Silence.
Not the earlier, suffocating silence of despair, but a hollow, ringing quiet that came only after a calamity no one had words for.
The alliance's army trembled.
Down below, even someone as battle-mad as Chen Baojiao could only stare at the sky where the last motes of undying blood were still burning away.
"…He just…" she whispered, voice hoarse. "Nine old undyings, like swatting flies…"
Her hands were clenched so tight around her saber that the knuckles had gone white, yet she barely felt it. In her mind, the scene replayed over and over:
Eleven ancient existences standing in the air—old undyings whose names were written in heavy ink in the records of imperial lineages, each one supported by Immortal Emperor Life Treasures roaring with Emperor might.
Perimeter of the Wise Sages hanging above the academy like a stone sun, countless Immortal Emperors' wills manifesting behind the old tablet in the form of colossal phantoms: a Heavenly Dragon that coiled across the firmament, the Sea God stepping out of the tides, Immortal Emperor Ta Kong raising his hammer, ancient Ming-era giants striding through the clouds.
And then—Ling Feng stepping forward beneath that sky as if walking across his own courtyard, Chaos swirling quietly around him, four Chaos Emeralds rotating in his inner world like alien stars.
He hadn't done anything grand.
A lazy wave of his hand.
A finger pointing.
Chaos Force slipped into the battlefield like invisible ink spilled into water. The Emperor weapons that once shook the heavens, pagodas, swords, and spears suddenly screamed, their Emperor wills shackled by a power that did not belong to this world.
Nine old undyings—existences who had once suppressed eras—had their Life Wheels crushed, their long, hard-won accumulations erased like chalk under a tide. Their bodies didn't even have time to explode properly. One instant they were roaring, the next they were just… gone.
Like stains someone had wiped from a table.
Li Shuangyan's jade hands were cold as that truth finally settled into her bones.
She had always known Ling Feng was far beyond his realm. She had watched him step past Heavenly Sovereigns with a Named Hero cultivation base, suppress Ancient Saints, play with Heavenly Princes like children. She had seen him bargain with corpse lords in the Heavenly Ancient Corpse Burial Ground and trade with Bu Lianxiang herself under a dead sky.
But this—
This was undying old monsters. Existence wrapped in respectful language and heavy ink in the Emperor Era Hall's records. Men who had stood beneath Immortal Emperors themselves. And he had erased nine of them as if they were stains he found mildly annoying.
Beside her, Bai Jianzhen's fingers tightened around her sword hilt until the tendons stood out. Her sword Dao screamed inside her chest, a long, icy howl:
Become sharper. Catch up.
Chi Xiaodie swayed slightly, the breath she'd been holding finally evacuating her lungs in a shudder. Xu Pei quietly reached out, steadying her without a word. Neither of them spoke. Their eyes were fixed on the lone figure floating in midair beneath the torn clouds.
Bing Yuxia's expression was complicated.
"This young master" had always carried herself with a proud tilt of the chin, as though heaven and earth owed her an apology for being too small. But right now, that arrogance was overshadowed by something like… reluctant awe.
Even Chi Xiaodao, who had always worshipped Ling Feng so openly that his admiration was a running joke among the Heavenly Dao Academy disciples, found his reverence tipping into something deeper—a wordless, silent pledge.
Up in the pavilion, under the shadow of the Everlasting tree, one of the Seven Ancient Ancestors finally exhaled.
"…We planned to use him as a blade," the old monster murmured, his voice rough and tired. "Instead, the blade brought its own hand."
Old Daoist Peng said nothing.
But deep inside, where only he could hear, an old, rotten pessimism that had clung to him for countless years finally cracked.
The academy might yet live.
...
Ling Feng descended slowly.
Above his head, Immortal Emperor Life Treasures orbited him in a broad ring like subdued stars: the Black Tortoise Rod humming with deep, oceanic power; the Imperial Violet Hammer wrapped in surging violet lightning; pagodas, spears, swords, and mirrors still singing with Emperor will that now coiled tightly, caged by an alien Chaos they could not shake.
Every time they turned, the heavens trembled slightly.
He glanced at them with a thoughtful, almost absent look, as if appraising some decent bargains he'd picked up at a market.
"Good stuff," he said softly, lips quirking. "You'll be useful."
