The Capital.
The biggest city for humans to live in peace.
The best place for all sects to come and find talented disciples.
With the magnificent castle at the highest point of the city, it was the place for the imperial family to live and manage humanity's survival in this cruel world of cultivation.
The only reason for their existence until now, and not being exterminated by cultivators who always wanted to take over their position, was the support of Heaven's Will.
Each era, the Emperor or the Empress of each generation would swear to be the protector of humans, and in return, the world would make their path of cultivation as smooth as possible—to reach the limit of power this world could handle.
But it was all the glory of the past.
At this moment, in the Emperor's private garden, twelve sect masters, all with powerful auras as strong as the Emperor himself, were talking and discussing something.
Inside the Emperor's resting place, connected to the garden, the Emperor and his wife sat in the main hall in silence.
They were both in their twilight years, the aura of authority clinging to them.
Both had silver hair and silver-shining eyes—the signature appearance of the imperial family.
With a glance, only one word could describe them: [rulers.]
But at this moment, this dignified couple felt powerless.
Today's meeting was a shame for all the efforts, hard work, and sacrifices the imperial family had made for their subjects.
These twelve sect masters had suddenly descended upon their private garden with a request that was more like an order.
They wanted him, the Emperor, to divide the different human cities among them.
For what reason?
To sacrifice the lives of the people in those cities, break through their bottlenecks, and ascend to the immortal world.
By coming here, they were indirectly taking the entire capital hostage—forcing him to agree and not interfere.
Why did they suddenly have these thoughts?
What did sacrificing people have to do with breaking their limits?
It was all a mystery, for they revealed nothing.
It was as if a mastermind—a strong one at that—was behind this. Otherwise, there was no way so many old dogs with old and new grudges would unite for anything.
He knew all too well the enmity between them.
That was the reason he was still Emperor while Heaven's Will slumbered and the imperial family no longer had its support or protection.
Over the past three hundred years, these sect masters had never joined forces to overthrow the imperial family—too afraid of being betrayed by one another.
While the Emperor pondered a solution to this crisis under his wife's worried gaze, his eyes suddenly rolled back, and his body stiffened.
It was as if an evil spirit had possessed him.
The Empress stood and hurried to his side.
But before even a breath could pass, the Emperor returned to normal, cold sweat beading on his forehead.
The Empress wiped his brow with a handkerchief and asked in a worried tone,
"What happened, dear?"
After a moment of silence, the Emperor frowned and said,
"I received a direct message from Heaven's Will."
The Empress's eyes widened in surprise.
"What message? Didn't you say Heaven's Will is in slumber? Can it help us? It's been so long since you last received a direct message!"
The Emperor, who didn't look happy at all, replied,
"I've only received two direct messages from Heaven's Will in my life. The first was the day I became Emperor, when Heaven's Will approved my position with a simple congratulations. The second was when the war between sects began, and Heaven's Will ordered me to 'fan the flames' while it went to slumber—so more powerhouses of that era would die in battle. Each time, I understood what to do."
He paused, then continued,
"But this time… I don't understand the meaning behind this message."
The Empress, growing impatient, pressed,
"Just say it. What is the message?"
With a grave expression, he replied,
"'Play along.'"
The Empress blankly stared at him before weakly sinking back into her chair.
The Emperor sighed.
"Why would I play along with them when they're planning such an evil act…?"
But at that moment, a knock came at the door.
The Emperor turned toward it, waiting to see who would enter.
These cultivators showed him no respect—they would knock and then barge in.
But this time was different.
He tried to sense who stood behind the door, but there was no one there.
As he frowned and moved to investigate, a child's voice called from the other side—where no one should be:
"Excuse me, is His Majesty the Emperor home?"
Hearing the voice, the couple exchanged glances.
Who was this child? Why did the voice sound unfamiliar? Why couldn't they sense his presence?
The confused Emperor said,
"You may come in."
The door creaked open.
Outside, the sect masters stared in equal confusion at the little boy who stepped inside.
Clearly, none of them knew who he was.
The boy entered and closed the door behind him.
The imperial couple studied him closely.
A boy of about three, clad in a black robe with red patterns, a cage at his waist, a crystal on the other side, and a long, folded paper in his hand.
The only thing out of place—aside from his presence here at all—was his obviously fake mustache.
He glanced around and, upon spotting the couple, he dashed toward them.
