The morning breeze blowing over the western ridges of Imperial Sun City usually carried the crisp, refreshing scent of mountain pine and blooming spring flowers. Today, however, it bore the sharp, metallic tang of ozone and crushed stone, along with a suffocating, unnatural cold that hung heavy over the entire district.
Two miles away from the Autumn Water Courtyard, atop the towering battlements of the city's outer wall, stood three figures shrouded in fine silk robes. They were high-level scouts from the regional governor's mansion, equipped with specialized crystal spyglasses. None of them spoke. None of them dared to even draw a loud breath.
Through the polished lenses of their artifacts, they had witnessed the entire sequence of events on the mountain pass—from the sudden arrival of Patriarch Meng Tian-Xiong to the casual, three-inch draw of the dark iron blade that had severed a Stage-4 Peak ultimate attack in half like thin parchment.
"Master..." the youngest scout stammered, his hand trembling so violently that the bronze spyglass nearly slipped from his grasp. "Did... did the Patriarch of the Overlord Sect just get struck down from the sky with a single partial stroke?"
The senior scout, a veteran cultivator who had seen dozens of clan wars over forty years, slowly lowered his glass. His face was devoid of color, his lips dry and cracked.
"That was not merely a physical attack," the senior scout whispered, his voice shaking with profound terror. "That was absolute Frost Blade-Intent... the kind of domain power that only exists in the ancient legends of the Northern Snow Realms. Pass the order to the Governor immediately—the Overlord Sect is finished. Tell our troops to withdraw five miles from the western district. Under no circumstances is anyone allowed to provoke the resident of the Autumn Water Courtyard!"
Meanwhile, on the shattered ridge three hundred yards from the courtyard gates, absolute chaos reigned among the surviving disciples of the Overlord Sect.
Patriarch Meng Tian-Xiong knelt in the frozen dirt, his dark crimson robes shredded into ragged ribbons. The terrifying heat that usually radiated from his body was completely snuffed out, replaced by a pale, creeping frost that clung to his broad shoulders and chest. Blood—dark, thick, and carrying tiny ice crystals—trickled slowly from the corner of his mouth, dripping onto the shattered stone below with soft, hollow sounds.
His internal meridians were in complete disarray. The single stroke of blue blade-light had not only shattered his fifty-foot fiery palm, but the residual frost energy had invaded his dantian, freezing nearly forty percent of his core Qi circulation.
Impossible... This is completely impossible! Meng Tian-Xiong's eyes were wide with hysterical horror, his pupils dilated to the size of needle points. I am a Stage-4 Middle-tier master! Guided by the Overlord Flame Art, my physical body is as strong as refined steel! How could a nameless wanderer defeat my ultimate strike without even fully unsheathing his weapon?!
"P-Patriarch!"
Commander Meng Cang-Hai tumbled down from his mount, scrambling on his hands and knees through the icy rubble toward the wounded leader. His face was pale as chalk, his heavy saber discarded on the dirt road. "Patriarch, are you alright?! The execution squads... what should we do?!"
Meng Tian-Xiong slowly raised his head. His gaze crossed the three-hundred-yard gap, falling upon the quiet, towering figure standing on the stone steps of the courtyard.
Li-Wen stood completely still, his dark coat fluttering softly in the wind. His right hand remained casually rested on the hilt of his heavy blade, his dark, abyssal eyes looking down upon the hundred armed men as if they were nothing more than specks of dust on a highway.
There was no arrogance in Li-Wen's posture. No anger, no taunting, no triumph. There was only an absolute, unyielding coldness—a terrifying tranquility that signaled a being who possessed the unquestioned power to erase them all from existence with a single sweep of his sleeve.
"Your Overlord Sect has three days," Li-Wen's low, resonant voice echoed in Meng Tian-Xiong's mind like a divine decree. "Pack your belongings and vacate Imperial Sun City. If I see a single crimson banner remaining when the spirit-galleon departs... your sect will cease to exist."
A violent shudder ran through Meng Tian-Xiong's entire body. The lingering arrogance accumulated over fifty years of ruling Imperial Sun City dissolved in an instant, replaced by a cold, primal instinct for survival.
