Two months passed in the blink of an eye. The Azure Cloud Sect, once a modest gathering of disciples with wavering hearts and fragile foundations, now radiated a strength that shook the cultivation world. Every disciple who had once struggled to grasp even the basics of Qi circulation now stood tall, their cultivation realms soaring higher than even their wildest dreams could have imagined.
The training fields were no longer silent grounds of frustration and failure. Instead, they thrummed with a power that could make mountains quiver. The disciples sparred against each other with fierce determination, their movements sharp, their spiritual energy steady and overwhelming. One after another, they had broken through, climbing realms that once seemed unreachable.
In just two short months—under Lingxuan's vision, Tianyun's relentless discipline, and Qingyue's inspiring presence—the weakest sect in the region had become a force recognized by all.
Most of the disciples had already stepped into the Immortal Ascension Realm, their auras vast and majestic, like rivers of heavenly light. The air around them carried a divine pressure that made ordinary mortals bow without realizing it. It was a realm where one's existence itself was detached from the common flow of mortality, and the disciples knew they were no longer just cultivators—they were immortals walking the earth.
Su Qingyue, radiant and dazzling, had climbed even higher. Her jade-like hands and clear blue eyes reflected a power that belied her delicate appearance. She had reached the peak of Immortal Ascension Realm, only one step away from transcending into the Heavenly Immortal stage. Her aura was serene yet unfathomable, as if the moon itself had taken human form. Many disciples looked at her with respect, not only because she was Lingxuan's favored disciple, but because she had proven herself with sheer will and unmatched perseverance.
Tianyun, once overshadowed by Lingxuan, now proudly stood in the Heavenly Immortal Realm. His brown hair flowed down his back, and his steady brown eyes carried the weight of responsibility. His cultivation surged with a strength that could crush mountains, and his leadership among the disciples had made him the iron pillar of the sect. Despite his occasional clumsy words and missteps, his heart was genuine, and the disciples followed him with trust.
The four chosen subordinates of Lingxuan—Renji, Kael, Ardyn, and Zoren—had also risen astonishingly. Each had stepped into the early Heavenly Immortal Realm, their talents sharpened like blades forged under Lingxuan's guidance. They were no longer ordinary disciples—they were generals, the fangs and claws of Azure Cloud Sect, men who could march into battle and command fear in their enemies' hearts.
And above them all stood Mo Lingxuan.
The young man who once walked this world uncertain of his place now exuded a majesty that dwarfed even the heavens. His long black hair fluttered as if responding to the will of the Dao itself, his black eyes carrying a depth that none dared to peer into for too long. He had ascended beyond what most cultivators could ever dream of.
Lingxuan was no longer in the realm of mortals, immortals, or even heavenly immortals.
The Dao Lord Realm was not just another step in cultivation—it was a summit reserved for legends. To reach this stage was to step into harmony with the very essence of existence, to grasp the laws that governed reality, and to wield them with a flick of a finger. It was to embody the principles of creation and destruction, to be a walking embodiment of the Dao itself.
There were countless cultivators across the vast world, yet only thirty Dao Lords existed. Thirty—among billions of mortals and millions of cultivators. Each Dao Lord was a figure whose name could shake continents, a being whom even great sects and empires dared not offend.
And now, Mo Lingxuan had joined their ranks.
His cultivation base was vast, a boundless sea of energy that seemed impossible to measure. Even his casual steps left faint ripples in the air, bending reality around him. His finger could shatter mountains, his gaze could terrify Heavenly Immortals, and his killing intent could suppress armies.
The elders of other sects whispered his name with fear and reverence.
"Mo Lingxuan… Dao Lord of Azure Cloud Sect…"
What was once considered a weak, declining sect had suddenly risen into the top echelon of power. For a sect to have a Dao Lord was to have protection against annihilation. No rival dared to provoke them lightly, not when Lingxuan could erase them from existence with a mere flick of his wrist.
Yet despite this immeasurable strength, Lingxuan remained the same. He still trained with his disciples, still smiled with kindness, still played with the village children when he descended into the city. Power had not corroded his heart. If anything, it had deepened his sense of responsibility.
For Lingxuan knew one truth: power was meaningless unless it was used to protect those he cared for.
