The silence in the Grand Hall of the Nine Saint Demon Gate was heavier than a mountain of Divine Steel.
Dust motes danced in the shafts of light cutting through the partially destroyed ceiling, illuminating a scene of absolute devastation. The floor, once a pristine expanse of paved jade and spirit stones, now resembled a cratered moonscape.
Servants scurried in with brooms and buckets, their heads bowed low, trembling like leaves in a gale. They swept away the pulverized debris of the demon steel pillars, terrified to even breathe too loudly, let alone make eye contact with the gray-robed anomaly standing amidst the wreckage.
Demon King Lun Ri sat upon his throne, his fingers steepled. The initial shock of the duel had faded, replaced by the calculating gaze of a ruler who had survived in the cruel world of cultivation for centuries. He waved a hand, a gesture of absolute authority.
"Leave us," Lun Ri commanded. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried the weight of a mountain, vibrating through the bones of everyone present.
The Elders, still pale and clutching their chests, bowed and retreated. Protector Mo and Nan Huairen, the two terrified mascots of the Cleansing Incense Ancient Sect, looked as if they were about to faint from the pressure. They exchanged a glance with Ling Feng—who offered them a lazy two-finger salute—before scurrying out the heavy bronze doors like frightened mice.
Soon, the cavernous hall held only three souls: The Demon King, the genius Ice Beauty Li Shuangyan, and Ling Feng.
"Young Noble Ling," Lun Ri began, his tone shifting. The booming voice of a dominator vanished, replaced by the smooth, conversational tone of a diplomat. He leaned forward, his eyes shining with a strange light as he dissected Ling Feng. "You are… a conundrum."
Ling Feng leaned back against the jagged remains of a pillar, picking his ear with his pinky finger. He looked less like a cultivator facing a Demon King and more like a guy waiting for his bus.
"A conundrum? That's a big word, Old Man," Ling Feng replied, inspecting his fingernail. "I prefer 'Special Edition.'"
Lun Ri ignored the informality, though his eyebrow twitched. "You possess a power that defies the Grand Dao. I watched you closely. You have no Fate Palaces opening above your head. You have no Wheel of Life rotating behind you to burn Longevity Blood. Yet, your energy—that red lightning—seems endless. It ignores defense. It suppresses the Merit Laws."
The Demon King stood up and slowly walked down the steps of the dais. "The Cleansing Incense Ancient Sect has been in decline for ten thousand years. They have lost their Emperor's legacy. They are a sinking ship. Where did they hide a monster like you?"
Ling Feng smirked, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his gray robes.
"Hide? Nah. Nobody hid me," Ling Feng said, his voice echoing in the empty hall. "I was just taking a nap. Had to wait for the alarm to go off so I could get started, you know?"
Lun Ri blinked. The terminology—alarm—was alien to him, but he nodded slowly, interpreting it as some form of crying cultivation cycle or seclusive meditation.
"You speak in riddles," Lun Ri noted. "But I am a pragmatist. You defeated Shuangyan. The marriage alliance stands; I will not go back on my word. However…"
The atmosphere suddenly chilled. Lun Ri stopped ten paces from Ling Feng. The pressure beyond that of even an Enlightened Being flared, pressing down on the hall like a collapsing sky.
"The Cleansing Incense Ancient Sect is weak," Lun Ri said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You are strong, yes. But you are one man. Why should the Nine Saint Demon Gate pour our vast resources into a dying sect? Why should we protect you from the rest of the world? A marriage is one thing. Total alliance is another."
It was a test. A negotiation tactic. In the world of Emperor's Domination, strength was the only currency, but leverage was the only language.
Ling Feng didn't flinch. He didn't even straighten his posture. He just tapped his temple with his index finger, a smirk curling his lips that bordered on predatory.
"Because I know about the Chicken."
The air in the room didn't just freeze; it died.
Li Shuangyan, who had been standing silently by the side, visibly started. Her beautiful eyes widened in confusion and indignation. "Chicken? What nonsense are you—"
"Silence, Shuangyan!"
Lun Ri roared. The sound was like a thunderclap, shaking the very foundations of the hall. For the first time, the Demon King lost his scholarly composure. His face contorted, a mask of genuine shock and sudden, primal fear.
He stared at Ling Feng with an intensity that could melt steel. "How… How do you know that legend?"
"Legend? Please. It's history. It's facts," Ling Feng chuckled darkly. He pushed off the broken pillar and began to walk toward the Demon King. He moved with a casual swagger that mocked the gravity of the situation.
"Your Patriarch, the Nine Saint Virtuous Paragon. A big shot. A terrifying demon who swept through the Nine Worlds. The founder of this glorious gate." Ling Feng stopped right in front of Lun Ri, invading his personal space. "But back in the day? Before the glory? He was just a little chicken running around, needing to care for Immortal Emperor Min Ren."
