Starting as the heir of a marquis's mansion, I gained access to a summoning system.

At the same time, stars are rising all over the world.

Southwest of Dongzhou, deep in the bamboo forest.

A young man in a gray robe sat cross-legged on the edge of a sheer cliff, a broken sword lying across his lap.

His eyes were closed, yet he was surrounded by an ancient and obscure aura, as if some soul that had been asleep for ten thousand years was slowly breathing deep within his mind.

Three days ago, he single-handedly stopped the 700 elite cavalry of the "Qingzhou Alliance" who were besieging sixteen rogue cultivators in the bamboo forest. He drew his broken sword on the battlefield and with one stroke cut the alliance's vice leader, Qi Lianfeng, a Grandmaster at the peak, in two, along with his horse. The rogue cultivators were shocked and hailed him as the "Number One Rogue Cultivator".

Ye Xingchen. Grandmaster, Eighth Level. Inherited from the remnant soul of an ancient powerful being.

He opened his eyes, glanced at the northern sky, and murmured, "The Demon-Sealing Bloodline...awakened? Interesting."

In the southeast of Dongzhou, in the four prefectures of Huaibei, lies the Wu family army's main camp.

Wu Zetian walked out of the council hall, her slender figure encased in black armor, with a long sword hanging at her waist, the blade being three fingers wider than an ordinary battle sword.

She had just beheaded Zhang Yuanji, the last patriarch of the old aristocratic families in Huaibei who refused to submit to the Wu family's rule, in the hall. With a single slash, she broke through his protective aura, and the blade sliced ​​off half of the council table.

The three armies under the tent were completely silent.

Wu Zetian wiped the blood from her sword, looked at the assembled officers and soldiers, and said only one sentence: "Anyone who still objects, come forward all at once."

No one dared to make a move.

As she stepped out of the tent, the north wind ruffled her bangs, revealing a pair of sharp, dagger-like eyes. The eldest daughter of Marquis Zhenbei, Wu, was twenty-three years old, a Grandmaster at the peak of the ninth level, her blood and qi flowing like a dragon, her divine will sharp as a blade. In the four prefectures of Huaibei, her name was already known by the people and soldiers as the "War Goddess."

The temporary encampment is located sixty miles east of the ruins of the imperial city in the Central Plains of the Eastern Continent.

A young man dressed in a dark yellow brocade robe sat on a tiger-skin chair in the center of the tent, with a silk scroll covered with names spread out in front of him.

He was only in his early twenties, with a handsome face, yet a composure beyond his years. The Ninth Prince, Qin Lin'an, was the ninth son of Emperor Qin Mu. He was not in the city during the great battle, but was studying at a villa outside the city, thus escaping the devastating war.

For three months, he single-handedly lobbied the remaining seventeen minor forces in Zhongzhou, explaining the advantages and disadvantages, promising conditions, and dividing and conquering them, thus forging a temporary alliance covering an area of ​​five hundred li around the ruins of the imperial city. The alliance nominally still recognized Qin Muzhi as emperor, but in reality, the deployment of troops and the distribution of provisions were all handled by Qin Lin'an.

Three days ago, a Grandmaster-level assassin sent by the Xiao family of Luoyang infiltrated the camp to assassinate Qin Lin'an, but was killed by Qin Lin'an's personal guards. However, everyone noticed a detail—when the assassin fell to the ground, there was a trace of blood on the scroll in Qin Lin'an's hand, and the assassin's fatal wound was a hole pierced through his forehead by a finger strike.

No one saw how he made his move.

The Ninth Prince, Qin Lin'an, is a Grandmaster of the Ninth Heaven. His true depth remains unknown.

In the northern region of Dongzhou, at the Chu family ancestral hall.

Chu Yunxiao stood on the white jade square in front of the ancestral hall, his hands forming a mudra, while the sky above him changed color with the wind and clouds.

Three bolts of lightning descended from the sky, striking the three trial stone platforms in the square with pinpoint accuracy, blasting the platforms and the black iron puppets placed on them into dust. The Chu family disciples watching from all sides retreated, their faces filled with horror.

Three days ago, he ventured alone into the Black Wind Ridge of the Northern Region and beheaded the Grandmaster-level bandit "Black Wind Old Monster," who had been entrenched in the Black Wind Ridge for decades, with lightning magic. When he returned to the sect with the severed head, the Chu family patriarch personally came out to greet him.

Chu Yunxiao, twenty-two years old, is a Grandmaster at the sixth level. His "Yunxiao Technique" can influence celestial phenomena. Although his cultivation is not as dazzling as Ye Xingchen's or Wu Zetian's, the power of his thunder magic is superior to that of swords and sabers in attacking and breaking through formations.

Jiangnan, the Buddhist capital of Jinling, Wanfo Temple.

A young boy in a grey monk's robe knelt on a prayer mat in front of the main hall, his hands clasped together, with a very faint cinnabar birthmark between his eyebrows. He was only sixteen or seventeen years old, with a youthful face, but his eyes were clear and bright.

