Han Yu stood dutifully behind Elder Lü, listening as Sect Leader Qi conducted the inquiry.

The past year had been a whirlwind of shifting tides and bloody pursuits.

Ye Guxing, having recovered from his injuries, had traveled to the Donghai Kingdom to hunt down the Saint Blood Perfected One. However, the results were lackluster. The Saint Blood Perfected One was as slippery as a mud loach; at the first sign of trouble, he would dive deep into the vast Eastern Ocean. Ye Guxing had cleaved the waves countless times, his sword energy boiling the sea, yet he ultimately failed to secure the kill.

Closer to home, the alliance between Wanchun Valley and the Spirit Sword Sect had solidified. Envoys had traveled back and forth several times within the year.

The Spirit Sword Sect’s Supreme Elder, Yin Hong, was not like Ye Guxing, whose heart contained only the sword and the slaughter of devils. Yin Hong was pragmatic. He was willing to face the coming storm together with Wanchun Valley, standing shoulder to shoulder against the threats looming over the Southern Domain.

The Mystic One Sect had also made moves. Daoist Lingxiu and Daoist Lingyin had visited both the Spirit Sword Sect and Wanchun Valley. Relations were now cordial—or at least, passable.

The Little Sky Net Sect, however, remained hermetically sealed. They had cut off all contact with the other three sects.

Perhaps they knew they could never wash away the stain of collusion with the Central Heaven Domain. Approaching the alliance now would only be inviting humiliation.

As the primary target of the mysterious “Upper Sect,” Wanchun Valley could not afford to sit idle and wait for death.

Internally, they ramped up disciple training. Young cultivators were sent to the Battle Hall for harsh conditioning before being deployed on missions to the Xiyue and Nanli Kingdoms to temper their blades in real combat.

Externally, Deacon Fang and Deacon Bai had been dispatched to the Central Heaven Domain to gather intelligence. They had only just returned.

Standing in the center of the main hall, the two Deacons looked weary. When Sect Leader Qi asked the critical questions—what was happening in the Central Heaven Domain, and why the Southern Domain was being targeted—they shook their heads.

“Sect Leader,” Deacon Bai said, his voice laced with helplessness. “Our cultivation is simply too low. We could not access the higher circles, nor could we make contact with the true hegemons of the Central Heaven Domain. We only managed to verify the names of two major powers, as you instructed: the Saint Sect and the Myriad Phenomena Sect.”

“The scale of these sects… it is beyond comprehension,” Deacon Fang added. “We couldn’t determine their total numbers or the level of their strongest ancestors. Their jurisdiction covers territories so vast that many cultivators spend their entire lives without ever leaving the borders of a single sect.”

“Limited by our strength and lacking connections, we hit a wall,” Deacon Bai admitted. “The deadline for our return arrived, so we had to retreat.”

The hall fell silent, the gravity of the gap in power weighing on everyone.

Deacon Fang hesitated, then spoke up again. “However, just before we left, we heard a strange rumor circulating in a cultivator’s tavern. A storyteller was recounting the tale of a ‘Demon Star’ that has thrown the major sects of the Central Heaven Domain into chaos.”

“A Demon Star?” Sect Leader Qi narrowed his eyes.

“Yes. Although we cannot verify the truth, we recorded the story,” Fang continued. “According to the tale, this Demon Star is a descendant of the ancient Giant Spirits, standing two zhang tall—nearly twenty feet. Somehow, this monster broke through to the Nascent Soul realm. After enduring nine heavenly tribulations, his divine power became boundless. His skin is thick enough to ignore magical artifacts, and his flesh is impervious to all techniques.”

“The story claims that even existing Nascent Soul cultivators from the major sects fall before him. For a time, no one could restrain this beast.”

“We were skeptical,” Deacon Bai interjected. “The storyteller mentioned nine tribulations for the Nascent Soul stage, and a man standing twenty feet tall… it sounds like myth.”

Sect Leader Qi raised a hand, cutting off their doubts. “Myth or not, record it.”

His eyes gleamed with a calculating light. “Song Wanxiong endured six bolts of tribulation lightning. If there were three more after that, making nine in total… the logic holds.”

“As for the twenty-foot height,” Qi mused, “the Southern Domain is a remote backwater. our knowledge is shallow. Perhaps in the vast Central Heaven Domain, descendants of the Giant Spirits are not so rare.”

