Whoosh!
Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted.
The wind howled unnaturally, as if bowing in submission.
The sky darkened for a moment, casting long shadows over the thousands of cultivators gathered.
Then, as if on cue, divine light split the clouds—four dazzling beams tearing down from the heavens like spears of judgment.
The Royal Family had arrived!
But of course… they didn’t come together.
No, that would be too naive.
Each beam marked the descent of a different prince or princess, all backed by their own faction—cultivators, elders, spirit beasts, personal armies.
Every heir was surrounded by their own little kingdom.
And every single one of them wanted the same thing: the throne.
After all, it was already declared—
“Whoever obtains the inheritance in the Ancient Ruins shall be crowned the next Emperor.”
So forget teamwork. This was war in the guise of exploration.
First to descend was the Fourth Princess, Yu Qingya—clad in icy-blue robes, her features sharp as a blade and beauty so cold it sent shivers through the crowd.
Behind her marched the elites of the Frost Lily Pavilion, her loyal guard of female cultivators, each a powerful Elders.
“That’s Princess Qingya! The one who froze the Southern Sea Sect’s patriarch in a single strike!”
“Damn… She’s even scarier in person.”
“Careful staring too long—she castrated the last guy who got too bold.”
…
She didn’t spare a glance for anyone as her ice-lotus spirit beast floated beside her like a frozen throne.
Next came the Seventh Prince, Yu Longxuan—his arrival signaled by the roar of thunder and the appearance of a massive golden dragon illusion coiling in the sky.
He stepped off a chariot pulled by three Spirit Thunder Lions, his black-and-gold robes flapping dramatically.
With him came the warriors of the Crimson Thunder Palace, their war cries echoing like thunderclaps.
“Seventh Prince is here too?! F*ck, now it’s getting serious!”
“Heard he split a Nascent Soul cultivator in half during his last trial… using his bare hands.”
Unlike his sister, Yu Longxuan grinned wildly, eyes full of challenge as he scanned the crowd.
“Looks like this is going to be exciting~! Hope they’re good enough opponents for me.”
Then came the Third Prince, Yu Wenzhao, who made the least flashy entrance—but somehow carried the heaviest pressure.
No beasts. No sky-show. Just a single step, and he walked out of a shimmering golden portal with six old men in gray robes behind him—each with terrifying, unreadable auras.
“That’s… the Heaven Suppression Pavilion!”
“All six Grand Elders… following him?!”
“He really wasn’t joking about being the most dangerous one.”
Yu Wenzhao didn’t smile and just walked past the other factions like they were beneath him.
And then, last—but far from least—came the Ninth Princess, Yu Feiyan, riding atop a divine phoenix wreathed in heavenly fire.
She was clad in red silks that danced like flame, her eyes gleaming with untamed ambition.
“Heh? Even the Ninth Princess is here.”
“What’s a fragile princess like her doing here?”
“No matter how precious the opportunity is, the Ninth Princess isn’t suitable for a place like this.”
The Ninth Princess was the youngest among them—and by far the weakest.
In truth, it was a stretch to even call her a contender for the throne. The lack of supporters trailing behind her made that painfully clear.
The sole elder accompanying her was only at the Soul Formation Realm—strong, yes, but not nearly enough for someone of royal blood in a battlefield like this.
For any other princes or princess, such protection would be a joke.
The crowd was frozen, dead silent as the dust settled from the Royal Family’s arrivals.
You could cut the tension with a blade.
Bai Zihan narrowed his eyes, sweeping his gaze across the Royal Family.
Didn’t find anyone impressive enough to warrant his attention—though there were some he recognized.
After all, as the strongest Clan in the Desolate Heaven Empire, the Bai Clan was occasionally summoned by the Royal Family, and he had gone there too.
Anyway, the princes and princesses weren’t going to waste any time.
They immediately went to greet the most influential and powerful Clan Leaders and Sect Leaders.
After all, although their esteemed father had promised the throne to whoever obtained the inheritance, if none of them succeeded, they’d have to rely on connections with powerful clans and sects to win the throne through other means.
Many of those clans already supported certain princes or princesses, whether openly or behind closed doors.
But the Bai Clan had no such ties. They didn’t need to rely on the Imperial Family. They were strong enough on their own.
That was both an advantage and a disadvantage.
It meant they had a lower chance of offending the future Emperor—but if the prince or princess supported by the Li or Zhao Clans took the throne, then the Bai Clan would need to watch their back, not just from rival clans, but the Imperial Family too.
Regardless, those princes and princesses couldn’t afford to skip trying to win the Bai Clan’s support. One by one, they came to greet Bai Tianheng.
Fourth Princess Yu Qingya was the first to leave after a polite greeting.
She was followed by the Third Prince, the Seventh Prince, and the Fifth Princess, all offering polite gestures while subtly trying to bring Bai Tianheng into their faction.
Of course, Bai Tianheng expertly dodged all of that—refusing to take sides while still avoiding any offense.
“So, the Emperor sent those four?”
Chu Xing muttered.
Indeed, for people below the age of 30, Princess Yu Qingya, Prince Yu Longxuan and Prince Yu Wenzhao were the best children he had.
Not sure about Princess Yu Feiyan.
People’s attention was on those four but not for long.
BOOM!
A ripple tore through the sky, distorting the air like a mirage of hellfire.
The air grew heavy, thick with the scent of blood and sulfur.
A blood-red rift opened above the ruins, jagged like a wound in the heavens itself.
From within came a slow, grinding creak—like the groan of an ancient gate swinging open. Then came laughter. Cold. Unhinged. Amused.
“Looks like we’re late to the party!”
The voice was like venom sliding across bare skin—mocking, confident, and terrifyingly calm.
A massive obsidian ark emerged from the rift, covered in writhing demonic runes.
Its hull was forged from black bone and seething flame, and its shadow cast a dark red hue over the earth.
At its helm stood a figure clad in deep crimson robes embroidered with gold-threaded skulls.
His long black hair fluttered in the wind, eyes glowing with an unnatural gleam. A devilish grin split his face, revealing fangs.
It was Saint Son of the Crimson Demon Sect—Mo Tianji, the most infamous prodigy of their generation.