The morning sun cast long shadows across Celestial Dawn Sect's memorial courtyard, where seventeen stone markers stood in pristine rows. Lin Feng approached slowly, his left arm still bandaged beneath his outer robe, each step measured and deliberate.
Seventeen.
The number had carved itself into his consciousness over the past three days. Seventeen cultivators who had stood between him and the Crimson Empress's forces. Seventeen who would never see another sunrise.
His spatial perception—now extending a full thirty-five meters in all directions—picked up the subtle movements of morning disciples paying their respects. Through his four-perspective awareness, he observed himself from multiple angles: a young man standing alone before monuments to sacrifice, viewed from above, from the side, and through the lens of tactical analysis that never fully quieted.
"You're here early," Yun Qingxue's voice came from behind him, soft as falling snow. Through their dao companion bond, he'd felt her approach long before she spoke—a warmth in his consciousness that had become as natural as breathing.
"Couldn't sleep," Lin Feng admitted, not turning. "Every time I close my eyes, I see the moment before Elder Chen fell. The spatial distortion that I could have warned him about if I'd processed it three seconds faster."
Qingxue moved to stand beside him, her presence a counterweight to the guilt pressing down on his shoulders. "You maintained awareness of forty-seven simultaneous combat exchanges while directly engaging a Sovereign Monarch. Elder Chen fell because a Level 8 demonic cultivator used a forbidden technique that consumed his own life force for a single devastating strike. Not because you failed to process information quickly enough."
Lin Feng's analytical perspective noted the logic in her words. His emotional perspective rejected it entirely.
"Logic doesn't make them any less dead," he said quietly.
"No," Qingxue agreed, surprising him. "It doesn't. Nor should it. The day we stop feeling the weight of those who fall protecting us is the day we become what the Crimson Empress was—treating people as expendable resources in pursuit of power."
Through their bond, he felt her own grief—a crystalline sorrow that she'd learned to carry without letting it consume her. Seventeen more markers added to however many she'd already memorized over her years as the Ice Goddess.
"How do you bear it?" he asked.
"By making their sacrifice mean something. By becoming strong enough that fewer fall next time. By never forgetting that this—" she gestured to the markers "—is the true price of the path we walk."
Lin Feng closed his eyes, letting his four-perspective awareness settle over the courtyard. From above, he saw the geometric pattern of the memorial stones. From the side, the way morning light caught the carved names. From his own viewpoint, the weight of responsibility. From the temporal analysis perspective, the cascade of decisions that had led to this moment.
Could I have done differently?
His consciousness divided into nine streams, each analyzing alternative scenarios. In six of them, he died. In two more, Qingxue fell protecting him. Only in the reality that had actually occurred did they both survive—and even then, at terrible cost.
"The Patriarch wants to see you," Qingxue said after a long moment of silence. "War council in one hour."
"Another threat already?"
"No. Recognition ceremony. Patriarch Cloud Heaven has formally recommended you for elevation to core disciple status."
Lin Feng's analytical perspective immediately began calculating implications. Core disciple meant access to Celestial Dawn's deepest archives, priority for resources, and—most significantly—the expectation that he would eventually become an elder himself.
"That's... unexpected," he said carefully. "I've been an inner disciple for less than six months."
"You've also killed or facilitated the probable death of a Sovereign Monarch level threat, dismantled a demonic pocket dimension, survived three combat breakthroughs, and earned formal alliance recognition from both Frozen Sky and Azure Sky." Qingxue's tone carried a hint of amusement. "At what point did you imagine remaining a normal inner disciple?"
"I'd hoped for at least a year of quiet cultivation before the next crisis."
"Then you chose the wrong Dao." Her hand found his, fingers intertwining. "The Inverse Void Dao liberates from constraints—including the constraint of anonymity. Your potential was always going to draw attention. Now it draws recognition instead of assassination attempts."
"For now," Lin Feng muttered.
"For now," she agreed, squeezing his hand. "Which is why we use this time wisely."
They stood together in silence as more disciples filtered into the courtyard for morning remembrance. Lin Feng's spatial perception tracked each arrival, noting cultivation levels, spiritual energy patterns, and the subtle ways grief manifested in their movements.
Zhao Hai approached with Xiao Ling at his side, both carrying incense. His friend's usually cheerful expression had sobered over the past three days—apparently nothing concentrated the mind quite like watching seventeen colleagues die while you survived.
"Lin Feng," Zhao Hai greeted, inclining his head to Qingxue as well. "I heard about the core disciple recommendation. Congratulations."
