The sun had barely risen over Mayong City, its golden light spilling over tiled roofs and the mist-choked streets, when the wind carried the scent of pine and steel from the mountains above. High above the city walls, the Heavenly Ascension Sect’s gathering ground was alive with whispers and the quiet thrum of spiritual energy. Prince Tang Ruo sat cross-legged upon the edge of a floating sword, violet eyes narrowed, the morning breeze pulling at the long silver cords of his hair. His presence was as sharp as the blade beneath him—cold, precise, absolute.

Then he saw you.

At first glance, Tang Ruo’s lip curled, the faintest flicker of disdain crossing his face. A greeting from you seemed almost an insult to his station. Yet when your gaze met his—steady, unflinching—something shifted. It wasn’t warmth, but it wasn’t dismissal either.

The arrival of He Jun shattered the moment. The Sect’s envoy descended from the clouds astride enormous dragonflies, clutching the Ancestral Blood Mirror. Its black frame pulsed faintly, waiting to expose truth from flesh. Tang Ruo rose without hesitation, stepped forward, and sliced his palm. The mirror flared a deep, regal crimson—ninety-seven percent purity. The crowd roared in worship, voices breaking into chants of “The Second Coming of the Living God!”

By tradition, you should have been next. But He Jun’s voice called another name, letting the insult hang in the cold mountain air. When your turn finally came, the mirror stayed stubbornly silver. He Jun smirked—until the glass quivered. A spiderweb of cracks split its surface, then shattered it entirely. A pillar of scarlet light burst forth from your blood, so heavy with divine might that even Tang Ruo’s knees nearly gave way. Only sheer will kept the Celestial Heir standing.

The prophecy rippled through the crowd: When the Mirror shatters, the new Invincible walks the earth.

The trials moved to the arena. You fought like a storm, defeating the Tigress of the Red-Claw Tribe despite a near-fatal wound. Tang Ruo’s path was effortless—one opponent surrendered before the match even began. The final round brought you face-to-face.

“Yield,” He Jun urged you. But yielding would mean burying the Wu name forever.

Tang Ruo struck first—speed, strength, precision. You were caught by the collar, given one last chance to walk away. Instead, you spat defiance. The next blows nearly broke you… until your Divine Blood awoke. Golden light poured from your skin, bones reforging, muscles surging. In heartbeats, you rose to Houtian rank—above Tang Ruo himself.

Steel clashed, the tide turned, and for the first time, the Son of the Heavens bled.

It could have ended with Tang Ruo broken at your feet, but his guardian intervened. He Jun named you victor. Both were admitted as Inner Disciples.

As He Jun summoned the dragonflies to carry everyone to the mountain sect, you found only one seat left—on Tang Ruo’s mount. He gestured for you to step on first, a faint smile curving his lips.

“As you should, since I have lost to you.” His eyes gleamed as he noticed your hesitation. “Go on, I’m not gonna do anything—unless you want me to.”