The flying carpet hummed through the sky, the three of them seated side by side.


    This was after Han’s trip to the Waning Moon Pavilion, where he’d picked up his pills and seeds.


    Mu Dongshan had handed over the goods and then rushed off to meditate, leaving Han, Lu Qingmo, and Bai Ruoyue to depart the county capital without delay.


    “Counting the day we arrived, five days total—not bad,” Han said, his mood bright.


    In just five days, he’d nailed every goal on his list.


    For cultivation, he was set with pills for a while—no shortages anytime soon. And since their potency would fade over time, he had enough to share with Bai Ruoyue and the others without cutting into his own progress.


    An Lang could dive into alchemy without a care, no need to stress about running out of herbs to practice with.


    Perfect.


    Riding that high, Han’s thoughts drifted elsewhere.


    “Half the month’s gone already—still no word from the Mountain God?”


    “No need to rush,” Lu Qingmo said calmly. “The Yun family only said the Mountain God might have time this month—not a sure thing.”


    “No one knows what this ‘Mountain God trial’ entails. If the god decides to skip it, that’s par for the course.”


    “Just keep a level head about it.”


    Han bit his tongue. I’m stressing for your sake, you know.


    Guess the emperor’s not sweating it—wait, no.


    I’m the emperor here!


    Bai Ruoyue chimed in from the side. “Hey, Aunt Mo, if the Black Mountain God falls, can the title pass to someone else?”


    “What, Senior Sister, you eyeing the Mountain God gig?” Han teased.


    “Nah, but if it could be handed off, it’d solve a lot of problems.”


    Lu Qingmo shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way.”


    “It’s not a divine seat born from the heavens. The Mountain God forged it with immense power and supernatural skill to ascend to godhood.”


    “A cultivator claims such a seat to become a god, gaining a divine body. But the seat’s tied to the god itself—one unit, inseparable.”


    “If the god falls, the seat crumbles too. This one belongs solely to the current Black Mountain God. Anyone else wanting to take up the mantle would have to start from scratch and craft their own.”


    “You’ve seen the Three Yin Mountain God—no divine seat left behind. Same reason.”


    “Huh, got it,” Han said, intrigued.


    The gods of this world weren’t quite what he’d pictured.


    As they chatted, the flying carpet streaked onward.


    The trio slipped back into Black Cloud Town without a whisper.


    Black Cloud Town, your VIPs are home!


    Back at the dojo, the first piece of news from the others caught Han and Bai Ruoyue off guard.


    After the Jade Capital crew, another game-changing faction had rolled into Black Cloud Town.


    Tianlong Gate—a first-rate power from Haizhou in Great Qi, their sect perched in the coastal province west of Tianzhou, right next to the Western Sea.


    They’d brought a Manifestation Realm heavy hitter, two Marrow-Washing Realm experts, a handful of Day Roaming and Bone Forging folks, plus some Night Roaming and Viscera Realm disciples.


    “They’ve only been here a short while and already stirred up trouble,” Zhang Yuantao said. “They set their sights on a courtyard in town for a base.”


    Han’s stomach dropped. Please don’t tell me it’s my place.


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    “The place had an owner—no plans to sell—but Tianlong Gate just took it. Tossed the family ten taels of silver and kicked them out.”


    Phew, not his house.


    Bai Ruoyue frowned. “That’s way too high-handed. What happened next?”


    “The family complained to the town guard. Zuo Tianzheng stepped in to negotiate with Tianlong Gate.”


    “Did it work?”


    Zhang Yuantao sighed. “Nope—they wouldn’t budge.”


    “In the end, Tianlong Gate kept the house. Zuo Tianzheng relocated the family somewhere else.”


    Talk about overbearing.


    Han went quiet. “What a mess we’re in.”


    “They’re brushing off even Zuo Tianzheng’s authority and acting this bold. Tianlong Gate showing up here might spell trouble.”


    Bai Ruoyue couldn’t wrap her head around it. “Zuo Tianzheng’s an imperial envoy—how are they this brazen?”


    Han shook his head. “An envoy’s just an envoy—not the emperor himself. And Zuo’s only Bone Forging Realm.”


    High rank without the muscle to back it up? Some folks won’t blink.


    “It’s been the talk of the town these past few days,” Su Changan added. “Word is, Tianlong Gate’s just first-rate, but even the top dogs take them seriously.”


    Zhang Yuantao and the others piled on details, leaving Han with four words to sum up Tianlong Gate: Arrogant as hell.


    Day one in Black Cloud Town, their disciples had stormed every dojo and family, throwing down challenges—even the Yun family wasn’t spared.


    Rude, cocky, and brutal—they talked down to everyone, insulted their sparring partners, and didn’t pull punches.


    “Senior Sister, Little Junior Brother, watch yourselves,” Shen Long warned. “They’ve already hit Tai Bai, calling you out by name. You weren’t here, so we brushed them off.”


    “But they won’t let it go. If they catch you, they’ll come swinging.”


