As Feng Luotian stepped out of the lingering mist, carrying Mei Yue'er in his arms, Sun Wuji stared at him from the forest floor in absolute disbelief.
"If I'm not dreaming, then I must be losing my mind," Wuji muttered, his voice trembling with shock and confusion.
Only moments ago, he had watched the wolf swallow his sworn brother and sister. Then an otherworldly light had restored his broken body amid the blood and fog. Now Luotian was walking toward him with Yue'er in his arms, both apparently unharmed.
Luotian offered a calm, casual smile. "You're neither dreaming nor crazy, Wuji. The only thing 'crazy' is whatever just happened here."
As the fog dissipated further, it revealed the bisected remains of the Wight Wolf sprawled across the clearing. Wuji's eyes widened, darting between the massive, shredded carcass and the blood-soaked clothing of his friends.
"What… what exactly happened?" he asked, his brain struggling to process the carnage.
Feigning a look of bewilderment, Luotian shrugged. "How should I know? One moment, I was being swallowed whole, and the next, I'm standing in a crater. What about you? What happened after you were thrown into that hillside?"
Wuji recounted the events as best as he could—the wolf's relentless pursuit, Yue'er's desperate final stand, and the horror of seeing them both devoured. His voice wavered as he relived the nightmare.
Luotian listened, nodding thoughtfully. Then he gestured toward the remains, keeping his tone speculative. "Looking at the state of that thing, I'd guess we were saved by some kind of benevolent expert."
Wuji's gaze shifted to the lifeless beast. "To kill a Talon Monster in a single strike… they must have been at least a peak Talon Warrior."
Luotian leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Wuji, what if I told you they were even stronger than that?"
Wuji raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Oh, really? And how strong is that, exactly?"
"Have you ever heard of the God Immortal Realm?" Luotian asked, a sly, knowing grin tugging at his lips.
"God Immortal Realm? What kind of nonsense is that?" Wuji let out a dry chuckle, rolling his eyes. "Brother Feng, you're just making things up now."
Wuji could not have known of such a realm. The God Immortal Realm stood above the Divine Immortal Realm—the height reached by the Twelve Immortal Zodiacs and the boundary Luotian had failed to cross in his previous life.
Luotian laughed along, knowing his brother had no frame of reference for such celestial power. Beneath the laughter, he felt deeply grateful for the ritual's intervention, a power far beyond anything Wuji could imagine.
The atmosphere turned somber as Wuji gestured toward Yue'er. Though her skin was clean and her breathing steady, she remained limp and pale, like a fallen flower.
"How is Sister Mei? Is she going to be okay?"
Luotian looked down at her, his expression unreadable. She's breathing steadily… but she hasn't regained consciousness. Even the healing of the Eternal Dao Lotus Seed couldn't fully wake her?
"She just needs rest," he said aloud, his voice steady. "She pushed her bloodline too far. Once her spirit recovers, she'll be herself again."
Wuji glanced at her uneasily, a familiar weight of guilt tightening in his chest. She protected us until the very end, he thought bitterly. If I had been stronger, maybe she wouldn't have needed to.
"Let's carry her back to the city—straight to the Peacock Pavilion," Luotian directed. "We need to report everything to Uncle Mei."
"Got it," Wuji muttered, his relief still heavily tinged with lingering worry. "We're unbelievably lucky to be alive, Luotian."
"The greatest fortune, indeed," Luotian murmured.
Wuji could not know what those words meant to him. His brother saw a lucky escape; Luotian saw a second chance at the life he had lost.
As they prepared to move out, Luotian suddenly paused. "Wuji."
"What is it?"
"'You will not break my will to protect.'"
Wuji blinked, his confusion apparent. "Huh?"
Luotian smiled gently, his eyes reflecting a newfound respect. "It was you who shouted that, wasn't it? Even while I was unconscious inside that beast, your voice reached me. It was... impressive."
A beat of silence passed between them—quiet, heavy, and heartfelt.
Then, Wuji's signature grin returned, shattering the solemnity with his usual bravado. "Hahaha! Finally, you recognize my unyielding spirit, Brother Feng! Perhaps it's time you started calling me 'Boss'!"
Luotian chuckled softly. "Thank you, Wuji."
"No need for thanks! Just call me Boss! Hahaha!"
But Luotian's tone shifted, turning solemn. "No, Wuji. I mean it. Thank you—for risking your life to protect Yue'er."
Luotian's gaze softened as he looked down at the girl in his arms, his thumb gently brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. Memories of their centuries together flooded his mind, bringing a fresh wave of gratitude that she was still here.
Surprised by the sudden tenderness of the gesture, Wuji couldn't resist teasing. "Brother Feng, don't tell me you've finally fallen for Sister Mei."
Luotian offered a faint, serene smile. "You're joking, Wuji."
After a brief pause, he added quietly, his voice devoid of hesitation, "I've been in love with her for a very, very long time."
Wuji's jaw dropped. He gaped at his brother's unexpected honesty before bursting into a fit of laughter. "Wow, Brother Feng! Since when did you become so straightforward? You know she's got an entire army of admirers chasing after her, right? You're in for a hell of a fight! Still... I'm rooting for you."
Luotian responded only with that same serene smile.
For him, the competition did not matter. As long as Mei Yue'er was alive and breathing, the rest of the world could wait.