The rise of Azure Cloud Sect did not go unnoticed. Other sects watched warily, some with envy, others with awe. The news that Mo Lingxuan had become a Dao Lord spread like wildfire, igniting waves of fear across rival sects and joy among allies.
Many wandering cultivators sought refuge in Azure Cloud Sect, begging to join under Lingxuan's banner. Towns and villages that had once ignored their existence now sent offerings and tributes, hoping to curry favor. Even royal families of great empires bowed in respect when Lingxuan's name was spoken.
But Lingxuan refused arrogance. He accepted no lavish gifts, no false praise. Instead, he directed his disciples to train harder, to cultivate with humility, and to never forget where they had come from.
"Strength without virtue," he told them, "is the root of corruption. And corruption is the seed of destruction. We will rise, but we will rise with dignity."
The disciples' eyes burned with determination. They were proud to follow such a leader.
The cultivation world trembled at the presence of thirty Dao Lords. Each was like a pillar holding up the heavens, and whenever one moved, the earth shook. Kingdoms could fall, sects could be erased, and rivers of blood could flow from a single clash of Dao Lords.
But the emergence of Mo Lingxuan had shifted the balance.
The other Dao Lords observed him carefully, curious about this youth who had climbed so high at such a young age. Some saw him as a threat. Others saw him as a potential ally. Rumors spread that wars might soon erupt—not over resources, but over the allegiance of Dao Lords.
Lingxuan, however, did not seek war. His focus remained on his sect, his disciples, and the bonds he had forged in this strange world. He cultivated not for conquest, but for protection. He remembered the loneliness of Shen Yuhan—the person he once was in the world he came from—and swore he would never let those around him feel that same despair.
As the sun set over Azure Cloud Sect, painting the skies in hues of crimson and gold, the disciples trained tirelessly, their sweat glistening like jewels under the dying light. Tianyun stood among them, a steady presence, while Su Qingyue sat quietly, her gaze fixed upon Lingxuan with admiration and a tenderness she dared not yet voice.
High above them, Lingxuan stood upon the peak of the mountain, his robes fluttering gently in the evening wind. His black eyes gazed across the horizon, where clouds parted to reveal the vast world beyond.
A Dao Lord among mortals, yet still a man searching for meaning.
The journey was far from over.
The moonlight draped itself across the sect like a silvery veil, painting the courtyards in shades of white and shadow. Crickets whispered in the distance, and the faint glow of spiritual lanterns flickered gently atop the carved stone pillars. The night air was cool, carrying the fragrance of blooming spirit lotuses from the inner ponds.
In one quiet corridor, Qingyue walked slowly, her steps light yet hesitant. Her usually calm and cold demeanor seemed to falter under the weight of her own heart. She had resolved earlier that she would not allow herself to be left behind when Lingxuan departed for the Grand Assembly. But now, with every step bringing her closer to his residence, her composure began to crumble.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she clutched the sleeve of her robe. Why does my chest feel so tight? Why… am I nervous? She had faced life-and-death battles, had overcome cultivation bottlenecks with icy determination, yet approaching Lingxuan in this moment felt more terrifying than any opponent she had ever faced.
Finally, she stopped before the entrance to Lingxuan's hall. The doors were slightly ajar, golden light spilling out onto the stone pathway. She took a deep breath, steadying her heart, and stepped inside.
Lingxuan was there, seated by a low table. A teapot and two cups rested upon it, untouched. He wore a simple robe of white and deep blue, his long hair tied loosely behind his back. There was no grandeur in his posture, yet his presence radiated a quiet authority that seemed to fill the entire room.
When he looked up and saw Qingyue, his gaze softened. The sharpness that could make even sect masters falter gave way to something far gentler.
His voice, calm and warm, broke the silence."Qingyue, what brings you to me at this hour?"
Qingyue froze for a heartbeat. Her heart pounded so loudly she feared he might hear it. The words she had practiced in her mind scattered like leaves in a storm. She swallowed, her voice faint and trembling, nothing like her usual coldness.
"I… I wanted to ask you something, Lingxuan."
He tilted his head slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes, but he said nothing, allowing her the space to continue.
Gathering her courage, she lowered her gaze to the floor, unable to meet his eyes directly. "I heard… that you and Tianyun, along with the others, will be going to the Grand Assembly in Azure Cloud City. I… I wish to go with you."
