The sun hung low over the southern territories, casting long shadows across the newly blooming forests that Mei's enhanced nature affinity had birthed from the tribulation's aftermath.
Our growing army of followers—now over a thousand strong, thanks to the surrendered cultivators—had set up a makeshift camp at the base of the ridge, their white robes mixing with the verdant chaos like snow on spring grass.
Zhang Wuji was already barking orders, organizing them into training groups, his legendary blade sheathed but his presence alone enough to keep the rabble in line.
I stood a bit apart from the main hubbub, my Great Vehicle aura humming faintly, making the air around me coalesce, clearly hiding my presence from those others.
My wives had scattered to their tasks—Feng, ever the tactician, had gone to debrief our new Immortal Sect recruits on their former masters' formations and secrets, her MILF curves swaying as she walked with that ice-queen authority.
