Outside Wolong Ridge, in a small frontier town.

  The Forging Pavilion – a humble smithy.

  The relentless clang of hammer on steel echoed through the air.

  Alu stood shirtless, his back arched like a dragon’s spine, corded arms swinging the heavy hammer down in rhythmic fury, sending showers of sparks flying.

  Inside the pavilion, however, the mood was anything but casual.

  Gongsun Yu wore a rumpled robe that hung loosely on his frame, his beard wild and unkempt, giving him the look of a man who hadn’t seen a comb in weeks. Yet his expression was deadly serious.

  The air in the room felt thick with tension.

  Luo Mingsang clutched Luo Mingyue’s hand so tightly her knuckles had gone white. After so many crushing disappointments, she could barely allow herself to hope.

  Luo Mingyue squeezed back gently, trying to comfort her. She knew Gongsun Yu well—they had both spent time on Lake Heart Island—and she still had full confidence in the old master’s craftsmanship.

  Xu Chu, the towering warrior, stared wide-eyed, his usual bravado replaced by a rare flicker of unease.

  Overlord sat on a wooden chair like a mountain of muscle and armor, his headless body perfectly upright while he cradled his own severed head in his massive hands. The sight was grotesque—few things are more unsettling than a man casually holding his own head.

  Gongsun Yu finally lifted the finished piece: a suit of armor, the centerpiece being an intricately forged helmet. He had worked on it for seven straight days and nights, using his spiritual sense to fine-tune every minute rune inside so the helmet could bridge Overlord’s soul awareness to his detached head.

  Ordinary nerves were beyond repair—too many severed strands, too delicate. Even Gongsun Yu admitted that only the Young Lord of Lake Heart Island might manage such a feat.

  So he took a different path.

  Overlord was strong enough that nerves were optional. With the aid of a spirit artifact, soul awareness alone could control the head—amplified and stabilized.

  “This spirit armor is custom-made for you, Overlord. I’ve named it the Tyrant King Armor. It does far more than reattach your head—it’s built to take punishment.”

  “You walk the Path of Unyielding Defiance. The more you endure, the harder you hit back.”

  “So what you need,” Gongsun Yu said with a grin, “is the thickest damn armor anyone has ever worn.”

  He helped Overlord don the suit piece by piece. It was a deep, glossy black, every scale gleaming with inner light.

  Once the body was clad, the head was set in place and the helmet locked over it. From the outside, no one could tell it had ever been severed.

  “Now, Overlord—reach out with your soul awareness and take command of your mind.”

  A low thrum filled the room.

  Under everyone’s breathless gaze, Overlord slowly opened his eyes. Sharp, blade-like glints shot from his pupils.

  “My king!”

  Luo Mingsang and Xu Chu cried out in joy.

  “I’m… fine,” Overlord rasped. His voice sounded like gravel dragged across iron—he hadn’t spoken in far too long.

  Gongsun Yu stroked his beard with satisfaction. A craftsman’s pride.

  “Perfect fit.”

  He laughed heartily, then grew serious again.

  “There’s a price, of course. The helmet will always consume a portion of your soul awareness to keep the connection stable. It will limit your movements and increase energy drain. While wearing the full set with your head attached, expect roughly forty percent of your true strength to be sealed.”

  “Once you reach the Nine Extremes Heavenly Lock, that penalty drops to thirty percent.”

  He shrugged. “Or just rip the helmet off in battle. Then there’s no restriction at all.”

  Overlord rose, clasped his fist toward the old smith, and bowed deeply. This man had forged his axe-shield and now given him back his head.

  “No need for thanks,” Gongsun Yu said, waving it off. “A fair trade. That Dragon Saliva Stone you paid with? I’m not the one losing out here.”

  Humming a tuneless song, he pocketed the precious material and shuffled back to his forge.

  Overlord turned to the others, a rare spark of warmth in his eyes.

  Xu Chu’s face was flushed crimson with excitement.

  “How long were we holed up here?” Overlord asked.

  Xu Chu’s smile faltered. He knew exactly what was happening beyond these walls.

  “Half a month.”

  With Overlord whole again, there was no reason to linger. They left the small town behind.

  …

  The world outside had already begun to shift.

  The struggle for the Dragon Gates had ignited.

  To the invaders from the Tianyuan Domain, the gates were far too valuable to ignore—both as strategic chokepoints and as unparalleled cultivation accelerators. Countless Qi Condensation disciples could be pushed into Foundation Establishment in record time.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  In Dongyang Prefecture, the Red Dragon Gate fell first.