    “Let ‘em try,” Bai Ruoyue said, her face calm, unfazed by some first-rate faction’s rep.


    Han’s gears turned. “Since they’ve been to the dojo, they’ve tangled with you guys already?”


    “I stepped up—fought one of them,” Shen Long said.


    “How’d it go?”


    Before Shen Long could answer, Shen Yu jumped in. “The guy my brother fought—Xiao Zhi, early Viscera Realm—went hard. Big Bro got hurt!”


    “Good thing you led us to those spirit plants, Little Junior Brother. They beefed him up, or Xiao Zhi might’ve messed him up bad!”


    “Oh, and that treasure liquid you gave us? Helped Big Bro too.”


    Han clapped a hand on Shen Long’s shoulder, checking him out. Sure enough—lingering injuries.


    “No big deal,” Shen Long said, shrugging it off. “He was decent, but not much stronger than me.”


    “Few days’ rest, and I’m mostly good.”


    That month with the god’s-eye view, Han’s crew had scoured the mountains, snagging spirit plants and rare treasures—everyone got a share.


    Their cultivation had soared, and their foundations got a boost, making them tougher at their levels.


    What’s a rare treasure? It’s not just a cultivation shortcut—it deepens your roots, juicing up your strength without a realm jump.


    Think denser, richer true qi or tendons tougher than the average martial artist’s.


    That’s the perk of a big break.


    Thanks to it, Tai Bai’s crew had leveled up hard.


    “You all okay?” Bai Ruoyue asked, worried.


    “Their weakest disciples are Viscera Realm—they didn’t even glance at us lowbies,” He Feng said with a wry smile. “No fights, no injuries.”


    Han tilted his head. “These Tianlong Gate disciples—they’re not their best, right?”


    “Probably not. They called themselves inner sect members,” Shen Long said.


    Han nodded, getting the picture. “Don’t sweat it. If they show up again, Senior Sister and I will handle it.”


    He was curious to see what these so-called first-rate disciples were made of.


    That night, he brought it up with Lu Qingmo.


    “Heard about it from the division folks,” she said, nodding. “Tianlong Gate’s no slouch—just below the top-tier sects with immortal legacies or artifacts.”


    No immortal cred? No top-tier badge.


    “They’re built on the Eight Dragons Scripture—a soul cultivation pinnacle—and the secret martial art, Dragon Immortality Body. Plus, they’ve got the peerless Eight Dragons Technique and the martial Dragon Transformation.”


    Pinnacle methods were the cream of soul cultivation—cousins to secret martial arts in the physical realm.


    Han raised an eyebrow. “They always this over-the-top?”


    “They’ve got a rep for throwing their weight around—bad vibes all around,” Lu Qingmo said. “Big thing is, they’re tight with the Western Sea.”


    “Western Sea?” Han perked up, then connected the dots. “The one beefing with the Yunjiang Dragon Lord?”


    “Yep,” she confirmed. “Haizhou’s coastal—messy spot. Tons of factions there are linked to the aquatics. Tianlong Gate’s basically the Western Sea Dragon Palace’s land proxy.”


    “The Western Sea Palace and Tianlong Gate swap disciples for training, even intermarry with dragonkin. They’ve got a bunch of human-aquatic hybrids.”


    “That connection keeps them shy of top-tier but not to be underestimated. Every Tianlong Gate master weds a Western Sea princess—they’re the palace’s voice on land, in a way.”


    Han mulled it over, surprised this out-of-nowhere crew had such deep roots.


    The Four Seas dragon clans? Any one of them was a world-class powerhouse.


    “Their arrival’s a headache, no doubt,” Lu Qingmo added. “Haizhou’s near the Western Sea—hard to control. The aquatic influence runs deep there; Great Qi’s imperial clout’s at its thinnest.”


    “Plenty of Haizhou factions and beings are physically on land but practically Western Sea loyalists. They’ve got no respect for inland rules.”


    “No wonder they’re ignoring Zuo Tianzheng,” Han said, piecing it together.


    These were amphibious types—more in awe of the Western Sea than the mainland.


    With the Western Sea’s sway so heavy in Haizhou, Great Qi had no fix but to let it slide. Fill in the sea or wipe out its aquatics? Yeah, right.


    “Watch your back with them,” Lu Qingmo warned. “Your bond with the Yunjiang Dragon Lady’s no secret—they’ve probably clocked it.”


    “Them showing up here? I’d bet they’ve got designs on the Yunjiang Dragon Palace. That could drag you in.”


    Han’s brow furrowed. Made sense.


    Tianlong Gate and the Western Sea Palace were thick as thieves—natural foes of Yunjiang. He had no beef with Tianlong Gate, hadn’t even met them, but they were already on a collision course.


    Like how he’d never heard of the Impermanence Hall but ended up their enemy thanks to Lu Qingmo.


    Gotta ping the Dragon Lady—see if she’s back from Qingzhou, if she knows about this.


    With Tianlong Gate breathing down his neck, Han hit his training harder that night.


    But a little later, Lu Qingmo’s side stirred.


    Something on her started beeping again.