The dust had not yet settled when Bo raised Di once more. Sword intent poured outward, not as destruction, but as proclamation. Emerald light surged into the heavens, weaving itself into a vast luminescent crest that hovered above the crater. The symbol of the Mile Clan shone clearly against the night sky, radiant and undeniable, its presence pressing itself into the land as if declaring ownership not through conquest, but judgment. Where Bloody Keep had once stood, only emptiness remained, crowned by the mark of its end.
From the overlooking mountain, movement began. One by one, then in waves, figures emerged from hidden caves and sealed passages. Chains clattered to the ground. Broken seals dissolved into dust. Men and women stumbled forward, shielding their eyes as they looked upon the impossible sight before them. The city of blood was gone. In its place was a crater so vast it swallowed sound. Above it, the glowing crest of the Mile Clan burned like a second moon. Murmurs spread through the crowd as understanding took hold. Their savior had left his name behind. As nearly twelve thousand freed captives descended the mountain, fear gave way to reverence, and reverence to hope, all eyes drawn to the lone figure standing at the crater's edge.
As they approached, Bo's expression remained calm, until something pulled sharply at his senses. From the sea of faces, one presence stood apart. His heart tightened as he felt it, a resonance rooted in blood rather than Qi. Kinship. A true connection. For a fleeting moment, relief touched him. Then it vanished. His gaze locked onto a young cultivator whose core was fractured, spiritual energy leaking uncontrollably, eating away at both flesh and soul. Bo's eyes hardened. He turned to the crowd and spoke clearly. "All of you will head west to Myriad City. When you arrive, you will be taken care of. Shelter, food, and protection will be provided." Before anyone could respond, Bo descended in a blur, lifting the injured cultivator gently into his arms. Without another word, he rose into the sky and vanished, leaving behind a silent multitude staring up at the crest above the crater, awe and faith etched into every face.
Only after Bo's figure disappeared into the distance did the crowd begin to breathe again. Whispers spread like wind through tall grass, names spoken in hushed tones, the Mile Clan crest etched forever into their memories. Many dropped to their knees without realizing it, bowing toward the glowing symbol still hanging in the sky. They did not know who Bo Mile truly was, nor what fate awaited them in Myriad City, but they knew one thing with absolute certainty. The era of Bloody Keep had ended, and in its place stood a power that judged, protected, and remembered the innocent.
Bo carried the injured cultivator into a quiet cave carved deep into the mountainside, its interior naturally shielded from the turbulence of the outside world. He laid him gently upon a flat stone slab, his expression focused and grave as he examined the damage more closely. The man's core was fractured beyond what ordinary means could repair, spiritual energy bleeding uncontrollably into his meridians, eroding flesh and soul alike with every breath he took.
Di moved on its own. The emerald blade traced precise paths along the cave walls, carving ancient runes into the stone with effortless grace. As the final rune was completed, the cave hummed to life. A grand Qi refining formation ignited, Tier Two, its flow stable and profound, drawing in ambient energy and purifying it before guiding it inward. Bo stepped to the formation's heart and pressed a single drop of his blood into its core. The formation shifted instantly, its energy taking on the unique properties of Mile Blood, gentle yet authoritative, perfectly suited to nurture and restore the damaged body within its bounds.
Bo then released a fraction of his true presence. Ascendant level pressure descended carefully, not as force, but as structure, guiding the shattered core back into coherence. Threads of golden light stitched fractures together, stabilizing what should have been irreparable. The cultivator's breathing steadied, color slowly returning to his face as pain gave way to warmth. Bo watched in silence, maintaining the delicate balance until the damage ceased spreading. Only then did he allow himself a breath. Whoever this cultivator was, fate had bound him tightly to the Mile Clan, and Bo intended to see that bond honored.
