Stone Clan, one of the Eight Ancient Tribes, never possessed the same terrifying reputation as clans like the Gu or Hun tribes, but make no mistake—none of the Eight Tribes could be considered weak. The Stone Clan kept a very low profile, and thus few rumors about them surfaced across the land. Yet, silence never signifies weakness. Their battlefield prowess was truly imposing—undoubtedly far more formidable than the first tribe to disappear: the Ling Clan. Within Stone Clan, numerous powerhouses flourished—elders and warriors of immense strength and profound ancient heritage.
Still, an entity with such impressive strength and depth vanished overnight in a manner eerily mysterious; such a disappearance would naturally inspire unease amongst even the boldest. The Stone Clan’s disappearance precisely mirrored the Ling Clan’s, for immediately prior—interdimensional space around them sealed itself, shutting tightly as if by some invisible and unstoppable force. When that space was finally accessible again, its entire population—a multitude of several million clansmen and followers—was gone—completely wiped, without a soul remaining.
Countless cultivators and experts ventured inside this sealed realm, finding instead only a cold silence, eerie and lifeless as grave. From sole of foot up through heart, dread spread like creeping roots: What unfathomable force had the capability to extinguish the lives of millions en masse? Especially when among them had stood towering figures capable of sending the heavens quaking and lands trembling through a mere single stamp. And yet, even their presence could not prevent the utter eradication of the Stone lineage. In fact, not one survived its vanishing.
Such an event reverberated across the continents, stunning other powers—leaves rustled with murmurs, even the sharpest intuition grasping instinctively at this growing anomaly. These ancient lineages, each powerful beyond reckoning, had preserved their legacy for millenniums, remaining firm, steadfast through the passing of eras, never wavering. But over a short stretch of fewer than ten years, two clans had evaporated—one case: chance or misfortune. Two instances pointed toward a darker cause. Their method of extermination, nearly identical. Any skilled eye could discern the hand behind the Ling and Stone wipeouts likely belonged to one faction—or person.
Complicating matters even more, only two powers were considered capable of obliterating ancient tribes like this: the Hun and the Gu. Inevitably, suspicion and accusations were pointed at these two. The Hun, as was typical, showed silence—no comment nor rebuttal. The Gu Clan, however, found this turn distressing.
Friendly toward remaining tribes historically, relations with them all grew strained in reaction to the unexplained erasures. Suspicion crept like ivied walls—other clans distancing themselves more with each day. Previously amiable customs—ritual and tradition between ancient bloodlines—fading as though carried away on morning wind. These circumstances proved baffling and inconvenient. The destruction of such tribal strength carried nothing beneficial for the Gu Clan and warned of ulterior motives directed toward their own lineage.
The most confounding question haunted Gu Clan scholars and elders—could it truly be the Hun? Possessed their enemies acquired such terrible power? Enough power to eliminate two clans unnoticed? Had their vast surveillance been deceived so fully so many times? Had even the Gu elders remained blind to something else lurking within central lands—some terrifying force long obscured?
No matter how many speculations filled Gu halls, no actual proof stood against this mounting suspicion. Thus, faced with mistrust, the Gu Clan could only watch their silence being interpreted with darker meaning. Watching both silent Hun and Gu react thus—as silence grew heavy like lead—three ancient lineages not yet targeted—Pharma Clan, Thunder Clan, Firefang Clan—came together in unity mere weeks following the disappearance of another. They formed a grand alliance—the Triple Pact—unknown in such magnitude until this time.
Such unity of ancient tribes proved astonishing—for millennia, their races had known only rivalry: conflicts, competitions over dominion or secrets ancient beyond telling. Peaceful consolidation of three distinct, mighty, and old-blood lineages into one singular faction? A miracle of necessity. Fear gripped them all—they wished not to follow Ling and Stone on dark paths to extinction. The shadowy destroyer had the power to erase ancient kinfolk with no trace. Could their turn come next?
Survival now dictated unity.
To the relief of the Middle Continents however—who anticipated expansion and further conquest by the Triple Pact—the three clans focused inward—not on expansion or conflict but the interlinking of inter-dimensional realms through arcane channels. Should any suffer invasion, aid could swiftly pour through those rifts. In turn, the combined three clans grew mighty and nearly unbreakable—forges strengthening in shared defiance against impending chaos.
