After hearing Lù Tiān’s thunderous shout, infused with overwhelming Qi, not a single disciple of Misty Cloud Gate dared to disobey. His voice alone carried a pressure that weighed down on their souls.

  One thought echoed among them all:

  If this man can order Sect Master Yán around like a junior... then none of us can afford to offend him.

  Wordlessly, disciples began to gather in the central courtyard, their expressions tense and uncertain, eyes flickering with a mix of awe and dread.

  During this time, Lù Tiān had changed into a fresh set of robes identical to the last black with purple accents, flowing with regal sharpness. As he stood at the center of the courtyard, his piercing crimson eyes swept across every disciple.

  "Disciples of this sect," he began, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade, "do you feel weak? Do you enjoy being nothing more than ants before the might of the heavens?"

  His words struck deep, reverberating in their chests.

  Off to the side, the group of boys who had bullied Liú Yīrán earlier dared not even lift their heads. Their faces were pale, their bodies trembling.

  After a long silence, Lù Tiān’s voice rang out once more, sharper and louder.

  "Speak."

  The pressure behind the single word made the air itself feel heavier.

  It was Liú Yīrán who stepped forward first. She took a deep breath, her fists clenched at her sides.

  "Senior," she said, her voice soft but unwavering, "I don’t want to be an ant. I want to be strong... strong enough to never be stepped on again."

  For the first time in countless years, Lù Tiān laughed.

  But it wasn’t the wild, hateful laughter that had shaken the heavens during the tribulation. It was quiet almost warm. A low, knowing chuckle that held no mockery, only the ghost of a smile long buried beneath centuries of rage.

  "Good. Good," Lù Tiān said, his voice low and steady.

  Then he raised his head slightly, eyes glowing with crimson light.

  "Who among you still has a spine? Who dares spit in the face of the heavens and crawl out from under the boot of fate? Step forward if you're ready to cast aside weakness and seize power no matter the cost!"

  Without hesitation, a chorus of voices erupted across the courtyard.

  "We do!"

  "We want to be strong!"

  "We’ll defy the heavens!"

  All the disciples spoke out in unison, their fear drowned by a rising tide of desire for power, for freedom, for the strength to never bow again. What had begun as trembling awe transformed into fiery determination.

  With that, Lù Tiān floated into the sky above them, silent and composed. The disciples looked up, eyes wide with reverence as his monstrous Qi surged outward vast and ancient yet perfectly restrained, placing no pressure upon them.

  Then, before their eyes, he began to form hand seals. His fingers moved with blinding speed and grace, each gesture radiating a profound understanding of the Dao.

  The shattered protective barrier around Misty Cloud Gate responded. Threads of spiritual energy, like golden silk, wove themselves through the cracks and reformed broken segments. With each seal, the formation pulsed stronger, until the barrier once more shimmered whole and complete across the skies.

  The disciples watched in stunned awe, not a sound among them, as their sect once shaken by tribulation was made whole by a single man's will.

  After restoring the barrier, Lù Tiān hovered silently in the air. His eyes scanned the courtyard below, then narrowed in thought.

  He raised a finger and traced an arc through the sky. A faint glow followed the motion.

  "This technique is crude by my standards," he said aloud, his voice echoing like a solemn decree, "but it will serve you for now."

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  The moment he finished speaking, a wave of spiritual light surged outward from his fingertip and swept over the disciples like a calm tide. The knowledge of a long-lost but sturdy Qi gathering method ancient, forgotten, and refined through countless eras poured into their minds. It was called the Heavenroot Circulation Method, a technique that anchored one's cultivation to the flow of the world itself, drawing Qi with steadiness and strength.

  Gasps and murmurs filled the courtyard as each disciple instinctively grasped the principles of the technique. Faces lit up with awe and disbelief.

  He gave us this... with a single gesture? many thought, stunned.

  Lù Tiān's voice rang out one final time.

  "Now go. Cultivate. If you have questions, come to me."

  In two effortless steps, his figure blurred and vanished.

  He reappeared in silence outside the chamber where Sect Master Yán cultivated, his crimson gaze fixed calmly on the sealed doors, ready to assess the progress of the pill he had entrusted.

  As he stepped silently into the chamber, Lù Tiān noticed that Yán was deep in concentration. The sect master sat cross-legged, breathing in rhythmic cycles, completely immersed in the pill's energy. Waves of golden light rippled from his core, slowly stabilizing, as the medicine took root.

  Lù Tiān didn’t disturb him. He simply stood there, arms folded behind his back, observing with a faint nod. Good. At the very least, he knows how to focus, he thought.

