On the Eastern Azure Continent, above the barren lands of the Broken Heaven Region, seven figures sat cross-legged high above the clouds.
No platform supported them. No formation held them aloft. They simply sat in the empty sky, their robes moving in the cold wind.
They were the seven Ancestors of the Great Sects.
Qing Yunhe of the Azure Cloud Sect. Mo Cangwu of the Green Mist Sect. Ye Canghen of the Fallen Leaf Sect. Jiang Jiuhe of the Nine Rivers Sect. Yun Wanqing of the Lingering Cloud Sect. Jian Xingchen of the Falling Star Sword Sect. Tao Wanqi of the Myriad Craft Sect.
Seven figures. Seven ancient existences. Together, they led the orthodox cultivation world of the Eastern Azure Continent.
For a long time, none of them spoke.
Below them stretched the Broken Heaven Region. The land was barren for thousands of miles, scarred by mountains split apart and valleys carved by forces none of them could name. The scars of the ancient war had never truly faded.
Qing Yunhe finally opened his eyes.
"The reports from Myriad Beast City have become more frequent."
Jiang Jiuhe's expression remained calm. "How frequent?"
"Three confirmed sightings in the last month."
Mo Cangwu frowned. "Demonic cultivators?"
Qing Yunhe nodded. "At least three. There may be more."
Jian Xingchen, silent until then, opened his eyes. "Which sect?"
"None identified. They were careful. Too careful to be ordinary wanderers."
Yun Wanqing looked toward the horizon. "Myriad Beast City has always attracted people of questionable origins. That alone proves nothing."
"It would," Qing Yunhe replied, "if the city were the only place."
Several gazes turned toward him.
"Similar movements have been reported near the borders of the Nine Rivers Sect and the Green Mist Sect. Two merchants disappeared while traveling between the northern cities. Three independent cultivators were found dead near an old spirit mine."
"Myriad Beast City is the most important of them," Qing Yunhe said.
Tao Wanqi, silent until now, finally spoke. "Why?"
"Because the people entering the city aren't simply gathering information."
Tao Wanqi's expression shifted. "What are they doing?"
"They're looking for something."
Jiang Jiuhe leaned forward. "The pouch?"
No one answered immediately. The word sat unanswered in the cold air. The storage pouch. For years it had been the hidden cause behind countless events, and for months the seven Great Sects had been quietly investigating what had truly happened during the war.
Qing Yunhe finally said, "That is what we believe."
Tao Wanqi's expression darkened. "The pouch was supposed to have been lost."
"That was what we wanted everyone to believe."
"Yet someone is still searching for it."
"Yes."
Jian Xingchen's gaze went cold. "Then the demonic sects know."
Qing Yunhe shook his head. "They know something. We don't yet know how much."
Mo Cangwu asked, "What about the information from the spies?"
At those words, the seven Ancestors went quiet.
The Broken Heaven Region remained still beneath them.
For years, the orthodox sects and the demonic factions had existed in a tense balance. But during the war that had nearly destroyed Myriad Craft Sect, the seven Great Sects had fought each other over the storage pouch. Each had believed the pouch held an ancient opportunity. Each had believed the others were hiding its true contents. Each had believed that whoever obtained it might change the balance of power across the entire continent.
Only later had they learned the truth.
The rumor had not started with any of the seven Great Sects. It had been planted, on purpose, by the demonic factions — and their own spies had confirmed it.
Ye Canghen's voice was low. "The information from our people has been consistent. The rumor was planted on purpose."
Jian Xingchen's expression hardened further. "They didn't need to defeat us."
Mo Cangwu finished the thought. "They only needed us to weaken ourselves."
No one disagreed.
Tao Wanqi lowered his gaze. "Myriad Craft Sect paid the highest price." His voice carried no anger. Somehow, that made it worse. "Our mountain was damaged. Our formations were destroyed. Our disciples died. Myriad Craft City was lost." His fingers tightened. "And while we fought each other, they watched."
Silence. None of the other six noticed how long, exactly, that stillness lasted, or thought to ask why.
Then Yun Wanqing spoke. "The war is over."
"Because we discovered the truth," Jiang Jiuhe said. "And because continuing it would have accomplished exactly what the demonic factions wanted."
