The next day, the serene beauty of the Bird Clan Castle, which was bathed in morning dew and golden light, was disrupted by the news of Commander Kong Yanzhou's death.
Feng Yanzhao exploded with fury, "Who dares to kill an esteemed commander of the Bird Clan?"
Jin Luming, who had brought the news to his lord, the Crowned Prince of the Bird Clan, reported calmly, "He was badly injured in a battle with a high-level cultivator in the No-Man's Land. And when he returned to the town of Pingxiao, someone murdered him in his bedchamber. There was no sign of struggle. Evidence suggests it was a clean swipe of qi—someone with high cultivation and experience likely killed him."
"First the attack in No-Man's Land, then he was killed later… that means only one thing—he was silenced," Feng Yanzhao said darkly, narrowing his eyes as his mind raced.
"The villagers said the commander was hysterical," Jin Luming added quietly. "He kept muttering that the intruders were royal dragons."
"We saw the intruders—a young man and a woman. The woman was definitely the one who transformed into the phoenix. But the man… he wasn't any dragon. I didn't see any blue-tipped hair, or sense any dragon aura. You know their aura is very strong," Feng Yanzhao said aloud, thinking through the pieces.
Jin Luming nodded. "Yes, my lord, that man didn't appear to be a dragon. But if I may…" He hesitated. When his lord gave a nod, he continued, "There are some very rare spells that can be used to hide one's true form."
"Well then, we will find out who he really is. Give Kong Yanzhou's son his father's commander position in the Iron Bird Battalion, and send them to No-Man's Land to find the intruders at once—"
"No. You will not do that," came a sharp, authoritative voice from the doorway of the crown prince's hall.
"Royal Mother," Feng Yanzhao said, turning and bowing with respect.
Jin Luming gave a silent bow to the Bird Queen, waiting to hear what she would say.
"You know very well, Yanzhao," said Luo Xinyue, her voice calm but firm, "the clans do not take their armies into the No-Man's Land. It is strictly forbidden. You have already made a mistake by sending Commander Kong Yanzhou earlier."
"But Mother," Feng Yanzhao objected, "the intruders clearly carry dangerous secrets. We can't just let them go—not after they stole from the Bird Clan's secret vault and possibly killed Commander Kong Yanzhou. They must be captured and punished."
"Are you certain they killed the commander?" Luo Xinyue asked, her tone unwavering.
"No," Feng Yanzhao admitted, then added, still unable to let it go, "But I feel they are involved…"
"Then you may find out the truth—after you return from Tianxu Academy," she said with finality. "Your Royal Father is already displeased that you're not preparing for the Star Cultivator of the Century Competition. Zhao'er… my child… you know what matters right now. The rest can wait."
Feng Yanzhao nodded reluctantly, bowing once more. But inwardly, he made a silent vow:
He would uncover the truth behind the phoenix—no matter how long it took.
***
Sleep had barely claimed Mo Yuchen when the soft light of dawn roused him from his bed. As always, he rose early to begin his martial arts practice.
Mist hung gently over the clearing. The waterfall roared nearby, cascading down mossy rocks into a crystal pond whose surface shimmered like liquid jade. Thick jungle framed the area, the trees towering high with birds flying between branches. The training ground itself lay nestled in a clearing—a space filled with natural obstacles: smooth boulders, tall posts, and scattered logs designed to test balance, speed, and precision.
Today, however, each arc of Mo Yuchen's sword felt heavier, weighed down by the truths he had learned about his parents. His blade moved with precision, but there was a storm beneath the stillness—his strikes hard, swift, and laced with silent fury.
His sword sang through the morning air. The qi in his veins flared with every movement, channeling martial forms from three different clans. He was not merely training; he was releasing, remembering, and resisting.
From the edge of the clearing, quiet footsteps approached.
Elder Xuanji walked calmly toward the training grounds, robes trailing faintly behind him.
"Teacher," said Mo Yuchen, pausing to offer a respectful bow.
"I sense anger in your movements today," said Long Xuanji with a sigh.
"Teacher is right. I cannot let go of the injustice my parents suffered," Mo Yuchen replied, his voice steady but grave.
"If I had told you earlier, your entire childhood would've been consumed by the flames of vengeance," Long Xuanji said quietly. "We wanted you to live without such burdens. Yet… we still made you cultivate the martial arts of multiple clans. That was our insurance—for the day you might choose to avenge them." His aged eyes glistened ever so slightly.
"Teacher, I am grateful for all that you've given me. And I've made my decision," Mo Yuchen said, dropping to both knees, his hands clasped in a formal salute. "I have decided to avenge my parents."
Long Xuanji gently placed a hand over Mo Yuchen's, halting the bow.
As Mo Yuchen rose, the elder turned and walked a few paces toward the dome's shimmering boundary in the far distance, his gaze thoughtful.
"Since you've chosen this path," Xuanji said, "know that defeating Mo Tianhai is akin to challenging a god from the heavens—or the devil lord from the netherworld. To succeed, you'll need the strength and alliance of the other clans. No single clan will dare wage war on the Dragon Clan alone. The kings of the four clans maintain a balance. As long as their borders are safe and the laws respected, they do not interfere in one another's affairs."
"So I'm on my own," Mo Yuchen said quietly, understanding the weight of the task.
"Yes, for now. This revenge will require time, strategy, and unwavering focus. It won't happen tomorrow. Have you thought of your next step?" asked Long Xuanji.
