bore the Mile Clan emblem, clean and unmistakable. On the back, a single character was etched with sharp precision. Guardian. Without another word, Bo led him beyond the city gates, the path ahead signaling that Yoon's role would not be confined to Myriad City alone.
As they passed through the outer roads beyond Myriad City, Bo's gaze settled on a familiar figure guiding a carriage along the stone path. It was the same driver from a month before, his posture straighter now, his clothes cleaner, though the surprise in his eyes was unmistakable when he recognized Bo. Bo raised a hand and called out calmly, hiring him without negotiation. The driver bowed repeatedly, gratitude written across his face as he turned the carriage toward the forested road leading away from the city.
Once they were underway, Bo turned to Yoon. "We will be hunting spirit beasts," he said simply. "The Mile Clan needs resources, and you need tempering." The forest loomed ahead, dense and alive with spiritual presence, far more dangerous than the city's borders. Yoon tightened his grip on his swords, understanding immediately. This was not a task meant only to gather materials. It was his first trial as a Mile Guardian.
Bo Mile glanced toward the driver and spoke with mild amusement. "Last time you were carrying cotton. Now you have a passenger carriage. Impressive." The driver turned, a wide grin spreading across his face as he guided the reins. "It's thanks to you, young master. The gold nugget you gave me allowed me to buy new horses and a proper passenger sedan." He hesitated, then laughed softly. "I've been wandering outside the city for quite some time now, hoping I might run into you again. Just in case you needed a ride somewhere. And so, here we are."