Silence. A thick, suffocating silence gripped the grand hall of the Hua Shan Sect. The only sound was the wet, rhythmic thud of a forehead striking marble. Thud. Thud. Thud. Old Sect Master Murong, a Grandmaster whose name shook the northern provinces, was kowtowing like the lowest servant. Blood streamed down his face, pooling on the polished floor, but he didn't dare stop. His body trembled not from exertion, but from a primordial fear that had seized his very soul. "Dragon... Sovereign..." The words were a choked whisper, but they echoed like thunder in the ears of every person present. The Su family stood frozen, their faces canvases of chalky white horror. Madam Su’s legs gave way, and she slumped into a chair, her mouth agape. Xue Yao stared, her beautiful features twisted in utter disbelief. The man she had just divorced, the man she called 'trash' for three years... was the Dragon Sovereign? It was a title from legend. A ghost story told to frighten young martial artists. The supreme Lord of all Jianghu. A being whose Inner Qi was said to be as vast as the ocean, whose will was the law of the martial world. A single command from the Dragon Sovereign could raise a sect to glory or erase it from existence as if it had never been. And the symbol of that absolute authority was the rusted iron token now lying on the table. The Dragon Order. Lu Feng remained motionless. He hadn't even looked at the groveling Sect Master. His eyes were half-lidded, his expression one of profound boredom, as if swatting the Hua Shan Sect was less trouble than shooing a fly. He reached out, his fingers casually closing around the token. The cold iron felt familiar in his palm. "My Lord, my ignorant son has offended you!" Old Master Murong babbled, his voice cracking with terror. He slammed his son's head harder against the floor. "This beast dared to look upon the sun! Please, Sovereign, spare the Hua Shan Sect! We are but dust beneath your feet! We will offer you our entire treasury, our secret techniques, our very lives!" Young Master Murong was barely conscious, his arrogant face a bloody mess. He finally understood. He had not provoked a sleeping dog. He had tried to kick a slumbering dragon. Lu Feng finally moved. He didn't speak. He simply lifted a hand and waved it dismissively. It was a gesture one might use to clear away smoke. But to Old Master Murong, it was a tsunami of force. An invisible wave of True Essence, pure and terrifyingly dense, washed over him. It wasn't an attack. It was a simple dismissal, yet it felt like a mountain pressing down on his meridians. He and his son were lifted from the floor and thrown out of the main hall, tumbling down the grand stone steps like discarded sacks of grain. They landed in a heap, broken and gasping, but alive. Mercy. The Sovereign had granted them the mercy of living as ants. The other martial artists, who minutes ago had been ready to tear Lu Feng apart, now couldn't even breathe. A suffocating pressure filled the air—the passive aura of a true Grandmaster, a Sovereign. Their knees buckled. One by one, they collapsed, kneeling on the floor, heads bowed, not daring to even look in his direction. The killing intent they had shown moments before was now a pathetic, dying ember. The Su family was left standing alone amidst a sea of kneeling experts. They were the target of his cold, indifferent gaze. Xue Yao’s world had shattered into a million pieces. Every memory of the past three years flashed through her mind. Lu Feng silently washing the dishes. Lu Feng enduring her mother's screaming insults. Lu Feng sleeping on the floor in her room. Lu Feng handing her a coat on a cold day, only for her to throw it back in his face. She had possessed a dragon, the supreme ruler of the world, and she had treated him like a worm. The shame was a physical poison, burning through her veins. "Lu Feng..." The name escaped her lips, a fragile, broken sound. Her body finally obeyed her mind. She stumbled forward, then broke into a desperate run, her expensive gown trailing behind her. Tears streamed down her face, washing away her perfect makeup, revealing the raw panic beneath. "Lu Feng!" She reached him, her hands grabbing for his sleeve. "It wasn't me! I swear, it was my mother! She forced me to sign the divorce papers! She threatened me! I never wanted to leave you!" Her words were a torrent of frantic lies and half-truths. She sobbed, her body shaking uncontrollably. "Please, Lu Feng, take me back! I’ll be a good wife! I’ll do anything! Just give me one more chance!" Lu Feng didn't move. He didn't even flinch as she clutched his arm. He simply looked down at her, his eyes as cold and empty as a winter sky. The faint warmth she remembered from his gaze was gone. In its place was an abyss. He was no longer the man who lived in her house. He was the Dragon Sovereign, and she was nothing. He slowly, deliberately, pulled his sleeve from her grasp. Her fingers slid off the fabric, feeling an impossible coldness. His voice was flat, devoid of all emotion. "For three years, I gave the Su family the chance for supreme glory. You gave me only disgrace." He turned and swept past her, not even giving her a second glance. It was as if she were a ghost, a puff of air. He walked towards the exit of the now-silent hall, his every step echoing with finality. "From this day," his voice drifted back, a death sentence delivered with casual indifference, "the Su name is erased from the martial world." As the words left his lips, a shrill ringing cut through the air. Madam Su fumbled for her phone, her hands trembling so violently she almost dropped it. She saw the caller ID—the family's chief financial officer. With a shaking thumb, she answered. "Madam Su! It's a disaster!" the voice on the other end shrieked with panic. "Every account has been frozen! All assets seized! The Martial Alliance issued a global directive citing an order from... from the Dragon Order! We're ruined! We have nothing left!" Madam Su’s eyes rolled back in her head. The phone slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the marble floor. Her face, a mask of pure, unadulterated ruin, went slack as she collapsed in a dead faint. Xue Yao heard the call. She heard the finality. She crumpled to the ground, a hollow, guttural sob tearing from her throat. He hadn't just left her. He had annihilated her entire world with a single sentence. At that moment, a figure appeared at the grand entrance, stepping out of the moonlight. It was a woman of breathtaking beauty, her features sharp and noble, clad in immaculate silver armor that seemed to glow. A divine sword was strapped to her back, and her aura pulsed with the raw power of a seasoned warrior—the War Goddess of the Dragon Order. She walked directly to Lu Feng, her eyes filled with a reverence that bordered on worship, and dropped to one knee. "My Lord," her voice, clear as a bell, rang through the hall. She rose gracefully, her gaze sweeping past the pathetic, sobbing form of Xue Yao without a hint of recognition. "Your chambers have been prepared."

Chapter 4: Regret Comes Too Late