For several days, Leon wanders through June City without pause. Sleep is no longer necessary for him, so he moves through the markets at dawn, the training grounds at noon, and the lantern lit streets at night. He studies the major clans, the guard towers, the alchemy shops, the auction hall. "Organized, but fragile," he murmurs after watching a dispute nearly turn violent.
Still, observation alone is not enough. He will need a place to stay. A base. The problem is simple. He has no spirit stones, no copper, no silver, no gold. Not a single coin to trade.
Leon stops in the town square as a large wooden board catches his eye, covered in posted requests and rewards. He scans the titles and smiles slightly. "A Missions Board," he says. "This is perfect."
There was one problem. Only registered sects or clans could accept missions from the board. Leon reads the fine print once, then nods to himself. "Simple enough," he says quietly. He takes his time walking into the Town Hall. The building is wide and orderly, filled with clerks handling papers and cultivators arguing over permits. Leon scans the room for someone available.
Before he can step forward, a young woman approaches him. She is dressed far too elegantly to be an ordinary clerk. Her posture is straight, her eyes sharp. "Do you need something, sir?" she asks politely.
"I am here to register a new clan," Leon replies calmly.
She studies him for a brief second, then gestures for him to follow. "This way." She leads him into a side chamber off the main hall and places a scroll on the desk. "Fill this out."
Leon picks up the brush without hesitation. When it comes to the clan name, he pauses only briefly. Looking down at the deep blue robes he wears, he writes two words in steady strokes.
Sapphire Clan.
Leon leaves the hall with the registration complete and heads back into the busy streets. Over the past few days, he has learned enough about June City to understand its rules. Strength speaks. Power decides status. Those without backing are pushed aside no matter their talent. "So that is how it works here," he says under his breath. He had already chosen Lan Ning. The boy has skill, ambition, and a steady heart. If Leon intends to shake this city, he will not do it alone.
Before departing the Town Hall grounds, he returns briefly to the elegant clerk. "Do you know where the Lan Family resides?" he asks. She studies him with quiet curiosity but answers without hesitation, giving clear directions toward the eastern district near the outer wall. Leon nods once. "Thank you." As he turns toward the path she indicated, he thinks calmly, if the strong make the rules here, then it is time the rules begin to change.
The eastern district is quieter, but tension hangs in the air. The Lan Family mansion stands worn yet dignified, housing 112 members across three generations. Lately, pressure has mounted from the Zheng Clan, a rising force in June City. The Zhengs want the Lans to submit and merge under their banner. The Lan elders refused. Since then, harassment has followed. "Join us, or leave," their envoys had warned more than once.
The Zheng Clan moves boldly because they can. They hold influence inside the city government, which allows them to bend rules without consequence. Complaints disappear. Guards look the other way. "We are simply expanding," Zheng representatives often say with calm smiles.
The clan itself is formed from four powerful families united under one banner: the Zhao Family, the Guo Family, the Han Family, and the Qiu Family. Together, they control trade routes, patrol units, and several cultivation grounds within the city. Their rise has been steady, and few dare stand against them.
Even the City Lord chooses silence when certain matters surface. His clan, the founding family of June and still called the First Clan, has been quietly declining. They hide it well, but Leon sees the signs in the way their guards stand and how their envoys speak less boldly than others. Any major unrest could expose that weakness and threaten their title. Leon understands that fear. As the lone survivor of a clan cleanse, he knows what it feels like to watch a legacy collapse. "I won't let history repeat itself," he says softly.
On the way to the Lan Mansion, he pauses at a street vendor displaying clusters of rare metals. His eyes settle on a dark blue slab labeled Mystic Steel. The vendor warns, "Careful, that one is heavy." The piece measures eleven inches by eleven inches, and even a fragment the size of a baby mouse weighs two hundred pounds. Leon lifts the entire slab with one hand, purely through physical strength. The vendor stares in shock.
Leon calmly breaks off a small portion with controlled force. Using his fingers and condensed Qi, he shapes it into a smooth token. On its surface he carves a single word, Sapphire, and beneath it the simple mark denoting leader. He turns it once in his palm and nods. "Quite crafty aren't I."
"In exchange," Leon says, handing the vendor a scroll, "this is the Iron Pulse Art." The technique details how to sense metal veins beneath the earth and guide their movement with controlled Qi. The vendor scans the first few lines and his breathing turns uneven. "This is real," he whispers. Without hesitation, he pushes the rest of the metal clusters across the table. "Take them." He gathers the scroll and rushes off toward his home, eager to practice.
Leon stores the clusters and continues toward the Lan Mansion. From a distance, he hears shouting. A crowd has formed outside the gates. Inside the courtyard, three Zheng guards at Qi Condensation are striking Lan disciples while an envoy watches with open amusement.
Lan Ning is on one knee, blood at the corner of his mouth. When he sees Leon, he forces a weak smile. "Senior, please do not get involved," he says quickly. "This is our matter."
Leon does not answer. He steps past him and lifts one hand. With a casual wave, a silent force slams the three guards across the courtyard and into a stone wall. The impact cracks the surface and buries them halfway inside. The envoy's laughter stops mid breath.
The envoy scrambles to his feet and shouts, "How dare you interfere?" Leon's brows twitch once. A phantom palm formed of pale blue light descends from above and slams the envoy flat against the stone. The courtyard cracks beneath him. His arrogance vanishes instantly. "Great Master, forgive me," he cries, voice shaking. Leon says nothing. He kneels beside Lan Ning, channels gentle Qi through his meridians, and ignites a healing formation that spreads across the courtyard floor. The injured Lan members feel their wounds close within seconds.
When the light fades, Leon finally speaks. "Come out, or people will die here." His voice is calm, but it carries killing intent. An old man steps forward from the crowd, his disguise falling away as a level 3 Golden Core aura flares briefly. He is an elder of the Zheng Clan. He studies Leon and frowns. He cannot sense this man's cultivation at all.
"We did not know a Great Master was present," the elder says carefully. "Forgive the offense, fellow Taoist." Leon's reply is simple. "Get lost." Power rides the words like a storm. A shockwave ripples outward and strikes their souls directly. The elder's heart jolts. Soul Master? he thinks in alarm. He wastes no time. "Retreat," he orders.
Leon turns to the crowd. "You have all seen enough." His eyes are cold and endless. For a split second, each person imagines dying seven times under that gaze. The courtyard empties quickly. Lan Ning swallows and whispers, "Senior?" Leon looks at him and says evenly, "Have your family pack. You are coming with me."