Yunlan Sect, the most powerful force in the Juma Empire, has maintained an uninterrupted lineage of generations, enabling this ancient order to stand at the pinnacle of the empire. Had it not been for the sect's doctrinal rule prohibiting the acquisition of imperial authority, Yunlan Sect would have fully controlled the entire Juma Empire on several occasions during past imperial transitions. Consequently, each imperial dynasty has long regarded this formidable power, so close yet so vast, with deep apprehension. Now, under the current Juma imperial house, bolstered by the guardian, Jia Xingtian, and the mysterious divine beast, the imperial family has finally developed a strength sufficient to make Yunlan Sect somewhat wary. It is precisely for this reason that the seasoned, battle-hardened elite army dispatched by the imperial court to the foot of Yunlan Mountain has been able to maintain peaceful relations with the sect. The Imperial Army Corps has been stationed here for many years, and its purpose is nearly universally understood: they are guarding against Yunlan Sect. The Yunlan Sect has not reacted dramatically to this imperial initiative. While some younger disciples initially felt aggrieved and occasionally disrupted the military camp, the senior leadership has remained silent. They know well that, beside one's own bed, no one should sleep soundly—imperial families are inherently suspicious. This has long been their accustomed state. As long as the Yunlan Sect remains intact, the army stationed at the foot of the mountain will never dare to make any move. No dynasty of the Gamma Empire had ever dared to truly launch a direct assault on Yunlan Sect, for they all knew well that once this colossal hive was disturbed, the consequences would be nothing short of revolutionary... On a smooth, well-traveled road, a young man in a black robe walked steadily, his massive black measuring rod casting a striking presence. Passersby in the vehicles and horses along the road often cast curious glances his way, yet Xiao Yan paid them no heed. His steps were neither hurried nor slow. Though the weight of the Xu Cheng Rod was enough to astonish anyone encountering it for the first time, after two years of daily use, Xiao Yan had grown accustomed to its heft, allowing him to move with ease and without delay. His footprints were merely shallow, leaving no trace of the earlier awkwardness when he first stepped—when each footfall had created a deep impression like a crater. Step by step, unhurried and composed, though seemingly slender in build, he exuded a calm grace and effortless poise that commanded attention. This patient, steady progress proved no mere formality for Xiao Yan. Upon leaving the city gates, his body—still fresh from having only recently broken into the Grand Battle-Style rank—had been constantly radiating a strong inner energy, pushing people away from his side. That kind of pressure was beyond the reach of ordinary battle-styles or even common citizens. As he walked, this radiating energy gradually seeped deeper into his body. Now, aside from the towering figure behind him, no one appeared out of the ordinary. "Indeed, as others have said, the Royal House of Jiamá maintains a well-trained army stationed beneath Cloud Ridge Mountain..." Shifting his gaze, Xiao Yan shook his head slightly, then stepped down the slope, following the main road, and slowly approached the mountain base. Though the military camp was highly fortified, it offered no obstruction to travelers heading uphill. Thus, after being briefly scanned by a few soldiers stationed along the roadside, Xiao Yan moved with ease along the main path and climbed steadily toward the mountain base. As the lush greenery began to spread along both sides, the sound of soldiers' drills gradually faded. Raising his head slightly, he was met with an unbroken expanse of dark stone steps stretching all the way to the horizon—like a celestial staircase reaching into the heavens. At the foot of the mountain, Xiao Yan raised his gaze to the ancient stone steps that had stood for countless ages, slowly closing his eyes. Subtly, a faint sound of sword resonance drifted from the far end of the steps, crisp and clear, echoing through the forest like a bell's chime, entrancing his spirit. After a silence that stretched on for half a moment, Xiao Yan opened his eyes, gently tapped the Xu Zhong Chi against his back, and stepped forward, finally settling firmly upon the slightly damp, ancient stone steps. At this moment—the three-year pact had officially arrived. As his feet touched the ground, he could sense his soul exhaling a breath it had been holding in for three years. Three years ago, burdened with a sense of youthful impulsiveness and resentment, the young man had left home, ventured deep into the mountains, and crossed the vast desert, transforming swiftly within the flames of sword and blood, much like a pupa undergoing metamorphosis. Over the course of three years, his