Great Xuan Calendar, Year Ninety, Spring.

  Northern Commandery, Divine Dynasty Capital.

  Streaks of spiritual energy tore across the sky. The terrifying aura of a Yang God expert enveloped the city, making every commoner tremble.

  On the blue-stone streets of the imperial capital, silver-armored soldiers sprinted past, the clanging of their armor deafening.

  Black-robed Yin Spirit cultivators hovered in the air, robes fluttering.

  The sky was dark. Cold rain fell.

  The Crown Prince had rebelled.

  The entire capital was sealed. For years, the forces he had secretly nurtured now surged from every corner, seizing the imperial palace.

  Behind the Crown Prince stood more than just himself.

  The Human Emperor—what a being he had been. Ninety years on the throne, ninety years of impeccable governance. Order. Prosperity. Harmony.

  Who did not revere such an emperor?

  Yet wherever there was reverence, there were also interests. And ninety years was a long time.

  The Human Emperor could not cultivate. His lifespan drained away like any mortal’s. Now he was truly old—hair white, body frail.

  The once-vigorous Dantai Xuan who had swallowed mountains and rivers with a single glance was now a lion in his twilight.

  This, perhaps, was the tragedy of mortals compared to cultivators.

  The Crown Prince could wait no longer.

  He had waited year after year. He dared not cultivate—because the one who would become Human Emperor could not cultivate. That was the rule set by White Jade Capital. He did not dare break it.

  Though White Jade Capital had vanished from the world after the divine dynasty’s founding, and he had only ever heard its legends, the name still commanded awe.

  He had grown up on tales of the Five Phoenixes’ first sacred ground—few in number, yet even the divine dynasty was nothing before it.

  So he never cultivated. And without cultivation, he too aged.

  From twenty to thirty, thirty to fifty… now sixty-eight.

  He could wait no more.

  The Crown Prince wore the same black imperial robe and pearl-crowned hat his father had worn at the founding ceremony.

  Face cold and stern, he advanced step by step.

  Behind him, ten Yin Spirit experts and one Yang God landed silently.

  They were about to face the Human Emperor—even an aged one. They dared not fly.

  Along the palace path they walked.

  Old Confucian scholars, faces flushed with fury, stood upon the stone steps cursing the Prince.

  Rebellion was the gravest sin. A crown prince’s rebellion was unforgivable.

  But the Prince no longer cared.

  Not all officials in the divine dynasty were cultivators. Many never even entered Body Tempering. Their lifespan was limited.

  The Human Emperor had always valued ability—governance and administration—over cultivation.

  The Prince raised a hand.

  A Yin Spirit cultivator shot forward, spiritual energy forming a giant palm to seize the scholar.

  “Filthy traitor! Keep your hands off this old man!”

  The scholar roared. His voice, infused with righteous haoran qi, shattered the energy palm.

  Yet he was still dragged away.

  The Prince did not dare kill these scholars—they belonged to the Haoran Sect.

  Mo Ju had retired. Jiang Li had entered the ancient tomb…

  Even Xue Tao, the emperor’s once-mighty general, was said to be dead.

  The emperor, relying on his dragon qi, had never surrounded himself with truly powerful guards. The strongest were mere Nascent Soul.

  The Prince was certain of victory.

  Creak…

  The sealed palace doors slowly opened.

  The Yang God expert stood silently beside the Prince. The ten Yin Spirits charged inside.

  Blood flowed. Corpses of palace guards littered the ground. White marble steps ran red.

  Finally, they reached the deepest palace—the emperor’s sealed sanctuary.

  The Prince stopped, swept his sleeve, and bowed.

  “Imperial Father, you are old. It is time to rest.”

  His voice rang out, yet trembled slightly.

  So many years…

  At last, the throne would be his.

  Lord of the divine dynasty—how intoxicating.

  His words echoed in eerie silence.

  Then came a faint cough from within.

  Creak.

  The vermilion doors opened.

  High threshold crossed, hair unkempt, wearing only simple robes, Dantai Xuan stepped out.

  He was old—face etched with deep lines, body thin and frail. The heroic air was gone.

  Yet he was calm. Hands behind his back, aged eyes deep and serene.

  He gazed toward the eastern sea, then slowly sighed.

  “Time passes in a blink.”

  “This king is old too. All the familiar faces… nearly gone.”

  He shook his head.

  Old men grew nostalgic. Memories surfaced—of the last radiance of Emperor Yu Wenxiu of the Great Zhou.

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  But he was different. He had ruled diligently, given his all. He believed himself a good emperor.

  Yu Wenxiu had been a tyrant, feeding lives to the black dragon.

  Yet now, Dantai Xuan felt his own ending resembled Yu Wenxiu’s.

  “Your Majesty!”

  Blood-soaked old scholars rushed forward, tears streaming, kneeling before him.

  They glared at the Prince, trembling fingers pointed in accusation.

  They were heartbroken—they had helped choose this prince.

  “Your Majesty!”

  The Prince’s face darkened.

  “Drag them away!”