"Thank you," Lin Feng replied automatically, though the word felt hollow in a memorial courtyard.
Xiao Ling's sharp eyes studied him with administrative precision. "The ceremony is scheduled for ten days from now—enough time for proper preparation and for all relevant faction representatives to arrive. You'll need formal robes. I've already commissioned them from Master Tailor Wu."
"Of course you have," Lin Feng said, allowing himself a small smile. Xiao Ling's organizational genius continued to manifest in increasingly useful ways.
"Frozen Sky is sending a delegation of twenty," she continued, consulting a jade slip. "Grand Elder Bingxin will attend personally. Azure Sky is sending Patriarch Zhang Tian himself, along with ten elders. The ceremony has become something of a political event."
Lin Feng's analytical perspective immediately began calculating the implications. Three major sects publicly recognizing a twenty-year-old cultivator who'd just reached Divine Domain Level 7—this wasn't just about him anymore. This was a statement about the Inverse Void Dao's legitimacy as a cultivation path.
"Political theater," he murmured.
"Effective political theater," Qingxue corrected. "Your Dao needs legitimacy to grow beyond one practitioner. This ceremony provides it."
"She's right," Zhao Hai added. "I've already had three disciples ask me about void cultivation techniques. Word is spreading."
Lin Feng's temporal analysis perspective projected forward, seeing the cascade of consequences. Interest would lead to questions. Questions would lead to challenges from traditionalists. Challenges would require demonstrations. Demonstrations would attract more attention, both positive and negative.
The cycle never ends.
"Then I suppose I should meet with the Patriarch," he said, gently extracting his hand from Qingxue's. "Thank you for finding me."
"Always," she replied, and through their bond he felt the depth of that simple word.
Patriarch Cloud Heaven's private study overlooked the sect's central courtyard, positioned to observe everything while remaining slightly apart. Lin Feng had been here twice before—once for his elevation to outer disciple, once for the emergency war council before the Crimson Empress's assault.
The Patriarch stood at the window when Lin Feng entered, hands clasped behind his back in the classical scholarly pose. Despite being Cloud Transformation Level 7—capable of leveling mountains with a thought—he maintained an air of gentle wisdom rather than overwhelming power.
"Lin Feng," he greeted without turning. "How is your arm?"
"Healing well. Grand Elder Bingxin's treatment was thorough."
"She's always been exceptional at restoration techniques." Cloud Heaven turned, gesturing to a low table where tea already steamed in delicate cups. "Please, sit. We have much to discuss."
Lin Feng settled into formal meditation posture across from the Patriarch, his spatial perception automatically mapping the room's dimensions while his consciousness remained respectfully focused on the conversation.
"You understand what the core disciple ceremony represents?" Cloud Heaven asked, pouring tea with practiced grace.
"Political recognition of the Inverse Void Dao as a legitimate cultivation path," Lin Feng replied. "Formal alliance strengthening. A message to any remaining demonic forces that Celestial Dawn stands behind me."
"All accurate," the Patriarch acknowledged, "but incomplete. It also represents my formal recommendation that you establish your own sect within the next year."
Lin Feng's hand froze halfway to his tea cup.
"A year?" he repeated carefully.
"Eighteen months at the absolute maximum." Cloud Heaven's expression remained serene, but his eyes held steel. "You are Divine Domain Level 7 at age twenty, with perfect meridians, three developing auxiliary paths, and a cultivation philosophy that is genuinely novel. You have defeated or contributed to defeating a Sovereign Monarch level threat. You are dao companion to the Ice Goddess and formal disciple to an Immortal Emperor."
He paused to sip his tea.
"You are also increasingly conspicuous," the Patriarch continued. "Every day you remain here makes Celestial Dawn a larger target. We are a mid-tier sect, Lin Feng. We can provide protection against most threats, but we cannot withstand sustained assault from multiple major powers simultaneously—which is what will eventually come if you stay."
Lin Feng's analytical perspective had already reached this conclusion, but hearing it stated so directly still stung.
"You're asking me to leave," he said quietly.
"I'm asking you to graduate," Cloud Heaven corrected gently. "There is a difference. Celestial Dawn will always be your home. Many of our elders began elsewhere and returned to teach. But your growth has outpaced our capacity to shelter you safely."
"And establishing my own sect solves this how? I'd still be vulnerable."
"No." The Patriarch's smile held genuine warmth. "You'd be a legitimate faction leader with formal diplomatic standing. Attacking you would mean attacking an entire sect—with all the alliance implications that entails. Right now, you're a valuable individual. As a sect founder, you become a political entity. The calculus of your enemies changes entirely."