Days later, as Bo remained within the quiet cave, seated beside the still unconscious cultivator, the flow of events did not slow elsewhere. Far to the west, Myriad City stirred as the first signs of upheaval arrived. A falcon descended upon the watch towers, its leg bearing an urgent message from the outer scouts. Twelve thousand refugees were approaching the city gates. Former captives. Survivors of Bloody Keep. The warning spread swiftly through the city's channels, officials moving into action without hesitation.
True to the city's founding law, Myriad City could never refuse a refugee. The Hall of Rites and Labor mobilized at once, coordinating food distribution, temporary housing, and labor placement. The Hall of Civil Affairs was brought in alongside them, tasked with registration, medical aid, and family reunification. Barracks were cleared, warehouses opened, and emergency shelters erected along the outer districts. As the long column of refugees crossed the five mile boundary toward the gates, order met urgency.
Overseeing it all stood Guardian Yoon. His presence alone enforced discipline as commands were carried out swiftly and without argument. The three city guard commanders from the Han Clan had already been dismissed days earlier, their authority revoked without ceremony. New command structures were in place, loyal to the city rather than any single clan. As the gates of Myriad City opened wide to receive the approaching multitude, Yoon watched in silence, fully settled into his role. This was no longer a city drifting under old compromises. It was a city preparing for a new era. An era under Bo.
In a sealed chamber far from the public eye, representatives of Myriad City's great families gathered beneath dim lantern light. The Wei Clan arrived first, faces tight with calculation, followed by the Luo Clan elders whose expressions betrayed unease beneath practiced calm. The Qiao Clan came last, silent as ever, their eyes sharp and unreadable. One name was conspicuously absent. The Han Clan. No one spoke of them at first, yet their absence weighed heavily on the room.
The discussion began quietly, then grew urgent. Bloody Keep was gone. Erased in a single night. An entire city of evil cultivators, reduced to a crater by one man. More troubling still was the power behind it. A cultivator capable of such destruction was no Ascendant legend or upper realm enforcer. He was real, active, and tied unmistakably to the Mile Clan. The Wei elders worried aloud about trade routes and regional stability. The Luo Clan feared what would happen if such power turned its attention toward internal monopolies. The Qiao Clan shared fragments of information gathered from witnesses, each report more unsettling than the last. A sword sovereign. Dragon bloodlines. Law enforced without compromise.
Eventually, the conversation shifted to what none of them could ignore. The Han Clan had been sidelined, stripped of influence piece by piece, not through open war, but through law and precision. It was a warning. The Mile Clan had not returned to negotiate. They had returned to rule. The question was no longer whether to oppose them, but how to avoid sharing the Han Clan's fate. Alliances were suggested, concessions discussed, and old practices quietly reconsidered. As the meeting drew to a close, one truth had settled firmly among them all. The age of ignoring the Mile Clan was over, and survival in Myriad City would now depend on how well they adapted to the will behind that emerald blade.
A week later, the cave was quiet, the grand formation reduced to a gentle, nurturing hum. Bo stood nearby as the cultivator stirred. Before the man's eyes opened, Bo deliberately withdrew his Sword Sovereign aura, letting the overwhelming pressure fade completely. When consciousness returned, it did so slowly, cautiously.
The cultivator pushed himself upright with effort. Joong slithered closer at once, bracing his body against the man's side and supporting his arm. The man blinked several times, taking in the cave, the runes, and finally Bo. Bo spoke first, his tone calm and controlled. "You are of the Mile bloodline?"
The man swallowed hard. "I am Mile Kook," he said quietly. "Son of Mile Hung." His voice wavered, then steadied. Bo nodded once. "What is your relation to Mile Ren?"
At the sound of the name, Kook froze. His eyes widened as if struck. "Uncle Ren?" he whispered. "He is alive?" His breath hitched. "The Mile Clan is not dead?" A bitter smile twisted across his face as he shook his head slowly. "They told me I was the last. For years they told me that. That the clan fell, that no one came for me because there was no one left."