Ten steps away, he dropped to one knee, fist on the ground, head bowed, and declared with reverence:
"Your subject, Sect Master, greets you—the sun and moon of the empire."
The Emperor, still baffled, replied,
"Who?"
Ignoring the question, the boy said,
"Okay, cut. Let's do it again."
He turned to the Emperor.
"When my greeting's done, you should say, 'You may rise.' Understand? Is this your first time being Emperor? Let's nail this scene first, then get to important matters. Pay attention this time."
He shook his head, as if disappointed by the rookie Emperor, cleared his throat, and announced:
"Take two. Action."
He bowed again.
"Your subject, the Sect Master, greets you—the sun and moon of the empire."
The Emperor, nearly exploding with anger, suddenly recalled Heaven's Will's message.
'Is he the one I must 'play along' with?'
Taking a deep breath, he forced calm into his voice.
"You may rise."
He wondered why he couldn't see through this child. It was as if, if he looked away, the boy would cease to exist.
The little boy stood, satisfied.
"Your Majesty, the plan—hmm?"
He abruptly stopped, then scurried to the Empress and motioned for her to lean closer.
Baffled, she obliged.
The boy whispered in her ear,
"Is that sneaky rat with you?"
The Empress blinked.
"What rat?"
The boy nodded sagely.
"Oh."
As if that answered everything, he crawled under her royal chair.
The couple exchanged speechless glances.
'Whose child is this? Come collect him! This isn't a place for hide-and-seek!'
But a moment later—crack!—a sound like a punch landing echoed from behind the chair.
A man in a black cloak tumbled out from beneath it, unconscious.
The mustached boy hauled him up by the collar and presented him.
"Just to be sure—you two don't know him, right?"
They shook their heads.
The Empress paled. This man had been lurking behind her for who knew how long!
The Emperor seethed. These sect masters must have planned to threaten his wife's life if he refused their demand!
And there'd been an assassin—one so skilled even he couldn't detect him—just three steps away?
They stared at the boy, utterly lost.
Was he a child? A senior? A monster?
Then they watched as he patted the little prison on his waist—and the black-cloaked man vanished.
Another robed figure appeared.
"What about this rat?" the boy asked.
Again, they shook their heads. "Not one of us."
The boy made the second intruder disappear, too, then mused,
"So you didn't send these two to assassinate me?"
A third headshake.
The Empress shot her husband a questioning look.
The Emperor pointed upward.
In an instant, she understood.
This was the one they must 'play along' with.
The boy—now a 'little senior' in their eyes—returned to his spot, cleared his throat, and resumed:
"Your Majesty, the plan for cleaning up the mountain bandits is in its final step. I'm here for your confirmation. Please correct any mistakes your wise eyes spot."
The Empress was speechless.
'What bandits? What cleanup? How do we play along if we don't even know what's happening?'
But to her shock, her husband nodded gravely.
"Show us your plan. This Emperor will offer guidance."
The boy bowed deeply.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
He scampered to the stone table, unfurled the folded paper, and spread it out.
The couple's eyes widened.
Before them lay an impossibly detailed map—not just of the human empire and the Forbidden Jungle, but of lands beyond it.
They hadn't even known what lay past the jungle, yet this 'little senior' had mapped everything with terrifying precision.
And why were all the sects labeled Bandit Strongholds?
Bandit Stronghold No. 1 to No. 12?
The boy pointed at the first one (his arm too short to reach the rest).
"Your Majesty, as you see, there are twelve bandit strongholds."
The Emperor grunted approval.
"My ten thousand followers will divide into two groups. Four thousand will cleanse the six strongholds on the right."
He jabbed a tiny finger at the map's right side.
The Emperor nodded.
"The other four thousand will handle the six on the left."
"And the remaining two thousand?" the Emperor asked.
The boy brightened.
"Excellent question, Your Majesty! They will accompany you. You'll appear in two key scenes. First, Your Majesty will descend from the sky with…"
He paused, tilting his head.
"What sound would you prefer heralding your arrival? A horn? A dragon's roar? Millions of soldiers cheering? You may choose."
The Emperor, taken aback for just a moment, answered with confidence,
"This Emperor prefers the sound of a bell.
Nine—no, ten times."
The Empress looked at her husband, amazed by how well he was acting now.