Elder Yan leaned forward, a grim smile playing on his lips. “If the storyteller speaks the truth, this is good news for us. It would be best if this ‘Demon Star’ turns the Central Heaven Domain upside down. Let them panic. Let even their chickens and dogs know no peace.”

“Indeed,” Elder Yan continued. “If they are overwhelmed by domestic troubles, they won’t have the spare energy to plot against us. Otherwise, if they send even a single Nascent Soul cultivator here…” He trailed off, the implication clear.

“It is a pity we know so little,” Sect Leader Qi said, standing up. “But we cannot force results. Fang Qi, Bai Kexing, you two have achieved Major Merit by risking this journey. Do you have any requests? The Sect will do its utmost to fulfill them.”

It was time for rewards. Neither Deacon feigned modesty.

“I request a Foundation Establishment stage puppet,” Deacon Fang said immediately. “It will aid in future reconnaissance. With a puppet, I can attack, defend, or use it as a decoy to escape. It will give me a better chance of survival if I must return to the Central Heaven Domain.”

Deacon Bai stepped forward. “I request a portion of Ancestral Tree Spirit Liquid and a Thousand-Year Sunkwood Heart.” He paused, his expression softening. “For Bai Lingyun.”

The Elders nodded in understanding. The Bai clan’s bloodline was thinning. By Bai Lingyun’s generation, there were few heirs left. Despite the boy’s poor Spirit Root, the clan had no choice but to pour resources into him, lest the next generation produce no cultivators at all.

Sect Leader Qi granted both requests. “Go. Rest for two days, then collect your rewards.”

Once the Deacons had exited, the atmosphere in the hall grew heavy.

“Matters have reached a point where I have a speculation,” Sect Leader Qi said quietly. “Whether it is one sect or a coalition targeting us, I am eighty percent certain the Myriad Phenomena Sect is involved.”

“The Myriad Phenomena Sect… also known as the Myriad Phenomena Sky Net Sect,” Qi said, articulating each word carefully. “Their secret arts are undoubtedly the origin of the Little Sky Net Sect here in the south. This was confirmed the moment Han Yu mastered the Star Luo Traction Technique and realized it shared a common origin with their spindle artifact.”

“The strange behavior of the Little Sky Net Sect suggests they know something. The Myriad Phenomena Sect likely activated a sleeper arrangement with them long ago.”

Sect Leader Qi fell silent. Elder Lü and the others remained mute.

The Myriad Phenomena Sky Net Sect… a titan of the Central Heaven Domain. They were too distant, too powerful. The leadership of Wanchun Valley felt like ants trying to predict the footsteps of a giant. They had twenty-five years, but would it matter?

In the end, their only option was the same as always: train the disciples, hoard resources, and pray that when the boot came down, they were strong enough to hold it up.

Even if it was all in vain.

After the council adjourned, Elder Lü took Han Yu aboard his flying boat, heading toward the Battle Hall.

The wind whistled past them, carrying the scent of pine and ozone.

“Disciple,” Elder Lü asked suddenly, “are you afraid?”

“No,” Han Yu replied without hesitation. “If I were to be afraid, I should have been terrified back when four sects were besieging Wanchun Valley. Fear changes nothing.”

Elder Lü chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing. “True. Fear is useless. Just focus on your cultivation, disciple.”

Hearing the boy’s calm voice made his own heart feel lighter.

As the master and disciple approached the Battle Hall, a raucous commotion rose from the training grounds below.

“Fight! Fight!” “Let’s see who’s stronger!” “Peck his eyes out!”

Elder Lü’s face darkened. “Who is making such a racket? Sparring is one thing, but this hooliganism? What kind of behavior is this for the Battle Hall?”

He steered the boat down. The crowd of disciples instantly fell silent, parting like the Red Sea to reveal the center of the disturbance.

Elder Lü and Han Yu stared.

In the middle of the clearing stood two groups of birds.

On one side, Han Yu’s trio: the massive Boss Crow, flanked by the Little Crow and the Flame Crow. They were pitch black like ink, their feathers gleaming with a metallic sheen, their dark golden pupils radiating malice.

On the other side stood four Red-Crowned Cranes. They were elegant creatures, white as driven snow, with long necks and majestic wingspans.

Black against white. Rough against refined.

The two groups stared each other down, tension crackling in the air.

Sensing Han Yu’s arrival, the Boss Crow and its lieutenants snapped their heads around. Through the mental link, a violent, eager thought slammed into Han Yu’s mind.

“Boss! Give the order! Let’s beat them up! And beat their master too!”