The Southern Swamps were exactly as Yan Shuo remembered them: humid, foul-smelling, and completely miserable.
Thick, toxic green fog hung over the bubbling mud pits, obscuring the twisted, dead trees that clawed at the sky like skeletal hands. Normally, no sane cultivator would ever set foot in this desolate wasteland.
Today, however, the edge of the swamp looked like a grand festival.
Massive floating pavilions made of white jade and gold hovered just outside the toxic zone. Thousands of elite disciples from the Central Continent's top sects milled about, their colorful robes gleaming in the harsh sunlight. At the center of it all was a massive, swirling vortex of dark purple energy—the entrance to the newly unearthed Mystic Realm.
When the Azure Sword Sect's flying ship finally descended, the noisy chatter of the massive encampment instantly died.
Thousands of eyes locked onto the ship's deck.
The rumors had spread like wildfire over the past few days. The untouchable, majestic Saintess Tantai Zhi had taken a husband. And not just any husband—a fifteen-year-old former cripple who was entirely relying on her power to survive. The young geniuses of the Righteous Alliance were practically vibrating with a mix of intense jealousy and deep, burning contempt.
Yan Shuo stepped off the ship, casually fanning himself with a folded paper fan. He wore a simple, elegant set of white and silver robes. He looked completely relaxed, like a young noble arriving at a spring banquet rather than a deadly trial.
Right beside him, clinging tightly to his arm, was Tantai Zhi.
The moment she stepped off the ship, her terrifying, world-ending spiritual pressure blanketed the encampment. Several weaker disciples in the crowd immediately collapsed to their knees, gasping for air as if a mountain had been dropped on their chests.
Tantai Zhi completely ignored them. She was entirely focused on adjusting Yan Shuo's collar.
"Husband, it is very damp here," she murmured, her golden eyes swirling with worry. She brushed a speck of invisible dust off his shoulder. "Are you sure you don't want me to just carve the ruin out of the ground and bring the treasures back to our courtyard? You might get your boots muddy."
A collective, silent gasp rippled through the observing sect elders. Carve the ruin out of the ground?! The sheer arrogance of the statement was mind-numbing, but the truly terrifying part was that nobody doubted she could actually do it.
"I'll be fine, Wife," Yan Shuo chuckled, gently catching her hand. "A little mud builds character. Besides, you packed enough supplies in my storage ring to last a decade."
"I only packed the essentials," she insisted, her bottom lip jutting out in a slight pout. "Three sets of divine-grade defensive armor, a hundred high-tier healing pills, the premium lotus tea, the silk cushions, and a teleportation jade. If anyone even looks at you with killing intent, crush the jade. I will shatter the realm's barrier and slaughter every living thing inside to get you out."
She didn't lower her voice. The promise of absolute, unhinged mass murder echoed clearly across the swamp.
The Righteous Alliance elders standing near the portal exchanged deeply nervous glances. Their plan was to let their disciples kill Yan Shuo inside the ruin, but if the boy crushed that jade slip before he died, this crazy woman would literally cause an apocalypse.
Yan Shuo patted her head affectionately. "I promise I'll be careful. Just wait here and enjoy the view."
Tantai Zhi sighed heavily, reluctantly letting go of his arm. She looked like a wife sending her mortal husband off to war, completely blind to the fact that Yan Shuo's Foundation Establishment aura was currently purer and denser than any of the "geniuses" in the crowd.
Yan Shuo turned and walked toward the swirling purple vortex.
As he approached, he could feel the burning glares of the Righteous Alliance disciples. They were sneering, whispering insults behind their hands, gripping their swords in anticipation. They were just waiting for him to step across that threshold, away from his terrifying protector.
A Righteous Alliance elder, holding a glowing registry jade, stepped forward to block Yan Shuo's path.
"Name and cultivation level," the elder barked, his eyes filled with thinly veiled disdain.
"Yan Shuo. Azure Sword Sect. Early Stage Foundation Establishment," Yan Shuo replied politely, snapping his paper fan shut.
The elder scanned him with a brief pulse of spiritual sense, ensuring he wasn't secretly a Core Formation master in disguise. The array over the portal would violently reject anyone above the limit.
"Hmph. You meet the requirements," the elder sneered, stepping aside. "Enter. And remember, the Alliance is not responsible for any... unfortunate accidents that occur within the ruin."
Yan Shuo gave the old man a bright, knowing smile. "Don't worry. I excel at avoiding accidents."
Without another word, Yan Shuo stepped into the purple vortex.
The world twisted. The noise of the encampment, the oppressive gaze of the elders, and the terrifying safety net of his wife's aura vanished in an instant.
He felt the familiar, slightly nauseating pull of spatial teleportation, and a second later, his boots hit solid, damp stone.
Yan Shuo opened his eyes.