His feet touched down on the pavilion before the Everlasting Courtyard. Old Daoist Peng and the Seven Ancient Ancestors rose slowly to greet him, their ancient Daos pressing down like seven mountains.
Ling Feng ignored that pressure the way a man ignores a light breeze.
He lifted his hand.
Half of the Immortal Emperor Life Treasures changed course at once and drifted down toward the Everlasting Courtyard. They flew like obedient birds, circling once around the Perimeter of the Wise Sages before settling quietly beside it, their Emperor lights dimming respectfully before that defining treasure of the academy.
The rest stayed orbiting Ling Feng, humming quietly, as if aware that this new master walked roads their original wielders had never imagined.
He extended his hand toward Old Daoist Peng.
"Here," he said simply. "For the academy."
Old Daoist Peng accepted the treasures with both hands, not daring to feign modesty before such a scene. Even his ancient Dao Heart shook as the weight of Immortal Emperor power settled in his grasp.
"The academy owes you a debt that cannot be repaid with mere items," he said, voice low, hoarse from shouting commands through the battle.
Ling Feng shrugged.
"Then pay it back by not dying," he replied, tone flat. "That's all."
Old Daoist Peng's lips trembled in something like a smile.
Ling Feng turned away without lingering on gratitude.
He faced the alliance's remaining armies.
They had already begun to recoil.
Formations that had seemed unshakable hours ago now looked flimsy, full of holes. Heavenly Kings and Heavenly Sovereigns who had once hovered arrogantly at the front lines had quietly retreated behind layers of troops. Ancient Saints who had been eager to earn merit by trampling the academy's bones suddenly found their feet rooted in place.
An army that had come to carve up Heavenly Dao Academy now looked like a herd of beasts that had realized they had rushed into a dragon's den.
Ling Feng lifted a hand.
He did not summon a grand technique.
He simply let a little more Chaos leak out.
The sky dimmed.
It was not the darkness of clouds, but the dimming of meaning. For a breath, all those gathered under heaven felt as though some enormous, indifferent gaze had turned to regard them from beyond the firmament—a gaze from a reality that did not care about their lineages, their Immortal Emperor ancestors, their carefully nurtured pride, or the karma they liked to boast about.
Pressure rolled out.
It didn't roar. It didn't scream. It just… appeared, like an ocean falling silently from the sky.
Not fully, not even close.
Just enough.
Armies shuddered as if struck by a giant's invisible palm. War chariots creaked and cracked; engraved formation lines shattered like dry twigs. Heaven-rending banners snapped and fell. Those closest to the front—Enlightened Beings, Royal Nobles, proud young geniuses—burst into blood mists, their Life Wheels shattering before they could even circulate their Merit Laws.
Weaker cultivators were smashed brutally into the ground, bones powdered, meridians cut. Some merely fainted, pupils rolled white. Others vomited blood, their Dao Hearts screaming.
If Ling Feng had pressed, if he had let the Chaos Force pour out just a little more, then not just the front ranks but the entire alliance would have become paste in an instant.
He didn't.
He let the wave crest just shy of annihilation, then withdrew it like a man closing his hand after brushing dust from his sleeve.
"Go," he said, voice suddenly cold, carrying clearly across the trembling battlefield. "Take your broken pride and what's left of your teeth. Remember that nine of your eleven undyings died today like dogs. Remember the academy you tried so hard to carve up still stands."
His eyes narrowed.
"And remember…"
He tilted his head, a faint, almost amused smile touching his lips.
"You're only around because you still have some uses to me."
The words sank into countless Dao Hearts like sharp stones dropped into still ponds. Ripples of humiliation, fear, and rage spread through the alliance ranks.
He glanced once at the banners of Azure Mysterious and Brilliance, their once-majestic flags now drooping like wounded beasts.
"Two Ancient Kingdoms…" he said lightly. "So much noise. For this level of performance? Disappointing."
The scoff that followed was so soft it might as well have been a breath. But under the echo of slaughtered undyings and shattered altars, it landed harder than any roar.
On a distant war chariot, an old ancestor from Brilliance spat blood, his face mottled with shame and fury.
A Heavenly Prince from Azure Mysterious clenched his fists until his nails pierced his own palms. The legacy of two Immortal Emperors behind him, the mightiest lineage in Grand Middle Territory beneath War God Temple—and he had just watched a Named Hero humiliate his entire kingdom in one sentence.