The words tumbled out in a rush, as though speaking too slowly would give her the chance to retreat.
For a moment, silence lingered between them. Qingyue's breath caught in her throat. She expected hesitation, questions, perhaps even a refusal. She had already prepared herself to argue, to insist that she was strong enough to stand by his side.
Instead, Lingxuan smiled.
It was not the distant, unreadable smile he often showed others, but a true smile—gentle, unguarded, and disarmingly warm.
"Of course," he said softly, as though the matter had never been in doubt. "You may come with me, Qingyue."
Qingyue's eyes widened. Shock flickered across her face. She had imagined many scenarios, but never this—never such an immediate and effortless acceptance.
"Wh–what? Just like that?" Her voice cracked slightly, betraying her inner turmoil. "Why… why would you allow me to follow you so easily?"
Lingxuan's smile deepened, and under the glow of the lanterns, his handsome features seemed even more striking. His eyes, clear as still water yet fathomless in depth, held hers firmly.
"Because," he said, his tone carrying a weight that struck directly into her heart, "I cannot go without you."
The words fell like thunder in Qingyue's chest. For a moment, her breath halted entirely. Her usually composed mind turned blank.
She stared at him, her lips parting slightly, her body frozen in disbelief. He… he cannot go without me?
Her cheeks burned with sudden warmth, a sensation alien to her. The cold pride that had always surrounded her melted away in the face of his simple yet devastatingly sincere declaration.
Lingxuan continued to watch her with that gentle expression, utterly calm, as though he had merely stated a fact. Yet to Qingyue, those words were more overwhelming than any grand oath.
Her heartbeat quickened to the point of pain. She turned her gaze away, her hands clenching tightly around her sleeves. The image of Lingxuan's smile—so radiant, so unshakably confident—burned itself into her mind.
He said he cannot go without me… he truly said that…
The realization made her chest tighten, and before she could stop herself, heat spread across her face. The icy fairy of the sect, who never showed emotion, was blushing.
"I–I…" she stammered, completely out of her element. Her composure shattered, and with no other escape, she spun on her heel and fled.
Her footsteps echoed through the hall as she rushed out, her long hair fluttering behind her like a stream of silver light. Her heart pounded wildly, her cheeks still crimson as she darted down the corridors. She didn't stop until she reached her own quarters.
Slamming the door shut behind her, she pressed her back against it, her chest heaving. She buried her face in her hands, her entire body trembling with embarrassment.
What was that…? Why would he say such a thing?
The memory of Lingxuan's face—serene, handsome, smiling as he said he could not go without her—looped endlessly in her mind. Her heart refused to calm, each beat louder than the last.
Qingyue collapsed onto her bed, clutching her pillow, her face buried in it as she whispered into the silence."Why… why does he affect me like this?"
Meanwhile, outside the corridor, Tianyun had happened to witness her sudden flight. He had only been walking past when he caught sight of Qingyue rushing out of Lingxuan's residence, her face flushed, her eyes wide with panic.
He stopped in his tracks, blinking in confusion. Watching her disappear down the path, he muttered under his breath.
"…What's gotten into her?"
He stood there for a long moment, scratching his head. Qingyue was not someone easily rattled—her icy demeanor was famous within the sect. To see her running like that, her face red as though she had been caught in some forbidden act, was beyond anything Tianyun could comprehend.
But in the end, he shook his head and walked away, deciding not to meddle. Whatever had passed between her and Lingxuan was not something he should involve himself in.
Still, curiosity gnawed at him. She's never acted like that before. Could it be…?
He quickly dismissed the thought, yet the image of her crimson cheeks lingered in his mind long after he had returned to his quarters.
Back in her room, Qingyue pressed her face into her pillow, muffling the sound of her own frustrated groans. She had always believed herself to be composed, untouchable by ordinary emotions. But tonight, that illusion had been shattered with a single smile and a single sentence.
Her mind returned again and again to Lingxuan's words.
"Because I cannot go without you."
Each repetition sent fresh waves of heat rushing to her face. She hugged her pillow tighter, her heart unwilling to calm.
For the first time in her life, Qingyue realized that perhaps even she—the coldest of fairies—was not immune to such feelings.
And deep down, though she would never admit it aloud, the thought that Lingxuan might truly mean those words filled her with a happiness so profound it scared her.