The sky above the Zhenglong estate split open with a roar.
Clouds churned in concentric rings, the center glowing like molten gold as streaks of lightning arced outward. The estate shook—not from a storm—but from the return of Zhenlong Yangshen.
He descended from the heavens in a blaze of qi, robes snapping like banners in the wind, his aura pressing over the courtyard like a mountain about to collapse. Every servant, disciple, and guard within the estate dropped to their knees, shouting congratulations.
"Patriarch Yangshen has ascended to the Great Saint Realm after thirty-seven years!"
"The heavens themselves acknowledge it!"
"Our house rises with him!"
Yangshen landed with a thunderclap, the stone beneath his feet spiderwebbing with cracks. He threw his arms wide, laughter booming through the courtyard like a war drum.
"Do you see this, my kin?!" he roared, qi flaring until the air warped around him. "Thirty-seven years! Thirty-seven years I have walked the blade's edge between life and death, and today—today I have crushed that limit!"
The crowd erupted. Fireworks of spiritual light burst overhead. Musicians scrambled into place, drums pounding, flutes trilling. The celebration thundered so loudly it seemed the walls themselves might leap in joy.
Everyone except three people.
On the upper terrace, Zhenlong Yuyin, Jinhai, and Meiyun stood apart from the clamor. Arms folded. Faces flat. The picture of long-suffering endurance.
Jinhai exhaled heavily.Meiyun muttered, "We were literally one breath away from finishing the sequence…"Yuyin's gaze was locked toward the Sea of Consciousness, not the man glowing like a spiritual bonfire in the courtyard.
Yangshen, either blind or simply basking too hard in his own glory, looked up at them with a grin so wide it could have been carved in stone. "What's this? My own wife and kin stand like statues? No applause for your elder? Thirty-seven years I fought for this realm! Even the heavens bowed when I arrived!"
Reluctantly, they descended to the main floor, swept along in the wave of cheering.
That night, the estate was transformed into a beacon of festivity. Lanterns swayed on golden chains, casting rivers of warm light. Tables bowed under roasted boar, lacquered duck, steamed river fish, lotus soup, and wines that could topple a weaker man in a single sip.
Yangshen sat at the head of the table, still beaming, flexing his fingers so little threads of golden lightning danced up his arm just in case anyone had forgotten who the evening was about.
"Why the long faces?" he called down the table. "Our family name just rose another tier in the cultivation world! Come now, lighten up! This is a night of victory!"
The temperature at Yuyin's end of the table dropped ten degrees.
Her chopsticks slammed onto the lacquered wood with a CLACK that silenced half the hall. She leaned forward, eyes narrowing, her voice low and sharp enough to draw blood.
"Victory?" she said. "Do you truly believe that breaking into the Great Saint Realm—after thirty-seven years—is worth all this noise?"
A wave of shocked murmurs rippled through the hall. Servants froze mid-step. Guests stared wide-eyed.
Yangshen blinked, thrown off balance for the first time that evening. "Yuyin, what—"
She cut him off like a blade through silk. "You've been in seclusion so long you've lost perspective. You know exactly who I'm talking about. You've seen him. You've felt his power. While you were shut away for thirty-seven years grinding away at this wall, he could tear open reality in a heartbeat. Rip space like paper. Erase worlds like they were chalk marks on stone. And you—" She gestured to him, the motion dripping with unimpressed disdain. "You've managed to… what? Upgrade from rooster to peacock?"
Half the hall choked back gasps. The other half failed miserably. Someone coughed hard into their wine to hide a laugh.
Yangshen's jaw tightened, but Yuyin wasn't done. "You strut in here, flexing like a young master on his first duel win, while the man you're being compared to could swat you into another plane without looking up from his tea."
Now the laughter did leak in — muffled behind hands, masked as coughs, but unmistakable.
Jinhai nodded solemnly, his expression the picture of someone enjoying every second. "She's right."Meiyun tilted her head, eyes twinkling as she added, "Honestly, that peacock thing was generous."
The musicians had given up entirely. No one dared touch their food.
Yangshen lowered his gaze to his wine cup. His hand tightened until the porcelain groaned in protest. He didn't look at Yuyin again — he didn't need to. He knew exactly why her words cut so deep. Because they were true.
And the worst part? Everyone else didn't even know who Alter was. Only he did.
From that moment on, the proud, booming laughter that had shaken the estate was gone. Yangshen ate in silence, the shadows at the edge of his expression growing heavier with each passing minute.
Yangshen left the feast early, but not because he wanted to.