* * *
Upon reaching the towering city walls, the sentries were thrown into immediate high alert. The sight of three figures emerging from the forest—clad in tattered, blood-soaked rags, with one of them hanging limp in the other's arms—sent a ripple of urgency through the ranks.
Among the trio, the unconscious girl drew the most frantic attention. She was Mei Yue'er, the beloved daughter of the City Lord.
The guards sprang into action, intercepting the group with weapons drawn but eyes wide with concern. A runner was dispatched to the City Guard Captain, who arrived moments later. Seeing their blood-soaked clothing and the unconscious girl, he wasted no time. He ordered a full escort to take the trio directly to the Peacock Pavilion, the ancestral residence of the City Lord.
To reach the Peacock Pavilion, they had to pass through the school grounds; the Pavilion stood deep within them.
The Peacock School was a fortress unto itself. Its grounds spanned dozens of kilometers, encircled by walls as thick and towering as a giant's defense.
For the average cultivator, scaling or penetrating such a barrier was a near-impossible feat.
While those who had reached the Wing Realm could bypass such obstacles by taking to the sky, such individuals were legends in their own right. Only a handful of such masters lived in Divine Bird City. Visitors of their level were rare, but the ground-bound guards would be helpless against an aerial attack.
The path of cultivation in this world was a steep and treacherous climb:
* Fang Realm [Fighter]: The foundation. Cultivators learned to wield their Theríon and hone their bloodline abilities. Divided into ten ranks, practitioners progressed from a One Fang Fighter to a Ten Fangs Fighter.
* Talon Realm [Warrior]: The stage of transformation. Here, cultivators harnessed the natural energy of the earth, converting it into Theríon. These cultivators progressed through four distinct ranks, from One Talon to Four Talons Warrior.
* Wing Realm [Master]: The pinnacle of mobility. These masters used their Theríon to commune with the air itself, granting them the ability to walk upon the wind, float, and fly. Divided into eight ranks, they were titled One Wing to Eight Wings Master.
Progressing through these stages required more than just raw effort; it demanded comprehension, innate talent, and unyielding determination. Yet, even in this martial universe, wealth offered a shortcut. Affluent sects and clans used their vast resources to accelerate the progress of their scions, granting them far greater odds of producing Talon Warriors or the rare Wing Master. For a common family, producing even a single Talon Warrior could take generations of effort.
In this city of hundreds of thousands, the school walls remained an impregnable barrier to almost everyone. For commoners and lower-level cultivators, the only way forward was through the heavily guarded school gates, where stringent checks ensured that the sanctuary of the elite remained undisturbed.
Today, however, the usual order at the gates was shattered.
The City Guard Captain, flanked by a phalanx of his men, hurried forward with Mei Yue'er on an emergency stretcher. Feng Luotian and Sun Wuji, weary and caked in dried blood, followed closely in their wake.
The sight of the City Lord's daughter in such a state turned the leading gate official deathly pale. Recognizing her instantly, he waved the party through without a word, bypassing every standard protocol.
Peacock School fell directly under the jurisdiction of the Mei Clan, with Yue'er's father serving as both the Clan Chief and the School's Headmaster; under these circumstances, their entry was absolute and unquestioned.
The group hurried through the academy. Students and staff cleared the busy paths, staring in alarm at the girl on the stretcher.
Their destination was fixed: the Alchemy Center, situated just two alleys before the Peacock Pavilion. It was here that the City Lord's daughter would receive the most advanced treatment available in the region.
The Alchemy Center was one of the school's most important facilities, housing cultivators trained in medicine and alchemy. They produced pills to improve cultivation or heal injuries and treated patients suffering from wounds to the body or soul.
For the elite of Divine Bird City, it was the ultimate sanctuary against the toll of the martial path.
As the group neared the entrance, their exhaustion palpable, a contingent of students emerged from the Alchemy Center. At their forefront was a figure whose very presence seemed to sour the air.
"Welcome, God's Crippled Son!" Mei Hongli sneered, his voice oozing a smug, oily delight. "How may I be of service today?"
The words were laced with a biting sarcasm that drew a chorus of derisive laughter from the sycophants trailing behind him.
Mei Hongli was a soft, rotund youth dressed in heavy silks that strained around his belly. Rings crowded his fingers, which looked better suited to holding sweetmeats than a sword. Even the luxurious blade he carried suggested wealth rather than skill. Everything about him spoke of a pampered heir accustomed to getting his way.
His gaze shifted, finally locking onto the emergency stretcher. His eyes widened in a display of mock alarm.
"Yue'er?!" he gasped theatrically, rushing forward with a show of exaggerated distress. "Why is she unconscious? Don't tell me… you dragged her into some reckless stunt again. What have you done to my Yue'er, you useless cripple?!"
His concern was an act. He wanted to blame Luotian and make himself look better, not help Yue'er.
Feng Luotian remained silent, his expression an unreadable mask of stone. He refused to rise to the bait, his mind already calculating the quickest path to the healing vats. To him, the pampered youth was nothing more than an obstacle in the road—a noisy insect to be bypassed.
"Your Yue'er?" Sun Wuji interjected sharply, stepping forward with a defiant, murderous glare. "Since when did she ever belong to you, Mei Hongli? Keep her name out of your greasy mouth before I help you shut it."