The little boy took out his notebook and wrote:
*[10-time ring bell for Emperor's first descent.]*
"Alright, when my followers are ready, I'll message Your Majesty with this token."
He gave him a guardian token with both hands respectfully.
"Then you will descend from the sky, give the order for us to bring the unruly bandits to justice.
And for His Majesty's second scene, you descend once more from the sky to beat the final boss—the one my followers will fail to defeat."
The Emperor nodded in approval again.
The Empress watched the two and, as she listened, felt they knew each other—as if they'd stood on many battlefields together in the past.
There was only trust between them.
When the plan was thoroughly explained, the little boy asked,
"Any suggestions, Your Majesty?"
The Emperor shook his head.
"A perfect plan, as always.
This Emperor will accompany the army at the final battle."
The little boy, his face serious, folded the map, knelt on one knee again, and said,
"This subject takes his leave.
Long live the Emperor.
Long live the Empress.
Long live the Empire."
The Emperor felt a flicker of pride at this moment—even some of his arrogance returning.
He waved his hand and said,
"You may leave."
The little boy stood up and, without turning around, began walking backward—head bowed—so as not to show his back to the Emperor disrespectfully.
The Empress glanced at the Emperor, impressed, then turned back to the small boy and thought:
'The act is over.
Wish I could join too.
That's a pity.
But now what?'
The mysterious little senior continued moving backward until he reached the door.
But instead of leaving, he suddenly said,
"Aaand—cut!
Okay, the historical scene of the Guardian and Emperor meeting is recorded.
Now, let's get to the real reason I came all the way here ahead of time."
He rolled the folded paper in his hand into a paper stick.
Then he sprinted toward the Emperor, shouting,
"How dare you try to ruin my plans, you little brat?!
I'll fight it out with you!"
The couple, stunned by the boy's sudden shift, stared in disbelief.
'Where is that respectful little subject from a moment ago?
And who are you calling "brat"?'
The Emperor moved to defend himself but sensed no real danger from the paper-stick attacks. As the boy whacked his legs, he thought:
'Who even is this kid?
I thought he was Heaven's representative.
But from his clothes, isn't he one of those untouchable people?
And why is he so powerful and weak at the same time?'
While the Emperor was lost in thought, the Empress saw her chance to play along.
She said soothingly,
"Young friend, calm down! What are you doing?
Come here, have some tea, and let's talk."
At the word tea, the boy froze—arm raised mid-swing—and turned to her.
"Tea… or spirit tea?"
The Empress paused.
"Spirit tea. The finest from our capital."
The little boy shot the Emperor a glare, then stomped to the Empress's side.
"Can you believe him, sister-in-law?
I'm working myself to the bone out there, and he holds an event here that'll ruin everything!"
With a snort, he stared at the teacup she poured and grumbled,
"How many times have I saved his life on the battlefield?
I even scoured the world to find him a wife as wonderful as you!
And this is how he repays years of friendship?!"
He lunged at the Emperor again, paper stick flailing.
"I raised you, you ungrateful brat!"
The Empress studied her husband's baffled expression and realized he was just as lost as she was.
'He watched him grow up?
Found him a wife?
Saved his life repeatedly?
Who is he? Even the Emperor's father didn't do all that!'
She patted the fuming little mustachioed boy's shoulder.
"Big Brother, calm down! This is a misunderstanding.
Here—have some tea!
...I mean, spirit tea."
The boy huffed ("Humph!") but returned to her side, glaring at the Emperor.
"I better be wrong… or else—you know what'll happen!"
The couple exchanged glances.
'No, we don't know. Just tell us!'
The Empress handed him the teacup, committing fully to the act.
If this oddball wasn't the one Heaven wanted them to humor, then who was?
"Big Brother, it's been so long since we last met. Let's start from the beginning—we don't understand the reason behind your actions!
You know we'd never betray you."
The boy took the cup.
"All these years away, I've been striving to become the Guardian.
I'm so close now."
The Empress blinked.
"Guardian of…?"
"This world."
He pointed at his sect token.
"See? I even took the strongest Daoist's name—'Sect Master'—to be unstoppable."
The Empress wondered if that was even allowed.
"Okay, Big Brother Sect Master, could you explain what brought you here after all these years?
What event did my husband hold that ruined your plans?
And what are these plans?
Oh, and—could you elaborate on the 'bandits' operation?"
The Emperor mentally applauded her.