Ling Feng leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"I know the roots of your sect better than you do, old man. I know where the bodies are buried. I know the secret techniques you guys lost because your ancestors forgot to write them down. I know the old debts. I know the Old Chicken's true form."
Lun Ri took a ragged breath. His heart pounded against his ribs. This was the deepest secret of the Nine Saint Demon Gate. The fact that their invincible Patriarch was essentially the servant—and origin form of a chicken—of Immortal Emperor Min Ren was a secret that could shake their reputation if mocked, but also proved their connection to the true apex of this world.
If this boy knew that… what else did he know?
Was he sent by an ancient existence?
Was he the illegitimate son of an Old Monster?
Or perhaps… a descendant of Min Ren himself?
"You threaten us?" Lun Ri asked, though the bite was gone from his voice. It was replaced by caution.
"Threaten? No. I'm offering you a update," Ling Feng shrugged, looking bored again. "Here's the deal. You stick with me. You back the Cleansing Incense Ancient Sect with everything you've got. You give me the resources I ask for. In exchange? I keep your dirty laundry hidden."
Ling Feng grinned, showing teeth. "And when I inevitably flip this world upside down and ascend to the top, you guys get to ride the coattails. Think of it as investing in a promising startup. Like buying Apple stock at the right time."
Lun Ri stared at him for a long moment. He didn't understand what an 'Apple' or 'Stock' was, but the intent was clear. This was a gamble. A massive one. But looking at Ling Feng—at the absolute confidence that radiated from his soul, a confidence that disregarded the Heavens themselves—Lun Ri felt a stirring he hadn't felt in centuries.
The Demon King sat back down on his throne, exhaling a long breath. A smile, resigned but impressed, slowly crossed his face.
"Apple… I do not know this fruit's significance. But I understand the nature of high-risk investment," Lun Ri admitted. "Very well. The Nine Saint Demon Gate will fully support the Cleansing Incense Ancient Sect. We will send tributes. We will suppress the local sects that harass you. Your enemies are now our enemies."
"Good choice," Ling Feng said, turning around and clapping his hands.
"And," Ling Feng pointed a finger at Li Shuangyan, who was still processing the fact that her ancestor was poultry. "I'm taking the car keys. Or whatever you guys use to fly around here."
...
An Hour Later: The Dao Platform
The midday sun beat down on the massive stone platform outside the main gate. The wind howled at this altitude, carrying the scent of ancient pine and ozone.
The Nine Saint Demon Gate had delivered. Parked on the platform was a magnificent flying treasure. It wasn't a simple boat; it was a bronze chariot carved with intricate beast patterns, pulsating with ancient runes. It was pulled by four Scaled Flood Dragons, beasts with the bloodline of true dragons, snorting smoke and restless energy.
Protector Mo and Nan Huairen were standing near the rear wheels, practically drooling. They touched the bronze siding with trembling hands. To a declining sect like theirs, this single mount was worth more than their entire treasury.
"Young Noble… are we really taking this?" Nan Huairen whispered, his eyes wide. "This is a Royal Noble class treasure!"
"Get in the back," Ling Feng commanded, thumbing over his shoulder. "And don't touch the radio."
"R-Right!"
The two scurried into the rear cabin, terrified of offending Ling Feng after seeing him casually browbeat the Demon King.
Ling Feng hopped onto the driver's seat—or the cultivation equivalent, the control array at the front of the chariot. He didn't sit in the lotus position like a traditional cultivator. He sat with one leg up on the dashboard, leaning back with his hands behind his head.
Li Shuangyan followed him. Her movements were graceful, ethereal, like a fairy descending to the mortal coil, but there was a stiffness to her shoulders. She stood beside the control array, her white robes fluttering in the wind. She looked at Ling Feng—really looked at him.
He was handsome, sure. But not in the jade-skinned, effeminate way of the cultivation world's geniuses. He had a rugged edge. His hair was messy. His eyes didn't hold the greed or arrogance she was used to; they held a chaotic, frantic energy. It was the look of a man who saw the world as a sandbox.
The Flood Dragons roared, and with a lurch that would have thrown a lesser man, the chariot tore into the sky.
BOOM!
A sonic boom rippled behind them as they ascended, piercing the cloud layer in seconds. The defensive barrier shimmered into existence, creating a bubble of calm air inside the chariot while the world blurred past outside.
Ling Feng watched the clouds roll by, a relaxed smile on his face.
"You..." Li Shuangyan started, her voice hesitant. She gripped the railing of the chariot. "You really defeated my Lunar Slash with a finger."