Mo Yuchen turned his eyes toward the horizon—toward the direction of the Tianxu Academy.
"Yes," he said with resolve. "I want to enter the Tianxu Academy and find the Tianhun Sword. It's said that the one who wields it has the power to unite the clans under one rule."
"A wise decision," said Teacher Xuanji with a proud smile.
"Going to the Academy will also give me a chance to meet the royals of the other clans, to test their skills and understand their strengths. It will be an opportunity to forge alliances—and prepare for the world I hope to unify," Mo Yuchen added thoughtfully.
"You've put great thought into this," said Long Xuanji, nodding in approval.
"Yes. And if Teacher permits, I will begin packing. The Academy's competition begins in three days," said Mo Yuchen, excitement rising in his voice as he turned toward the cottages.
"Not yet, dear student," said Long Xuanji, halting him with a firm tone.
Mo Yuchen paused mid-step. "Teacher, do you need something of me?" he asked.
Xuanji looked ahead again, his expression distant and solemn. "Mo Yuchen… do you remember what I told you the day I accepted you as my disciple?"
The memory came rushing back—Mo Yuchen had served tea to Elder Xuanji, acknowledging him as his teacher. It was four hundred and fifty years ago, but the words had never left him.
"Yes, Teacher," he said quietly. "You told me that one day, you would ask for something in return for the cultivation you passed on. That it would be your payment for taking me in as your student."
Long Xuanji nodded. "So now, Mo Yuchen, your teacher comes to collect that payment."
Even the skies seemed to respond. Clouds gathered above, and a flash of lightning split the air—nature itself bearing witness to the weight of this moment.
Mo Yuchen immediately dropped to his knees, head bowed low, his voice clear. "Yes, Teacher. Tell your student what you would have him do."
"I will tell you my wish later," Xuanji replied, his tone unreadable. "But remember the oath you swore to me that day."
Mo Yuchen straightened, his eyes serious. "Yes. I swore that if I failed to fulfill your request, I would destroy every ounce of cultivation I've ever attained. I would strip myself of all spiritual energy—and return to mortality."
Another thunderclap rolled across the sky, as though heaven itself acknowledged the gravity of that promise.
***
The morning sun filtered gently through a lattice of creeping vines and flowers. The covered courtyard beside the kitchen was warm with the scent of steamed buns, stir-fried greens, and jasmine tea. A long wooden dining table rested in the center, polished to a soft gleam. Woven baskets of dried herbs lined the shelves against one wall, while stacked ceramic bowls, chopsticks, and jars of fragrant seasonings filled another.
Birdsong drifted through the air as Mo Yuchen and Long Xuanji stepped into the courtyard. The others were already there.
Teacher Hu Doubao was ladling porridge into bowls, his beard twitching with cheer. Teacher Yan Lianyu was sipping tea, her normally cool demeanor softened by a rare smile. Feng Xiu Lan, bright-eyed and glowing, was chatting animatedly as she brought the last plate of food from the kitchen.
"Mo Yuchen, you're finally back," she grinned, turning to him. "I've already started packing for the Academy. I'm taking two sets of martial robes, my novels, and of course—Chìfēng, my sword."
"You mean your dozens of novels?" muttered Hu Doubao under his breath, chuckling.
Mo Yuchen arched an eyebrow. "Novels won't help you win the Academy duels."
"They'll help me survive dorm life," Xiu Lan quipped. "You think I'll trust those wide-eyed, powdery-faced soft princesses from different clans?"
Everyone laughed.
As bowls clinked and the aroma of pickled vegetables spread, the group settled in. Laughter rang beneath the shaded canopy. Steam curled from freshly cooked dumplings, stacked high on a serving plate—until only one remained.
Mo Yuchen reached for it just as Feng Xiu Lan's chopsticks darted forward with hawk-like precision.
Their utensils clashed mid-air.
"Hey!" she snapped, eyes narrowing.
"I touched it first," he said, cool as ever, lifting the dumpling with an effortless flick of his wrist.
"You're such a—" she lunged, but he popped the dumpling into his mouth.
Grumbling, Feng Xiu Lan thwacked his forehead with the end of her chopsticks.
He winced. "Ow. Who hits their fellow senior brother?" Mo Yuchen always referred to himself as her senior in terms of being a disciple of the three masters.
She folded her arms, nose turned up. "I'm a week older than you, so who's the senior here?"
Mo Yuchen smirked. "But I first became their student; you came after me. So I'm the senior. Anyway, get used to it. In the Academy, no one's going to give you extra food. Or their dumplings."
"You're the worst," she grumbled.
The elders shared a glance—silent, weighted, understood.
Then Long Xuanji cleared his throat, setting his teacup down with a quiet clink.
"You two will leave for Tianxu Academy on the third day from now."
Mo Yuchen and Feng Xiu Lan both nodded, still catching their breath from the sparring match over breakfast.
But then Xuanji's voice dropped just slightly, firm and deliberate. "And before that… we elders have come to a decision."
Feng Xiu Lan blinked. "What decision?"
"You two," Xuanji said, looking from Mo Yuchen to her, "should get married before you go."
Silence fell like a stone into still water.
Feng Xiu Lan choked on her tea.
Mo Yuchen froze mid-chew.
The wind outside shifted, rustling the vines.
No one spoke.
Then—
"You want us to what?" they said in unison.
And above them, the thunder rolled once more—as if the heavens, too, were waiting to see if the students would do as their teachers requested.