The morning sun had only just begun to peek through the veil of white mist encircling the Bai Clan's inner island residence. As soft beams of sunlight fell upon the stone pathways and dew-slicked leaves, Bai Tianlong returned silently to his courtyard. His steps were steady, yet his thoughts were anything but.
He entered his room, placing the ancient scrolls—the Bai Clan's Five Elemental Sword Technique and the first volume of the Bai Clan Spellbook—carefully upon the wooden table. The covers glowed faintly with spiritual runes, pulsating with elemental Qi. But even as the sacred techniques lay within his reach, Bai Tianlong did not sit down to study them.
Instead, his eyes flickered with determination.
"I need to go to the main hall," he murmured to himself, "and pass on the Heaven Plundering Dao Devouring Cauldron Technique to grandfather."
Just as he stepped outside, intending to leave the courtyard, the air shimmered. Space rippled like a calm lake struck by a single drop. From the folds of reality itself, the towering silhouette of a man appeared—his robe ink-black, embroidered with the image of three cauldrons devouring galaxies, and eyes that seemed to see through the layers of existence.
The Heaven Plundering Sage.
"Are you going to give that technique to your grandfather?" he asked calmly, arms crossed behind his back, his tone neither accusing nor approving.
Bai Tianlong flinched slightly but straightened. "Yes," he replied, not backing down, though part of him feared the Sage going back on his word.
For a moment, silence lingered like thunderclouds refusing to break. Then, unexpectedly, the Sage nodded.
"I already scanned your grandfather's condition when you met him," the Sage said, looking toward the mountains in the distance. "His injuries go deeper than what the eye can see. His foundation is crippled—not just his Qi, but his very soul, spirit body, and life essence. Even if you give him the Heaven Plundering technique, he wouldn't be able to convert to it."
Bai Tianlong's heart sank.
"But..." the Sage's voice softened slightly. "It's not hopeless. If you can find the right Heaven and Earth treasure—something that can heal his spiritual body and stabilize his foundation—then he may have a chance."
Bai Tianlong looked up, eyes glowing with renewed resolve. "What level of treasure are we talking about?"
"At the very least," the Sage said gravely, "a Monarch-grade treasure. Even a low-grade one will suffice, but it must possess healing properties—something that can extend life, repair spiritual essence, or restore broken Dao foundations."
Monarch-grade...
Bai Tianlong's mind reeled. Even among the storied legacy of the Bai Clan—more than three thousand years of wealth and history—there had been less than a dozen Monarch-grade treasures ever held. And none focused on restoring lifespan or Dao foundations. It was not a casual endeavor.
But he clenched his fists tightly.
"So be it," he whispered. "I will find one."
The Heaven Plundering Sage's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, then softened. "You've chosen a different path than I did, child. One that may lead to burdens or to greatness. Or both."
Without another word, the Sage flicked his sleeve and vanished, merging with the fabric of space itself.
But Bai Tianlong could sense it. He knew his master lingered still, watching, silently guarding from the void.
He turned back toward the wooden table. The sword technique and the spellbook were waiting. For now, the legacy would wait. His priority was clear.
He would not let his grandfather—his family—crumble in silence.
---
Faraway Mountain, Phoenix Fall Realm
High atop a mist-cloaked peak far from the bustling Bai Clan territory, within a quiet pavilion built into the mountain's edge, a group of cultivators stood before a shimmering, disc-shaped mirror set into a silver frame carved with ancient runes.
This was the Divine Observation Mirror, a precious treasure borrowed by Tian Long himself, allowing them to peer across vast distances of space with clarity beyond normal means.
In the mirror's glow, the image of Bai Tianlong's courtyard slowly faded—along with the mysterious spirit that had suddenly appeared beside him not long ago.
Wu Lin let out a long breath. "It's gone now… but what in the nine heavens was that?"
Jiang Chen's expression remained dark as he kept his arms folded behind his back, staring at the now-empty courtyard in the mirror. "We saw it appear. No summoning. No array. No fluctuation. Just… there."
Fei Yun whispered, "A ghost?"
"No," Jiang Chen replied immediately. "Too coherent. Too strong. It had presence… and pressure. That wasn't something born of death."
"Then was it a spirit guardian?" Wu Lin asked. "An inheritance spirit?"
"Possibly," Jiang Chen muttered, "but that still doesn't explain why Master intervened."
The group fell silent again.
Each of them clearly remembered the words that echoed moments after the spirit's appearance. It hadn't come from the mirror, nor from any talisman. It had arrived directly into their souls—Tian Long's divine voice.
"Forget what you saw. Do not speak of it. Do not ask the child about it."
Even now, that warning made their skin prickle.
Fei Yun was the first to speak up, voice low. "Master was watching through the same mirror. He could've said it calmly. But his tone... he was serious. And afraid."
Wu Lin added, "It's not like we haven't seen strange things. But I've never seen Master personally forbid us from asking someone about it."
"Exactly," Jiang Chen murmured. "That alone tells us what we need to know. There's something behind Bai Tianlong that Master doesn't want touched—even by us."
Fei Yun looked at the image fading from the mirror. "So what do we do?"
Jiang Chen finally stepped away from the mirror, his voice firm. "We obey. We forget. And we prepare… because one day, when we're strong enough—maybe we'll understand what just passed before our eyes."
They didn't know what the spirit was.
They didn't know what secrets Bai Tianlong held.
But they knew one thing for sure:
This boy was anything but ordinary… and the world around him was shifting.