No one answered aloud.
No one dared.
Under the combined weight of Chaos Force, the unsheathed Perimeter of the Wise Sages, and Heavenly Dao Academy's roaring foundation, the Anti–Heavenly Dao Academy Alliance finally did what it had never imagined it would do on this day.
It retreated.
Immortal Emperor Life Treasures dimmed and flew away. Ancient formations contracted. Banners turned. War chariots, sky fortresses, and flying palaces scattered like a receding tide that had crashed uselessly against a cliff.
In their wake, Heavenly Dao Academy remained.
Scarred.
But unbroken.
Many disciples still knelt, legs numb, hands shaking uncontrollably. Some elders had to forcibly regulate their breathing, suppressing the instinctive fear that came from watching eleven undyings erased, Emperor weapons shackled, and an era's calamity turned aside as if it were someone else's bad weather.
On the Everlasting Courtyard's high pavilion, Old Daoist Peng exhaled slowly. The Seven Ancient Ancestors sat in silence, their gathered Daos like seven mountains pressing into the sky.
"That youth…" one ancestor finally murmured, voice rough. "If this were the Path of Heavens, we would already have to call him an Emperor Candidate."
"On the Path of the Grand Era," another said hoarsely, "he already stands beyond ordinary Godkings."
Their eyes followed the lone figure beneath the broken clouds.
Ling Feng.
He looked up once at the retreating tide of enemies.
Then he yawned.
"Alright," he said, as if concluding a dull morning errand. "That's enough noise."
Without so much as a bow toward Old Daoist Peng, without speaking to the Seven Ancient Ancestors or the trembling Godkings who had just watched him rewrite their understanding of power, Ling Feng stepped once.
He vanished from midair.
...
When he reappeared, it was on the Dragon Arbiter Stage.
The ancient stage still hummed faintly with the echo of earlier battles. Dao patterns hidden in its stone bones flickered like sleepy fireflies. Fractures caused by Heavenly Sovereigns' strikes and Ancient Saints' desperate blows crisscrossed the platform like scars on an old warrior.
On the edge of the platform, Li Shuangyan, Chen Baojiao, Bai Jianzhen, Bing Yuxia, Chi Xiaodie, Xu Pei, Li Shangyuan, and Chi Xiaodao all stared blankly at the empty sky he had just left.
Someone coughed lightly.
"Yo," Ling Feng said. "You all look like you saw a ghost."
Eight heads whipped around.
"Ling Feng!" Chen Baojiao was the first to move. She rushed forward in a blur, eyes bright, Tyrannical Valley Immortal Spring Physique still boiling faintly around her like heated jade springs. The battle had forced her physique into overdrive; residual energy leaked out as steam-like mist.
"That just now— you— haha!" She broke into a breathless laugh that couldn't decide whether it wanted to sob instead. "You should have seen those old bastards' faces! If this young lady had known you were going to smash undyings like flies, I would've shouted louder!"
Her laughter was bold and wild as ever, but the hand grabbing his sleeve was too tight.
Ling Feng allowed himself to be tugged.
Then he casually reached out and pinched her cheek.
"Mm. Still soft. Good, the war didn't wear you out," he said, tone light. "I'd be heartbroken if my Baojiao came back all skinny."
She slapped his hand away immediately, cheeks reddening.
"You… stop talking nonsense!" she snorted. "Who is 'your' Baojiao?"
"Who else is this noisy?" he said, amused.
Li Shuangyan walked over more slowly, white dress fluttering, jade-like features composed. Only the slight stiffness in her shoulders and the way her lashes lowered betrayed how tightly she had been reining in her worry.
"You really made a mess this time," she said quietly. "Killing undyings in front of all the Ancient Kingdoms… stealing their Life Treasures… even Immortal Emperors would think twice before doing this."
Her gaze was clear and calm, but her fingers brushed the edge of his sleeve as if reassuring herself that he was real.
Ling Feng smiled and hooked that hand with his own, giving it a light squeeze.
"What, you wanted me to let them trample your academy instead?" he asked. "Or let them bully my wife-to-be in front of everyone?"
Her ears flushed at "wife-to-be," but she didn't pull away. Instead, her fingers curled almost imperceptibly around his.
Xu Pei finally remembered how to breathe. Her storm-tinted eyes were wide, pure awe reflected in their depths as she stared at him.
