The inheritance core opened.
Not with light—but with stillness.
Lin Feng and his companion stepped into a circular chamber carved from pale-gold stone. At its center floated three items, suspended as if pinned in time itself:
A Soul Condensation Lotus — translucent, petal-layered, faintly pulsing with life. Each breath it took resonated directly with Lin Feng's soul.
A Dao Inscription Fragment — incomplete, cracked, but profound. Even a glance caused comprehension to stir.
A Dao Lord Level Technique — Created by a Dao lord Named The Azure dragon Dao lord
Contains The secrets of the Azure Dragon.
Lao Yao's voice trembled—truly trembled—for the first time.
"The lotus… that lotus is enough. With it, and two auxiliary materials, I can condense a new body."
Lin Feng didn't hesitate.
He stepped forward and reached out.
The inheritance acknowledged him.
The lotus dissolved into light and sank directly into the bronze ring. The inscription fragment followed, embedding itself into Lin Feng's sea of consciousness. The Spirit Vein Core split—half merging into Lin Feng, half flowing into his companion.
The chamber shook once.
Then spat them out.
The moment Lin Feng and his companion were expelled from the inheritance space, killing intent flooded the sky.
Chariots locked the air. Sect banners formed encirclements. Dozens of powerhouses stepped forward, their auras overlapping into a suffocating net.
"Hand over the inheritance."
"You two are not qualified to hold such fortune."
A Spirit-level elder raised his hand—
space compressed.
Lin Feng's pupils shrank.
His companion trembled, teeth clenched, yet she still stood beside him.
Inside the bronze ring, Lao Yao's voice turned grave.
"Boy… there is no other choice."
Before Lin Feng could answer—
The ring burned.
Possession
Lin Feng's body stiffened.
Then his posture changed.
His eyes opened again—deep, ancient, indifferent.
A terrifying soul pressure leaked out—not vast, not overwhelming, but perfectly condensed.
Lao Yao had taken control.
"One-millionth," he muttered.
That was all he dared release.
Yet the heavens responded.
Half-Step Dao Lord Pressure
The sky fractured with invisible cracks.
The surrounding powerhouses froze.
Their bloodlines screamed.
This was not Spirit Realm.
Not Supreme Lord.
This was Half-Step Dao Lord—a realm that should not exist here at all.
Chariots shattered mid-air.
Several elders coughed blood instantly, Dao foundations trembling as if crushed by an unseen mountain.
Lao Yao raised Lin Feng's hand and pressed downward.
"Get out."
Two words.
The air collapsed.
A spatial corridor tore open violently, unstable but usable for a brief instant.
Lao Yao seized Lin Feng's companion with one hand and hurled Her nto the Spacial gap.
Before vanishing, his gaze swept the stunned forces.
"Follow," he said calmly,
"and your sects will vanish within a breath."
No one moved.
The rift closed.
Escape
They reappeared thousands of kilometers away, deep within broken mountain terrain.
The moment space stabilized—
Lin Feng collapsed.
The possession ended.
His body convulsed as the bronze ring dimmed, nearly cracking.
Inside, Lao Yao's soul flickered violently.
"Too much… far too much…"
His voice weakened, fragmented.
"If I do not stabilize immediately… I will disperse."
Lin Feng struggled to sit up, panic flooding his chest.
"The lotus—!"
"Now."
No hesitation remained.
Consuming the Soul Condensation Lotus
Lin Feng pressed the bronze ring against his chest.
The lotus inside responded instantly.
It bloomed.
Pure soul essence surged outward, wrapping around Lao Yao's fading spirit like a cocoon.
A deep, ancient sigh echoed.
Lao Yao absorbed it.
Layer by layer.
His soul stabilized.
The violent tremors ceased.
After a long silence, his voice returned—still weak, but whole.
"…I owe you this life, disciple."
The bronze ring settled, its rust flaking slightly, revealing faint ancient inscriptions beneath.
Lin Feng lay back against the stone, breathing heavily.
He had survived.
But he understood now—
What he carried
was no longer just an opportunity.
It was a walking calamity.
The heavens slowly returned to silence.
Far above the shattered terrain—beyond where any of the competing forces dared to extend their senses—a nine-dragon chariot drifted forward through layered clouds of Dao light.
Feng Hao stood at its prow, hands clasped behind his back.
Golden pupils reflected the fading spatial scars left behind by the inheritance's eruption.
"…Interesting."
That was all he said.
Behind him, three figures manifested silently—ancient elders he had summoned earlier. Their presence alone caused the surrounding space to stabilize, as if afraid to behave improperly.
One elder stroked his beard, eyes narrowed.
"A Holy Lord remnant soul, hiding inside a bronze ring," he said. "Possession. Forced release of power. Half-step Dao Lord, yet incomplete."
Another elder nodded.
"That boy has protagonist structure written into his fate threads. If nurtured long enough… he could become troublesome."
Feng Hao's lips curved slightly.
"Troublesome?" he repeated. "No."
His gaze turned away, toward the distant horizon where his Dynasty's territory lay.
"He is unfinished."
The chariot shifted direction.
The Nine Divine Dragons roared in unison, tearing through space as the inheritance zone shrank into insignificance behind them.
On the Return Journey
The journey back was smooth—too smooth.
Which, unfortunately, gave the elders time.
Too much time.
The third elder cleared his throat.
"Junior," he began solemnly, "you are now the pillar of the Dynasty."
Feng Hao didn't turn.
"Yes," he replied calmly.
The elder nodded, then continued.
"And as the pillar… you lack something essential."
Silence.
Another elder coughed lightly.
"An heir."
The dragons' wings beat once—harder than necessary.
Feng Hao's brow twitched.
"…Continue."
Encouraged, the first elder pressed on.
"The bloodline of such a Dynasty cannot be left to uncertainty. Even ancient Eternal forces place utmost importance on succession."
"And concubines," the second elder added helpfully. "Preferably many. High-grade bloodlines. Special physiques. Fate-compatible—"
"Enough."
Feng Hao finally turned.
The elders straightened instantly.
"My cultivation is not stagnant," he said evenly. "Nor is my lifespan limited. The Dynasty does not require an heir yet."
The third elder hesitated, then spoke carefully.
"Junior, with respect… fate is unpredictable. Even you acknowledge protagonists now."
That earned him a look.
A long one.
Then—unexpectedly—Feng Hao laughed softly.
A quiet sound, devoid of anger.
"Fine," he said. "When the time comes, I will choose."
The elders exchanged glances.
"When exactly would that be?" one asked him.
Feng Hao looked forward again, eyes calm, unfathomably deep.
"When someone appears," he said,
"worthy of carrying my bloodline."
The conversation ended there.
Return to the Dynasty
The Dynasty's borders soon came into view—vast beyond comprehension.
Star-rivers bent around its formations. Entire Spirit-level forces operated like organs within a living body. Trillions of lives moved in perfect order beneath an unseen hand.
The Nine Divine Dragons descended.
As the chariot crossed the final barrier, countless beings knelt simultaneously—though Feng Hao never acknowledged them.
His thoughts lingered briefly—not on the elders' nagging.
But on a young man clutching a bronze ring, carrying a soul that should have died long ago.
"A variable," Feng Hao mused.
Then his gaze sharpened.
"A useful one."
The chariot vanished into the heart of the Dynasty.
And far away—
Lin Feng shivered without knowing why
"Is someone Talking about me ?"
"Well whatever."