  At first, only Golden Core disciples dared challenge the crimson dragon within.

  They were incinerated on the spot.

  One after another, Golden Core cultivators tried and were sent limping away, half-cooked.

  That angered the Tianyuan powers.

  Nascent Soul experts finally moved.

  Several sects joined forces and stormed the gate together.

  The skies above Dongyang burned for days. Flames stretched for hundreds of miles.

  The Red Dragon was fierce, but not fierce enough. It was subdued.

  Because of its past ties to the Lord of White Jade Capital, they spared its life—no one dared kill it outright.

  The dragon, humiliated, no longer blocked passage but repeatedly challenged whoever sat guard. Any unguarded moment and it would roast every Qi Condensation disciple that stepped through.

  Still, for Tianyuan, the Red Dragon Gate was now open.

  Eyes turned to the rest.

  South Prefecture.

  Tang Yimo had raced home the moment Tang Xiansheng warned him.

  He trusted his father’s read of the situation completely.

  Sure enough, the Coiled Dragon Gate shuddered, and a Golden Core cultivator ranked 30th on the Tianyuan Prodigy List stepped through.

  Arrogant didn’t begin to describe him. He looked at Wuphong Continent cultivators like ants.

  He challenged Tang Yimo: winner takes the gate.

  “All eight Dragon Gates will belong to Tianyuan in the end,” he sneered. “You locals are too weak to even know what treasures you’re sitting on.”

  The battle turned the entire swamp into a crater.

  Tang Yimo opened three meridians at once and fought with the raw strength of a Heavenly Lock cultivator.

  Mud exploded skyward. The earth quaked for hours.

  The prodigy was stunned—he couldn’t end it quickly.

  Against a freshly advanced Golden Core, he was actually struggling.

  Worse, Tang Yimo only grew more ferocious the longer they fought.

  Demonic aura rolled off him in waves. His eyes glowed with a single crimson line.

  He looked like Overlord in his berserk state—only more savage, every inch of his body a weapon.

  His Dao Intent erupted with terrifying power.

  Amplified by his cultivation method, Tang Yimo traded blow for catastrophic blow with a fifth-rotation Golden Core genius—and held his own.

  In the final exchange, he took a grievous wound to drive his fist clean through the prodigy’s guard.

  Tang Yimo walked the Path of Guardianship.

  He would protect everything he had.

  Lose the Dragon Gate, and South Prefecture’s lifeline would be in enemy hands.

  So he fought until his veins burst and blood poured from his skin, until the prodigy’s arrogance cracked—he no longer dared trade his life for victory.

  Tang Yimo stood last.

  The Tianyuan genius crawled away, chest caved in, pride shattered.

  When it was over, Tang Yimo couldn’t even lift his arms—only his mouth still worked.

  Tang Xiansheng rushed forward, trembling, and caught his blood-soaked son as he collapsed.

  …

  Tiandang Mountain, Cloud Dragon Gate.

  Dao Pavilion disciples sat cross-legged atop Star-Plucking Peak.

  Three Golden Core prodigies from second-tier Tianyuan sects emerged from the gate, tasked with claiming it.

  They met Xie Yunling.

  With a relaxed smile, she activated the mountain’s grand formation. Countless bamboo leaves whirled into an impenetrable array that trapped the trio for half a day.

  In the end, the gap in raw power broke the formation. Xie Yunling coughed blood and fell back.

  Li Sansui and Li Sansi arrived just in time.

  For the first time, Li Sansui lost her composure.

  She summoned the Cloud Dragon and wove a grand mist array, dragging one of the Golden Core cultivators inside. With only Body Repository strength yet aided by the dragon, she pinned him down completely.

  But two more remained.

  The black-robed Li Sansi moved.

  It was the first time Li Sansui had ever seen him fight.

  His wide bamboo hat fell away.

  Blood painted Star-Plucking Peak crimson beneath the moon.

  When Li Sansui finally released the drained Golden Core cultivator from her array, she saw Li Sansi commanding every vine and root on the mountain to tear the other two intruders apart.

  Under the night sky, Li Sansi turned his vine-wreathed face toward her and gave a gentle smile.

  The surviving prodigy stared in horror and screamed, “Demon race!”

  A flash of steel.

  Li Sansui’s daoist robe flapped in the wind as her dagger opened the man’s throat. Blood sprayed across the stone.

  Li Sansi chuckled. “It’s fine. It was only a matter of time before they found out.”

  “This vine demon body of mine came from Tianyuan anyway.”