Bing Yuxia's folding fan snapped open with a crisp sound as she straightened her back, hiding half her face behind it.
"This young master already said it," she sniffed, voice deliberately cool. "You are too unreasonable. Killing nine undyings like chickens, making Heavenly Dao Academy's defining treasures your playthings… hmph. Do you plan to overturn the sky itself?"
But the hand holding the fan trembled once.
Ling Feng tilted his head, eyes lazily sliding over her tall, elegant figure, the blue robe snapping in the lingering winds of battle.
"Ice Feather, are you worried about me?" he asked.
"I am worried about the good wine I still owe you," she shot back instantly. "If you die, who will drink it?"
He laughed.
"Relax," he said softly. "I'll live long enough to make you admit you like unreasonable things."
Her fan jerked, hiding more of her face.
"Keep dreaming," she muttered, voice almost too soft to hear.
Bai Jianzhen stood slightly apart, sword still in hand, expression cold as an untouched sword mound. Her gaze had never left him—from the moment he stepped alone into the alliance's ranks until now, she had tracked his every move.
When his eyes met hers, her fingers tightened around the hilt.
"…Your Dao today," she said slowly, as if weighing each word. "I could not see the end of it."
"Good," he said. "If you could, I'd have to work harder."
He walked toward her, stopping just close enough that the tip of her sword almost touched his chest.
Her sword intent responded instinctively, flaring like a blade drawn halfway from its sheath—then quieting under his steady gaze.
He grinned.
"So," he drawled, tone suddenly lazy, "since I came back in one piece, shouldn't there be a reward?"
"Reward?" Chi Xiaodie echoed blankly. The princess's hair was slightly messy, some strands stuck to the sweat on her forehead. Her eyes were still wide, pupils dilated from watching eleven undyings fall.
Ling Feng turned toward her.
"Mm." He tapped his chin. "I bled for Lion's Roar's future, for Heavenly Dao Academy, for your little kingdom… Isn't there at least a princess's thank-you?"
Chi Xiaodie's face went scarlet all at once.
"This Chi… This Chi is a princess of Lion's Roar," she said stiffly, instinctively falling back into formal tones. "We… we will naturally remember this favor for generations. The national treasury—"
He raised a hand and flicked her forehead.
She yelped, hands flying up to cover the spot.
"I'm not asking your treasury, Xiaodie," he said, voice gentler. "Don't go full minister right away."
She blinked, startled.
"Then…"
He leaned a little closer.
"Smile for me," he said simply. "That's enough."
Her breath caught.
It was absurd.
He had just crushed undyings, made Ancient Kingdoms retreat, shackled Immortal Emperor Life Treasures in front of the whole world.
And his demand for a "reward"… was a smile.
Her lips parted, then closed again. Conflict flickered across her face—royal dignity, shyness, leftover fear—
Then, slowly, a small, genuine smile bloomed. It was a little stiff, a little shy, and stubbornly bright.
"…Very well," she whispered. "Only this once."
"Mn." He nodded in satisfaction. "Good start. Keep paying in installments."
"You…" she murmured, ears burning.
He turned, eyes sliding back to Bai Jianzhen and Bing Yuxia, mischief stirring.
"And as for you two," he said. "Xiaodie gave me a smile. Ice Feather, Sword Fairy—what about you?"
Bai Jianzhen's brows twitched.
"This sword's Dao is still lacking," she said bluntly. "Until it can keep up with you, I have no qualification to speak of rewards."
Ling Feng chuckled.
"That's fine," he said. "Then remember it in your heart. One day, when you catch up and cut an Emperor for me, I'll consider the debt repaid."
Her fingers clenched on the hilt.
"…En," she answered softly, the single syllable ringing with iron resolve.
Bing Yuxia huffed through her nose, fan snapping shut then opening again.
"This young master doesn't owe you anything," she declared, raising her chin. "You're the one who keeps meddling in my matters."
Ling Feng's eyes curved.
"Oh?" he drawled. "Then I'll make it simple. Next time we drink, pour my cup yourself. That's enough."
Her fan stilled mid-air.
She opened her mouth—closed it—then flicked the fan hard enough that the paper snapped.
"…You are truly shameless," she muttered.
"Yet you're thinking about it seriously," he said with a grin.
The atmosphere on the stage loosened. Laughter, scolding, and lingering adrenaline tangled together with the slowly calming Dao patterns of the Dragon Arbiter Stage.