Only once the Triple Pact felt somewhat protected, did scouting units begin sweeping through the remnants of the Stone Clan domain. Searching every last corner, determined to leave behind nothing untrodden—each fragment, clue, or artifact that might trace an invisible hand through bloodless annihilation.
Still, for all the commotion and warlike preparation, life upon lands great or minor inevitably settles again.
As the months turned past, so too did the impact of such shocking events grow dim—Stone Clan’s extinction, the formation of powerful new alliance… all fading into the background of daily life. So too seemed the silent menace, the shadow behind destruction’s curtain—having left silence behind once more. Peace might’ve crept in through windows slightly ajar…
Within a time following upheaval, Tianfu Alliance returned to its routine rhythm. Conflict resumed with Hun Hall—a contest seemingly bound eternity. A war of tit-for-tat attacks—you take my city; I burn your outpost; retaliation, counter-retribution… The battle dragged onwards. Despite endless conflict though, Tianfu grew increasingly powerful. Warfare birthed greater warfare—each clash honing the battle-ready spirit, uniting and recruiting even more smaller powers crushed by oppression under the Hun. This war, over the last year and a half, had doubled Tianfu’s power—not just in number, but strength of command in sheer, unbroken might from its leaders compared evenly against even those from Hun itself.
Despite their swelling ranks and battlefield mastery however—a dark cloud still clouded minds of elder command, especially those close to Old Pharmacist, their Alliance’s formal master.
The source?
None other than Xiao Yan.
Since the mysterious Fire Immortal realm’s collapse, an entire year and a half passed, yet never had they sensed one sign—not one whisper—about that shadowy figure who had given them courage and guidance.
And though the League recognized the authority of the old alchemist, in the hearts of many, another stood tall—slim silhouette upon horizon. To many within Tianfu walls, it was a symbol—backbone of their existence. So long as that presence remained behind them, hope had place to rest and the alliance would never fall into ruins.
And while this longing grew stronger with time, fate cruelly offered no signs from within that domain. Two seasons passed. Then four.
Then—full two years passed—hope waned.
Old Pharmacist and others found little recourse before that reality: the alliance shifted from conquest to defense, drawing in its wings, retreating quietly.
Yet just when retreat commenced…
Inside the Fire Dragon realm once again plunged into silence—after nearly two years spent lifeless and still—the place awakened once more.
Fiery winds blew across ancient magma seas—heat undying. Amidst the burning clouds, a colossal crystal egg hung in the void. Crystalline surface shimmered between translucent firelight and flickering embers of molten magic that rose like spirits of old—grace with intelligence, as if listening for something.
Then—a crisp, soft crack pierced silence. The outer shell revealed its first delicate hairline.
And within moments the cracks began spreading.
More appeared like spider silk upon wind—crawling, spreading until that surface broke fully, sending shards of light downward.
“Whoosh!”
Then—two immense, radiant beams of light pierced sky. Crimson interwoven with shimmer like gold erupted—soaring high into endless sky before falling like celestial rains, draping the realm below.
“Huh!”
Suddenly from the beam shot a slender arm. A powerful stretch cracked bones like distant thunder rolling across mountain cliffs.
Finally, from that luminous source, a silhouette emerged—a man no taller than life, but filled with quiet intensity. Who else, if not Xiao Yan?
Though now, with dark locks once again cascading freely past his wide yet lithe shoulders, and upon those dark strands sat twin eyes transformed into flame-wreathed lotus blooms. The eyes turned slowly—as if seeing everything beneath their gaze, the very essence of life feeling a pull as if magnetizing—suctioned inward toward unseen depths.
Before he could savor silence however, a musical voice followed—tinged with embarrassment yet melodic and clear as mountain spring:
“Eep!”
“Ai… Xioayan gege! Why aren’t you wearing any clothes?”
Spinning toward the sweet cry, a young man’s gaze swept across a figure draped in long, smooth raven tresses—the waterfall-like hair extending from narrow waist to hips, its beauty divine and soft like the gentlest silk. Her cheeks were a mix of refined beauty once reserved for spring orchards—yet now subtly laced with a charm of a different sort. Passion, warmth—eyes slightly lowered… enough to capture any heart without effort.
“Just what I thought,” chuckled an unashamed, fully naked young man from above the world, scratching head with careless ease towards the girl blushing beneath him, his gaze tenderly sweeping across her like flame lapping gently.
“My wife still looks best…”
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