By the time the dishes had been cleared and the guests began drifting off in clusters, his once-proud posture had deflated into the slump of a man walking home in the rain—despite the fact that the sky was perfectly clear.
The heavy doors to their private chamber closed behind him with a soft thud. He was halfway through untying his outer robe when he heard the steady click of footsteps.
Yuyin stepped inside, her sleeves swaying like the calm before a storm. She didn't sit. She didn't even glance at him. She just looked over the room with the slow, surgical precision of someone about to verbally dismantle her husband.
"You sulked through half your own celebration," she said, her tone almost conversational—but far too measured to be harmless.
Yangshen set the robe aside, rubbing the back of his neck. "You embarrassed me in front of the entire estate."
"You embarrassed yourself," she replied without missing a beat. "I merely provided commentary."
He blinked at her. "Commentary? You compared me to—" He stopped himself, jaw working.
"To Alter?" she finished for him, arching a brow. "Oh, don't pretend you haven't done it yourself in your head. The difference is, I'm not afraid to say it aloud."
Yangshen sank into the nearest chair like a man surrendering to fate. "Yuyin, I trained for thirty-seven years to break that bottleneck. Thirty-seven—"
"Yes," she cut in, "thirty-seven years, and you return acting like the heavens will rewrite history to fit your name in bolder ink." She crossed her arms, tilting her head. "I've had children born, grow up, and surpass you in less time."
His mouth fell open. "We don't have children—"
"Exactly," she said.
Yangshen stared at her, completely lost. "What does that even—"
"—mean?" She stepped closer, her shadow falling over him. "It means your grand entrance tonight was like a mortal parading around a bronze coin while someone else owns the imperial treasury."
He groaned, leaning back in the chair. "Must you always use money metaphors?"
"They're easy to understand," she said sweetly, patting his cheek like he was a child. "Even for you."
He sat up straight, scowling. "I'm still your husband, Yuyin. You could at least show a little—"
"Respect?" she interrupted, already moving toward the door. "Respect is earned, dear husband, not announced with fireworks and lightning shows." She slid the door open just enough to lean her head back in.
"And tonight," she added, her voice dropping into that dangerously soft register only a wife could manage, "you've been nothing but an eyesore. Out."
Yangshen's eyes widened. "Out? Out where? This is our chamber!"
"Not tonight." Her smile was infuriatingly serene. "Go meditate under the moon or… flex at the koi pond. I don't care. Just not here."
The door slid shut with a decisive click.
Yangshen sat frozen for a full three breaths before muttering to himself, "Thirty-seven years… and I still lose every battle in this room."
Outside in the courtyard, a koi jumped. Somewhere, Yuyin probably smiled.
The Sea of Consciousness was calm that day.Soft currents of light rippled underfoot, and in the distance the endless horizon shimmered like molten glass.
Alter was already there, standing with arms folded as the four great figures of the Zhenglong line gathered. Jinhai, Meiyun, and Yuyin materialized first, their forms taking shape in the silver mist. Yangshen arrived last, stepping out of the ether with the slow gait of a man carrying more than his own weight.
Alter's gaze swept over them with that calm, sovereign ease that always made the air feel heavier. A faint smile touched his lips.
"Good to see you all," he said, voice carrying like a quiet echo through the vastness. His golden eyes shifted to Yangshen. "And congratulations… I hear you've broken into the Great Saint Realm."
The words should have been triumphant, but Yangshen only managed a stiff nod. His eyes flickered, and behind them Yuyin's voice replayed in merciless detail — He could tear reality apart… rip open space… erase a world in a single strike.
His jaw tightened. Then he blurted, "Show me."
Alter tilted his head. "Show you what?"
"Your… power," Yangshen said, his tone sharp with the forced steadiness of someone trying not to sound small. "I want to see it for myself."
A low chuckle came from Jinhai. Meiyun smirked. Yuyin gave a short, mocking laugh that sounded more like a knife being sharpened.
"You really want that?" Jinhai asked, eyebrow raised."You won't be the same after," Meiyun added.Yuyin's gaze was flat and final. "You'll regret it. I guarantee it."
Yangshen's fists clenched. "I must see."
Alter's smile curled into something between amusement and warning. "Very well."
He walked to the center of the training ground, the silver mists parting under his steps. The air shifted, weight gathering like storm clouds over an ocean. He stopped, standing still as a statue, eyes closed.
The silence thickened.
Then—
His eyes opened. Gold blazed.
"Begin—Shura's Eighteen Heavenly Slaughter Strikes."
Strike One: Fist of RuinBOOOOMMMM — The air cracked like a thunderclap as his fist came down. The shockwave cratered the ground, sending ripples through the very fabric of the realm.
