The dense forest was silent, save for the rhythmic pulsing of the device in Fang Yuan's hand. Its crystal tip glowed faintly—soft, yet insistent—like the quiet breath of something ancient awakening beneath his very fingers.
Fang Yuan stepped into the small clearing. The air here was strange—thicker, cooler—as though untouched by the winds that rustled the outer trees. And there, at the center of the stillness, lay Qing Zhi.
She was unconscious.
Her form was suspended midair, bound tightly by layers of golden talismanic seals, hovering just above the moss-covered ground. The markings on the talismans shimmered faintly, suppressing something he could not yet comprehend. Her long black hair hung down like a curtain, touching the earth beneath, and the moonlight illuminated her face in fragments—revealing a serene, almost divine expression.
Fang Yuan's breath caught.
There was beauty in her—an otherworldly, untainted elegance.
But the moment his thoughts drifted to admiration—an instinctive reflex of the eye and heart—something struck him.
A backlash.
It was silent, invisible, but it surged through the air like a blade of pure intent, slashing at his spiritual core. Fang Yuan staggered back half a step, his heart pounding. Cold sweat beaded his brow.
He looked at her again, now with wariness. Even unconscious and sealed, she had retaliated.
No. Not her.
Something within her.
His gaze dropped to the device in his hand. It trembled more violently now, its light growing stronger with every heartbeat. This device was crafted by one of the Qingmo Clan's oldest Elders—a treasure capable of detecting Saint-level energies and fragments of divine resonance. It had never behaved like this.
Fang Yuan exhaled slowly.
"This girl… is no ordinary cultivator. There is something ancient… something sealed," he murmured. "The talismans aren't suppressing her. They're suppressing what's inside her."
He made his decision.
She had to be brought to the clan.
His clan.
The Qingmo Clan—renowned across the lands not just for their might, but for their unmatched ability in taming spirit beasts and deciphering bloodline legacies. Their Clan Leader stood tall at the Ninth Realm of the Emperor Stage, and their circle of Elders included figures at all stages of the Emperor rank—from the initial, to the middle, and even the late stages.
They would know what this meant.
They would understand what slept within Qing Zhi's veins.
And they would know if she was a miracle… or a weapon waiting to be born.
Fang Yuan raised his hand and summoned his spirit beasts—majestic creatures cloaked in shadows and light—and his personal subordinates, all powerful cultivators in the Ninth Realm of the King stage. The air grew dense with their presence.
"Return to the clan," he ordered. "Prepare for the arrival of a sealed bloodline."
His words needed no explanation. His followers bowed in silence, understanding the weight of the command, and vanished into the forest in different directions, swift and disciplined.
Fang Yuan looked back at Qing Zhi. Carefully, he stepped closer, extending his hand toward the talismanic seals. They pulsed once in warning—but recognizing his command signature, they loosened just enough to allow him to hold her without disrupting the balance of the suppression.
He lifted her into his arms.
For a moment, he felt it again—that hidden presence, coiled like a serpent deep within her spirit, observing, breathing… waiting.
Without another word, Fang Yuan turned and disappeared into the forest shadows.
—
Elsewhere, beneath the dark canopy of the woods, Lin Hai, Lei Fan, and Xu Min stood atop a rock outcrop, the moonlight casting their faces in contrasting expressions of frustration, unease, and resolve.
"He took her," Lin Hai said bitterly. "Without a trace. And he returned… far stronger than before. We were nothing to him."
Lei Fan clenched his fists. "He didn't even draw his weapon. It was mockery."
Xu Min, the calmest of the three, narrowed his eyes. "This isn't just about Fang Yuan. This is about the Qingmo Clan."
"Their spiritual beast taming art," Lin Hai muttered. "It's not a mere technique. It's a bloodline inheritance. Passed down. Refined. Perfected."
"And guarded by an Emperor Stage Clan Leader," Xu Min added. "With elders scattered across every realm of the Emperor stage. Do you understand what that means?"
"It means," Lei Fan said slowly, "that if we go there to fight him… we'll be walking into the mouth of a dragon."
Silence settled for a moment.
But none of them looked away.
They had sworn vengeance.
They had made an oath.
And the gap between them and Fang Yuan—between them and the Qingmo Clan—only made the fire in their hearts burn hotter.
"We're not going there to survive," Lin Hai said. "We're going to kill him. In front of his whole clan. And we'll bury them with him."
Xu Min nodded. "We prepare. We grow stronger. And when the time comes… we strike."
The three turned, walking back into the night, their shadows swallowed by the forest.
And far away, under a moon that watched silently, the girl with the sleeping bloodline drew a single breath in Fang Yuan's arms—soft, shivering.
The world had changed.
And none of them yet understood what they had awakened.