He was standing in a massive, dimly lit underground cavern. The walls were made of dark, polished obsidian, glowing faintly with ancient, intricate array lines. The air was incredibly stale, smelling of old dust and dried blood. Thick stone pillars stretched up into the darkness above, and in the distance, the faint sound of dripping water echoed through the eerie silence.
This was the entrance hall of the Mystic Realm.
Normally, teleportation arrays into ancient ruins were designed to scatter the participants randomly across the outer layer to prevent immediate bloodbaths. Yan Shuo had expected to arrive alone.
But as the purple light of the teleportation faded around him, he realized he wasn't alone at all.
Five figures materialized from the shadows of the obsidian pillars, slowly forming a circle around him.
They wore the pristine white and silver robes of the Righteous Alliance's elite inner sect. Each of them radiated the sharp, aggressive aura of the Late Stage Foundation Establishment Realm.
The leader of the group, a tall young man with a nasty scar across his chin, stepped forward. He was holding a small, glowing compass that was vibrating softly in his palm.
"The tethering compass worked perfectly," the scarred youth grinned, pocketing the artifact. "I told you the elder would tag him during the scan."
Yan Shuo sighed. A tethering compass. It was a sneaky, underhanded tool used to force a group to teleport to the exact same coordinates as a specific target. The Righteous Alliance really wasn't taking any chances. They wanted him dead the moment he stepped out of his wife's sight.
"Yan Shuo, wasn't it?" the scarred youth sneered, drawing a heavy, jagged broadsword from his back. "The famous soft-rice king of the Azure Sword Sect. You look a lot less arrogant without that demonic woman standing behind you."
The other four disciples drew their weapons, their faces twisting into cruel, mocking smiles.
"Hand over the storage ring," one of the disciples demanded, pointing his spear at Yan Shuo's chest. "We heard her list all the treasures she packed for you. Give us the ring, cripple your own dantian, and maybe we'll let you crawl around the outer layer until the trial ends. If you resist, we'll chop you into pieces and feed you to the swamp beasts."
Yan Shuo didn't draw a weapon. He didn't take a fighting stance. He just stood there, his hands resting casually inside the wide sleeves of his white robes.
He looked around the dark, oppressive cavern. He looked at the glowing array lines on the obsidian walls. Then, he looked at the five "geniuses" surrounding him.
In his past life, when he was fighting his way up from the bottom, an ambush by five Late Stage experts would have meant a brutal, bloody fight for his life. He would have had to burn his life essence, rely on dirty tricks, and escape by the skin of his teeth.
But right now? With a completely flawless foundation fueled by a Supreme-Grade pill, and a century of combat experience locked in his brain?
This wasn't an ambush. This was pest control.
"You know," Yan Shuo said calmly, his voice echoing smoothly off the cavern walls. "My wife told me to crush a jade slip if anyone looked at me with killing intent. If I do that, she's going to come in here and turn all of you into a fine red mist."
The scarred youth laughed harshly. "Bluffing won't save you! This space is completely sealed by an ancient array! Even a Nascent Soul grandmaster couldn't break in!"
"I'm not bluffing to save myself," Yan Shuo smiled. It was a lazy, incredibly dangerous smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I'm just trying to decide if I want to deal with the noise of her breaking the ceiling, or if I should just take out the trash myself."
The disciples' faces flushed with rage. The sheer disrespect from a kid they viewed as a worthless toy was too much to bear.
"Kill him!" the scarred youth roared, his broadsword erupting in a blaze of fiery Qi. "Take his head!"
The five elite disciples launched themselves at Yan Shuo simultaneously, their killing intent locking onto him from all directions. Spears, swords, and blazing elemental attacks converged on the spot where he stood.
Yan Shuo didn't retreat.
He simply took his right hand out of his sleeve.
He didn't need a sword. He didn't need a fancy martial art. His golden Foundation Establishment Qi flared to life, dense and heavy as liquid gold. He channeled a century of pure, concentrated battle instinct into a single, terrifyingly simple movement.
He stepped forward, slipping through the fiery arc of the broadsword like a ghost, and casually slapped the scarred youth across the face.
CRACK!
The sound of shattering bone echoed like a gunshot.
The Late Stage genius didn't even have time to register the pain. The sheer, overwhelming force of Yan Shuo's golden Qi bypassed his defensive aura completely, snapping his neck and sending his body flying across the cavern like a broken ragdoll. He smashed into an obsidian pillar and slid to the ground, completely unconscious.
The remaining four disciples froze mid-attack, their weapons trembling in the air.
Their leader, a seasoned veteran of the inner sect, had just been swatted away like an annoying mosquito. By a kid who broke through to Foundation Establishment yesterday.
Yan Shuo slowly pulled a pristine white handkerchief from his sleeve and wiped his palm.
"Now then," Yan Shuo murmured, his veteran eyes locking onto the terrified survivors. The gentle, lazy husband was gone. The Demon Lord had clocked in. "Who's next?"