Strike Two: Heaven-Piercer StepVWOOSH—CRRRAAAK — He blurred forward in a vertical kick, a beam of compressed space shooting upward, punching a hole into the shimmering sky itself.
Strike Three: Void Fang RendSHRRRAAACKK — His clawed palm tore downward, space splitting open like fabric, edges fraying into starlit void.
Strike Four: Bloodlash HowlWHOOOM—KRRRSHHH — A spinning kick unleashed a scarlet shockwave, the mists recoiling violently from the force.
Strike Five: Soulbreaker DiveDOOMMM — He fell from midair like a meteor, his elbow smashing into the training floor, light fracturing beneath him like shattered glass.
Strike Six: Graviton SeverVRRRAAAAANGGG — His strike pulled the horizon itself downward, bending gravity until the entire ground buckled.
Strike Seven: Hellpulse EruptionFWOOMMM—BWWWWWMMMM — A punch erupted with searing internal force, waves of distortion blasting out in concentric rings.
Strike Eight: Shadowbane TwisterWHHRRRRR-CRACK! — A sweeping leg carved through the air, shadows ripped apart as the world stuttered like a broken frame of reality.
Strike Nine: Demon's Jaw CrushTHUMMMPPP—KRKKKT! — Both palms clamped and twisted, imploding the space between them into a collapsing sphere before it burst apart.
Strike Ten: Heaven's DismantleBANG—BANG—BANG — Three strikes landed in impossible succession, the surrounding energy freezing, then shattering like brittle ice.
Strike Eleven: Seraph Shatter PalmKHHHOOOOOMMM — A single palm thrust that detonated moments later, the delayed explosion ripping a circular void open behind him.
Strike Twelve: Requiem Fang BarrageTATATATATATATATATA—BOOOMMMM — His fists became blurs, each strike causing micro-cracks to spider across reality until it began to glow from the strain.
Strike Thirteen: Voidlock SpiralWHHRRRRRR-CRRRAAAASHHH — A spinning kick summoned a vortex, dragging the surrounding mists into a screaming spiral.
Strike Fourteen: Celestial Vein RuptureKA-CHOOOOOM — An uppercut lanced into the realm's energy channels, making the horizon itself flicker and darken.
Strike Fifteen: Thousand Cross FangSHHHHNK-SHHHHNK-SHHHHNK — He vanished and reappeared from a dozen angles, each blow striking before the last echo faded.
Strike Sixteen: Abysswalker's BrandBZZZRRRRRT—SHUNK — A marking strike sank into the ground, a black sigil glowing ominously as the air grew colder.
Strike Seventeen: Sovereign Fang CollapseTHHHHHHOOOOOMMMM — He leapt skyward and came down like a falling star, the impact flaring into a blinding eruption that blasted the mists into the distance.
Strike Eighteen: Creator's Banishment—WHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRMMMMMM—KRRRRRRRRSHHHHHHHHH!Reality screamed. Space folded in on itself, then tore open with a sound like the heavens splitting apart. Time warped for a breath before snapping back, leaving only a yawning scar in the Sea of Consciousness that slowly sealed itself shut.
Silence.
Yangshen stood frozen. His mouth hung open so wide it looked like it might actually touch the floor.
The other three ancestors — Yuyin, Jinhai, and Meiyun — looked at him together, and in perfect unison said,
"We told you."
Yangshen didn't even blink. He just kept staring at Alter, eyes glassy, as if trying to comprehend how his thirty-seven years of struggle could be so thoroughly dwarfed in less than a minute.
The last traces of warped space folded back into the calm silver expanse, leaving the Sea of Consciousness eerily still.Alter stood exactly where he had begun, calm as though he'd merely gone for a walk. His golden eyes dimmed back to their usual steady glow, the immense pressure of his strikes fading into nothing.
Yangshen remained rooted in place, jaw still hanging open, eyes unfocused like a man who had stared into the abyss and realized the abyss could bench-press him.
Finally, his lips moved.
"…I may need to… reconsider my life choices."
Jinhai coughed into his fist, the sound suspiciously close to a laugh. "You think?"Meiyun outright smiled, resting her chin in her palm. "I give him three days before he stops waking up in cold sweats."Yuyin crossed her arms, one brow arched in exquisite satisfaction. "Thirty-seven years for the Great Saint Realm, and you just found out what real power looks like. Should I prepare tea for your mid-cultivation crisis?"
Yangshen slowly turned his head toward her, expression dazed. "You undersold it."Her smirk widened. "I was being polite."
He dragged a hand down his face, groaning. "All those years… the resources… the secluded meditations… for this to be the gap?"
