The decade of peace ended quietly, almost deceptively, like the stillness before a storm. After ensuring Tie Ling's cultivation had stabilized and her heart remained pure, Taiyi finally decided it was time to set other matters into motion.
He did not take her to the Fire Realm as Feng Jiu had wished. Instead, he brought both mother and daughter to the Flower Realm.
The Flower Realm was unlike any other domain. Petals bloomed eternally, nourished by the protective dome that shimmered faintly like starlight. This barrier had been laid down by none other than the Ancestral God—a figure of myth, whose name was lost to history. Only his deeds endured: saving the six realms from collapse, sealing chaos, and leaving behind protections that even the Heavenly Emperor could not replicate.
"Why here?" Feng Jiu asked softly as she walked beside Taiyi, Tie Ling running ahead among the blossoms like a child.
"Because," Taiyi said, his gaze traveling upward to the translucent dome above, "this is the safest cradle left in existence. Even the Divine Emperor cannot pierce this place without shattering the will of the heavens themselves."
Feng Jiu frowned but said nothing. She wanted Tie Ling close, in the Fire Realm where she could see her every day, but Taiyi's insistence was unyielding.
Beneath a sacred lotus pond, Taiyi bent down, his palm glowing as he poured strands of spiritual essence into the Chaotic Lotus. The lotus shivered, its petals trembling with a faint hum as the chaotic mist around it thickened.
"This flower," he murmured, half to himself, "will decide everything if the heavens betray us. If even I fall, it will carry her future."
Feng Jiu's lips parted, but she remained silent. She knew well that once Taiyi spoke with such weight, no argument would sway him.
The clone of the Goddess of Mercy appeared then, her form wreathed in gentle radiance. She greeted them with a serene bow, eyes lingering upon Taiyi as though she saw deeper truths no one else could.
Many whispered that she alone had witnessed the Ancestral God. Others whispered that Taiyi himself was connected to that ancient existence. Perhaps even his son. But there was no proof, only suspicion—and Taiyi had never confirmed it.
As Tie Ling disappeared hand in hand with the Goddess's clone, Feng Jiu glanced sideways at Taiyi. His eyes followed their daughter for a long moment, something unreadable flashing through them. Regret? Longing? A search for answers only he carried?
---
Outer Space...
When the two emerged again, they were no longer in the realms but drifting into the vast sea of stars. Endless constellations glittered beneath them as they crossed hand in hand toward the grand hall that floated between worlds.
The hall was vast enough to contain an ocean. Its floor was woven of crystalized starlight, its pillars of condensed laws of Dao. Already, countless rulers had gathered—emperors, monarchs, sovereign beasts, and gods of every lineage. Their combined aura shook the void, but when Taiyi appeared, silence rippled through them like a tide.
He smiled faintly, unhurried, and walked past them. In the center stood the Throne of Heaven, towering, radiant, meant only for the Heavenly King himself.
But Taiyi bypassed it, lowering himself instead onto a slightly smaller throne below. Lazily, almost mockingly, he leaned back, one hand resting on the armrest as though this gathering were nothing but a casual tea meeting.
Feng Jiu followed. She paused, intending to find a place among her people, but Taiyi caught her wrist. Before she could resist, he pulled her down beside him.
Gasps echoed across the hall. A thousand eyes widened. Some narrowed in distaste.
The Heavenly King on the main throne only chuckled softly, accustomed by now to Taiyi's irreverence. But for Feng Jiu, whose position as Fire Queen demanded dignity, it was both embarrassing and infuriating. Her cheeks flushed faintly, yet Taiyi only smirked, his hand brushing against hers openly, daring the rulers to object.
From the Fire Realm's delegation, several old officials glared, their eyes almost bulging from their sockets. They waved subtly, trying to signal her to stand, to preserve decorum.
But Feng Jiu ignored them. Her chin lifted slightly, regal and cold, as if to say: Do you think my place beside him is beneath me? You old fools should remember who I am.
Already she was planning how to put them in their place once this gathering ended.
---
On the Heavenly Throne, the Heavenly King sat upright, his robes gleaming with heavenly law. To his right, Little Fox, Taiyi's disciple and current master of the Purple Palace, occupied a seat of his own. His aura was sharp, his nine tails flickering faintly, though one was already transforming—on the cusp of becoming the tenth.
The weight of his presence alone made many rulers shift uncomfortably. They knew that the Purple Palace was beyond reproach, commanding armies capable of erasing entire realms.
But still, all eyes occasionally darted back to Taiyi—the man who had founded the Purple Palace, who had refused its throne, who now sat as if he were half-asleep.
The Heavenly King's voice cut the silence. "Welcome, rulers of the six realms. This gathering has not been called lightly. You may present your matters before us."
Immediately, a ruler stepped forward, his tone falsely courteous. "Your Majesty, I trust you have been well. Forgive my directness, but may we know the true purpose of this sudden summons?"
Though the man's words were directed to the Heavenly King, his gaze slid constantly toward Taiyi, watching for any flicker of reaction.
But Taiyi didn't move. His eyes remained closed, his breathing calm, almost as though he had fallen asleep.
The Heavenly King, used to this, intervened smoothly. "Lord Bo, perhaps you might enlighten the assembly on the external threats we face."
It was both courtesy and a shield. Everyone knew the Purple Palace acted with independence, above even the Heavenly Emperor. And Little Fox, though Taiyi's disciple, carried that authority now. Respect demanded it.
---
Old Legends, New Storms
As Lord Bo began his report, many cast their eyes between master and disciple. It struck them then: Taiyi had only ever accepted two disciples in his life—one, a phoenix whose flames were said to rival the sun; the other, this nine-tailed fox, now quasi ten-tailed, whose bloodline neared ancestral purity.
Both had grown into pillars. Both carried legacies strong enough to rival even the Heavenly Kings of old.
Perhaps it was not only Feng Jiu who had grown in this decade of peace. Perhaps Taiyi's entire lineage, his chosen kin, were rising together.
And yet—what was his endgame?
The rulers shifted in uneasy silence, watching the man who had once broken heavens with a single strike now sitting with a woman at his side, lips curved into the faintest smirk, eyes opening just slightly—only to meet Feng Jiu's, as though nothing else in this hall mattered.