The wind howled across the desolate border of the Cleansing Incense Ancient Sect, carrying with it the scent of decaying leaves and fading glory.
Protector Mo was sweating. It wasn't the heat; the sun was buried behind a layer of gray clouds that seemed to perpetually hang over their declining territory. It was the sheer, suffocating anxiety of the situation. He stood at the edge of a crumbling precipice, wringing his hands until his knuckles turned white.
Beside him, Nan Huairen looked like he was vibrating out of existence, his teeth chattering in a rhythm of pure terror.
"Ling Feng," Protector Mo started, his voice cracking like a dry twig. "The journey to the Nine Saint Demon Gate is perilous. We need to secure a Dao Platform. We need to prepare spirit stone offerings for the road to fuel the travel arrays. If we leave now, taking the sect's fastest Flying Treasure—assuming the elders approve the expenditure—we might arrive in three days."
Ling Feng stood with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his gray robes. He looked at the horizon with a bored expression, the kind of look a man gives a microwave when the popcorn is taking too long. The fierce wind whipped his robes, but his hair—black with a subtle, synthetic sheen—didn't move. It defied the physics of this world, held in place by sheer stubbornness.
"Three days?" Ling Feng snorted, turning his gaze to the trembling elder. "Seriously? I don't do scenic routes. That's inefficient. My time is money, even if the currency here is weird glowing stones."
"Inefficient?" Protector Mo blinked, his cultivation logic short-circuiting. "But... the spatial distance... the geography of the Grand Middle Territory..."
"Is a suggestion," Ling Feng finished. "Not a rule."
In the original timeline, Li Qiye—the Dark Crow who had traversed the Nine Worlds for millions of years—would have used this journey to teach the juniors. He would have taken the slow boat, using the time to temper their Dao hearts, explain the history of the mountains and rivers, and soak in the atmosphere of the mortal world. He would have played the slow game, building anticipation.
Ling Feng wasn't Li Qiye. He didn't have the patience of an eons-old monster. He was a guy from the 2020s who got annoyed when a webpage took more than two seconds to load. Furthermore, he was itching to test the hardware. He had two Chaos Emeralds condensed in his Inner Void.
"Grab my shoulder," Ling Feng commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"What?" Nan Huairen squeaked, clutching his bag of belongings.
"Grab. My. Shoulder. Unless you want to walk and meet us there next week."
Hesitantly, as if touching a venomous snake, the Protector and the disciple placed their hands on Ling Feng's shoulders.
Ling Feng closed his eyes.
Inside his Dantian, within the vast, dark Inner Void, the Green Chaos Emerald spun violently. It didn't hum with the harmonious chime of the Grand Dao; it roared like a turbine.
The concept of 'Space' in the Emperor's Domination world was rigid, governed by Dao Laws, formations, and massive consumption of Refined Jades. To teleport required coordinates, stability, and authorization.
Ling Feng simply pulled up the mental map he had memorized from the sect's library—coordinates for the Nine Saint Demon Gate. He visualized the destination. He didn't ask the world for permission to move; he grabbed the fabric of space and folded it.
[Chaos Control: Spatial Warp]
ZWOOP.
There was no sensation of flying. No wind rushing past their ears. No scenic blur of mountains and rivers.
There was only the feeling of their stomachs dropping out of their asses and slamming into their throats. The world turned into a nauseating blur of neon green wireframes.
The majestic mountains, the surging rivers, and the vast cities of the Grand Middle Territory were compressed into a singular point of data.
It wasn't travel. It was a glitch.
In a nanosecond, the air pressure changed violently. The smell of pine, decay, and old stone was instantly replaced by the heavy, cloying scent of expensive incense, refined medicinal herbs, and the metallic tang of ancient Demon Blood.
BOOM.
They slammed back into reality.
The displacement of air caused a sonic crack that echoed like a thunderclap. Protector Mo fell to his knees, retching dryly, his equilibrium completely shattered.
Nan Huairen screamed, clutching his head as if trying to keep his brain from leaking out of his ears, his eyes rolling back in his head.