Far above, the scars in the sky from Emperor weapons and Chaos Force still had not healed. Heavenly Dao Academy's heavens looked like they'd been clawed by some titanic beast.
Down here, Ling Feng reached into his sleeve.
"Alright," he said. "Jokes aside. Spoils-of-war time."
Even before he took them out, everyone felt it.
A weight pressed gently on their souls—not suffocating, but vast. Like standing beneath a heavenly river that could flood the world at any time.
He flicked his wrist.
A black tortoise phantom appeared first, slow and steady, carrying mountains and rivers on its back. The Black Tortoise Rod fell into existence with a deep, resonant hum, Emperor runes flowing along its length like ancient water.
"Shangyuan," Ling Feng called.
The quiet girl from the Pure Jade lineage started, then hurriedly stepped forward. Her Pure Jade Physique glowed faintly, clear light like still water emerging under her skin, making her seem almost translucent.
"Young Noble," she said, bowing.
Ling Feng held the rod out.
"Take it," he said.
She froze.
"This is… an Immortal Emperor Life Treasure…" Her voice trembled despite her effort to remain calm. "Black Tortoise Rod… how can I—"
"None of that riff-raff, or I'll flick your forehead harder than Xiaodie's," he cut in, tone light. "Your physique is pure, your Dao is steady. Out of everyone here, you're best suited to anchor a defense that can turn into offense at any time."
He gently pushed the rod toward her.
"Black Tortoise Rod is good at guarding," he continued. "Use it to protect yourself. Protect our side. When I'm not around, I'll feel better if you're holding this."
Her jade hands shook as they closed around the rod. Emperor power surged out, ready to crush a lesser cultivator—but then, sensing her shy, resolute will, its light softened. The tortoise phantom lowered its head slightly, as if recognizing a new partner.
"…Young Noble," she whispered. "This grace… Shangyuan will never forget."
He reached out and wiped a bit of dust from the corner of her eye with his thumb.
"Don't carry it like a debt," he said softly. "Carry it like… a promise. One day, when we go see Immortal Emperors, I'll be counting on you to keep the sky from falling on everyone's heads."
Her face flushed crimson to the tips of her ears.
"En," she replied, voice barely audible.
Next, he raised his hand again.
Purple brilliance exploded outward.
The Imperial Violet Hammer appeared with a thunderous roar, purple divine light pouring down like a waterfall. Its mere weight made the Dragon Arbiter Stage groan as it hovered, faint cracks spiderwebbing under its suppressed might.
"Baojiao," Ling Feng said.
Chen Baojiao's eyes went round.
"Me?" she blurted. "Wait, wait—Young Noble, this is—"
"This," he said, "likes to smash things. You like to smash things. It's a good match."
He nudged the hammer lightly with his knuckles. The Immortal Emperor aura that would make Ancestors tremble curled around his hand like an obedient dog.
"With your Tyrannical Valley Immortal Spring Physique devouring force and this hammer lending you real weight," he added, "if some Emperor's descendant comes acting arrogant, you can just knock them flying without waiting for me."
Baojiao swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing.
"This girl… will really…" Her voice choked. "Ling Feng, are you not afraid of causing trouble? This Life Treasure… countless lineages would kill for it…"
"The ones who owned it already tried," he said, smiling, eyes narrowing. "They didn't succeed. If anyone else wants to try, they can come… talk to me."
Purple light flashed in his eyes for a heartbeat, violent enough that even Baojiao's battle-loving heart skipped.
Then his expression softened again.
"Also," he said casually, "I want to see you standing on the battlefield someday, hammer in hand, laughing like a madwoman while the world runs away."
Her breath hitched.
Then she grinned, eyes wet and bright.
"Alright!" she laughed, grabbing the hammer's handle with both hands. Emperor might surged, her Immortal Spring Physique answered, the Chaos-enhanced springs in her body devouring the backlash like a bottomless well.
"I'll smash them for you! Anyone who dares bully your people, I'll beat them into pig heads."
"My people, huh," he said, amused.
She realized what she'd said and immediately turned away, ears red.
"D-don't twist my words!"
Ling Feng didn't argue.
His hand moved again.