naivety had worn away, and growth had been witnessed—yet all this effort had been made for this very promise today. A strange emotion surged within his chest, yet his steps remained steady and even. His gaze was fixed steadily on the stone steps ahead, as if piercing through spatial barriers and landing directly upon the woman seated in meditation atop the mountain. "Nalan Yanran..." With a gentle, composed breath, the name, carrying subtle undertones, softly escaped from his lips. ... At the far end of the winding stone steps, mist curled and swirled, and beyond the mist lay a vast plaza entirely paved with massive, uniform stones, exuding a sense of ancient grandeur. At its center stood a towering stone stele, solemn and majestic, inscribed with the names of successive patriarchs of Yunlan Sect and those who had rendered great service to the sect. Surveying the plaza, one could see nearly a thousand people seated in a semicircle. Each wore robes of pale moon-white, with long, flowing cloudscape swords at their sleeves, gently swaying in the breeze as if alive, subtly radiating a faint sword essence. At the highest point of the plaza, several towering stone steps emerged, ascending gradually upward—roughly, the higher the level, the older the figures. The topmost stone platform stood empty, untouched, while beneath it, a group of more than a dozen white-robed elders sat cross-legged, eyes closed, in serene meditation. Though these elders appeared unremarkable on the surface, the stiff, steel-like robes clinging to their bodies—unmoved by the breeze—immediately conveyed that they were no ordinary individuals. Occasionally, a stronger breeze sweeps across the plaza, causing the white robes to ripple, as if clouds from the heavens were descending. The sight is so striking that it commands immediate awe. Suddenly, the sound of wind rushing past is heard in the air, and then figures appear atop the towering tree branches. Only upon turning the camera's gaze do we notice that, on the tips of several massive trees surrounding the plaza, figures are already standing—not only Hai Bo Dong, but also Fang Ma, Jia Xingtian, Nalan Jie, and other leading figures and younger members of various clans, including Mu Zhan, who previously had a conflict with Xiao Yan. It appears that Yunlan Sect has indeed invited a substantial number of guests. The arriving figures remain composed, not disrupting the serene atmosphere of the plaza. While some strong disciples of Yunlan Sect have sensed the presence of these guests, they remain silent and composed, calmly seated on the ground—seeming as though they have already received clear instructions. … Standing atop the tree branches, Hai Bo Dong slowly scanned the quiet plaza with a slightly serious expression. To him, as a true powerhouse, certain subtleties were readily apparent—details others might easily miss. In his perception, the nearly thousand Yunlan Sect disciples on the plaza breathed in perfect unison, their vital energies interwoven, like threads in a single tapestry. Any movement by one would trigger a relentless, torrential barrage of attacks, as if struck by a continuous downpour. On this plaza, these nearly a thousand individuals functioned as one unified whole—when they acted, they all moved in perfect synchrony. Even a Duke-level warrior would have to temporarily retreat from the onslaught. "Indeed, the Yunlan Sect has achieved something remarkable," he murmured, quietly impressed. How difficult must it have been to cultivate such seamless coordination among these disciples? Heinao Dong and Famaiga, turning their heads slightly, locked eyes with one another, each reading the weight in the other's gaze—clearly, the Yunlan Sect's combined array had also stirred their apprehension. On the stone platform, Nalan Yanran's bright eyes also gradually opened, her gaze fixed on a certain spot. Unaccountably, the heart that had previously been calm suddenly fluttered with a few irregular beats. The footsteps grew closer and louder, until even the dozen white-robed elders on the platform lifted their eyes and turned their gaze toward the same place. Suddenly, sunlight poured down from the distant sky, piercing through the misty clouds and precisely landing on the final step of the stone staircase. There, a tall, slender figure finally emerged, slowly coming into view amid countless sets of eyes. Under the watchful gaze of nearly a thousand spectators on the square, the young man in black robes, carrying a massive black measuring rod, raised his step and completed the final ascent. His eyes, neither joyful nor sorrowful, swept across the vast square, finally settling on the beautiful woman on the platform, who in turn returned a pair of bright, steady glances. Steps light, then settled, advancing three paces with only a soft, low sound drifting through the quiet square. After the three steps had landed, the young man raised his gaze, fixed his eyes on the woman, and spoke gently. "Xiao family. Xiao Yan!"