Lin Feng divided his consciousness, analyzing the proposal from multiple angles. It made strategic sense—established factions thought twice before attacking other factions due to alliance cascades and retaliation risks. It made political sense—his elevation would formalize relationships with Frozen Sky and Azure Sky. It made cultivation sense—running a sect would force systematic documentation of the Inverse Void Dao, accelerating his own understanding.
But it also meant tremendous responsibility.
"A sect requires disciples," he said slowly. "I'm barely qualified to teach myself, much less others."
"Which is why I suggest waiting until you reach Cloud Transformation. At that level, combined with your unique insights, you would be more than qualified." Cloud Heaven refilled their tea cups. "I propose this timeline: spend the next three to four months advancing to Divine Domain Level 8. Use the following six months to reach Level 9. Break through to Cloud Transformation during your twenty-second year. Establish your sect shortly after."
"Two years," Lin Feng murmured.
"Two years to transform from servant to sect founder," the Patriarch agreed. "Longer than you've already traveled, shorter than the lifetime ahead. And during those two years, Celestial Dawn will support you completely—resources, training, political cover. We want you to succeed, Lin Feng. Your success reflects well on us, and more importantly, your Dao deserves to flourish."
Through his four-perspective awareness, Lin Feng examined the proposal from every angle. From above, he saw the strategic necessity. From the side, the genuine care in the Patriarch's offer. From his own viewpoint, the weight of responsibility. From temporal analysis, the cascade of consequences both positive and concerning.
"What about Qingxue?" he asked. "She's still building her own cultivation. Pulling her into sect founding might—"
"You misunderstand," Cloud Heaven interrupted gently. "I'm not suggesting you found the sect alone. The Ice Goddess as co-founder would only strengthen your position. Moreover, her mother would undoubtedly provide substantial backing—Patriarch Bingfeng has been seeking ways to expand Frozen Sky's influence without direct territorial expansion. Supporting a allied sect led by her daughter accomplishes this perfectly."
Lin Feng hadn't considered that angle. His tactical mind immediately began calculating the implications of formal Frozen Sky backing for a new sect.
"That's... actually brilliant," he admitted.
"I've been a sect leader for three hundred years," Cloud Heaven said with amusement. "I've learned a few things about political maneuvering. Now, there are details to discuss, but first I need your agreement in principle. Will you accept core disciple status with the understanding that it's a stepping stone to sect founding?"
Lin Feng's consciousness streams converged, weighing options and futures. The Inverse Void Dao emphasized liberation from constraints—including the constraint of staying somewhere he'd outgrown. Remaining at Celestial Dawn out of comfort or fear would be its own form of imprisonment.
"I accept," he said formally. "With gratitude for everything Celestial Dawn has provided, and with commitment to maintaining our alliance when I establish my sect."
"Excellent." Patriarch Cloud Heaven produced a jade slip from his sleeve. "This contains documentation of the formal process—political requirements, resource calculations, typical timelines, and lessons from other successful sect foundings. Study it carefully. You'll also want to consult with Azure Sky about intelligence networks and with Frozen Sky about recruitment strategies."
Lin Feng accepted the jade slip, his spatial perception automatically cataloging its weight and spiritual signature.
"One more thing," the Patriarch added, his tone shifting to something more serious. "The Crimson Empress is most likely dead, but her organization will eventually reorganize under new leadership. When they do, you will be a primary target. Establishing a sect provides political protection, but you must continue advancing your cultivation and combat capabilities. A sect founder who cannot personally deter threats is a liability, not a leader."
"Understood," Lin Feng replied. "I have no intention of stopping my advancement."
"Good. Then let's discuss the ceremony details..."
Three hours later, Lin Feng emerged from the Patriarch's study with his consciousness streams working overtime to process everything he'd learned. The core disciple ceremony would be elaborate—formal oaths, public demonstrations, diplomatic exchanges. He'd need to showcase void techniques without revealing everything. Balance impressiveness with strategic ambiguity.
The political chess game never ended.
He found Qingxue in their usual meditation chamber, a space they'd claimed together over the past months. She sat in perfect stillness, spiritual energy circulating in the distinctive patterns of Frozen Sky ice cultivation.
Lin Feng settled across from her and waited. One didn't interrupt another cultivator's meditation unless emergency demanded it.
After several minutes, Qingxue's eyes opened, pale blue depths focusing on him immediately.
"Eventful meeting?" she asked.
"The Patriarch wants us to found a sect within two years."