Kook's hands trembled as memories surfaced. "For twenty seven years, they played games with my mind. They showed me forged records. Fake banners burning. Voices pretending to be clan elders, telling me to surrender my blood secrets." His jaw tightened. "When that failed, they left me alone for years at a time, then returned just to ask the same questions. Over and over. They wanted me to believe survival was meaningless." He looked up at Bo, disbelief and relief colliding in his eyes. "I endured because I believed even one Mile still lived. I just never imagined this."
Bo studied him in silence, understanding fully now. Bloody Keep had not merely imprisoned Kook. They had tried to erase him from himself. That he had survived at all spoke volumes, not only of Kook's will, but of the blood that ran through his veins.
Bo let the silence linger, giving Kook time to steady himself. "You endured because you are Mile," he said at last. "That alone was enough." He stepped closer and placed a hand lightly over Kook's chest, sensing the now stabilized flow of Qi. "Your core will take time to fully recover, but it will heal. You are no longer alone, and you will never be made to believe that again."
Kook's breath shuddered as the words sank in. He lowered his head, fingers curling into the stone beneath him. "I thought... I thought if I forgot their lies long enough, I might forget myself," he admitted quietly. "But hearing Uncle Ren's name just now... it feels like waking from a nightmare." He looked up, resolve slowly replacing disbelief. "If the Mile Clan truly stands again, then tell me what you need of me. I owe my life to the blood that did not abandon me."
Bo's gaze softened, just slightly. "For now, you will rest," he replied. "Then you will return with me to Myriad City. You will see the Mile Mansion rebuilt, and you will stand before your uncle yourself." Joong hissed softly in agreement, coiling closer to Kook's side. Bo turned toward the cave entrance, eyes already set on what came next. "Bloody Keep is gone. The world has changed. And you, Mile Kook, will help decide what the Mile Clan becomes from here."
Kook lowered his gaze for a long moment, breathing slowly as if afraid the reality before him might vanish if he moved too quickly. "They used to ask me the same question every year," he said quietly. "What does the Mile Clan mean to you?" A bitter laugh escaped him. "When I refused to answer, they told me the question no longer mattered. That there was no clan left to answer for." He looked up at Bo again, eyes sharper now, clearer. "If Uncle Ren lives... if the Mile banner still flies... then everything they tried to break failed."
Bo inclined his head slightly. "It failed because they misunderstood what the Mile blood truly is," he said. "We do not endure because we are strong. We are strong because we endure." He gestured toward the cave walls, still faintly glowing with residual formation light. "When you return to Myriad City, your recovery will continue. You will be surrounded by kin, not shadows."
Kook exhaled and straightened with Joong's help. "Then I will return," he said firmly. "Not as a victim pulled from ruins, but as a Mile who survived them." His eyes hardened with purpose. "Whatever you are building, Cousin... I will stand with it." Bo met his gaze, seeing not weakness, but a tempered resolve forged over twenty seven years of isolation. Outside the cave, dawn crept over the mountains, and for the first time in decades, Mile blood faced the coming day together.
Bo studied him closely, his gaze calm but probing. "I do not sense any sword Qi within you," he said. "Do you not practice the sword?"
Kook shook his head slowly. "No. My branch of the Mile family practiced flame arts." His voice grew steadier as memory returned. "The flame arts served us well for centuries. We believed the clan, with its many branches, should not walk only one path. The sword path is powerful, yes, but it is not the easiest. Reaching a level like yours, cousin, is the most difficult of all." He paused, then continued. "My great grandfather decided our branch would cultivate fire instead. We left the city and founded Flame Valley."
His expression darkened. "Twenty seven years ago, during the chaos, everything collapsed. Various clans fought for territory and resources, desperate to impress envoys from the upper realms. We were ambushed without warning. Flame Valley erased, and those who survived were scattered." Kook lowered his eyes. "That was how Bloody Keep took me. Not through strength alone, but through a world that had already chosen ambition over kin."
