Within one of the realms of the Coalition of the Southern Kingdoms lay **Lianxu**, a purely human kingdom, devoid of any ancient heritage and lacking a dominant sect to ensure its protection.
Xu Mo, the king of Lianxu, was not a cultivator. He was a middle-aged man of upright stature, his gaze calm yet marked by years of responsibility. He wore light armor with restrained ornamentation, a symbol of his position rather than of any true strength. His understanding of cultivation was limited to what the sages and ministers had passed on to him over the years. Even so, he ruled with discipline, fully aware of the fragility of his kingdom in a world governed by spiritual powers.
That evening, an extraordinary meeting was being held in the Grand Audience Hall of the royal palace.
The hall was vast, supported by pillars of pale stone engraved with ancient motifs recounting the history of Lianxu: human kings, lost wars, treaties signed under coercion. Heavy torches cast flickering light across the dark marble floor, reinforcing the solemn and oppressive atmosphere.
To the left of the throne stood the ministers of the kingdom: Chancellor Han Rui, with his gaunt face and severe expression, known for his excessive caution; the Minister of Finance, Qiao Wen, whose furrowed brows betrayed constant anxiety; and the Commander of the Armies, Li Shan, silent, one hand resting on the pommel of his ceremonial sword.
To the right stood the sages—elderly men clad in long robes of muted colors, bearers of incomplete knowledge of cultivation inherited from fragmented texts and oral traditions. The eldest among them, Sage Mu Liang, stood slightly apart, eyes half-closed, as though weighing every word before it might be spoken.
Before the throne, several representatives of the populace had been granted entry into the hall: village chiefs, administrators of frontier cities, simple men whose faces were marked by fatigue and fear. All had been summoned for a single reason.
"Your Royal Highness," exclaimed Zhou An, a representative from a border village, bowing deeply, "the cultivator you requested from the Coalition of the Southern Kingdoms has not yet arrived."
An uneasy murmur swept through the assembly. Xu Mo did not respond at once.
Another man stepped forward. Chen Bao, representative of a city located not far from the forbidden forest, spoke in a strained voice.
"Each night, our citizens fall ill without any apparent cause. Some die before dawn. The crops wither, as if the land itself refuses to sustain life."
The torches crackled softly.
A third representative stepped forward. Lin Qiu, from the villages near the ghost village, had a pale, almost ashen face.
"Our fields were supposed to be protected," he said hesitantly. "Yet silhouettes appear at night. Ghosts roam among the crops. Many inhabitants swear they have seen them with their own eyes."
He paused, gathering his courage.
"In recent days, a mysterious young man has also been seen. He wears a bandage over his eyes. Some say he is not alone… that another ghost accompanies him."
A heavy silence fell over the hall. Even the sages stopped murmuring.
"Farmers have been possessed," Lin Qiu added in a lower voice. "Others have simply disappeared. Without leaving the slightest trace."
Xu Mo slowly tightened his fingers around the armrest of his throne. The ancient wood creaked under the pressure. What was happening clearly exceeded the capabilities of a mortal kingdom.
The king then rose slowly from his throne. His gaze swept across the assembly, lingering on the anxious faces of the representatives, then on the more guarded expressions of the ministers and sages.
"Do not worry, my dear citizens," he declared in a firm voice. "The request of the Kingdom of Lianxu has been accepted by the Coalition of the Southern Kingdoms."
A ripple of anticipation ran through the hall.
"They have dispatched one of their genius cultivators," Xu Mo continued. "A being who has already reached the **Transcendent Mortal Realm**."
The astonishment was immediate. Murmurs broke out on all sides.
A transcendent cultivator… a being theoretically capable of crossing the threshold into the Spiritual Plane.
The sages straightened, while some representatives exchanged incredulous glances.
"Yes," the king confirmed. "A Transcendent of the Mortal Realm. A being who could already pass through a celestial gate and reach the Spiritual World, should he so desire."
Silence settled, heavy and almost unreal.
"He is resting tonight," Xu Mo went on after a moment. "Starting tomorrow, he will travel to your cities and villages. He will examine each of the problems you have raised… and find a solution."
A wave of relief swept through the hall. Tense expressions softened, and some representatives even let slip restrained smiles.
"The session is adjourned," the king concluded, "if there are no further matters to address."
"No, Your Majesty. There is nothing else," replied a representative with a deep bow.
Xu Mo nodded. The meeting ended in an atmosphere very different from the one in which it had begun.
Hope had entered the Kingdom of Lianxu—without anyone in that hall yet understanding what kind of hope it truly was.
And he knew it.
Yuè Míng Zhēn Míng had barely emerged from her retreat when her consciousness jolted awake, pierced by an alarm she had not felt for ages. Without even forming a complete thought, she projected her voice into the heart of Wang Lin's Spiritual Sea, trying to warn him.
——
"Wang Lin—"
But it was already too late.
Without the slightest warning, the air of the clearing tore apart like a fragile membrane, and a gigantic mass burst forth from the shadows with crushing violence. The **Lunar Shadow Tiger** leapt forward, its enormous body smashing into the ground on impact, its claws splitting stone as its presence unleashed a savage, ancient pressure, saturated with a Breath deeply rooted in the nocturnal Weave.
Wang Lin reacted purely on instinct. His blindfold slipped and fell to the ground as he hurled himself aside, narrowly avoiding the assault. The tiger's breath passed within centimeters of him, close enough to make his skin vibrate and compress the air around his body.
At that precise moment, something opened within him.
The **Eyes of Eternal Void** activated, and the world tilted. Chaos did not vanish, but it seemed to freeze, because Wang Lin now perceived it from a completely different angle. His Breath, previously unstable, suddenly stabilized, as if it had found an absolute anchor. His perception expanded far beyond simple sight: he no longer saw only forms, but the very structure composing them.
The circulations of Qi revealed themselves as translucent, interwoven, living networks. The tiger's internal flows, dense and powerful, pulsed with almost oppressive clarity, while the surrounding Weave exposed tensions, nodes, and fractures invisible to ordinary perception. His vision passed effortlessly through matter—the ground, the trees, the shadows—nothing obstructed him.
Then he realized something else.
His circulation of Qi—this seemingly infinite sea he had struggled to contain until now—had not become more abundant. It had become manageable, more docile, as if it finally recognized a structure capable of guiding it.
" …So that's it. "
Without further thought, Wang Lin activated his Breath.
And for the first time, it was not raw power that answered—
but order.