Her expression didn't change, but through their bond he felt her surprise—and then her rapid analytical processing that mirrored his own consciousness division.
"Us?" she said carefully.
"He suggested you as co-founder. Apparently your mother would support the venture as a way of extending Frozen Sky influence without direct expansion."
Qingxue was silent for a long moment, her ice cultivation discipline helping her maintain external composure while internally processing implications.
"That's actually clever," she finally said, echoing his own words to the Patriarch. "Mother has been frustrated by territorial politics limiting Frozen Sky's growth. An allied sect led by her daughter and publicly backed by Frozen Sky would give her external influence while maintaining plausible deniability if things go wrong."
"Comforting thought," Lin Feng said dryly.
"Practical thought," Qingxue corrected. "You're thinking about this emotionally. Analyze it tactically—what are the actual advantages?"
Lin Feng divided his consciousness, examining the proposal systematically:
"Political legitimacy," he began. "Protection through factional status rather than individual vulnerability. Freedom to develop the Inverse Void Dao without institutional constraints. Direct access to resources without sect bureaucracy. Ability to recruit disciples who specifically align with our cultivation philosophy. Platform to eventually influence continental politics."
"Disadvantages?" Qingxue prompted.
"Enormous responsibility. Constant target. Resource demands. Administrative overhead that could slow personal cultivation. Risk of failure damaging both personal reputation and our backing factions. Potential to become what we oppose if we're not careful about our methods."
"All accurate," Qingxue agreed. "Now: does accepting these disadvantages align with the Inverse Void Dao?"
Lin Feng considered the question from his four-perspective awareness. From above, he saw patterns of influence and power. From the side, the personal cost of leadership. From his own viewpoint, the desire to share what he'd learned. From temporal analysis, the long-term necessity of establishing institutional frameworks.
"Yes," he concluded. "The Inverse Void Dao emphasizes liberation, but not isolation. True freedom includes the freedom to accept responsibility, to build something larger than yourself, to choose constraints that serve greater purposes."
"Then we're doing this," Qingxue said, not questioning but confirming.
"Apparently we are."
She rose in a single fluid motion, crossed to where he sat, and extended her hand. "Sect Founder Lin. You'll need to get used to the title."
He took her hand, pulling himself up. "Co-founder. We do this together or not at all."
"Together," she agreed, and through their dao companion bond, he felt her commitment solidify into something permanent and unbreakable.
They stood facing each other in the meditation chamber, two young cultivators barely past twenty, contemplating founding an institution that might last centuries.
"This is insane," Lin Feng said.
"Completely," Qingxue agreed.
"We're really going to do it."
"We really are."
Lin Feng's consciousness divided, analyzing everything that would need to happen over the next two years. Advance to Cloud Transformation. Master all three auxiliary paths. Establish political relationships. Recruit founding disciples. Find a location. Develop institutional structures. Document the Inverse Void Dao comprehensively enough to teach it.
Impossible.
And yet.
Through his spatial perception, he felt the fundamental structure of reality—the void between things, the emptiness that paradoxically contained infinite potential. The Inverse Void Dao had taken him from invisible servant to this moment in just over a year.
What was founding a sect compared to that?
"We'll need a name," he said, his mind already beginning to organize the thousand tasks ahead.
"Something that captures the philosophy without being too obvious," Qingxue mused. "The Inverse Void Sect is too direct. Void Dawn? Liberation Hall?"
"The Emptiness Archive?"
They both grimaced.
"We have two years to figure it out," Qingxue said diplomatically.
"Two years to accomplish the impossible," Lin Feng corrected.
"Again," she added with a smile.
"Again," he agreed.
They sealed the commitment with synchronized cultivation, their spiritual energies merging through the dao companion bond with practiced ease. Lin Feng felt his consciousness expand, incorporating Qingxue's perspective fully, their awareness becoming temporarily unified.
In that space of perfect understanding, doubt dissolved. The path forward was clear—terrifying, ambitious, potentially catastrophic, but clear.
The Inverse Void Dao had never promised easy. It promised liberation. And sometimes liberation meant accepting the freedom to build something unprecedented, despite—or perhaps because of—all the reasons it shouldn't be possible.
As their cultivation session deepened, Lin Feng's consciousness streams converged on a single truth: the servant who had discovered void cultivation fourteen months ago no longer existed. In his place stood someone capable of founding a sect, of teaching others, of building institutions that might outlast his own lifetime.
The impossible had become merely improbable.
And improbable, he'd learned, was just another word for worth attempting.
End of Chapter 72