Bo listened in silence, then nodded once. "I agree with that sentiment." He reached into his storage pouch and withdrew a thin booklet bound in dark red leather. Flame patterns faintly moved across its surface as if alive. He handed it to Kook. "This is the Flame Dragon Art. It will prove the path your branch chose was never wrong. Fire was never lesser. It was simply incomplete."
Kook accepted the booklet with trembling hands. The moment his fingers touched it, heat flowed through his meridians, not wild or destructive, but vast and ancient. His breath caught. "This aura... it feels alive," he whispered, eyes fixed on the pages that seemed to pulse like a heartbeat. "This is not ordinary flame." He looked up, emotion breaking through his composure. "With this... Flame Valley can live again." Bo inclined his head. "That dream was never meant to die. You will resurrect it."
Bo then stepped back and said calmly, "You are a Golden Core cultivator. That means you can fly." He glanced toward the cave entrance where dawn light filtered in. "Let us return to the city. The banquet should begin in a few hours." Joong hissed softly and coiled himself around Di, the emerald blade responding with a gentle hum. In the next moment, the three rose into the air together, turning toward Myriad City as flame, sword, and destiny moved forward as one.
As the sun climbed higher over Myriad City, crowds began to gather outside the Mile Mansion. The newly renovated gates remained closed, yet no one dared complain. Common cultivators, merchants, and wandering guests filled the outer streets, their eyes drawn again and again to the banners of black, white, and gold that fluttered above the walls. Beyond them, ornate carriages lined the avenue, each bearing the markings of a great family. Their heads waited inside, flanked by elders, disciples, and armed guards who stood in careful formation, patience worn thin but pride held in check.
Whispers rippled through the gathering like a living thing. "Even the great families are made to wait," someone murmured in disbelief. Another replied quietly, reverence edging his voice. "Of course they are. This is the Mile Clan we're talking about. Haven't you heard?" He glanced toward the towering mansion beyond the gates. "They have a Sword Sovereign on their side." The words spread quickly, settling into the crowd as fact rather than rumor. No one questioned it. In this moment, waiting itself had become an unspoken acknowledgment of the Mile Clan's return.
After several long hours, the great gates of the Mile Mansion finally opened.
Guardian Yoon stepped out alone.
His blue robes were immaculate, untouched by dust or crease, flowing with a quiet elegance that carried the weight of authority. His posture was straight, movements refined, each step measured with the grace of royalty. No one spoke. No one dared meet his eyes. Rumors had once placed him at the Foundation Establishment stage, but the pressure now radiating subtly from him told a different story. Early stage Golden Core. The difference was unmistakable, and deeply unsettling.
Yoon paused at the top of the steps. Behind him, two dozen Mile Guards emerged in perfect formation, black and white armor trimmed in gold, their presence silent yet imposing. Only then did Yoon speak. "City officials may enter first," he said evenly. "According to rank."
A ripple passed through the gathered ministers. They exchanged brief, cautious glances before moving forward, their usual confidence noticeably absent. None looked directly at Yoon as they ascended the steps. At the front were the three highest ranking officials in Myriad City. The Minister of Rites, keeper of labor, contracts, and civic structure. The Minister of Justice, guardian of law and judgment. And the Minister of Defense, commander of city security and external protection. Though their domains differed, their influence within the ministries was equal, and all three understood the same truth as they crossed the threshold.
They were no longer here as overseers.
They were here as guests.
With the ministers passing through the gates, Guardian Yoon did not move aside. He simply shifted his stance and spoke again, his tone unchanged. "Clan heads may enter next. Including the great families."
A quiet stir ran through the gathered ranks.
The heads of the four great families stepped down from their carriages one by one. Each was an early stage Nascent Soul cultivator, figures who once commanded rooms with a glance alone. Yet as they approached the Mile gates, none of them lifted their eyes toward Yoon. Their expressions were carefully neutral, their auras tightly restrained. Pride had not vanished, but caution now outweighed it. Passing beneath the banners of black, white, and gold, they crossed the threshold in silence, fully aware that this was not a courtesy invitation, but a measured allowance.
