Feng Hao's golden eyes swept across the northern alliance. The kneeling figures had accepted their place as his subordinates, their pride bruised but tempered with the hope of survival. Yet his gaze, calm and penetrating, lingered on them.
"Tell me everything," he said, voice low, measured, yet carrying the weight of inevitability. "The dynasty that has kept your alliance under its heel… the force that demanded your submission—explain their strength, their top fighters, their generals, their champions. I want to understand exactly who has dared to oppress you."
Meng Shi exchanged a quick glance with her fellow emperors. Fear and hesitation flickered in their eyes. For a month, they had lived under constant suppression. Now, even kneeling before this new power, they still trembled recalling the generals and champions of that Tier 7 force.
She bowed her head slightly deeper, voice steady but edged with caution. "Supreme Emperor… the dynasty controlling the region we are in —its top combatants… they are the strongest among their people. Some have b reached Golden Core. A few Early Golden Core exist among them, yes… but that is their limit. None surpass it. For us, they are insurmountable. Every battle we fought… every territory we attempted to claim… we were restrained, crushed, or countered by them. Their generals… their champions… they are the embodiment of the peak of their mortal power in this region."
A shiver passed through the alliance, even as they spoke. Pride warred with the helplessness they had felt.
Feng Hao's gaze remained steady, golden light pulsing faintly like molten veins through the air. "And you expect me to be… on par with them?" he asked quietly, almost to himself, letting the northern alliance squirm under the weight of their assumptions.
Meng Shi's throat tightened. "We… we assumed that someone who had arrived here, Supreme Emperor… someone of your power… would be comparable to that force. Strong enough to challenge them. Perhaps stronger… but not… not beyond imagining. We did not know… no one could expect… that anyone could develop so fast in this world."
Feng Hao's lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile, though his expression remained calm and unreadable. Golden qi rippled faintly around him, coiling like molten threads in the air.
"Describe them in full," he commanded. "Their generals, their champions, the numbers they control. Everything. I will decide what must be done next."
Meng Shi's hands clenched the edges of her silver crown. She took a deep breath and began to recount everyt
hing—the generals they feared, the strongest soldiers, the territories controlled, the way the Tier 7 force had systematically oppressed their alliance.
As she spoke, the alliance noticed something subtle: Feng Hao did not flinch, did not tense. There was no hint of worry in his aura. Only calm. And yet, the weight of that calm pressed on them, subtle but undeniable, as if the Nine God Dynasty's true power had already dwarfed the Tier 7 oppressors before even a single plan was made.
Feng Hao's golden eyes fixed on the kneeling northern alliance for a moment, letting the weight of his presence settle. Then, with a subtle gesture of his hand, the air around him seemed to hum with quiet inevitability.
"Great-uncle Bai," he said, his voice calm but carrying the authority of a Mortal Tier 7 Heavenly Dynasty, "the Tier 7 force suppressing this alliance… destroy them."
The elder's eyes widened slightly at the directness, the faintest glimmer of awe flashing through his gaze. He had seen countless battles, strategized over dynasties, yet the command from Feng Hao carried a certainty that brooked no hesitation.
"alright… boy," Great-uncle Bai replied, his voice steady, laced with respect and reverence. "consider it done."
Feng Hao's golden aura pulsed faintly, a heartbeat of absolute command. "Do not fail. Make sure every general, every champion, every last soldier of that force understands the meaning of challenging the Nine God Dynasty. Leave none standing who might rise against them again."
Great-uncle Bai bowed deeply, the golden light of Feng Hao's presence reflecting in his eyes. "It will be as you say. Consider it done, Supreme Emperor."
With that, he vanished, leaving behind a faint trail of qi, coiling through the hall like a promise.
The northern alliance watched in stunned silence. The force that had crushed and controlled them, the Tier 7 power they had feared for a month… would be obliterated by the command of the Supreme Emperor himself.
Meng Shi's fingers brushed the edge of her silver crown, her eyes bright with a mixture of awe, disbelief, and cautious hope. Even kneeling, even bound by loyalty, she felt a spark of relief ignite within her.
Feng Hao's gaze swept over the northern alliance once more, golden light threading softly around him. "Rise," he commanded.
One by one, they lifted themselves, hearts racing, minds struggling to grasp the magnitude of what had just been set in motion. Their oppressors would fall—and their survival, their freedom, would now hinge entirely on the will of the Nine God Dynasty.
Great‑uncle Bai did not waste a single breath.
One moment, he stood within the imperial hall, the golden qi of the Nine God Dynasty still humming faintly around him.
The next—
He was gone.
Far to the north, beyond mountains and rivers, within the territory of the Tier 7 subordinate dynasty.
Their capital sprawled arrogantly across the plains, spirit formations layered upon formations, banners fluttering proudly in the sky. Generals convened within their palace, Early Golden Core experts seated high, discussing how to further pressure the so‑called player alliance.
They never sensed the danger.
The heavens darkened without warning.
Clouds collapsed inward, space creaked, and the spiritual veins of the land screamed as if the world itself was being seized.
A single figure appeared above the capital.
Great‑uncle Bai.
He did not release a battle cry.
He did not announce judgment.
He did not even descend.
He simply raised one hand.
The sky responded.
A colossal palm—formed entirely of condensed law‑infused qi—manifested above the capital. It blotted out the sun, dwarfing mountains, crushing the air into solid pressure. The formations below shattered instantly, cracking like glass before they could even activate.
The Early Golden Core experts looked up.
Their faces drained of color.
"W‑What—?!"
Too late.
The palm descended.
Not violently.
Not hurried.
Just inevitable.
BOOM.
The capital vanished.
Walls, palaces, spirit towers, armies, generals—everything—was flattened into the earth as if erased by a god's casual gesture. The shockwave rippled outward for thousands of kilometers, mountains collapsing, rivers reversing course.
Every Golden Core cultivator died without resistance.
Every formation disintegrated.
Every trace of the dynasty's authority ceased to exist.
When the dust settled—
There was nothing left.
Only a massive palm‑shaped crater etched into the land, radiating residual qi so profound that even Divine Bridge cultivators would tremble just approaching it.
Great‑uncle Bai lowered his hand.
"Hmph."
He turned, stepped through space—
—and vanished.
Back in the Nine God Dynasty.
Feng Hao stood unmoving.
A Dragon Guard appeared instantly, kneeling.
"Supreme Emperor," he said, voice steady. "The target dynasty… has been erased. No survivors. No resistance."
Feng Hao nodded once.
"Good."
The northern alliance stared.
Their mouths were dry.
Their minds blank.
A Tier 7 Mortal force.
An entire dynasty.
Gone—by one palm.
Meng Shi finally understood.
They had not submitted to someone on par with their oppressors.
They had submitted to someone operating on an entirely different scale.
And deep in their hearts, fear quietly transformed into something else:
Relief.