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Jian Xingchen looked toward Tao Wanqi. "The seven sects have already agreed to compensate Myriad Craft Sect."
Tao Wanqi raised his eyes. "Compensation will not bring them back."
"No." Jian Xingchen's voice was quiet. "But it will prevent another war."
Tao Wanqi said nothing.
Qing Yunhe continued. "The resources lost during the war will be replaced. Myriad Craft Sect will receive spirit stones, spirit materials, medicinal resources, and cultivation resources from the other six sects."
Mo Cangwu added, "And until Myriad Craft Sect recovers its former strength, none of the seven sects will interfere with its territory."
"More than that," said Jiang Jiuhe. "If another faction tries to take advantage of Myriad Craft Sect's weakened state, the other six sects will intervene."
Jiang Jiuhe studied Tao Wanqi a moment longer. "Your losses were reported swiftly. Almost too swiftly, for a sect that lost as much as you claim."
Tao Wanqi met his gaze without flinching. "Grief moves faster than paperwork, when there's nothing left to protect."
Jiang Jiuhe said nothing further. But he didn't look away either.
Tao Wanqi looked at the six Ancestors. "You've decided this already."
"It was necessary," Qing Yunhe said.
Tao Wanqi was quiet for several breaths. Then he nodded. "I accept."
He didn't ask why the terms had already been settled without him in the room. Qing Yunhe watched him a moment longer than the others, unable to decide whether the ease of it was exhaustion, or something else entirely.
The matter settled, no one spoke for a while. There was something heavier still ahead of them — something none of them had yet said aloud.
Qing Yunhe looked toward the sky. "The demonic factions have begun moving."
Jiang Jiuhe's eyes narrowed. "And if they are moving because of the pouch —"
"They may already know."
The seven Ancestors fell silent again.
After several breaths, Mo Cangwu spoke. "What did the spies say about their objective?"
Qing Yunhe looked at each of them in turn. "They weren't certain."
"Then what do we know?"
"We know the demon factions are searching for information related to the pouch."
"That's not enough."
"No." Qing Yunhe paused. "There's one more thing."
Everyone looked at him.
"Their movements aren't being coordinated by the individual demonic sects."
Jian Xingchen's expression hardened. "Then who?"
Qing Yunhe's eyes went solemn. "The Demon Sovereign Order."
The mood at the gathering changed at once. Even the wind seemed to stop.
Yun Wanqing's fingers tightened against her robes. Mo Cangwu's eyes narrowed. Jiang Jiuhe's expression turned grim. Jian Xingchen's hand settled near the sword at his waist. Tao Wanqi simply stared ahead.
The Demon Sovereign Order — the unified force formed by the three great demonic sects. Behind them stood one existence. Their sovereign, their supreme Ancestor.
Demon Sovereign — Yan Wutian. A Peak Tribulation Transcendence powerhouse.
For several breaths, no one spoke his name.
Finally, Jiang Jiuhe broke the silence. "Yan Wutian."
The name hung in the cold air.
Qing Yunhe nodded. "Yes."
Jian Xingchen's eyes went cold. "How certain are we that he's personally involved?"
"Not certain — but the three demonic sects wouldn't move together without his permission."
No one disputed that. The Demon Sovereign Order had existed for countless years — three great demonic sects, three Middle-Stage Tribulation Transcendence powerhouses, and above them all, Yan Wutian: the only known demonic cultivator on the Eastern Azure Continent to have reached the Peak of Tribulation Transcendence.
Jiang Jiuhe finally asked the question everyone had been avoiding.
"Jian Xingchen."
Jian Xingchen looked at him.
"If Yan Wutian comes personally —" Jiang Jiuhe paused. "How confident are you against him?"
The others turned toward him. For the first time, the Falling Star Sword Ancestor's expression went fully serious.
"We're both at the Peak of Tribulation Transcendence." He looked toward the horizon. "Neither of us has taken the final step." A pause. "If we fought —" his eyes narrowed, "— fifty-fifty."
Nobody spoke. That answer was enough.
Among the seven Great Sects, Jian Xingchen was the only Ancestor who had reached the Peak of Tribulation Transcendence at all. If even he could only say fifty-fifty, then Yan Wutian was an existence none of them could afford to underestimate.
Yun Wanqing finally spoke. "Then we cannot allow him to obtain the pouch."