  Lù Tiān remained undisturbed, watching silently as days turned into weeks. For two full weeks he stood like a statue, unmoving, never leaving the chamber’s threshold.

  Then, at last, Sect Master Yán’s eyes slowly opened.

  Seeing Lù Tiān still there, waiting, he immediately clasped his hands and bowed deeply.

  "Senior... I’ve done it," he said with excitement barely held in check. "I’ve broken through to the Profound Core stage."

  Lù Tiān gave a faint nod. "Good," he said.

  Then, with a calm gesture, he turned. "Come. We need to speak."

  Without waiting for a reply, he strode toward the great hall, the same place where they had once shared tea.

  Sect Master Yán followed without hesitation, heart still pounding from the weight of his advancement and the presence of the man who had made it possible.

  They sat down once more at the familiar tea table, silence falling over the hall like a shroud.

  After a moment, Lù Tiān spoke, his voice low but firm. "I intend to consolidate sects. Whether through gratitude... or force. This sect was the beginning, Yán. There will be others."

  Sect Master Yán’s eyes widened. He fell into silence, the weight of those words pressing against his chest like a mountain. Gratitude or force there was no middle ground. His thoughts spiraled: He doesn’t just want influence… he wants domination.

  For several moments, Yán sat still, lost in thought, unsure whether to feel honored or alarmed that his sect was chosen as the first piece in Lù Tiān’s larger plan.

  Before he could dwell further, Lù Tiān’s voice cut through his thoughts like a blade.

  "So, Yán... will you join me?"

  Yán’s mind raced. What would this man do if I refused? The question echoed in his thoughts like a warning bell. He wasn’t sure if Lù Tiān would respond with indifference or with annihilation.

  But in the end, there was only one answer.

  Yán clasped his hands and bowed deeply. "Yes, Senior Lù. Misty Cloud Gate will follow you from this day forth, we will walk the path you lead."

  Lù Tiān spoke again, his tone final and unyielding. "Good. From this day on, Misty Cloud Gate is no more. This sect shall be called Tianmo Pavilion (天魔阁)."

  There was no room for debate in his voice.

  Sect Master Yán obliged with a deep bow, accepting the name with solemn reverence.

  In the same breath, Lù Tiān extended a hand, and a beam of light shot toward Yán's forehead. Within it flowed the essence of a cultivation technique one pulled from the vast, forgotten libraries of his old sect in the Demon God Realm.

  "This technique is called the Ninefold Demon Sword Sutra," Lù Tiān said. "It is not for the faint-hearted, but with it, your sword will cut through all beneath the heavens. Cultivate it well."

  Yán’s breath hitched as the technique settled into his mind. His eyes widened in disbelief. This technique... this technique is infinitely deep, he thought. Every layer is a realm of its own.

  Shock and awe surged within him. Never had he encountered a method so vast, so profound. It wasn’t just a technique, it was a legacy.

  Lù Tiān’s voice rang out once more, layered with unmistakable authority.

  "From this day forward, you are no longer Sect Master Yán. You are now Yán Qīngshēng, the First Tianzun of Tianmo Pavilion."

  His words left no room for discussion. It was not a suggestion. It was a proclamation of identity and purpose, an elevation by decree.

  Lù Tiān’s gaze remained steady. "Yán, I will also grant you the Heavenroot Method, so you may guide the disciples personally in their cultivation. If any of them come to you with questions, answer them sincerely. Mold them not just with authority, but with strength and understanding."

  And when Yán addressed the disciples, he reminded them, "Senior Lù’s time is precious. If you need help or guidance, come to me first."

  Yán bowed deeply once more. "Understood, Senior. I will not fail you."

  Lù Tiān gave a single nod. "Good. Now, gather the disciples once more. Tell Liú Yīrán to come to the great hall as well."

  Without delay, Yán stepped out of the great hall. His voice echoed across the sect as he commanded, "All disciples, assemble in the central courtyard immediately!"

  When the disciples had gathered once more, Yán Qīngshēng the First Tianzun of Tianmo Pavilion stepped forward. Standing tall with a newfound strength in his gaze, he addressed them clearly.

  "I am no longer Sect Master," he stated. "My title is now Tianzun, an elder of Tianmo Pavilion, serving under the true master of this sect, Senior Lù."

  "From this moment on, Misty Cloud Gate is no more. We are Tianmo Pavilion. Many changes are coming, and you must be ready. Those who wish to grow strong will have their chance. But weakness and corruption will no longer be tolerated.