Behind them followed elders, heirs, and select guards, all keeping respectful distance. Those watching from the crowd could feel it clearly. The hierarchy had shifted. Strength alone was no longer the deciding factor. As the last of the great families entered the Mile Mansion grounds, Yoon remained at his post, hands calmly lowered, gaze steady. The banquet had not yet begun, but the order of this new era had already been set.
Only after the great families had passed through did Yoon raise his hand once more. "All remaining guests bearing invitation cards may now enter," he announced. His voice carried clearly, calm and authoritative, cutting through the tension that had settled over the crowd.
At once, movement resumed. Cultivators of lesser clans, independent merchants, scholars, formation masters, alchemists, and wandering experts stepped forward in orderly lines, carefully presenting their invitation tokens before passing beneath the towering gates. Murmured conversations returned, though subdued, filled with curiosity and speculation. Many glanced toward the banners overhead, then back toward Yoon, committing the sight to memory. To be invited here was no small honor. To enter after the great families was a reminder of the structure now firmly in place.
As the last invited guest crossed into the Mile Mansion grounds, the gates remained open, revealing glimpses of a grand courtyard beyond. Yoon watched silently, ensuring the flow remained steady and dignified. Outside, the streets slowly emptied. Inside, Myriad City's future gathered under one roof, unaware of how profoundly the night ahead would reshape them all.
The moment the guests gathered fully within the courtyard, a wave of quiet astonishment passed through the crowd. From the outside, the Mile Mansion had appeared impressive, even imposing. From within the walls, however, it was something else entirely. The space stretched far beyond what logic suggested, layered with terraces, flowing water, and carefully placed formations that subtly bent perception. Many paused mid step, realizing the mansion was not merely large. It was deliberately vast.
Then the doors of the grand hall opened.
Mile staff stepped forward and gestured calmly for everyone to enter. There was no urgency in their movements, no concern in their expressions, despite the fact that nearly a thousand guests now stood within the courtyard. The confidence alone unsettled some of the onlookers. As the crowd flowed inside, that unease deepened. The grand hall expanded before them just as the courtyard had, revealing a space that dwarfed expectation. High pillars rose into shadowed ceilings, banners of black, white, and gold lining the walls, the Mile crest watching from above.
Order emerged without a single word spoken. Seats reserved for the ministers were immediately recognizable, their design distinct, refined, and positioned prominently. The heads of clans were then guided elsewhere, led upward to a balcony overlooking the hall, elevated yet clearly separated from the ministers below. It was a subtle distinction, but an unmistakable one. Everyone else took their places on the main floor, the murmur of conversation fading as realization settled in. This was not simply a banquet hall. It was a statement. And now, all that remained was for the hosts to arrive.
A hush fell over the hall as Yoon entered.
He walked with unhurried certainty straight down the central aisle, his steps echoing softly against the polished stone. Conversations died instantly. Every gaze followed him as he ascended to the head of the hall, where a grand stage rose in measured tiers. At its center stood a massive throne carved from dark stone and gilded accents, the Mile Clan crest engraved deeply into its back. It radiated authority without excess, as if the throne itself were an extension of law.
Flanking the central throne were two slightly smaller thrones, one to the left and one to the right, equal in stature and clearly reserved for figures of immense importance. Behind the main throne, set further back and elevated on a private balcony, were two additional seats. That balcony was draped in a black veil of fabric, sheer when viewed from the hall below, yet perfectly transparent from behind. It concealed presence without denying it, a design choice that unsettled more than a few observers.
One step below the major throne were eight seats, four to the left and four to the right, positioned to face one another. Their placement suggested counsel, balance, and internal authority. Another step below that were four seats, distinct in design and bearing a sharper, more martial presence. Yoon moved without pause and took one of them. The meaning was immediate and unmistakable. These were the seats of the Mile Guardians. One was occupied. Three remained empty.