Ten thousand monks from the Buddhist temple stood outside the hall, all watching him. Three days ago, a rebel army in the southern border of the Buddhist Kingdom of Jinling caused an uprising and massacred three villages and towns. Liao Chen ordered him to go and "resolve" the situation.

The boy left. He walked into the rebel camp empty-handed, sat at the camp gate, and recited the Ksitigarbha Sutra for three hours. The three thousand rebels in the camp went from initial disdain to hesitation, from hesitation to silence, from silence to weeping with their faces covered, and finally all three thousand men removed their armor, knelt down, kowtowed three times before him, and then dispersed.

He didn't kill a single person.

Wangwo, a young monk at Wanfo Temple, reached the later stages of a Grand Master. He used Buddhism to guide people and never killed any living being. Within the Buddhist community, he was described in just two words: unfathomable.

Southeast of Dongzhou, Zhenwu Dao Sect, behind the mountain is a sea of ​​clouds.

Guiyuan sat on a blue stone at the edge of the sea of ​​clouds, his legs dangling in the air, with a bottomless abyss below.

His eyes were closed, his breathing synchronized with the rise and fall of the clouds, as if he had merged into the mountains and streams. At nineteen, he was the youngest true disciple of the Zhenwu Dao Sect, having cultivated the "Supreme Way of Forgetfulness" to the fourth level, his mind as calm as an ancient well.

Seven days ago, an uninvited guest arrived outside the Zhenwu Dao Sect's mountain gate—the rogue cultivator "Old Man Kurong," who was half a step into the Celestial Realm, and boasted that he would break into the mountain gate and seize the sect's most precious treasure, the "Heavenly Secrets Scroll."

The entire Daoist sect was on high alert. Guiyuan walked down from the back mountain, stood on the stone steps of the mountain gate, looked at the withered old man, and said, "Senior, please return."

The withered old man stared at him for a moment, then turned and left.

No one knows what happened in that instant. But from then on, the attitude of the Zhenwu Dao Sect toward this junior brother changed from "taking care" to "reverence".

Western part of the Eastern Continent, the outer training ground of the Four Extremes Sword Sect.

Four young sword cultivators stood side by side in the center of the training ground, before whom lay a Xuan Iron puppet—a trial target of Grandmaster-level strength. Xie Changkong unleashed his first sword strike, his sword energy transforming into a dragon; Ye Guhong unleashed his second, his sword intent solidifying into a mountain; Meng Hanshuang unleashed her third, her sword light as bright as the moon; Ouyang Xue unleashed her fourth, her sword momentum as fluid as water. The four swords combined, and the Xuan Iron puppet shattered from its center, crumbling into countless fragments.

The four sword masters are all at the late stage of the Grandmaster realm. Together, they are enough to kill a peak Grandmaster. Above their sword formation is the unfinished sword of the Four Extremes Ancestor—it is said that if that sword is completed, the Four Extremes Sword Formation can rival the Celestials.

In the southern part of Dongzhou, in the backyard of the Murong family.

Murong Qiudi sat by the window of the embroidered tower, the silver needle in her hand gleaming with a faint blue luster under the moonlight.

Two dark figures lurked in the night outside the window—spies sent by the Liu family of Qingzhou to probe the strength of the Murong family, all at the initial stage of the Grandmaster realm. Murong Qiudi picked up a silver needle and flicked it casually. The silver needle pierced through the window paper, into the night, through the throats of the two dark figures, and embedded itself three inches deep in the crack of the blue bricks in the corner of the backyard wall.

Two dark figures fell silently to the ground. Murong Qiudi withdrew her hand and continued embroidering the mandarin duck handkerchief.

Murong Qiudi, nineteen years old, late-stage Grandmaster. Her poisoned needles and hidden weapons kill without a trace. The consensus among the powerful families of the Southern Region is: never look her in the eye for more than a breath.

At the border between the Eastern Continent and the Western Regions, Dugu Xin was walking alone on a mountain path.

He wore a long, narrow sword at his waist, with a black scabbard and a faded red rope wrapped around the hilt.

He had just emerged from a life-or-death battle—the "Ghost-Faced Cave Master," ranked seventh among the Thirty-Six Caves of the Western Regions, a Grandmaster at the Seventh Heaven, his head dangling from the saddle behind him. He had killed the Ghost-Faced Cave Master with just three sword strikes: the first to break his defenses, the second to sever his wrist, and the third to seal his throat.

Dugu Xin, 21 years old, Grandmaster Level 6. His unpredictable sword strikes always draw blood, earning him the nickname "Three Swords That Kill". He never uses the same move twice, so no one can predict the direction of his next strike.

In the Eastern Continent and Western Regions, at the Dragon Family Martial Arts Arena.

Long Aotian stood shirtless in the center of the arena, his fists wrapped with hemp rope soaked in tung oil.