Jian Xingchen nodded. "Agreed."
Mo Cangwu looked toward Tao Wanqi. "But before we decide what to do, we need certainty."
Tao Wanqi's brow furrowed. "Certainty about what?"
Qing Yunhe looked at him. "The contents."
Tao Wanqi went still.
One breath. Two.
Then Qing Yunhe said, "The contents of the storage pouch have been confirmed."
Silence. Absolute silence. No one moved.
For several breaths, the seven Ancestors simply remained suspended above the barren land. Then, almost together, their gazes lifted toward the distant sky.
Thousands of years. That was how long it had been since the Eastern Azure Continent had produced a Sage. Thousands of years since anyone had known with certainty how a cultivator could cross that final barrier. The inheritance had been cut off. The path had disappeared. Generation after generation of Tribulation Transcendence powerhouses had searched for answers — ancient ruins, forbidden lands, dead civilizations, broken inheritances. None had given them one.
And now, they had it.
Jiang Jiuhe's voice was almost a whisper. "Sagehood."
No one corrected him. No one needed to.
Tao Wanqi slowly closed his eyes. For the first time since the meeting began, the pain went out of his expression, replaced by something else.
Determination.
Qing Yunhe's gaze sharpened. "The information inside the pouch is a trail. A trail left by a Sage."
Mo Cangwu's breathing went heavier. "A complete trail?"
"Not complete." Qing Yunhe shook his head. "But enough."
Ye Canghen asked, "Enough to reach Sagehood?"
"Enough to give us a path."
The seven Ancestors went quiet again.
A path. That was all they needed. In the cultivation world, nothing was more valuable than a path to the next realm. Not treasures, not ancient weapons, not mountains of spirit stones, not even the records of the ancient war. A path. The one that had been lost for thousands of years — the path to Sagehood.
Jian Xingchen opened his eyes. "If this information spreads —"
"It cannot," Qing Yunhe said immediately.
Jiang Jiuhe nodded. "If the entire continent learns a path to Sagehood exists, every hidden powerhouse will emerge."
"And the demonic factions will fight us for it," Yun Wanqing added.
"Not just the demonic factions," Ye Canghen said. The others looked at him. "There are old monsters hidden beyond our knowledge. If even one of them learns of this —"
He didn't finish. He didn't need to.
Tao Wanqi finally spoke. "Then the information stays within these seven sects."
Qing Yunhe nodded. "Exactly."
Jiang Jiuhe's gaze sharpened. "And the pouch?"
"Already secured."
"Where?"
Qing Yunhe looked at him. "That information doesn't leave this gathering."
Jiang Jiuhe stared at him a moment, then nodded. "Fair."
The wind began moving again. The seven Ancestors remained suspended above the Broken Heaven Region. For thousands of years, they had believed the road ahead of them ended at the same wall. Now they knew the wall had a door — and someone else was reaching for the handle.
Mo Cangwu looked east. "The Demon Sovereign Order is moving."
Jian Xingchen's hand settled firmly against his sword. "Then we move first."
Yun Wanqing nodded. "Eyes in every major cultivation city. Surveillance around Myriad Beast City doubled. The old ruins mentioned in the pouch watched. None of the demonic sects learn we've confirmed the information."
"Already arranged," Qing Yunhe said.
Jiang Jiuhe looked toward the others. "And the person who originally delivered the pouch?"
The question brought a brief silence.
Tao Wanqi's eyes shifted, briefly, toward some point past the others — there and gone before anyone could ask what he'd been looking at.
The seven Ancestors had searched for the pouch for years. Yet the person who had unknowingly carried it through the chaos was still somewhere in the world — a person none of them truly understood.
Qing Yunhe finally spoke. "Continue searching."
"Alive?"
"Preferably."
"And if we find him?"
Qing Yunhe's gaze stayed fixed on the horizon. "We learn everything he knows."
No one objected.
Below them, the barren land remained silent. Above it, seven ancient beings had reached the same conclusion. The war had been a trap. The Demon Sovereign Order was moving. And somewhere within the Eastern Azure Continent was a path that had been lost for thousands of years — the path to Sagehood.
For the first time in countless years, something showed openly in the eyes of all seven Ancestors that had almost disappeared from them.
Hope.
And beneath it — determination.
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