  Yin Spirits moved like shadows, seizing the scholars by their necks.

  The old men roared, “Do not touch us!”

  Some even tried to dash their heads against the ground.

  Dantai Xuan looked at these loyal ministers and smiled.

  Different.

  He was different from Yu Wenxiu.

  His life had lacked immortal fate, but compared to secluded cultivators, it had been magnificent.

  His gaze upon the old scholars was gentle.

  He could almost hear the commoners kneeling in the streets, chanting his name.

  Old men and women, supported by their families, cursed the Prince.

  Dantai Xuan smiled wider.

  The Prince grew furious.

  From the moment Dantai Xuan stepped out, he had not once looked at him.

  “Imperial Father!”

  He raised his voice.

  “You dare face His Majesty?!”

  An old scholar spat at the Prince.

  “Silence!”

  The Prince flushed with rage.

  “Kill him!”

  “Kill anyone who resists or curses!”

  He roared.

  Yin Spirits raised their hands to the scholars’ throats.

  Dantai Xuan finally looked at his son.

  “You have disappointed me greatly.”

  He shook his head regretfully.

  “Are you truly ready to be emperor?”

  “Are you truly prepared to rule a divine dynasty?”

  The Prince’s breathing quickened.

  But Dantai Xuan gave him no chance to speak.

  His gaze swept across the black-robed Yang God and the Yin Spirits.

  “You are not Young Master Lu. Who gave you the audacity to interfere in divine dynasty affairs as cultivators?”

  He smiled.

  His hoarse voice made many cultivators pale.

  “Release these old men.”

  Then—he stepped forward.

  BOOM!

  Faint dragon qi surged from his body.

  It was weak—no longer the terrifying hundred-zhang tide of old.

  “Father… your dragon qi is spent. You truly are old!”

  The Prince said.

  He turned to the Yang God behind him.

  “Your Majesty, forgive me.”

  The black-robed Yang God bowed, then shot forward.

  Spiritual pressure and energy whipped the capital into a vortex.

  He became a streak of light, hurtling toward Dantai Xuan.

  Dantai Xuan laughed.

  He took a great stride, eyes wide with fury.

  One shout—thunder rolled.

  The Yang God coughed blood and staggered back, shattering stone tiles beneath his feet.

  Shock filled him. He hadn’t expected the aged emperor’s voice to still wound him.

  After that shout, Dantai Xuan’s dragon qi faded. He seemed a withered log once more.

  He shook his head at the bleeding Yang God.

  “Alas, this emperor is indeed old…”

  “In my prime, one spit could have nailed you into ash.”

  He smiled, then looked at the Prince.

  “Do you know why fewer and fewer people remain at my side? I sent them away…”

  “I wanted to draw out that cult leader Liu Yuanhao, eliminate all threats in my final years, leave you a stable throne. Yet the one who struck… was my own son.”

  “Using cultivators against me—how could I have ever chosen you as heir?”

  “You could have persuaded the officials to petition me. I was tired. If you convinced them, I might have abdicated.”

  Dantai Xuan spoke much—old men do.

  The Prince’s expression shifted. Bitterness touched his lips.

  But the arrow was loosed.

  “Attack!”

  He shouted, fear creeping into his heart.

  Dantai Xuan sat upon the stone steps.

  Such a scene meant nothing to him.

  He had faced far worse storms in his youth.

  BOOM!

  The Yang God struck again.

  Another Yang God hidden in the city as the Prince’s trump card joined the assault.

  The sky above the capital darkened. Yang God experts—capable of shaking heaven and earth!

  Spiritual energy surged like a tidal wave toward the frail old man on the steps.

  Dantai Xuan watched calmly, lost in thought.

  Countless attacks rained down. The Prince’s eyes gleamed coldly.

  Yet the emperor’s heart was still as water.

  Boom!

  A figure appeared at his side.

  The Prince’s heart jolted—Xue Tao!

  The very guard thought dead!

  Xue Tao, now four or five steps into Yang God realm—terrifyingly powerful.

  But even more shocking—

  Unnoticed, another figure hovered before Dantai Xuan.

  Towering. Heroic. Hair wild. Eyes deep as starry seas.

  Axe and shield on his back. Muscles like coiled dragons. Feet floating silently above the ground.

  The two attacking Yang Gods froze in horror.

  That silhouette… impossibly familiar!

  Dantai Xuan was stunned. Surprise and warmth flooded his aged face.

  Puff! Puff!

  The hovering figure raised a hand without looking back.

  Fingers flicked.

  Vast power surged like oceans rising and falling—everything collapsed.

  “Spirit Unity Grandmaster aura!”

  “Damn it! A Grandmaster?!”

  “It’s the Overlord! The Overlord of Western Liang!”

  The two Yang Gods, barely one step into their realm, paled and tried to flee.

  They never made it.

  Terrifying force reduced them to blood mist.

  Their primordial spirits fled—only to be annihilated by Overlord’s spirit pressure.

  The Yin Spirits didn’t even manage to turn before they crumbled to dust.

  The Prince did not recognize Overlord—he had been born long after the Overlord vanished into seclusion.