The boy seemed to calm down under her words.
'He really did find me a good wife… Wait, why am I thinking that?!'
The boy sipped his tea. Blue smoke curled from his mouth and nose as he said,
"I came because I heard of an event in the capital threatening my future Guardianship.
As for the bandits—leave them to me.
His Majesty only needs to descend twice; I'll handle the rest."
The Empress ignored the smoke.
"But my husband hasn't held any recent events.
And—to confirm—by 'bandits,' you mean the forces marked on your map?
Those are sects, not bandit strongholds."
The boy rolled his eyes.
"If not him, then who?
And for your information, they're bandits posing as sects."
Before she could reply, the Emperor sighed dramatically.
"There is an 'event' happening now…
But it's hosted by those very sect masters—not me.
They forced their way here. I'm powerless against them."
He shook his head, the picture of helplessness.
The boy's eyes narrowed. He reopened the map and pointed.
"You're telling me the people outside right now…
Are the bandit bosses from these strongholds?"
The Emperor nodded.
"Hmm. Though they prefer 'Sect Master.'"
He maintained his regal composure, even as blue smoke wreathed the boy's head.
The boy's hands—still holding the teacup—froze. His face paled.
His eyes widened slowly.
He glanced around suspiciously, then leaned toward the Empress and whispered,
"Sister-in-law, if they're here to kidnap you… blink once. I'll save you."
He stared intently.
She stared back.
'How did he jump to that conclusion?
But if he thinks they're bandits… it kinda makes sense.'
A staring contest began.
One little head billowing blue smoke from nose, mouth, and even ears.
One utterly baffled Empress.
The conversation was growing increasingly complex by the second.
She reasoned:
'Our situation is close to being kidnapped.
And wasn't there an assassin here earlier?
Worth a try—what's the worst that could happen?'
So… she blinked. Once.
That blink unleashed something.
The boy's face twisted from shock to rage.
He slammed the table, shouting,
"How dare they!
This is unforgivable!"
And he bolted to the door, flung it open, stormed out, and slammed it shut behind him.
The couple stared at the little handprint now embedded in the stone table.
'Why is he so volatile?
Why does he talk like we're family?
"Sister-in-law"? Does that make the Emperor his brother?
Did Heaven really send this kid—or are we mistaken?'
Then—from the garden—came the boy's enraged roar:
"You filthy bandits!
You dare kidnap my sister-in-law?!
The Empress of the Human Empire?!
OUTRAGEOUS!"
A pause. Then:
"DIVINE TECHNIQUE—JUDGMENT BY AGE!"
Screams erupted.
"What monster is this?!"
"Senior, spare us—AAAAH!"
"My leg! How did it break so easily?!"
"Why can't I feel my spirit energy?!"
The couple paled.
Their energy vanished, too. They were weaker than mortals—barely able to stand!
After five breaths, the chaos outside stopped.
The crowd had disappeared, one by one.
They gulped, staring at the door.
Now they knew:
This was the one Heaven warned them about.
And he was no child.
A knock.
The Emperor steadied his voice.
"W-Who is it?"
A small voice replied:
"It's me, Your Majesty.
The bandit bosses have been… thoroughly handled by this Sect Master."
The Emperor took a deep breath.
"You've worked hard. Come in."
The boy entered.
The couple peeked outside.
The garden was empty—except a miniature black "horse" tied to a tree (which didn't look like a horse at all).
They exchanged a glance.
'Play along to the end.
Heaven's Will is with us.
And if it isn't… we're screwed.'
To their shock, as the boy closed the door, their strength returned.
The Empress feigned concern.
"Big Brother! You're back!
Fighting all those villains must've been exhausting—are you hurt?"
The boy paused, sneakily slipped something into his mouth, then—
"I-I'm back, Your Highnesses. Once more, your loyal subject has survived a great battle… and returned victorious."
He coughed, spraying "blood", then staggered weakly.
The couple's hearts ached—as if watching an old general return from war…
…If only they hadn't seen him fake the blood.
But what choice did they have?
The Emperor opened his mouth to speak—
"Aaand—cut!
Save this scene for later—maybe the Guardian's introduction."
The boy wiped away the "blood" and approached.
"Alright, where were we?
Oh, right—the bandits. What were they doing here?"
The couple:
"-_-"
'What's real and what's fake?
When does the act start? When does it end?'