Beneath the suddenly towering tree atop Ueshō Peak, Suri stretched lazily after breaking through to the Foundation Furnace Realm.
His bones cracked one after another—clean, crisp sounds that were strangely satisfying to hear.
After advancing, his entire body felt lighter, as though a single leap would send him soaring into the heavens to stand shoulder to shoulder with the sun. Spiritual energy surged within him like an endless ocean, inexhaustible and roaring beneath the surface.
"So this is the Foundation Furnace Realm?" he muttered, flexing his fingers. "I love it already. I bet everyone else feels the same after breaking through."
Having ascended in cultivation, Suri proceeded to perform a full set of radio calisthenics.
As for the heaven-shaking phenomenon he had triggered during the breakthrough?
He had absolutely no idea.
All he remembered was slipping into a wonderfully strange state—like receiving the most exquisite grandmaster-level massage. Pure bliss. And when the pleasure ended… his realm had risen.
Now that he had reached the Foundation Furnace Realm, he finally qualified to participate in the Holy Land's Grand Trial.
Rolling his slightly stiff lower back, Suri decided to check on Chiyun and Ginrei. He needed to deliver the glorious news:
Your senior brother is now a Foundation Furnace cultivator.
But just as he was about to leave, a violent gale exploded behind him.
Suri turned—
—and nearly jumped out of his skin.
Dozens of elders stood there.
"Little friend!" one middle-aged man stepped forward eagerly, grabbing Suri's hands. "You must be Nephew Suri, the one who saved the Saintess! Greetings! I am the Second Elder of the Alchemy Hall, Diao Mian! A small gift for our first meeting. Has your honored master returned?"
He leaned closer, eyes blazing with passion.
"I won't hide it from you! A thousand years ago, your master once gifted me a token of affection—an apple! I, Diao Mian, swear upon heaven and earth that I shall marry none but her!"
"Bullshit, Diao Mian!" A blond-haired elder kicked him aside. "That was a ceramic apple she used to prank you! Who the hell keeps a fake apple for a thousand years instead of eating it? Do you have no shame?!"
He immediately turned toward Suri with a wide, ingratiating grin.
"Dear nephew! Don't listen to him. That fool only likes peaches. Back then, your master and I traveled the Nine Provinces together—crossed mountains, gazed upon the seas, slaughtered villains side by side. We were comrades through life and death!"
"Comrades my ass!" another elder cut in. "She was simply protecting sect disciples! Stop embarrassing yourself!"
Yet another stepped forward, chest puffed out.
"I am the one your master truly cherished! We conversed through divine sense countless times! Every time she ended our talks, she said she was going to bathe. If she didn't love me, why would she tell me she was bathing? That was clearly a hint!"
"Heh! She smiled at me once!"
A flamboyantly dressed elder shouted, "She said my hairstyle was unique!"
The Third Elder of Ghostfire Peak added proudly, "She praised my 'Ghostfire Coffin Lift' technique as exceptionally professional!"
"I gao—!"
Dozens of elders shouted over one another, sleeves rolled up, nearly coming to blows.
Suri stood there, utterly dumbfounded.
Yue Kiyomi—that was the name of his runaway, bargain-bin master. The once-proclaimed number one beauty of the cultivation world.
But she had vanished years ago.
So why were these fossils suddenly confessing now?
"Honored seniors," Suri cupped his hands respectfully. "My master has not returned."
"What? Impossible!"
"Nephew, don't lie to us."
"Yes! The Five Dragons Guarding the Pillar and the Dragon-Phoenix Resonance we just witnessed—that was clearly the Heavenly Resonance of the Ueshō Immortal Art! Only your master could trigger such a phenomenon!"
"Little friend, I understand—Kiyomi is shy about seeing me. It's fine! My devotion shines brighter than the sun and moon!"
"She really hasn't returned," Suri said helplessly. "All these years, it's just been me and my junior sisters relying on each other. If you don't believe me, look into my eyes."
The elders narrowed their gazes and stared.
"Well? What do you see?"
"What?"
"Sincerity," Suri said solemnly.
"..."
"Then explain this," an elder pressed. "If your master hasn't returned, what caused that heaven-shattering Five Dragon Pillar phenomenon?"
"Five Dragon Pillar? A grand phenomenon?" Suri blinked. "I was cultivating just now. I truly don't know."
"Cultivating?"
"What realm are you in?"
"Foundation Furnace, mid-stage."
"(∩?_?)?━"
Every elder's expression twisted into a collective question mark.
Mid-stage Foundation Furnace?
Who are you trying to fool?
If you claimed you'd broken into the Nascent Soul Realm, we might believe it. But you're telling us a mere Foundation Furnace cultivator triggered a phenomenon of that magnitude?
Sure, we like peaches—but we're not idiots.
You look honest, thick-browed and bright-eyed… but you're not honest at all.
Meanwhile — Eastern Senba Continent
A woman in a black dress stepped into the Soul Hall, her ankle-strapped high heels clicking crisply against the stone floor.
"Welcome back, Your Highness!"
Inside the grand hall of the Black Demon Sect, attendants in black robes bowed in unison.
The woman walked straight to the throne at the center.
The sharp rhythm of heels striking stone echoed through the vast chamber.
Seated upon the Black Jade Throne, her long black hair cascading to her willow-slender waist, she lifted one leg over the other. Her long, pale legs were wrapped in silk-smooth black stockings, glossy as melted chocolate.
"I was injured and my realm has fallen," she said calmly, propping her chin with a delicate hand. "From today onward, I will enter seclusion to heal. During this time, I will see no one."
A black-robed maid knelt nervously. "Your Highness… this is the centennial Demon Sovereign contest. The Black Moon Hall—"
"Heh."
Moran dismissed it with a cold laugh.
"Spread word that I am injured. I want to see whether that little girl has the courage to take my life."
"Yes!"
The hall echoed with obedience.
"Oh. And bring me this man. Alive. Deliver him to me."
She casually tossed down a portrait.
The attendant caught it.
A man stared back from the painting. At first glance, rather handsome. On closer inspection… faintly lecherous.
"Yes, Your Highness!"
Though none understood her intentions, none dared question them.
Soon, the hall emptied.
Alone upon her throne, Moran rested her chin against her pale fingers.
In her mind, she replayed the scene—
He had exposed her identity. He had blocked her killing strike.
She had been so close.
Slaying the Saintess of the Qianrei Holy Land would have secured her position as the next Demon Sovereign.
But that man—
That man ruined everything.
She had even lost one of her Nine Lives because of him.
At the memory, her chest rose and fell violently like the roaring tide of the Qiantang River—magnificent, turbulent.
How he had recognized her no longer mattered.
He had destroyed her grand design.
So he would die.
No.
Death was too merciful.
She would make him wish for it.
From somewhere unseen, Moran drew out a black leather whip and snapped it sharply.
Crack!
The sound echoed through the empty hall.
In her imagination, she saw herself striking him again and again—
Her high heel pressing down on his head—
His voice trembling as he cried,
"Mercy, my Queen—!"
Her lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile.
The game had only just begun.