Below that, on the third and fourth steps, twelve additional seats formed the final tier of the stage. Together, the arrangement painted a clear picture. This was not decoration. This was declaration. Without a single word spoken, the Mile Clan revealed the structure of its restored power, layered, deliberate, and prepared for expansion. The hall remained silent, every guest understanding that they were witnessing the foundation of a new order being set in stone.
A man clad in polished silver armor stepped forward and stopped at the foot of the stage. His presence was formal, ceremonial, and unmistakably official. He raised his voice, amplified by subtle formations woven into the hall itself.
"Welcome," he announced, "the Supreme Elders of the Mile Clan, holders of the Second Rank. Mile Ren and Mile Hua."
The hall rose as one.
A low murmur swept through the crowd as an elderly couple emerged from behind the veiled balcony. They had not appeared publicly in nearly a decade, their absence long assumed to be a sign of the Mile Clan's decline. Yet now they walked with steady steps, their bearing calm, their presence dignified rather than frail. Mile Ren's eyes were sharp and clear, his Golden Core aura fully stabilized, while Mile Hua moved beside him with quiet grace, her gaze warm yet discerning.
They ascended the steps without haste and took their seats upon the veiled balcony behind the main throne. From below, their silhouettes were visible through the dark cloth, symbolic rather than obscured. As they settled, the crowd bowed deeply, understanding fully what this meant. The Mile Clan's elders had returned to the world. And with them, the authority of a lineage that had never truly vanished.
The silver armored herald stepped forward once more, his voice ringing clearly through the grand hall. "Announcing the arrival of the Third Rank of the Mile Clan. Mile Chen, Chief of Law Enforcement. Mile Lian, Chief of Staff."
Two figures entered from opposite sides of the hall.
Mile Chen moved first, his posture upright and deliberate, eyes steady beneath years of responsibility. His presence carried the weight of order and consequence, the kind that did not need to be raised to be felt. Behind him walked Mile Lian, composed and precise, her gaze already sweeping the hall as if cataloging every detail, every reaction. Where Chen embodied enforcement, Lian embodied control.
They ascended the stage together and took their places among the eight seats on the tier beneath the three thrones, each occupying a parallel seat opposite the other. The distinction was immediately clear to all present. This was not ceremonial placement. This was functional authority. Law and strategy, standing side by side, forming the spine of the Mile Clan's restored command.
The herald lifted his voice again, allowing the moment to breathe before the next announcement. "Announcing the First Young Master of the Mile Clan, holder of rank above the Third and below the Second. Mile Jun."
A young man stepped forward with calm confidence, his bearing refined, his expression steady. The weight of expectation followed him as he ascended the stage and took his place at the right side of the major throne. His seat was unmistakably elevated, positioned to support authority rather than challenge it. Whispers followed his steps, not of doubt, but recognition.
Without delay, the herald continued. "Announcing the Second Young Master of the Mile Clan, Mile Tao."
Mile Tao emerged next, composed and dignified, his movements measured, his gaze thoughtful. He ascended the opposite side of the stage and took the seat to the left of the major throne, mirroring Mile Jun's position. The symmetry was deliberate. Both stood above the Third Rank, yet clearly beneath the Supreme Elders. The message was unmistakable. These two were pillars of the present, heirs entrusted with authority, and guardians of what the Mile Clan would become.
As they settled into their seats, the structure of power became undeniable. Every rank, every placement, every silence spoke louder than proclamation. The Mile Clan was no longer fragmented. It was ordered. And all that remained was for the one at its center to arrive.
The herald suddenly paused, his head tilting slightly as if he were listening to something beyond the reach of everyone else in the hall. A brief silence followed, thick with anticipation. Then his posture straightened, and his voice rang out once more.
"Announcing the arrival of a Clan Elder of the Third Rank," he declared. "Mile Kook."
The name struck the stage like a thunderclap.
