Lu Feng turned his back. He didn't spare Xue Yao a final glance. Her tears were worthless. Her regret, a currency he no longer accepted.
He walked away from the wreckage of the Su family's ambition. Behind him, a world collapsed. Xue Yao crumpled to the floor, her designer gown pooling around her like a shroud. Her sobs were ugly, desperate sounds that echoed in the cavernous, silent hall. Madam Su had already fainted, her phone clattering from her limp hand, the final confirmation of their utter ruin still glowing on the screen.
The assembled guests, masters and heirs of various sects, stood frozen. They dared not breathe, dared not move. They had just witnessed a god walk among them. They had watched him crush the mighty Hua Shan Sect with a word and erase a family with a single, cold declaration.
"The Dragon Sovereign... he's returned." The whisper was barely audible, yet it spread like wildfire.
For three years, the Jianghu had been without its ruler. For three years, they thought the Dragon Order was a fading myth. Now, they knew the truth. The Sovereign was back, and he had been living as a dog under the roof of the idiotic Su family.
Outside, a sleek, dragon-emblemed car waited, silent as a panther. The War Goddess, Bai Li, held the door open, her posture one of perfect, military reverence. Her eyes, however, held a warmth reserved only for him.
Lu Feng slid into the plush leather seat. The door closed with a solid, final thud. It was the sound of a door closing on his past. The car pulled away from the curb, leaving the scene of his humiliation behind forever.
He stared out the window, his face a mask of cold indifference. The city lights blurred past, meaningless patterns. Three years of enduring scorn, of washing dishes, of bowing his head, had honed his patience. But it had also sharpened his killing intent to a razor's edge. He had sealed his meridians, suppressed his true essence, all to repay a debt to a dying old man. That debt was now paid in full.
The car ascended a private mountain road, passing through checkpoint after checkpoint manned by guards whose Inner Qi pulsed with terrifying power. Each one was a Grandmaster in their own right, yet they knelt as the car passed, their heads bowed to the ground.
Finally, they arrived at the summit. Perched there, overlooking the entire city like a crouching beast, was the Dragon Sovereign's Estate. It was a sprawling complex of ancient architecture and modern fortresses, wreathed in mist and an aura of supreme power that would make any martial artist tremble.
This was his home. A place he had not seen in three long years.
Bai Li led him into the main hall. It was vast, supported by pillars carved with coiling dragons, their eyes inlaid with obsidian that seemed to follow his every move.
"My Lord," Bai Li said, her voice crisp and professional, though a hint of emotion broke through. "Welcome home. Your chambers have been prepared as you always liked them."
Lu Feng gave a slight nod. He walked to the massive, throne-like chair at the head of the hall and sat down. The worn fabric of his cheap suit looked jarringly out of place, yet his presence filled the throne, filled the entire hall, as if he were born to it.
"Report," he said. His voice was flat, containing none of the warmth Bai Li hoped for.
She straightened immediately, her warrior instincts taking over. "The Jianghu is in turmoil since your... absence. The various sects grew bold. But your return at the Su banquet has sent a shockwave through the martial world. All major powers are sending emissaries to beg for an audience."
"Let them beg," Lu Feng said, his fingers tapping lazily on the armrest.
"There is... a more pressing matter," Bai Li continued, her expression hardening. "The Dark Alliance has resurfaced."
The air in the hall grew cold. The Dark Alliance was a coalition of the most demonic and ruthless sects, practitioners of forbidden arts who thrived on chaos and slaughter. Lu Feng had personally crushed them a decade ago, shattering their leadership and scattering their forces.
"During your seclusion, they have been secretly rebuilding their strength," Bai Li explained. "They see your return not as a warning, but as an opportunity. Their spies confirmed you sealed your meridians for three years. They believe you are at your weakest."
Lu Feng's lips curled into a smirk devoid of any humor. "Weak?"
"They have publicly declared their intention to assassinate you," Bai Li said, her hand instinctively going to the hilt of her divine sword. A sliver of her own killing intent leaked out, a testament to her fury. "They want to seize the Dragon Order and claim the title of Grand Marshal of the martial world for themselves."
"Ants, trying to shake a mountain," Lu Feng murmured, his eyes half-closed. He looked bored, as if discussing the weather. "They have forgotten the taste of fear. Let them come. It has been too long since I've purged the filth from this world."
Bai Li bowed. "I will double the guard. I will--"
"No," Lu Feng interrupted, his voice soft yet absolute. "Do nothing. Let the rats enter the trap on their own."
Bai Li's eyes widened, but she did not question the command. "As you wish, My Lord."
Later that night, the Dragon Estate was cloaked in an eerie silence. The moon hid behind dark clouds. Shadows danced where they shouldn't. A team of five figures, clad in black, moved like ghosts through the heavily fortified grounds. They were the Phantom Blades, the most elite assassination squad of the Dark Alliance. Each was a master of stealth and murder, their hands stained with the blood of sect leaders and champions.
They bypassed the kneeling guards, who seemed to neither see nor hear them. They flowed over walls and through courtyards, their techniques flawless. Their leader, a man known only as Ghost Shadow, sneered internally. *The Dragon Sovereign's defenses are a joke. Three years as a worthless son-in-law has made him soft.*
They reached the Sovereign's private chambers. The door was unlocked. Ghost Shadow signaled to his men to wait outside as he slipped into the room. It was an act of supreme arrogance. He would claim the glory of this kill for himself.
On the large bed, a figure lay still, breathing evenly. Lu Feng. His eyes were closed, seemingly lost in a deep, peaceful sleep. The assassin's lips twisted into a cruel smile. He drew his blade, a wicked, curved dagger whose edge shimmered with a deadly neurotoxin, a poison that could kill a Grandmaster in three seconds.
He moved without a sound. This was it. The moment he would become a legend.
With a flick of his wrist, he plunged the poison-soaked blade straight at Lu Feng's exposed throat. The blade made contact, the assassin's heart pounding with triumph. But the instant the razor-sharp tip touched his skin, it shattered into a hundred glittering pieces. Lu Feng opened his eyes, now glowing with a terrifying red light, his killing intent flooding the room like a tidal wave of blood. "You picked the wrong man to assassinate."