Alter, still at the center of the training ground, gave a small, knowing smile. "It's not a gap, Yangshen. It's a horizon. You can walk toward it, but you won't see the other side unless you change how you move."
"Translation," Meiyun said lightly, "you're still at the kiddie table."Jinhai leaned forward. "Better bring your own snacks."
Yangshen looked at all three of them, his face caught between offense and the deep, gnawing truth of it. He finally let out a long, weary sigh, shoulders slumping.
"Fine. Laugh it up," he muttered. "At least I still look better in my ceremonial robes than any of you."
Jinhai chuckled. "Keep telling yourself that."Yuyin didn't miss a beat. "That robe won't save you next time you challenge Alter to 'show you his power.'"
Alter simply turned away, hands clasped behind his back, his faint smile making it very clear he'd enjoyed the demonstration more than he was letting on.
Yangshen, meanwhile, stared at the empty air where space had been ripped open moments ago, as if he could still feel the echo of it pressing on his bones.
"…Yeah," he muttered under his breath, "definitely reconsidering my life choices."
The other three ancestors?They just kept smiling.
Yangshen's training began the very next day.Or, at least, he tried.
In the Sea of Consciousness, he had cleared a large stretch of the training ground for himself, summoning sparring constructs of shimmering energy. They formed in neat ranks — hulking, armored figures armed with spears and shields — perfect for working on explosive bursts and defensive counters.
"Alright," Yangshen muttered to himself, rolling his shoulders. "No more sulking. No more thinking about that… thing. Just focus. This is about me. My growth."
He charged the first construct with a roar, spear-hand strike shattering its shield. The construct dissolved in a burst of light—
—WHHHHRRRRRMMMMMM—KRRRRRRRSHHHHHHH!
Yangshen froze. The sound wasn't real. It was in his head.The same space-rending shriek from Alter's Creator's Banishment echoed through his memory, so vivid the air seemed to vibrate.
His knees locked. His hands went clammy. The next thing he knew, the remaining constructs had swarmed him and tossed him flat onto his back.
"...Okay," he panted, staring up at the silver sky. "That was… an isolated incident."
On day two, he doubled the training intensity.Thirty constructs. No hesitation.
Yangshen's qi flared, lightning dancing along his arms as he carved through the first row in seconds.
Then one of the shattered constructs burst into light — the flash forming the exact same blinding corona Alter had released during his final strike.
He blinked. And in the blink, he saw it — the image of reality folding in on itself, the yawning void pulling at him, the sensation of standing one breath away from erasure.
The next moment, his footing faltered, and he tripped over his own momentum, planting face-first into the ground with a muffled thump.
From the far edge of the training ground, Jinhai's voice drifted in like an amused breeze. "You want me to tell Alter you're practicing your 'fall gracefully' technique?"
Yangshen groaned into the dirt. "Shut up."
By day five, he had resorted to wearing blinders — thin, narrow-focus illusion wards meant to block peripheral distractions.
It didn't help.
Every time a construct dissolved, a flash of distorted space would slip through. Sometimes he swore he heard the tearing sound even when no one was around. And each time, his breath would catch, his rhythm falter, and another humiliating takedown would follow.
On day seven, Yuyin came to "check" on him — which really meant leaning against a column with her arms folded, watching like a cat observing a mouse dig its own grave.
"You've been training harder," she said casually.
Yangshen, sweat streaming down his face, landed a solid blow on a construct and sent it spinning away. "Yes. I'm going to close the gap between me and—"
The construct exploded in a harmless puff of light.Unfortunately, the sound it made was just close enough to the opening ripple of Creator's Banishment that Yangshen's eyes went wide and he instinctively dove sideways for cover.
Yuyin arched a brow. "Between you and Alter?"
He stayed crouched behind an imaginary barrier. "…Yes?"
"You're not closing that gap, husband," she said with a faint smirk. "You're developing a survival instinct around it. Which… might actually be smarter."
From somewhere off to the side, Meiyun's voice chimed in. "Honestly, that's progress. At least now you know when to get out of the way."
Yangshen stood slowly, brushing himself off with whatever dignity he could muster. "…Thirty-seven years of cultivation, and now my greatest accomplishment is knowing when to run."
Jinhai appeared behind him, clapping him on the shoulder. "Don't sell yourself short. You've also mastered looking like you've just seen your own funeral."
Yangshen muttered something inaudible, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed it — just slightly.
Somewhere, deep down, he was already plotting the day he could watch Alter's Creator's Banishment without flinching.
Not that anyone believed it would be anytime soon.