For a full day, Tai Bai Martial Hall buzzed with activity—visitors streaming in and out. It was the kind of scene where scholars traded grand ideas and no riffraff dared show their face. But Han? He couldn’t care less.


    At first, he’d humor the young hotshots tagging along, claiming they wanted to meet him. After a while, though, it got old fast. He pawned them off on Zhang Yuantao and slipped into the secret chamber to train. They were cutting into his precious lifespan-burning time! Every minute he lost was days of life—could they even afford to pay him back?


    “The effects of this Life-Resting Martial Art are definitely fading,” Han mused to himself. It wasn’t some orthodox lifespan-burning technique—just a patchwork method he’d pieced together from a fragmented martial text. “I wonder what the complete version would’ve been like. A technique that slashes lifespan directly? That’s wild.”


    Even in its broken state, the text hinted at the full version’s potential—practices too risky to try. Yun Jiang Dragon Lord had speculated on its peak power: a single move that didn’t wreck the body or soul, just drained life itself. The victim would be fine in every other way, except their years would vanish into thin air. That kind of trick deserved the label “mind-blowing.” Too bad the original was lost—tied to the Destiny Sect, no less. Han figured he’d never see it whole in his lifetime.


    By evening, he emerged from the chamber to find Bai Ruoyue and the crew gathered, all grins. Curious, he sidled up.


    “What’s so funny? Senior Sister’s blooming like a flower over there.”


    “Got good news, obviously,” Bai Ruoyue said. “Junior Brother Su’s hit the peak of the Sinew Realm!”


    “No way!” Han turned to Su Changan, sizing him up. The guy’s physique had bulked up noticeably. “Congrats, Fourth Senior Brother! Peak Sinew Realm means the Visceral Realm’s just around the corner.”


    He ran the math in his head. Su Changan had broken into Greater Sinew Realm back in the first week of the month Han snagged [God’s Perspective]. Nearly four months later, hitting the peak made sense. Normally, with his talent and zero resources, it’d take longer—but Tai Bai had been anything but normal lately.


    “I owe this pace to you, Little Junior Brother,” Su Changan said, beaming. “Those spirit herbs we nabbed in Black Mountain, plus the treasures and pills you split with us last month? Huge help.”


    Last month’s cheat was the [Cauldron of Creation], purifying pill impurities. Han had splurged on a haul of pills and shared the wealth with the gang. Boosting his crew without skimping on his own training? He was all in. They were a solid, trustworthy unit—the stronger they got, the faster they hit Visceral Realm, the better it was for him. In Tianyue territory, Visceral Realm was no small fry—capable of handling real business. Even county martial overseers were just that level.


    “Nah, it’s your hard work, Fourth Senior Brother,” Han said, brushing off the credit.


    He glanced at He Feng with a grin. “If Fourth Senior Brother’s at the peak, Fifth Senior Brother’s not far behind, right?”


    Su and He had reached Greater Sinew Realm around the same time, with similar talent and resources. If Su was there, He couldn’t be far off.


    Sure enough, He Feng nodded with a smile. “Five days, tops.”


    Cue another round of thanks to Han. They’d said it plenty, but the gratitude never faded. Without him, they’d still be a year-plus away from this point. Shaving that time off? Priceless.


    “Senior Sister, didn’t we snag some herbs in Black Mountain that boost the jump to Visceral?” Han asked.


    “Already handed them over,” Bai Ruoyue said with a smirk. “With treasures like that, it won’t take them long.”


    Sinew to Visceral wasn’t a quick hop—usually a month or so, steady and slow. But with rare goodies? Whole different story. Give it ten days, maybe two weeks, and six of Tai Bai’s seven would be Visceral Realm fighters. That’s a stellar success rate.


    After wrapping up with the day’s guests, Bai Tian came downstairs, caught the news, and was in high spirits. He promptly passed Su Changan the Visceral Realm training method. The five others got top-grade techniques—Bai Tian’s wild adventures had scored him secret martial arts, but nothing ultra-elite. Still, these methods built a foundation solid enough to carry them far. They weren’t low-tier by any stretch—most martial artists out there scraped by with bottom-rung stuff.


    Post-lesson, Bai Ruoyue piped up. “Father, check us out—six Visceral Realm folks soon, plus me and Little Junior Brother. That’s gotta give us a shot at the hall ranking, right? Skipping it would be such a waste!”


    Ever since Bai Tian dropped the ranking bombshell, it’d been stuck in her head—she’d mulled it over all last night. Growing Tai Bai into something big was her dream. She’d grown up here; it was home, tied to her heart in a way nothing else was. That’s why she’d been so pumped about Han joining and cheered every strength spike in the group. To her, Tai Bai was on a golden path—keep grinding, let her and Han shine, and it’d soar. Bai Tian at the top, her and Han making waves, Shen Long and the rest holding it down? Picture-perfect future. A top-tier Tianzhou hall in the making.


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    Only catch: building it that way would take time. The ranking, though? A fast track to glory. Even snagging Man-tier would flood them with resources and fame, drawing more students. Free imperial goodies—why pass that up? Halls train fighters for Great Qi, the state chips in support: win-win. Tai Bai’s rise would be a cakewalk. Miss this chance? Unthinkable.


    But her dad, the hall master, didn’t seem sold on it. Bai Ruoyue was practically fuming—wishing she could grab Han, take the reins, and drag them to the ranking herself. Too bad that wasn’t an option. So she’d nudge Bai Tian, hoping to sway him.


    The others were tempted too, but they deferred to Bai Tian—unlike Bai Ruoyue, who wouldn’t let it go.


    Han tugged her arm. “Senior Sister, Master’s got his plans. Chill out.”