Ling Feng dusted off his shoulder, looking unimpressed. "A bit bumpy. Gotta work on the suspension. Maybe recalibrate the landing algorithm."
They weren't at the gate of the Nine Saint Demon Gate. They weren't at the guest house at the foot of the mountain.
They were standing directly in the center of the Nine Saint Demon Gate's Grand Plaza.
It was a massive, sprawling square paved with Demon Spirit Stone, surrounded by majestic pavilions and floating mountains. And right in front of them towered the sacred statue of the patriarch—the Nine Saint Virtuous Paragon.
Silence descended on the plaza. It was a heavy, stunned silence.
Hundreds of elite disciples of the Nine Saint Demon Gate stopped their drills. Swords froze in mid-swing. Chanting ceased. Patrols halted. The air grew thick with confusion.
This was one of the most heavily guarded sects in the Grand Middle Territory. Ancient formations protected the airspace. Defensive arrays covered the ground. Yet, three people from a declining, third-rate sect had just spawned inside their most secure perimeter without triggering a single alarm.
"Intruders!"
A shrill, furious voice pierced the silence.
A patrol leader, a burly cultivator radiating the aura of the Physique Accumulation realm, drew his blade. His blood energy surged, manifesting as a faint crimson glow. "How dare you trespass on the Sacred Ground! This is the domain of the Virtuous Paragon! Die!"
Dozens of blades flashed in the sunlight. The killing intent was sharp, disciplined, and overwhelming.
The Nine Saint Demon Gate was a monster in the current era, the ruler of the Old Ox Country. They were arrogant because they had the power to be. They weren't used to disrespect.
Protector Mo's face went past pale and turned the color of ash. "We're dead. We're actually dead. They're going to skin us and make us into lanterns."
Ling Feng didn't even look at the attacking guards. He looked up at the giant stone statue of the Nine Saint Virtuous Paragon—the demon who had followed Immortal Emperor Min Ren to the apex of the world. In the lore, this guy was basically Min Ren's glorified chicken.
"Yo, old bird," Ling Feng said to the statue, his voice amplified by a strange, distorted energy that drowned out the shouting guards. "Sorry for the intrusion, but I prefer to get shit done quickly. Your security system is trash, by the way. Might want to upgrade that."
The patrol leader was mid-air, his sword inches from Ling Feng's neck, his eyes burning with righteous fury.
Ling Feng didn't dodge. He didn't circulate a mantra. He simply raised one finger.
Inside his Inner Void, the Red Chaos Emerald ignited.
[Chaos Blast: Repulsion]
He didn't use a technique. He didn't circulate the generic 'Violet Qi' of the Cleansing Incense Ancient Sect. He simply projected a sphere of raw, concentrated Chaos Energy.
BWAAAAAM!
A shockwave of red lightning exploded outward from his body.
It wasn't a wind; it was a wall of solid force. It was kinetic energy made manifest. The patrol leader, his squad, and fifty other nearby disciples were blasted backward as if hit by a speeding freight train.
The sound was sickening—the crunch of metal armor collapsing and the snap of bones.
They didn't just fly back; they were launched. Weapons shattered into shrapnel. Bodies rag-dolled across the plaza, slamming into stone pillars, embedding into walls, and tumbling across the granite floor.
Groans of pain filled the air. The pristine plaza was now a disaster zone, centered around the man in the gray robes who hadn't moved a single inch.
Ling Feng stood in the center of the cratered stone floor, looking at his fingernails as red static electricity danced around his body.
"So," he drawled, his voice cutting through the moans of the defeated elites. "Is the manager in? Or do I have to break more stuff to get some decent service around here?"
....
The Grand Hall of the Nine Saint Demon Gate.
This place was designed to crush the spirit of anyone who entered. The pillars were carved from the bones of ancient beasts. The floor was paved with Black Star Steel. The throne sat high above, bathed in shadows.
Sitting on the high throne was the Demon King, Lun Ri.
Lun Ri was a man of immense presence. He didn't look like a monster; he looked like a scholar, refined and terrifyingly intelligent. Behind him and along the sides sat the High Elders—men and women who had lived for centuries, their blood energy rolling like thunderclouds.