He knew, with absolute certainty, that the man on the steps was not making a idle threat. If they remained in the city past the three-day deadline, the Overlord Sect—built through three generations of blood and struggle—would be wiped out root and branch.
"Withdraw..." Meng Tian-Xiong rasped out, his voice hoarse and broken as fresh blood spilled from his lips.
Meng Cang-Hai froze. "P-Patriarch? Withdraw?"
"I SAID WITHDRAW!" Meng Tian-Xiong screamed, coughing violently as blue frost mist erupted from his throat. "Collect the wounded! Tear down the barricades! We... we are leaving Imperial Sun City!"
"Yes! Yes, Patriarch!" Meng Cang-Hai scrambled backward in sheer terror, shouting frantically at the frozen, bewildered disciples. "Sound the retreat! All squads fall back! Clear the road! CLEAR THE ROAD IMMEDIATELY!"
The hundred elite warriors, who had arrived with arrogant fanfare and bloodthirsty roars less than half an hour ago, scattered like frightened crows. Crossbow carts were abandoned in the mud, spears and shields were dropped in panic, and disciples hoisted their wounded comrades, scrambling down the hill in a desperate, disorganized frenzy.
Within less than ten minutes, the mountain pass leading to the Autumn Water Courtyard was completely deserted.
Up on the quiet steps, Li-Wen watched the fleeing crimson figures vanish into the dusty pine trails below. His expression remained unchanged, as smooth as an unruffled mountain lake.
CLACK.
With a gentle push of his thumb, the three-inch sliver of dark iron blade slid back into its rustic scabbard, locking in place with a clean, metallic click. The terrifying, suffocating pressure that had locked down the entire hill vanished instantly, as if it had never existed.
Li-Wen turned around smoothly and stepped back through the heavy iron-wood gates. He reached out with his right hand, sliding the massive brass bolt back into place, securing the entrance.
Inside the garden, the peaceful atmosphere remained entirely undisturbed. The Grade-3 Spirit-Gathering Array hummed softly, and the delicate pink petals of the ancient plum blossom tree drifted down onto the pristine jade cobblestones.
On the wooden bench under the tree, Xiao-Yue was just finishing her last spoonful of sweet red-bean porridge. She licked her small silver spoon clean, set the empty porcelain bowl on the stone table, and looked up at Li-Wen with bright, curious eyes.
"Brother Li-Wen, did the noisy people leave?" she asked sweetly, swinging her short legs back and forth.
Li-Wen walked over smoothly, taking the empty bowl from the table. He reached out his broad palm and gently patted her small head, smoothing down a stray lock of silver-trimmed hair.
"Yes," Li-Wen replied softly, his voice returning to its deep, comforting warmth. "They realized they were on the wrong path and decided to pack their bags."
"That's good," Xiao-Yue giggled, picking up her small wooden practice sword from the bench. "They were making too much noise. The birds in the tree were scared away!"
Li-Wen looked down at her cheerful face, noting the pure, untainted light in her dark eyes. His heart, usually cold and unyielding against the harsh realities of the martial world, softened slightly.
He knew that the absolute peace they enjoyed in this courtyard was only temporary. The Overlord Sect was merely a small, aggressive stone on their path; the real storms lay far ahead, across the vast central plains and into the deep, frozen northern reaches where ancient legacies and hidden dangers awaited.
"Xiao-Yue," Li-Wen spoke gently.
"Hmm?" She stopped swinging her wooden sword, looking up at him attentively.
"We will be leaving this courtyard in three days," Li-Wen said, his dark eyes looking toward the distant blue sky. "We are going on a long journey, aboard a very large ship that flies through the clouds."
Xiao-Yue's eyes widened with pure delight and wonder. "A ship that flies in the clouds?! Like a magic kite?!"
"Yes," Li-Wen smiled faintly. "So over the next two days, you must practice your energy control well, and help me gather our things."
"Okay! I will be very helpful!" Xiao-Yue puffed out her small chest proudly, clutching her wooden sword like a dutiful little guard.
While peace returned to the Autumn Water Courtyard, the news of the mountain pass battle exploded across Imperial Sun City like a massive thunderbolt on a clear day!
Within two hours, the entire city was in an uproar.