  Li Sansui shook her head stubbornly. “I’ll keep your secret as long as I breathe.”

  …

  Beiluo, the Dragon Gate there.

  Nie Changqing sat in white robes by the lake shore, Zhanlong sheathed at his waist.

  Jing Yue sat beside him.

  Days turned to nights. Sun and moon traded places.

  No Tianyuan invader ever stepped out of that gate.

  The two men exchanged glances.

  “Didn’t they say Tianyuan was going to seize every Dragon Gate?” Jing Yue asked.

  “Why haven’t they come here?”

  Nie Changqing thought for a moment. “Because this is Beiluo. The place White Jade Capital once claimed.”

  “That’s all it takes.”

  …

  Tail Ridge, beneath Asking Heaven Peak.

  Dantai Xuan strode forward in luxurious robes, his guardian sword at his hip.

  Mo Ju followed in scholar’s garb, gently waving his feather fan.

  Xue Tao led the Xuanwu Guards behind them, their aura like an advancing wall.

  Uninvited guests had come to the Great Xuan Academy.

  Mo Ju had only just returned from Wolong Ridge with news: a second-tier Tianyuan power called South Dou Mountain had set its sights on Dantai Xuan.

  They wasted no time.

  The speed left even Mo Ju uneasy.

  Of course, the shifting tides explained everything.

  Tianyuan cultivators grew bolder with every resource they seized.

  Mo Ju’s heart was heavy with pessimism.

  Wuphong Continent didn’t even have a single Nascent Soul. How could they hold back an entire domain?

  When one side utterly outclasses the other, arrogance is inevitable.

  South Dou Mountain was second only to the four holy lands in Tianyuan, boasting more than three Nascent Soul cultivators—including one at the peak of perfection.

  And the leader of this delegation was that very peak Nascent Soul.

  Inside the Great Xuan Academy, the atmosphere was suffocating.

  South Dou disciples radiated crushing pressure.

  Great Xuan students turned red-faced under the oppression.

  From afar, Dantai Xuan saw it all—and rage exploded in his chest.

  The students of Great Xuan were his reverse scale, the future pillars of his kingdom.

  These outsiders dared threaten them?

  With a roar that carried across the valley, he thundered, “Get your hands off my people!”

  Xue Tao leveled his spear at the South Dou group, fury rolling off him in waves. The Xuanwu Guards advanced, armor clanking like war drums, shattering the oppressive aura.

  “Worthy of the Northern Xuan King who carries imperial dragon qi,” an ancient voice praised.

  An elder with one foot in the grave stepped forward from the South Dou ranks, smiling faintly.

  “This old man is Nan Yuefeng, Supreme Elder of Tianyuan’s South Dou Mountain.”

  “I come to discuss… the allocation of Dragon Gates.”

  His lifespan was nearly spent—much like Zhou Haisheng once was.

  “Allocation?” Dantai Xuan’s hand settled on his sword hilt. He barked a laugh full of scorn. “I tamed that Azure Dragon with my own flesh and blood, drop by drop. And you fossils crawling out of whatever backwater grave think you can just waltz in and pick the fruit?”

  “Get the hell out!”

  The words rang like iron—domineering yet regal.

  Behind him, Mo Ju’s fan froze mid-wave. His face stiffened.

  He had specifically warned the king to negotiate politely.

  Instead, Dantai Xuan opened with a barrage of insults straight to a peak Nascent Soul’s face.

  …How exactly were they supposed to talk now?

  The Xuanwu Guards roared their approval. The students clenched their fists, blood surging.

  Mo Ju gave a helpless smile, lowered his fan, and let the warmth drain from his eyes.

  If His Majesty was going to throw the first punch, then courtesy was officially dead.

  Nan Yuefeng blinked, then chuckled.

  “Youth and fire… I like it. No need to waste time on pleasantries.”

  The old man’s withered finger flicked.

  Boom!

  Terrifying pressure erupted—the full might of a peak Nascent Soul.

  The Xuanwu Guards’ formation shattered like glass.

  “Northern Xuan King,” Nan Yuefeng said, voice soft but carrying across the peak, “besides the Dragon Gate, this old man has one more desire.”

  “I wish to witness the Imperial Dragon Qi with my own eyes.”

  “Tell me—”

  His robes whipped in a sudden wind, hair dancing though no breeze stirred.

  “Does the Path of the Human Emperor… grant eternal life?”

  A faint, eager laugh.

  Then the elder reached out.

  Spiritual energy surged like a tidal wave, condensing into a gigantic palm that blotted out the sky as it descended toward Dantai Xuan.