    She shot him a glare, muttering, “Picking his side over mine, huh?”


    “Come on, we’re family—there’s no ‘sides’ here,” Han said, exasperated.


    Back at the peach grove, Lu Qingmo asked, “So, Bai Tian filled you in?”


    “Yeah, the gist of it—him and my master’s wife,” Han said.


    Master’s wife… Lu Qingmo felt a weird pang. Why did the pecking order feel so tangled lately?


    “Aunt Mo, what’s the deal with the Ling-Dong engagement? How’d it end up on Senior Sister’s mom?”


    Bai Tian didn’t know the full scoop—the Ling folks who took Ling Yue hadn’t bothered explaining.


    “I don’t know where it started,” Lu Qingmo said. “Some old pact between the Ling and Dong families, I think. It was meant for Ling Yue’s generation, but it should’ve fallen to another branch. That line’s been big in the Ling clan—produced a once-in-a-century genius a hundred years back, now a major player. The original bride was supposed to be that genius’s granddaughter, Ling Zhu. But Ling Zhu didn’t want to marry into Jiangnan. She begged her grandpa to get her out of it. The engagement couldn’t be axed, and among that generation, only Ling Yue had top-tier talent—everyone else was meh. So Ling Zhu’s grandpa shifted it onto Ling Yue.”


    For a pact between powerhouse clans, looks and talent were non-negotiable—sending a dud would be a slap in the face. The Dong family’s clout meant the Ling wouldn’t dare.


    “So, normally, Senior Sister’s family wouldn’t have been split up for years,” Han said.


    “Right,” Lu Qingmo nodded. “After the switch, the Ling sent folks to track down Ling Yue, who was out training. And then…” She trailed off—then they found Bai Tian and baby Bai Ruoyue.


    “The engagement was toast. The Dong family flipped out, and Ling Yue, the ‘breaker,’ caught heat from both sides. She’s been locked down in the Ling estate ever since—harsh punishment, no stepping out.”


    “The Ling family…” Lu Qingmo sighed. She was powerless here. If she hadn’t crashed and burned back in the day, if she’d climbed high in Xuandu Temple, she might’ve had a say. But she was a wreck herself. A Manifest Saint from Xuandu, even a seed-level one, couldn’t make the Dong or Ling blink. She was “done” in their eyes. Plus, technically, it was Ling family business. Tell the Dong it was Ling Zhu’s fault, not Ling Yue? Pointless. Damage was done—no way the Dong would just shrug it off.


    “I’ve got ways to check on Ling Yue over the years,” she said. “I pass word to Bai Tian now and then that she’s okay. But ‘okay’ is all she is. The Dong’s external pressure, the Ling’s internal resentment—it’s made her life rough. And none of it’s her fault.”


    Silence settled. After a long pause, Han spoke softly. “It all boils down to strength.”


    “Exactly,” Lu Qingmo agreed. “Every problem ties back to not being strong enough.” She gave him a heads-up: “When you’re out in the world, if your identity slips, watch out for the Dong family. They’re no joke—famous, dominant among clans. They’ve got the Eastern King Mirror, an immortal artifact, and the Eastern King Immortal Command Array guarding their turf. Even immortal-realm powerhouses can’t crack it easily. They’ve got root techniques, secret martial arts, top-tier sorcery, and godlike skills—rulers of Jiangnan.”


    Han nodded solemnly, taking it dead seriously. Lu Qingmo had schooled him on the big players before. Factions like the Dong family or Suzhen Palace—lacking active immortal-realm masters—still ranked top-tier alongside Xuandu Temple and the Saints’ Academy thanks to immortal gear and arrays. Their home bases boasted terrifying formations, refined over generations into near-immortal status. Pair that with near-immortal experts wielding ancestral artifacts to run the show, and they could tangle with the real deal—immortal-realm foes—by pooling the faction’s might.


    A few outliers lacked killer arrays but had other tricks up their sleeves. Beating a living immortal? No shot. Surviving one? No problem. That’s the backbone of why the Dong family and their ilk sat at the top. Once Xuandu’s temple master passed, they’d be in the same boat.


    Sure, on paper, the Dong matched Xuandu’s rank, but in a real scrap out in the wild? Xuandu’s crew had the edge. A living immortal could roam and flex; a static array couldn’t. Immortals had ways to mess with you if they wanted. So even among the elite, there were tiers. Most immortals wouldn’t bother hard-charging a faction fused with people, gear, and arrays—too messy. The world’s big, fractured, but connected. Smash one faction today, and others might start sweating, feeling the ripple. Plus, you’re not the only immortal out there—screw up attacking a stronghold, and some creep like the Heavenly Mother Sect’s boss might pounce. Stakes that high, with that many variables? One misstep, and the whole board could flip.


    That’s why the Time Empress’s solo takedown of the Ancient Divine Palace was legendary. Busting their mountain array, shattering their immortal artifact—few top factions had gone down like that in history. Whatever her beef was, as an outsider, human powerhouses let her swing and walk away for a slew of reasons. But the big one? Her strength. No one wanted to tango with her. If she’d slipped up, the era’s Mountains and Rivers Life List heavyweights would’ve happily hunted a phoenix. An immortal phoenix? One of the rarest prizes under the sky.


    But there was only one Time Empress. What she pulled off, no one else could. Top factions weren’t to be trifled with—especially not by Han right now.


    “Aunt Mo,” he said, “you mentioned near-immortal experts. If one burned ten thousand years of life, could they bust through a top faction’s mountain array?”


    “…” Lu Qingmo stared. You’re really hung up on this lifespan-burning thing, huh?