Wolong Ridge,
Nine Prisons Secret Realm — Third Prison Gate, City of Emperor Song.
Nie Changqing emerged from the Rebirth Pool, purple spirit crystals crumbling into lifeless dust around him. Energy coursed through his flesh and bones; his spine thrummed with newfound power under the baptism of violet light. Above his head, the Dragon-Slaying Blade hovered silently, while beads of sweat slid down his skin and vanished into the water.
“Eight Extremes Heavenly Lock… complete.”
He rose, water cascading from his body. Clenching his fist, he felt the terrifying strength now sealed within his frame.
“With this, I finally have the qualifications to challenge a Nascent Soul cultivator.”
His blade intent was no weaker than most, and unlike ordinary Golden Core cultivators, the Heavenly Lock realm only grew more ferocious the further one progressed. Eight locks alone could suppress even a Ninth Revolution Golden Core.
Still, he exhaled slowly.
“Too slow. I need to reach Nascent Soul as quickly as possible… and comprehend my Dao Intent.”
He donned his robes, slung the Dragon-Slaying Blade at his waist, and strode out of Emperor Song City without looking back.
This was the City of the Dead — the Third Prison Gate.
Only four people in the entire world had ever reached this far: Overlord, Nie Changqing, Zhong Nan, and Feng Yilou.
Li Sansi, ranked second on the Mortal List, remained as elusive as ever.
Nie Changqing tightened his grip on the hilt.
“Onward — to the Fourth Gate.”
He walked the pristine official road while bewildered souls drifted past like smoke. Yin enforcers patrolled the streets, each one radiating pressure comparable to a Ninth Revolution Golden Core. As for the city lords—the Ghost Kings—Nie Changqing didn’t even want to think about them. Nascent Soul was the baseline; some were monsters among monsters. Fortunately, they rarely showed themselves.
He left the city and pressed forward, ignoring the cataclysmic battle currently shaking the outside world.
Dongyan River.
A duel that had drawn every eye in the Tianyuan Domain.
Months had passed since the latest Mortal List was released. The rankings beyond the top ten shifted constantly, but the top ten remained carved in stone. Feng Yilou’s crushing defeat at Li Sansi’s hands had already shaken the cultivation world to its core.
Now, all hope rested on Zhong Nan versus Overlord.
By rights, Zhong Nan should have challenged the second-ranked Li Sansi. Instead, the prideful former number one skipped straight to the top — to Overlord himself. After months of silent endurance, Zhong Nan had perfected his Ninth Revolution Golden Core and stood half a step from Nascent Soul. He wanted to use Overlord’s pressure to force his breakthrough.
The Western Prefecture burned with anticipation.
In the dense forest beyond the Dongyan River, cultivators perched on branches or leaned against trunks, breath held as they watched the torrent below.
A lone figure stood calmly atop the raging water, hugging a plain saber — Zhong Nan.
Xiang Family soldiers glared from the banks. Western Liang iron cavalry ringed the perimeter like unsheathed blades.
Feng Yilou crouched on a branch, purple robes fluttering. The arrogance in his eyes had dimmed since his near-death experience.
“Think Zhong Nan can win?” Xiao Yue’er asked, brows knitted.
Feng Yilou shook his head. “If he doesn’t break through during this fight, he loses. Overlord sits ahead of that monster Li Sansi for a reason.”
A sudden hush fell across the forest.
He had arrived.
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Clad in heavy armor and a cold helm, carrying axe and shield on his back, Overlord stepped forward. Each footfall seemed to quake the earth. The moment he appeared, the Xiang Family troops roared themselves scarlet, brandishing halberds and swords in frenzied salute.
Zhong Nan’s eyes snapped open, blazing. He drew his saber and pointed it across the waves.
“Fight!”
He charged across the water, each step sending plumes dozens of meters high.
Overlord’s eyes narrowed.
BOOM!
The riverbank exploded beneath his leap. Water erupted in a perfect ring as the armored titan crashed into the current. Zhong Nan cleaved straight through the tidal wall, saber intent surging like a storm tide toward his foe.
---
Northern Prefecture,
Foot of Mount Tai, Great Xuan Academy.
Dantai Xuan strolled in casual robes, hands clasped behind his back. Mo Ju and Mo Beike followed at a leisurely pace.
On the training field, Jiang Li — clad in silver armor — drilled the academy disciples with relentless precision.
“Grandmaster,” Dantai Xuan said, “you haven’t forgotten the wager with White Jade Capital, have you?”
Mo Beike, wrapped in thick furs, chuckled beneath heavy eyelids. “How could I?”
“A full year has passed already,” Dantai Xuan sighed.
“It’s time to select our finest disciple to honor that bet.”
His expression grew solemn. This duel would validate everything the Great Xuan Kingdom had poured into the academy.
He gazed at the youthful, vigorous disciples and felt warmth in his eyes. He had watched them grow, had poured countless spirit stones into their future — not just for the wager, but for the kingdom itself.