An azure halberd emerged, its blade wrapped in tempestuous clouds, every swirl of mist carrying the roar of storm dragons. Lightning flickered along its shaft; the grand dao of wind and thunder coiled around it like a living serpent.
"Pei-Pei."
Xu Pei stepped forward, eyes fixed on the weapon, her Storm-attribute energy already stirring restlessly.
"This suits you," Ling Feng said. "Right now, you're just throwing your storm-qi around like you're having a tantrum. With this, you can compress it, sharpen it. One sweep to tear apart a whole army's formation."
Xu Pei bit her lip.
"This junior…" she began.
"Enough." He shook his head. "You're not a junior. You're my wife."
Lightning crackled faintly across her cheeks as color rose.
"…En," she said, gripping the halberd with both hands.
Storm qi surged from her meridians, intertwining with Emperor lightning. The halberd's roar quieted, turning into a fierce, protective momentum that made those nearby feel as though they stood in the eye of a storm.
Ling Feng turned, gaze falling on Bai Jianzhen again.
"For your sword," he said simply.
From his inner void, another treasure answered—a slender, simple sword, its blade devoid of decoration. Yet every inch of metal hummed with a terrifying sword intent, the remnant Dao of an Immortal Emperor who had cut countless paths.
An Immortal Emperor Sword Life Treasure.
Bai Jianzhen's pupils shrank.
"This sword…" she whispered.
"It likes cutting roads," Ling Feng said. "Just like you."
He flipped it, offering the hilt.
"I've got no need for it," he added. "Time to give it to someone who can make it sing properly."
Bai Jianzhen did not immediately reach out.
"Immortal Emperor Life Treasures…" she said quietly. "They are the crystallization of eras. Even great lineages would never distribute them like this. If I take this sword… my Dao will be tied to you, completely."
"Is that what you're afraid of?" he asked, eyes softening.
She met his gaze.
After a long moment, she slowly shook her head.
"…No," she answered truthfully. "I am only afraid that with this sword, my heart will want to chase your back even more… and never be able to catch up."
Ling Feng's smile thinned, something deeper glinting in his eyes.
"Then chase," he said. "Even if you never catch up, your sword will cut farther than any Emperor's imagination. Isn't that enough?"
Her throat worked.
She finally reached out and wrapped her hand around the hilt.
The Immortal Emperor Sword hummed, a clear, austere note that seemed to slice open six paths of reincarnation at once. For a brief instant, ancient sword intent brushed across the Dragon Arbiter Stage—and then, under Bai Jianzhen's cold, straight will, it narrowed into a single piercing line.
Sword and woman both lowered their brows.
"…If you fall one day," she said softly, almost inaudibly, "this sword will remember you and cut for you."
He chuckled.
"I told you not to write my memorial yet," he said. "But I'll look forward to it."
He glanced to the side.
"Xiaodie."
Chi Xiaodie straightened reflexively, reports and mental calculations almost spilling from her lips out of habit.
"Y-Yes!"
From Ling Feng's sleeve, a small tower floated out—unassuming in shape, its surface covered in faint, intricate dao carvings. Its aura was deep and steady, the Life Treasure of an ancient Virtuous Paragon, more suited to stabilizing heaven and earth than destroying them.
"A Virtuous Paragon Life Treasure," he said. "Refined for governance and protection. With this, you can suppress Lion's Roar's national fate, anchor your people's qi."
She stared.
"Ling Feng… this is too precious…"
"For the general of my household treasury, it's just the right size," he said dryly. "You're already carrying half the academy's ledgers on your back. Take something that makes the weight worth it."
His tone softened.
"If war comes again while I'm away, I want you to have something that can keep the country standing until I get back. Don't make me come home to ashes, alright?"
Her eyes reddened.
She bowed deeply, both hands lifting the little tower with a seriousness befitting a crown.
"…This Chi…" she said, voice low and steady, "will not let you down."
He smiled.
"I know."
Finally, he looked at Bing Yuxia.
The proud young master of the Hundred Cities watched him through half-lidded eyes, fan hiding her mouth, heart beating just a little faster.
"Don't tell me you came back from killing undyings empty-handed," she said coolly. "If you try to bribe me with some random trinket, I'll throw it back at your head."
He laughed.
"Your taste is expensive," he admitted. "Fortunately, the enemies today were generous."