"Physics, my dear," Ling Feng said, not bothering to open his eyes. "Force equals mass times acceleration. My energy is just denser than yours. You guys rely on Dao Laws—borrowing power from the universe. I don't borrow. My power is mine."
He opened one eye, the iris glowing faintly red. "Your Dao Laws are like wet tissue paper compared to real Chaos. Don't feel bad, though. You're still the strongest girl I've met here. Solid S-Tier potential."
"Real Chaos…" She tested the word on her tongue. It wasn't a term in any scripture she knew. "And why do you speak so… casually? You address the Demon King like a drinking buddy. You treat the Grand Dao like a joke. You call me 'my dear'. It is… improper."
Ling Feng cracked a grin and finally sat up. He turned to face her, resting his chin on his hand.
"Improper? According to who? Some dead guys who wrote rules a million years ago?"
He reached into his Inventory—a pocket dimension fueled by the Chaos Force—and pulled out a strange, red Spirit Fruit he had snagged from the Demon Gate's snack table earlier. He tossed it to her.
She caught it reflexively, her reflexes honed by years of combat.
"Look, Shuangyan. Can I call you Shuangyan? 'Li Shuangyan' sounds too distant." He didn't wait for permission. "Everyone in this world is so stiff. It's all 'Face this,' 'Young Master that,' 'You are courting death!' It's exhausting. Everyone's acting like they're NPCs in a bad period drama."
"NPCs?" Li Shuangyan frowned.
"Never mind. Point is, I'm just being me," Ling Feng said, spreading his arms. "I want to be happy. I want to do cool shit. I want to hang out with beautiful women. I want to see what's at the top of the world. Is that a crime?"
Li Shuangyan looked down at the fruit in her hand. "The path of cultivation is arduous. One must sever emotions to reach the Apex. Emotions are tethers. They weigh down the Dao Heart."
"Boring," Ling Feng groaned, rolling his eyes theatrically. "Sever emotions? That's for losers who can't handle their feelings. Real strength comes from passion. From wanting something so bad you'll break reality to get it."
He stood up and stepped closer to her. The space in the chariot was small. Suddenly, he was in her personal bubble again. Li Shuangyan's breath hitched. He wasn't using a Charm Technique or an Aphrodisiac Art. It was just raw, unfiltered charisma.
"I think you're bored too," Ling Feng whispered, his voice dropping to a husky register. A knowing glint danced in his eyes. "You're the genius Ice Beauty. Perfect posture. Perfect swordsmanship. Never stepping a toe out of line. It must be suffocating, living inside that marble statue you built for yourself."
Li Shuangyan felt a crack in her Dao Heart. Not a fracture of weakness, but a fracture of liberation. Nobody had ever spoken to her like this. Men either worshipped the ground she walked on or plotted to conquer her to steal her physique.
Ling Feng was doing neither. He was analyzing her. Deconstructing her. Seeing the person beneath the titles.
"I am not bored," she denied, though her voice lacked its usual icy conviction. "I am disciplined."
"Same difference," Ling Feng laughed.
Then, with shocking boldness, he reached out.
Li Shuangyan tensed. Was he going to attack? Was he going to try a grapple move?
Ling Feng extended his index finger and poked her cheek.
Boop.
She flinched violently, stepping back, her hand instinctively going to her sword hilt. "What are you doing?!"
"Just checking if you're real," Ling Feng grinned, retracting his hand before she could slash him. "You are. Soft, too. Not made of stone after all."
Li Shuangyan stared at him, her mouth slightly agape. A flush was creeping up her elegant neck, turning her ears a dusty pink.
"Stick with me, Shuangyan," Ling Feng said, turning back to the controls. "I'm going to show you a world where you don't have to be a statue. We're gonna break a lot of rules, offend a lot of old fogeys, and probably steal a lot of treasure. It's gonna be a riot."
He looked back at her over his shoulder, winking.
"Plus, a beautiful genius like you deserves to smile more. Life is more fun when you're smiling."
Li Shuangyan looked away, staring out at the passing clouds. Her grip on the railing tightened until her knuckles turned white. Her heart was beating a rhythm she didn't recognize—chaotic, fast, and dangerously alive.
"You are a madman," she murmured, the wind stealing her words. But she didn't move away. She didn't draw her sword.
"Guilty as charged," Ling Feng heard her perfectly. He grinned, slamming his hand down on the control array, pouring Chaos Energy into the mechanism.
The runes on the chariot flared with blinding light. The Scaled Flood Dragons roared as a surge of alien power coursed through them.
"Now, buckle up," Ling Feng laughed, the thrill of adventure lighting up his face. "I'm gonna see if these lizards have a turbo mode."
WHOOSH!
The chariot exploded forward, leaving a streak of golden light across the sky, racing toward the horizon and the chaos that awaited them.