“Mo Ju,” he asked, “among the students you assess daily, has anyone truly caught your eye?”
Mo Ju waved his feather fan, a rare smile lifting his lips. “One.”
“A youth brought here from a tiny fishing village in Dongyang Prefecture… half a year ago, he had zero cultivation. Today he stands at the peak of the Fifth Internal Organ Realm. A genius rarely seen in this world.”
Dantai Xuan froze. “Half a year… from nothing to peak Internal Organs?”
Mo Ju’s smile widened at the emperor’s shock. “The boy learns as though he was born for the Dao. One hint, and he masters it.”
Mo Beike chuckled knowingly.
Dantai Xuan’s interest was thoroughly piqued. “His name?”
“Lu Jiulian.”
---
High above the continent, a scream tore through the sky.
A tiny black dot grew larger and larger until—
“The Young Master’s pettiness has evolved again! His heart-eye is smaller than a sesame seed now!”
Ni Yu’s indignant wail echoed as she plummeted.
Little Yinglong cackled without a care in the world — he could fly, after all.
With a flick of his finger, Lu Pan had launched Ni Yu clear across the vast sea.
She flipped mid-air, yanked out her black wok, and used it as a landing shield.
BOOM!
Smoke and dirt exploded through the forest.
Even with the wok cushioning the impact, Ni Yu felt her backside bloom into a firework of pain.
Crawling out, she rubbed her aching rear and muttered about the Young Master’s tiny, vindictive heart.
She stood — butt still stuck out — when the sound of breaking branches reached her ears.
Several shadowy figures landed lightly on the surrounding branches.
“A little girl?”
“I saw her fall from the sky with my own eyes!”
Ni Yu ignored them, fished out a sugar-coated Body Tempering Pill from her pouch, and crunched it like candy. Spiritual energy flooded her bruised backside, easing the pain.
Little Yinglong landed on her head, staring in betrayal.
Wasn’t that supposed to be the very last sugar-coated one?!
“Spirit pill?!”
“That aura… top-grade!”
“Look at that wok — it’s glowing with treasure light! At least a third-grade artifact, maybe higher!”
Greed flashed in the lurking cultivators’ eyes. A treasure that emitted such radiance, plus a pouch clearly bulging with pills — this girl was a walking fortune.
“Tianyuan cultivators?” Ni Yu muttered darkly.
She had spent days watching Tianyuan bullies torment Wuhuang practitioners through the Heaven’s Eye Mirror. Her opinion of the local populace was already in the gutter.
She slung the wok onto her back. Spiritual energy surged into it, and the humble cookware erupted in magnificent radiance.
Thanks to the Young Master’s recent upgrades, her personal wok had reached the profound tier — a first-grade spirit tool by Tianyuan standards.
The lurking cultivators lost all restraint.
“Take her!”
“She’s just a girl — kill her and grab the treasures!”
“She might have backing. Make it quick!”
They shot forward like panthers.
Ni Yu bared a mouth of gleaming white teeth.
“You asked for this.”
“The Young Master said: anyone who bullies Ni Yu gets beaten until they stop breathing.”
She charged.
WHAM!
The lead Foundation Establishment cultivator took a wok straight to the face and folded like wet paper.
Two more pounced from either side.
Ni Yu swung the wok in wild circles, giggling as blood sprayed and bodies flew. In moments, the forest rang only with groans of the dying.
The commotion drew stronger auras.
A Golden Core elder from nearby South Dou Mountain arrived in a fury when he saw his disciples bleeding on the ground.
“Who dares injure South Dou Mountain disciples? Court death!”
Ni Yu stuck out her butt, hefted her wok, and glared. “You yelled at me?”
Living with the Young Master had clearly rubbed off — her tolerance for insults now hovered around absolute zero.
She pulled out another sugar-coated pill, waved it tauntingly, and tossed it toward the elder.
He caught it reflexively.
A yellow blur streaked past.
Little Yinglong’s tail whipped across the elder’s chest like a golden dragon lash.
CRACK!
The Golden Core nearly shattered. The elder coughed blood and collapsed, twitching.
Little Yinglong snatched the pill mid-air, popped it into his mouth, and purred in satisfaction.
Ni Yu puffed out her (admittedly flat) chest and planted a hand on her hip.
“As the Young Master’s favorite maid and dragon cub, we’re finally out in the world. We can’t embarrass White Jade Capital’s name!”
She pointed dramatically toward the main road beyond the trees.
“We’ll start right at the heart of Tianyuan territory — Dongyang Prefecture — and kick down every sect gate along the way! We’re going to smash an invincible path straight through this continent!”
She slapped Little Yinglong’s butt. “Little Yellow, you with me?”
The baby dragon sprawled atop her head gave an elegant, world-weary burp, dark-golden eyes rolling.
“Yeah,” it seemed to say. “Let’s go raise some hell.”
