Jia Ma Empire, Wu Tan City.
The moon hung high like a silver disc, its glow diffused across the vast starry sky.
At the edge of a cliff, a young man lay lazily on the grassy slope. A blade of grass dangled from his lips, gently chewed as its faint bitterness spread through his mouth.
He raised a fair-skinned hand, shielding his eyes as he peered through the gaps between his fingers, staring into the sky at the radiant silver moon above.
"Sigh... fifteen years."
A low murmur escaped his lips—a drifting thought carried softly on the night breeze. He withdrew his hand, resting both behind his head. His gaze turned unfocused, lost in memory.
Rustle…
The faint sound snapped him out of his daze. He leapt up instantly, eyes alert as he scanned his surroundings.
Bathed in moonlight, a silver-haired youth emerged, approaching unhurriedly. From his body radiated a formless pressure, like an invisible tide sweeping outward.
Gulp...
Cold sweat beaded on the young man's brow. The invisible pressure pressed down on his shoulders, rendering him motionless.
That silver-haired youth was none other than Chen Xiaoming, who had wandered here through twists of fate—arriving right as the story was about to begin.
Gazing at the stunned and terrified Xiao Yan before him, Chen Xiaoming couldn't help but feel amused.
He took a step forward, his form flickering. In the blink of an eye, he was already close to Xiao Yan. With a faint smile, he uttered a cryptic phrase:
"When odd, no change—"
Xiao Yan's pupils dilated, momentarily stunned. But then, a gleam of joy lit up his eyes, and he instinctively answered:
"Signs reveal the quadrant!"
As the words left his mouth, the crushing pressure lifted instantly. Xiao Yan staggered back a few steps, gasping for breath. Then, looking at Chen Xiaoming, his face lit up in astonishment.
"You're one of us...?"
Chen Xiaoming nodded, the corners of his lips curving in amusement at Xiao Yan's overly dramatic reaction.
Under the moonlight, the two exchanged a few brief words before Chen Xiaoming suddenly turned his gaze, sensing another presence approaching.
"I'll come find you again tomorrow."
And with a single step, his figure blurred and vanished. From the nearby forest came the sound of movement—someone else was arriving.
Floating in the air high above, Chen Xiaoming watched the two part ways below. A strange glint flickered in his eyes.
The next day.
Tossing and turning on his bed, Xiao Yan hadn't slept a wink. The events with Chen Xiaoming the night before had left him too excited to rest.
Yet what awaited him in the morning wasn't Chen Xiaoming—but another group of unexpected guests.
"Third Young Master, the Clan Leader requests your presence in the main hall."
The voice outside his door brought a flicker of hope to Xiao Yan's eyes. Thinking Chen Xiaoming had arrived, he dressed quickly and hurried out.
But upon entering the Xiao Clan's grand hall, he found only unfamiliar, elaborately dressed guests.
Chen Xiaoming was nowhere in sight.
Remembering his father's mention of an important visitor, Xiao Yan's excitement deflated.
After the formalities, Elder Ge Ye of the Misty Cloud Sect finally spoke:
"We hope Clan Leader Xiao will agree to annul the engagement."
The room fell into a tense silence.
Xiao Yan, silent until now, watched everything unfold. His body trembled slightly, and his youthful face contorted with a twisted expression of rage. His fists clenched tightly, eyes burning with fury.
"Miss Nalan, for the sake of your grandfather, I'll offer you a few words of advice," Xiao Yan said coldly, voice echoing like steel through the chamber.
"Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west—never underestimate a poor youth!"
The hall fell dead silent.
Clap… clap… clap…
Applause drifted in from outside. Beneath the courtyard tree, a silver-haired youth had appeared at some unknown point. A warm smile played on his lips, his eyes filled with admiration.
"Well said."
With a laugh, he stepped forward and landed lightly within the hall, coming to stand beside Xiao Yan.
Everyone inside was stunned.
Xiao Zhan and Elder Ge Ye were particularly alarmed. They hadn't sensed at all how Chen Xiaoming had entered.
"You came..."
Xiao Yan lit up with joy. He nearly blurted out "fellow townsman," but quickly realized—he still didn't know the man's name. Scratching his head in awkwardness, he glanced toward Chen Xiaoming.
"Yan'er, this is...?"
Xiao Zhan looked to his son, confused. Xiao Yan hesitated, but turned his gaze to Chen Xiaoming.
Chen Xiaoming smiled faintly, hands behind his back. "I am—"
But before he could finish, Ge Ye cut in sharply.
"Sir, this is a matter between our Misty Cloud Sect and the Xiao Clan. Kindly refrain—"
His words hadn't even finished before Chen Xiaoming's expression turned cold.
With a single flick, a surge of powerful Dou Qi lashed out.
Ge Ye's face changed in horror—he hadn't expected Chen Xiaoming to attack without warning. The force struck him squarely, sending him flying into a seat with a spurt of blood.
"Noisy."
Chen Xiaoming frowned. How dare someone interrupt him mid-sentence? The fact that Ge Ye was still alive was mercy enough.
Everyone in the hall was shocked.
Ge Ye, a Seven-Star Dou Grandmaster, had been severely wounded in an instant.
"You—!"
Nalan Yanran, eyes ablaze, drew her sword to strike—but the injured Ge Ye grabbed her tightly, holding her back.
Cough, cough. "Though your strength is impressive, you should know—you've just offended the Misty Cloud Sect. Do you truly think a mere Dou Spirit can escape our wrath?"
His warning was heavy with threat. Though Chen Xiaoming's strike was powerful, Ge Ye could now gauge his level—a Dou Spirit, no more.
To the Misty Cloud Sect, a Dou Spirit was insignificant.
The three elders seated high above watched the scene unfold, their expressions twisted in ridicule and schadenfreude.
A Dou Spirit dares to defy the Misty Cloud Sect? Laughable.
Xiao Yan, eyes filled with guilt, felt uneasy that Chen Xiaoming had been dragged into his troubles. He stepped forward to explain—
But Chen Xiaoming was already moving.
"Oh? Misty Cloud Sect, you say? Terrifying indeed."
His voice was calm, yet brimming with sarcasm.
"I wonder... what level of strength would be enough, then?"
That question froze the hall.
Nalan Yanran and the others from Misty Cloud Sect stared at him like he was mad. A mere Dou Spirit provoking them? Suicide.
"Would this be enough?"
Chen Xiaoming's eyes glinted playfully.
In the next instant—a massive pressure exploded outward.
Silver wings of energy unfurled from his back as he rose into the air, suspended by the power of his Dou Qi.
"Dou Qi Wings—he's a Dou King!"
"Heavens, he broke through to Dou King!"
Xiao Yan stood dumbfounded, eyes fixed on those wings. Amazement and envy filled his heart.
"My hometown friend... is a Dou King!"
Chen Xiaoming:
"Dou King? Please... I've lost count of how many of those I've slapped to death."
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