His opponent was Liang Hu, the "Iron Fist," a Grandmaster of the seventh level of the Long family. Liang Hu threw a punch at Long Aotian's face, the force of which lifted three layers of blue bricks from the training ground. Long Aotian neither dodged nor avoided the punch, meeting it head-on.

The shockwave from the collision of their fists overturned the weapon rack twenty feet away. Liang Hu staggered back seven steps, his right fist fractured, while Long Aotian stood motionless.

Long Aotian, twenty years old, a Grandmaster at the sixth level, possesses the unparalleled ferocity of the "Heavenly Dragon Technique" fist style. The Long family patriarch commented: "This boy can fight a true dragon."

In the northern border, at the Marquis's mansion, where blood was shed.

Dongfang Weiwo stood under the eaves of the main hall, looking at the secret report that his guards had just delivered. It was densely filled with the names of the newly rising prodigies of the past six months and their achievements. His gaze lingered on each name for a moment. They were all old acquaintances.

Ye Xingchen, Wu Zetian, Qin Lin'an, Chu Yunxiao, Wangwo, Guiyuan, the Four Great Sword Masters, Murong Qiudi, Dugu Xin, and Long Aotian.

"They're all around twenty years old, and all of them are high-level Grandmasters."

Dongfang Weiwo murmured to himself, "The tides of spiritual energy in heaven and earth... have given birth to a generation."

He put down the secret report and looked at the snow piled up in the courtyard. He had been in seclusion for the past six months, and so many powerful figures had emerged from outside.

These people are now scattered among various forces across the world—some have submitted to the imperial court, some have established their own independent factions, some are lying low and observing, and some are following Chen or Zhenwu.

When the fragments of the Tianxuan Continent merge and the Demon Race launches a full-scale invasion, some of these young faces will become the backbone of defending the land, while others will become the source of chaos.

But he doesn't have time to contact them one by one right now.

Pang Ban and Bai Yujing have already dispatched all their undercover agents. The whereabouts of the Underworld Emperor must be found as quickly as possible. And after finding the Underworld Emperor—he will personally travel to the Southern Frontier Continent.

"Young Master." The guard's voice came from under the corridor.

"A message has arrived from the Underworld—someone has sensed the aura of the Demon-Devouring Bloodline in the gray-mist sea area where the East Sea meets the Southern Frontier Continent. It's extremely faint, but it is indeed the aura of the Underworld Emperor."

I, the only one from the East, turned around.

"The Gray Fog Sea?"

"Yes. Three hundred miles south of the Penglai Passage, the sea is perpetually shrouded in gray mist. The spiritual energy concentration in that area is close to that of the Southern Frontier Continent; it's a gap between two continental fragments before they fully merged. The Underworld Emperor might be hiding there."

Dongfang Weiwo took a deep breath.

The Gray Mist Sea—neither in the Eastern Continent nor the Southern Frontier, but nestled between two fragments of the continent. It was a no-man's-land, where the Underworld Emperor chose to hide, thus escaping both the pursuit of the Eastern Continent and the complete control of the Demon Clan's Southern Frontier.

"Order Pang Ban to assemble in the Gray Fog Sea. Also—"

He paused.

"Order the Azure Dragon Society headquarters to have Li Chenzhou, in the name of the 'Three Dragon Leaders of the Azure Dragon Society,' deliver an invitation to all newly promoted prodigies throughout the land:"

Three months later, a martial arts tournament will be held in Yangzhou, bringing together the world's most talented individuals. Anyone under twenty years old and at least a Grandmaster of the fifth level is welcome to attend. The victor will receive a promise from the Azure Dragon Society—any request, as long as it does not harm the common people, will be fully supported by the Azure Dragon Society.

The guard hesitated for a moment. "Young Master, holding a sword-fighting tournament at this time..."

"I need to gather these people together and assess them." Dongfang Weiwo turned around, his dark golden eyes reflecting the gleam of the snow in the courtyard. "In six months, the fragments of the Tianxuan Continent will merge, and the demon army will press in. By then, I need to determine whether they are friend or foe."

He stepped down the steps, his boots crunching softly on the snow.

"Also—don't use my name on the invitation; use 'Grand Dragon Head of the Green Dragon Society' instead."

They wanted the world to believe that the 'Great Dragon Head,' who had never shown himself, wanted to see them.

The guards received their orders and withdrew.

The wind and snow intensified. Dongfang Weiwo stood in the courtyard, looking up at the leaden-gray sky. The Gray Mist Sea awaited him, the Underworld Emperor awaited him, and the countdown to the fusion of the Tianxuan Continent in six months also awaited him.

He needs to deal with the Underworld Emperor first before returning to face the sword duel.

"Pang Ban," he whispered, "wait for me."

In the distance, towards the East China Sea, warships are sailing out of Wanshe Island and gathering in the gray fog sea area.