At the grand headquarters of the Overlord Sect, the crimson banners that had flown proudly over the black granite gates for thirty years were silently lowered. Heavy transport wagons were loaded with chests of spirit stones, weapons, and ancestral scrolls. Thousands of outer disciples were disbanded on the spot, while core members gathered in quiet, panicked huddles, preparing for a mass evacuation toward the southern wilderness.
The news spread like wildfire through the taverns, trading halls, and noble mansions: The invincible Patriarch Meng Tian-Xiong had been defeated in a single stroke by a mysterious itinerant master residing on the western hill!
Inside the grand office of the Central Merchant League, Vice-President Lin Xuan stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass window, listening to the detailed report presented by his chief intelligence officer.
"He... he stopped four Imperial-grade Ballista bolts with his bare hand, and then severed Patriarch Meng's ultimate strike with a partial blade draw?!" Lin Xuan murmured, his hand holding a jade teacup pausing in mid-air.
"Yes, Vice-President," the officer reported respectfully, his forehead beaded with sweat. "Our shadow scouts confirmed it with their own eyes. Patriarch Meng was severely injured and has ordered a complete evacuation of the Overlord Sect within forty-eight hours. The entire western district is now completely open."
Lin Xuan slowly set down his teacup, a deep, reverent smile spreading across his refined face.
"Brilliant... absolutely brilliant," Lin Xuan laughed softly, his eyes sparkling with sharp business acumen and deep admiration. "He didn't even bother to hunt down the sect or destroy their headquarters. A single warning, a three-day deadline, and an entire regional power crumbles from sheer terror!"
Lin Xuan turned toward his secretary immediately. "Prepare the highest grade of flying spirit-beast carriage! Also, inspect the VIP pavilion on the Floating Cloud galleon personally! Ensure that every luxury, every top-grade spiritual fruit, and the softest northern furs are prepared for Senior Li and the young lady!"
"Understood, Vice-President! Should we send guards to escort Senior Li to the docks on the day of departure?"
"Guards?" Lin Xuan chuckled, shaking his head. "Do you think a dragon needs ants to clear its path? No! We do not send guards. I will personally go to the western hill to drive the carriage myself!"
As the afternoon sun began its slow descent into the western horizon, painting the sky in brilliant hues of crimson, orange, and purple, a heavy silence settled over the city.
The bustling streets that were once dominated by arrogant Overlord Sect enforcers were now quiet and orderly. Merchants reopened their shops, citizens walked the avenues without fear of extortion, and every gaze that turned toward the quiet western hill was filled with profound, awe-struck reverence.
Up on the quiet hill, inside the main room of the Autumn Water Courtyard, a soft oil lamp illuminated the wooden table.
Li-Wen sat cross-legged on a silk cushion, the Ancestral Northern Rune Slab resting before him. The grey stone slab remained calm and unadorned, but the subtle, star-like resonance between its ancient runes and Li-Wen's internal dantian was stronger than ever.
He closed his eyes, entering a deep state of meditation. Within his consciousness, the refined golden-white frost energy circulated smoothly along his perfected meridians, steadily consolidating his newly stabilized Stage-4 Peak foundation.
He could feel his strength growing purer, sharper, and more refined with every breath. Yet, deep within his refined perception, a faint, inexplicable trace of unease flickered at the edge of his soul—a subtle intuition that the tranquil days ahead would soon be tested by a far greater, unavoidable storm.
Li-Wen slowly opened his dark eyes, turning his head to look toward the adjacent bed.
Xiao-Yue was sleeping soundly under a thick wool blanket, her small wooden sword tucked safely under her arm. Her breathing was steady and soft, a faint, comfortable warmth radiating from her small frame as the Fire-Lotus energy inside her circulated peacefully.
Li-Wen walked over quietly, reaching out to tuck the edge of the blanket around her shoulders.
"No matter who comes," Li-Wen murmured into the quiet, moonlit room, his voice as unyielding as an ancient iron mountain, "no one will touch you."
The night wind rustled the plum blossom tree outside, carrying a few stray petals across the courtyard as the stars began to twinkle brightly over Imperial Sun City, marking the end of an era and the beginning of a long, perilous journey toward the heart of the empire.
See you in next chapter.....