A slender, icy mirror surfaced above his palm—its surface reflecting not faces, but flowing Dao lines. This was a peculiar Immortal Emperor Life Treasure, once used by a cold Immortal Emperor to reflect and cut all foreign laws.
"A mirror that cuts Heaven's lines," he said. "Very arrogant. Very you."
He flicked it toward her.
"With your Nine Palace foundation and your hatred for so-called geniuses, it should fit," he added. "Use it to slice apart any grand dao that annoys you. No need to argue with them."
Bing Yuxia caught it reflexively.
The mirror's cold radiance spilled over her fingers, tasting her arrogance, her unyielding desire to climb above Emperors. It trembled once, then quieted, its reflection sharpening.
She stared down at it, then up at him.
"…Do you think throwing Imperial treasures around like toys will make people like you more?" she asked slowly.
He shrugged.
"I don't know about people," he said. "I only care about you girls."
He smiled, simple and unguarded.
"I want my wives to be happy," he said matter-of-factly. "Happy wives, happy life. If tossing some heavy metal around helps with that, why not?"
The words were casual, almost joking.
They hit like thunder.
Li Shuangyan's fingers tightened around her sleeve.
Chen Baojiao snorted, lips curling upward.
Chi Xiaodie's ears burned again.
Xu Pei's lightning-qi stumbled.
Bai Jianzhen's sword hand trembled imperceptibly.
Bing Yuxia choked on nothing.
"W-who is your wife?!" she sputtered, fan snapping open so fast it almost tore. "You speak nonsense in broad daylight!"
"But you didn't throw it back," Ling Feng pointed out lazily.
The fan shook.
"If you die one day, I will use this mirror to cut your tombstone into eight pieces," she hissed.
"See?" he said cheerfully. "That's affection."
Xu Pei couldn't help it—a small laugh escaped, quickly followed by a few more from the others.
The last traces of suffocating tension on the Dragon Arbiter Stage finally broke completely.
Ling Feng turned his head, as if remembering something.
"Oh, right."
He flicked his wrist one last time.
A halberd-shaped Virtuous Paragon Life Treasure—simpler than an Emperor weapon, but still far above ordinary dao weapons—flew in a graceful arc and landed with a heavy thunk in front of Chi Xiaodao.
The young man yelped and nearly tripped over his own turtle-shell armor.
"Big Brother Ling?!" he squeaked.
"Study it," Ling Feng said lazily. "You're too sloppy. If you keep swinging like that, you'll trip over your own Heavenly Turtle in the first serious battle. Learn how this guy circulates force. Maybe you'll stop looking like a walking disaster."
Chi Xiaodao stared at the halberd, then up at him.
"B-Big Brother Ling, I…" His eyes grew wet. "I don't know how to thank—"
Ling Feng flicked a peanut from somewhere straight into his open mouth.
"Thank me by not dying," he said. "And try not to embarrass me when you go out carrying Heavenly Dao Academy's name."
Chi Xiaodao coughed, then saluted so hard his shell rattled.
"Yes!"
Ling Feng stretched, joints popping softly, as if he had just finished some light housework—not redistributed enough treasures to start his own era.
His gaze drifted toward the distant mountains.
On a distant peak, a green-clad figure and another girl in simple robes stood quietly, having watched everything from afar.
Mei Suyao. Ye Chuyun.
Ling Feng's lips curved.
He raised a hand and waved—not summoning them, not intruding—just letting his voice travel on a thin thread of Chaos.
"If the two fairies want to talk," he said casually, "you know where to find me."
Mei Suyao's immortal temperament barely rippled, but the immortal seal between her brows flashed once.
Ye Chuyun's eyes brightened, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
Ling Feng didn't wait for an answer.
He clapped his hands.
"Alright," he said, turning back to his group. "War's over. Let's head back. I promised myself some tea and a nap in the Everlasting Courtyard."
"After causing a storm like this, you still want to rest?" Chen Baojiao muttered.
"Even storms have to rest," he said. "Come on. If we stay out here any longer, some elder will drag me into a meeting."
Laughing, grumbling, still half-shaken but now buoyed by his shameless confidence, the group followed him off the Dragon Arbiter Stage.
Behind them, the entire Mortal Emperor World began to tremble as news spread—of nine undyings dying like dogs, of Ancient Kingdoms retreating in disgrace, of Immortal Emperor Life Treasures orbiting a Named Hero like stars, and of Heavenly Dao Academy…