Every Mile member present rose to their feet in unison, shock and disbelief written plainly across their faces. Murmurs rippled through the hall as a man in red and yellow robes entered, his presence steady, his steps firm. Flame Qi lingered faintly around him, restrained yet unmistakable. Many had believed him dead. Others had mourned him in silence for years. Yet here he stood.
Mile Kook ascended the stage without hesitation and took his seat beside Mile Chen. Chen stared at him as if the world had turned upside down, words failing him entirely. On the veiled balcony above, Mile Ren's composure finally cracked. A tear slipped free as he watched, his breath catching at the sight of his dear brother's son alive and standing before the clan once more. In that moment, disbelief gave way to something far stronger. Hope, long buried, had returned with him.
On the balcony above, the heads of the great clans exchanged stunned glances. A quiet unease spread among them as they felt the unmistakable stability of Golden Core cultivation radiating from Mile Kook. Another Golden Core Master. One they had never accounted for. One whose existence had not appeared in any record, rumor, or intelligence report. "He must be a last survivor from a branch long thought extinct," one clan head murmured under his breath. The others did not disagree. If the Mile Clan could produce hidden figures like this, surviving unseen through decades of chaos, then the true depth of their foundation was far greater than anyone had imagined.
The silver armored herald lifted one hand and made a precise, downward gesture. At once, movement rippled through the hall. From side corridors and hidden entrances, Mile Guards began to file in, their steps synchronized, their expressions unreadable. They moved with disciplined efficiency, splitting cleanly into assigned groups without a word exchanged.
Some took positions along the perimeter walls, standing beneath the banners with weapons grounded and eyes forward. Others stationed themselves near the pillars that lined the hall, subtly controlling sightlines and access points. A final contingent ascended to the upper walkways and balconies, their presence felt more than seen. Within moments, the grand hall's vast space was fully secured, every approach covered, every angle claimed.
Then, a powerful aura suddenly washed through the grand hall. It carried intent, yet revealed nothing. To most present, it was unreadable. To the Mile Clan members, it was unmistakable. Every Mile seated upon the stage rose instantly, faces solemn, and bowed deeply in unison. The silver armored herald straightened, his voice ringing with absolute clarity.
"Welcome," he proclaimed, "the Clan Leader of the Mile Clan, holder of the First Rank. Bo Mile."
The hall turned as one.
The main pathway leading to the grand platform ignited in emerald light, sword intent flowing through the stone like a living current. Each step along the path radiated authority. A figure appeared in the grand doorway and began to walk forward at an unhurried pace. Bo Mile's presence was calm, controlled, and utterly unreadable. His cultivation sat at the peak of Core Formation, a half step into the Nascent Soul realm, yet no one could truly grasp him. Even the Nascent Soul clan heads on the balcony found their senses repelled, unable to probe his body or mind.
Then fear rippled through the hall.
Behind Bo walked another figure.
This presence was overwhelming. The man was clad in emerald armor, its surface etched with ancient runes that pulsed faintly with sword intent. Three luminous swords floated behind his back, their edges humming with restrained power. His face was hidden behind a golden mask, expressionless and absolute. The pressure he emitted made even seasoned cultivators instinctively draw shallow breaths.
The herald's voice followed, steady but heavy with gravity. "Welcome, Sword Sovereign, bearer of supreme blade authority. The Emerald General."
Gasps echoed throughout the hall. Panic flickered behind carefully controlled expressions. No one questioned it. No one dared. Only Mile Kook, along with the other Mile members upon the stage, understood the truth. The Emerald General was no separate being. He was Bo Mile himself.
Before entering the grand hall, Bo had gone to the Mile Alchemy Pavilion and forged a Sword Clone using pure Sword Sovereign Qi. It was not an illusion, but a perfected manifestation of will and blade, crafted to stand as a living symbol. Two figures now walked where there was one. Law and judgment. Leader and executioner.
As Bo continued forward, emerald light reflecting in every widened eye, Myriad City understood something profound. The Mile Clan has returned and it has come prepared to rule.