For three days and three nights, the Imperial City knew no darkness. The sky was a canvas of exploding light, fireworks crafted not by simple powder but by the pure essence of master cultivators. Each blast painted a roaring golden dragon or a soaring silver phoenix across the heavens, their light so brilliant it outshone the stars. This was not merely an imperial wedding; it was a declaration. A declaration that the world, both the court and the martial underworld of Jianghu, had a new, absolute master. The Dragon Throne Hall was a sea of legends. On the left sat the imperial court officials, ministers and generals in their silken robes, their faces pale with a mixture of reverence and terror. On the right, a far more volatile gathering. The Alliance Leader of Divine Sword Manor, the supposed paragon of the righteous path, sat stiffly, his teacup trembling ever so slightly in his hand. Across from him, the fearsome Matriarch of the Demonic Moon Sect, a woman known for bathing in the blood of her enemies, watched with a cold, calculating gaze. They, and a hundred other sect masters, grandmasters, and ancient hermits, sat in forced, silent harmony. A single, oppressive will bound them all. The will of the man on the Dragon Throne. Lu Feng wore the black and gold robes of an emperor, the Dragon Crown resting upon his head. Yet, he exuded no royal pomp. He was simply... there. Slouching slightly, his expression bored, he radiated an aura that was not of a king, but of a primordial sword. It was an ancient, sharp, and infinitely dangerous presence that made the very air heavy. It scraped against the meridians of every martial artist present, a constant reminder of the chasm between them and a god. Next to him sat Xue Feng. Dressed in the fiery red robes of an empress, a phoenix coronet in her hair, her beauty was otherworldly. But what truly stunned the crowd were her eyes. No longer clouded and sightless, they were clear as mountain springs, reflecting the grand hall and the man beside her. They held a serene strength that complemented Lu Feng’s chilling stillness. The blind saintess was gone. In her place sat the Empress of the world, her Inner Qi flowing as smoothly as a celestial river. “Look at them,” whispered a young master from a minor sword sect, unable to contain himself. “He was just a servant of the Ye family! And she, a blind orphan! How can—” He never finished the sentence. His father, the Sect Master, clamped a hand over his mouth, his face ashen. He had felt it. A flicker of killing intent from the throne, so faint it was like a whisper of winter wind, yet it had nearly frozen his soul solid. He dragged his son down into a deep kowtow, his forehead pressing into the cold marble floor, sweat soaking his robes. No one else dared to speak. Far in the back, tucked away in a corner of shame, sat the new head of the Ye family. He kept his head bowed, not daring to look up. Beside him, a representative from the Hua Shan Sect trembled uncontrollably. They had sent Ye Yao’s former fiancé, the once-arrogant Young Master of Hua Shan, to a secluded peak for penance, but the stain of their foolishness would never be erased. They had mocked a god. Now, they could only pray for his indifference. The War Goddess, clad in shining silver armor even on this auspicious day, stood guard near the throne. Her divine sword was sheathed, but her hand never strayed far from its hilt. Her gaze swept across the crowd, a silent promise of annihilation for anyone who showed the slightest disrespect. The ceremony was swift and absolute. The Grand Eunuch, his voice shaking, read the imperial decree. When he declared them husband and wife, a wave of palpable energy rolled through the hall. It was the combined sword-qi and true essence of every master in Jianghu, resonating in a symphony of submission. Lu Feng merely gave a slight nod. He raised a cup of wine, his movements lazy. “To the Empress,” he said. His voice was not loud, but it echoed in every person’s soul. Every king, general, sect master, and demonic overlord rose as one. “To the Empress!” they roared, their voices shaking the very pillars of the palace. Xue Feng smiled softly, a genuine warmth that seemed to melt the icy aura around Lu Feng, if only for an instant. She drank her wine, her eyes never leaving his. Later that night, the cacophony of the city-wide celebration faded into a distant hum. The imperial bedchambers were a quiet sanctuary of red silk and golden candlelight. Lu Feng had shed the heavy imperial robes for simple black silks. He stood by the window, gazing out at the fireworks that still painted the sky. He felt a presence behind him. Xue Feng, now in a simple red sleeping gown, approached. The air was thick with a silent understanding that went beyond words. “They fear you,” she said softly. “As they should,” Lu Feng replied, his tone flat. “But I do not.” She came to stand beside him. Her hand, warm and delicate, reached out and found his. His hand, which could command ten thousand swords and shatter mountains, was still for a moment before his fingers gently closed around hers. “Lu Feng,” she began, her voice earnest. “My sect was destroyed for a secret it protected. A secret I carried with me, even in blindness.” He turned to face her. His gaze, which could make grandmasters kneel, was now focused solely on her. Xue Feng reached for the simple red cord around her neck. From it hung a piece of ancient, milky-white jade. It was carved in the shape of a celestial dragon, but it was incomplete, clearly one half of a whole. Its surface pulsed with a faint, warm light, resonating with Lu Feng’s own inner power. “My master told me this belonged to the one who could relight the stars,” she whispered, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “The one who shared my destiny.” Lu Feng’s expression remained impassive, but a flicker of something ancient and powerful stirred in the depths of his eyes. He slowly raised his own hand, revealing the jade seal that had hung around his neck for years, the very object that had suppressed his world-shaking power. It was the other half. On their wedding night, Xue Feng gives him the other half of the ancient jade pendant. The moment the two halves merge as one, an ancient treasure map of the immortal realm suddenly blazes to life across the wall.

The Grand Wedding of Jianghu