These were Royal Nobles and Enlightened Beings. In the Emperor's Domination power scale, they were giants. A single one of them could wipe the current Cleansing Incense Ancient Sect off the map with a sneeze.
But right now, the atmosphere was weird. Tense. Confused.
Typically, having such high-level figures come out for a diplomat from a fallen sect would be impossible. But they couldn't ignore this. They couldn't ignore that without anyone sensing them, Ling Feng's group had suddenly appeared right in the middle of their sect, bypassing the Grand Dao formations left by the patriarchs.
Whether this was through some supreme Immortal Emperor Life Treasure or some forgotten secret technique, they didn't know. And that unknown made them cautious.
Ling Feng walked in, flanked by a terrified Protector Mo (who looked like he was walking to his execution) and a Nan Huairen who was praying to every deity he knew.
Ling Feng walked with a swagger that shouldn't belong to a mortal. It was the walk of a man who knew he was the protagonist.
"So," Ling Feng said, stopping in the center of the hall. He didn't bow. He didn't cup his fists. He didn't salute. He looked up at Lun Ri, hands still in his pockets. "You the boss? Nice chair. Looks uncomfy though. No lumbar support. You're gonna have back problems in a few hundred years, trust me."
"Impudent!"
The First Elder slammed his hand on his armrest. His eyes flashed with golden light, and his beard trembled with rage. "A junior from a fallen sect dares to be so rude? This is the Grand Hall of the Nine Saint Demon Gate, not your backyard! Kneel!"
BOOM.
The First Elder released his Royal Noble aura.
It crashed down on Ling Feng like a falling mountain. This was the pressure of the Grand Dao, the weight of the heavens, designed to force the weak to submit instinctively. The air in the hall twisted.
Protector Mo's knees buckled instantly. He slammed into the floor, trembling. "M-Mercy, Your Highness! The boy is... he is unwell!"
Ling Feng didn't blink.
He felt the pressure. It was heavy. It felt like standing in a pressurized cabin. But his body... his body was a universe unto itself. The Primal Chaos Genesis Physique didn't submit to the Grand Dao; it ate it. It existed outside the laws of this reality.
"Kneel?" Ling Feng tilted his head, a feral, jagged grin spreading across his face. "Sorry, old man. My knees don't bend that way."
He took a step forward. The floor beneath his foot groaned.
"And frankly," Ling Feng's voice dropped an octave, becoming distorted and metallic as the Chaos Force surged. "You're just kind of... weak. You call this pressure? I've felt stronger breezes from an AC unit."
[Red Chaos Emerald: Absolute Force]
Ling Feng stomped his foot.
CRACK.
The entire hall shook violently. The floor tiles, made of refined demon steel that could withstand the strikes of a Heavenly Being, shattered into powder beneath his boot. A dense, suffocating red aura erupted from Ling Feng, clashing directly with the First Elder's golden pressure.
It wasn't a contest of cultivation realms. If it were, Ling Feng—who was merely simulating the Provisional Palace realm—would have been crushed.
No, this was a contest of density.
The Chaos Energy was heavier, denser, and "realer" than the atmospheric energy of the Nine Worlds. It was like comparing a cloud of steam to a solid brick wall.
The First Elder's face turned beet red. He felt like he had kicked an iron plate. His aura was being pushed back, physically shoved down his throat by this junior's strange, violent power.
"Hmph."
Lun Ri, the Demon King, finally spoke. He waved his hand, a ripple of soft energy dissolving the tension in the room instantly.
He was astute. He was intelligent. He was the only one in the room who realized what was happening. 'This boy... he has no Fate Palaces I can sense, yet his body contains a power that rivals a Royal Noble? Interesting.'
"Ling Feng," Lun Ri said, his voice calm but resonant, echoing with the authority of a ruler. "The Prime Disciple of the Cleansing Incense Ancient Sect. You created quite the scene outside. You claim to be here for the marriage alliance?"