  But he knew the name.

  The man who once contested the world with the Human Emperor and nearly crushed him.

  Ninety years later, Overlord looked younger, his aura infinitely more terrifying.

  Thud.

  The Prince collapsed, all strength gone.

  A Grandmaster…

  So this was the emperor’s true trump card.

  Overlord looked calmly at Dantai Xuan.

  “You grew old.”

  “You haven’t changed at all.”

  Dantai Xuan laughed.

  Back then they had fought for dominion. Overlord chose cultivation. Dantai Xuan chose mortal empire.

  Had Overlord chosen the throne, Dantai Xuan would never have had a chance.

  “Do you regret it?”

  “If you had walked the path of cultivation, your lifespan would still be vast.”

  Overlord’s expression was complex.

  “Regret?” Dantai Xuan laughed heartily.

  “Xiang Shaoyun, my life has been far more splendid than yours. You and your little wife secluded yourselves for decades—how could that compare to ruling this vast land?”

  “No regrets. Only… a little regret.”

  “What regret?”

  “That from the very first immortal encounter on Wolong Ridge, I never once tasted immortal fate… All because of this damned immortal-fate insulation. Never knowing immortal fate—that is my only regret.”

  Dantai Xuan slapped his knee and cursed, laughing.

  Even the stern Overlord’s lips curved.

  “You didn’t have to come. This was a small matter. I could handle it.”

  “Just visiting an old friend.”

  Overlord glanced at the terrified Prince.

  He raised a hand and pressed downward lightly.

  BOOM!

  The Prince’s army throughout the capital coughed blood and collapsed.

  Cultivator clans outside the city fled in panic.

  Hooves thundered.

  Black Tortoise Guards poured in like a flood.

  Mo Ju arrived in feathered robes, gently waving his feather fan.

  Students of the Great Xuan Academy marched down the main streets toward the palace.

  Mo Beike and Tang Xiansheng arrived in a flying carriage.

  A drunken, disheveled scholar staggered along the official road, laughing loudly.

  Within the capital, a youth in lotus robes appeared, a graceful young woman trotting behind him.

  On this day, radiant auras soared into the sky. Great cultivators arrived one after another.

  The world was stunned. It was as if the founding ceremony ninety years ago had returned.

  The Prince felt ice in his veins.

  His rebellion… had been a joke.

  In the power of cultivators, the Human Emperor far surpassed him.

  The rebellion failed.

  Yet the emperor did not order the Prince killed—only stripped him of his title and exiled him to the western desert.

  The Human Emperor still stood.

  Five more years passed.

  His dragon qi gradually dimmed, as though fading into nothingness.

  He began compiling the Great Xuan Code.

  Among its laws: Cultivators were forbidden from interfering in divine dynasty affairs. No official could exceed Body Tempering realm.

  The world erupted in shock.

  Commoners rejoiced. Many officials were furious.

  Yet the emperor enforced it rigorously.

  All powerful cultivator-officials were replaced—except those who solely cultivated righteous haoran qi.

  From the capital to the smallest village, every post was changed.

  When the law was fully implemented,

  The Human Emperor’s dragon qi vanished.

  A generation fell.

  Great Xuan Calendar, Year Ninety-Five, Winter.

  The Human Emperor named his fifth son Crown Prince.

  In the cold, dark inner palace,

  Mo Ju stood silently by the bed, feather fan in hand.

  Dantai Xuan lay frail and weak, eyes unfocused.

  The once-hundred-zhang dragon qi was now barely a wisp.

  He watched snow falling outside, cheeks trembling faintly.

  “Ju… how goes the implementation of the Code?”

  “All is arranged as Your Majesty commanded.”

  Mo Ju answered.

  Dantai Xuan smiled.

  Then suddenly—his eyes blazed with sharp, brilliant light.

  “Let my hundred zhang of dragon qi scatter and protect the divine dynasty. Half to shield the common people, half to shield the officials. Should any cultivator harm an official, dragon qi shall become karmic fire, burn their spirit, regress their cultivation—or reduce them to ash.”

  He stared into the void, each word solemn.

  “I beseech Young Master Lu… grant this wish.”

  Suddenly,

  Outside the window, the blizzard ceased.

  The world fell utterly silent.

  In Dantai Xuan’s ear, a gentle voice sounded.

  “As you wish.”

  ROAR!

  His body on the bed shuddered.

  All dragon qi surged from him, no longer sustaining life.

  Golden dragon qi roared skyward, scattering across the heavens.

  Mo Ju trembled. His feather fan snapped in his clenched fist.

  That day, golden dragon qi was seen piercing the heavens above the capital, dispersing across the Nine Heavens to protect the realm.

  That day,

  The Human Emperor slept forever.

  …

  His eyes slowly closed.

  When they opened again—only a moment had passed.

  Dantai Xuan, who thought himself dead, found himself drifting above the Vast Sea.

  In the distance, an immortal island carried upon a giant whale appeared.

  On the island,

  A white-robed youth placed a chess piece and gently nodded toward him.