"Claim?" Ling Feng scoffed, shaking his head. "Nah. I'm just here to see Li Shuangyan. Where is she? She better not be average, or we might have a problem."
Dead silence filled the hall.
Protector Mo looked ready to pass out. Nan Huairen was staring at the floor, trying to mentally dig a hole to hide in. You do not call the prime descendant of a Great Sect 'average'. You do not treat a marriage alliance between sects like online shopping.
"You seek death!" Another Elder roared, standing up. "Li Shuangyan is the phoenix of our sect! She possesses the Prime Saint Physique aptitude! She is a genius of the heavens! A toad like you wants to eat swan meat?"
"I love swan meat," Ling Feng replied instantly, winking. "High protein. Good macros. Look, let's cut the roleplay. This marriage alliance is a bit phony, right? We all know the score."
Ling Feng started counting on his fingers, pacing around the hall as if he owned it.
"You guys want the Emperor Merit Laws from my sect. You think we're weak. You think we're a declining startup company with some valuable patents you want to steal. You want to test me. If I pass, you honor the deal for a bit. If I fail, you kill me, dissolve the marriage, and pressure the sect to hand over the laws anyway. Classic hostile takeover strategy. Corporate raiding 101."
In the original novel, Li Qiye played this game. He played the zither. He talked philosophy. He slowly earned their respect.
Ling Feng found that exhausting just thinking about it.
He stopped and pointed a finger directly at Lun Ri.
"I'm skipping your boring trials. I'm not running through a forest, and I'm not playing the zither. Send her out. I'll beat her. Then we sign the papers. Easy. Simple. Efficient."
Lun Ri narrowed his eyes. The amusement in them grew. In the original timeline, Li Qiye impressed Lun Ri with his ancient knowledge and calm demeanor. Ling Feng was impressing him with sheer, unadulterated audacity and mysterious power.
It was impossible to outright refuse now. Not when Ling Feng's strange aura had seemingly suppressed a Royal Noble.
"You wish to challenge Shuangyan?" Lun Ri asked slowly. "She is a genius among geniuses. You are... essentially unknown, with a cultivation base that is difficult to fathom. Are you sure you want to embarrass yourself?"
"Send. Her. Out," Ling Feng enunciated. "Or I start dismantling the furniture."
"Very well," Lun Ri said, a flicker of a smile touching his lips. "If you can survive three moves from her, we will treat you as a guest. If not... the marriage is annulled, and you stay here as a corpse. Do we have a deal?"
"Bet," Ling Feng said.
From the shadows behind the throne, a figure emerged.
The air in the hall dropped in temperature. A pure, holy aura washed over the room, contrasting with the heavy demon energy.
She was stunning.
Clothed in snow-white robes that seemed to float around her regardless of gravity, Li Shuangyan walked out. She was the definition of an ice-cold beauty. Her skin was like immaculate jade, her eyes were deep pools of starlight, and her features were so perfect they looked sculpted by the heavens. She carried an ancient sword, and her presence was sharp, dangerous, and breathtaking.
She was a natural-born Empress. The arrogance in her posture wasn't forced; it was the natural result of standing above everyone else her entire life.
Ling Feng looked her up and down. He didn't leer, but he didn't hide his appreciation either. He gave a genuine, impressed smile.
"Okay," Ling Feng nodded appreciatively. "I stand corrected. Definitely not average. No wonder the simps worship the ground you walk on. You're a perfect ten. We'll have a good time together."
Li Shuangyan's expression turned frosty. She had seen arrogant men. She had seen suitors who tried to woo her with poetry, with treasures, with strength. But this... this was something else. This was pure, unfiltered shamelessness.
"You speak too much," Li Shuangyan said, her voice like a clear spring flowing over ice. "You are the Prime Disciple of the Cleansing Incense Ancient Sect? You look like a rogue."
"And you look like my future wife," Ling Feng grinned, spreading his arms wide, his chest completely open. "Come on. Give me your best shot. Don't hold back, or you won't satisfy me."
Li Shuangyan's eyes flashed with anger. The term 'future wife' grated on her ears. "Vulgar!"
SHING.
She moved.