Phoenix and Dragon Dojo

Over the past month, the atmosphere within the imperial city had undergone a complete and terrifying transformation.

No one knew exactly when it began. There was no warning, no gradual descent into madness. One morning, without omen or announcement, a vast demonic aura erupted from the very heart of the city—violent, ancient, and suffocating. Its source was unmistakable.

The Phoenix and Dragon Dojo.

The moment that aura surged skyward, it was as if a hidden seal had been shattered. Demons that had lurked in the shadows for years, disguising themselves as merchants, servants, guards, even beggars, tore away their human skins in unison. Their shrill laughter echoed across heaven and earth, carrying a frenzy that chilled the soul.

"Kekeke… Lord Rufus's plan has finally succeeded. The Original Demon has been reborn!"

"The Scarlet Evening Sin rises once more! Feed the demonic energy of this city—hurry! The awakening must not be delayed!"

"Our Three-Eyed Clan will reclaim this continent from these filthy humans at last!"

Their voices overlapped, screeching and distorted, reverberating through the imperial capital like a death knell.

Chaos followed immediately.

Demonic figures surged through the streets, slaughtering without restraint. Homes were set ablaze, markets overturned, and the air filled with the stench of blood and burning flesh. Ordinary citizens fled in blind terror, their screams short-lived as claws and fangs descended upon them. Cultivators who resisted were overwhelmed by sheer numbers, torn apart before they could even form seals.

Many noble families had sensed danger long before this day arrived. They had already fled overseas with their treasures and heirs, leaving the city hollowed out—abandoned to its fate.

Within minutes, the imperial city, once a symbol of order and prosperity, was reduced to a corpse-strewn ruin.

And yet, amid all this destruction, one place remained untouched.

The Phoenix and Dragon Dojo stood intact at the city's center, its walls unmarred, its gates unbroken, as if reality itself refused to let harm approach it. That eerie contrast only fueled the rumors spreading among the demons—that the Original Demon was reviving within its grounds, and that this place had become the cradle of their long-awaited rebirth.

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Inside the Phoenix and Dragon Dojo

Li Mei hovered high above the courtyard, her figure radiant against the darkened sky. Silken robes fluttered around her slender form, infused with golden light that pushed back the encroaching demonic aura. From afar, she looked like a descending goddess, serene yet unyielding, her presence alone stabilizing the space around her.

Her eyes were calm, but beneath that calm lay a blade-sharp focus.

Below her, the dojo's formations hummed softly, ancient runes glowing as they resisted the pressure of the awakening demon. Each pulse of demonic energy sent ripples through the air, testing the limits of the barriers, but none dared cross the threshold.

Li Mei raised her hand slightly, divine flames coiling around her fingers as she gazed toward the heart of the dojo.

Whatever was awakening there…

She would not allow it to step outside.

Beneath Li Mei's feet spread the vast form of the Litus Tree, its divine trunk towering silently as countless golden roots burrowed deep into the earth. Those roots coiled tightly around the corrupted Bodhi Tree like chains forged from light, wrapping layer after layer until almost none of its original form could be seen. Each pulse of demonic corruption that surged outward was met by a responding thrum from the Litus Tree, its roots glowing brighter as they absorbed, suppressed, and sealed the spreading rot.

Even so, the struggle was far from effortless.

Over the past month, the demonic aura festering beneath the dojo had thickened to a horrifying degree. It no longer lingered like mist but pressed outward like a tangible substance, heavy enough to gnaw at stone and corrode formation lines. Every breath carried a bitter, metallic stench, and the air itself felt hostile, as though the world were rejecting their presence.

Below Li Mei, Lin Huang stood at the center of the courtyard, his posture rigid, sweat tracing slow paths down his temples. Sword intent roared around him in disciplined currents, condensing into radiant chains of qi that crisscrossed the space like a living net. With every measured breath, more refined sword qi poured from his dantian, reinforcing the lattice and pushing back the invasive darkness that clawed relentlessly at its edges. His face was pale, but his eyes burned with stubborn resolve. He did not retreat, not even a step.

They had been holding this line together for days without rest.

Then it happened.

A sharp, brittle crack rang through the courtyard as one of Lin Huang's qi chains shattered without warning. The rupture sent a violent backlash through the formation. Before anyone could shout a warning, a spike of corrosive black energy condensed from the breach and shot forward like a barbed arrow, tearing through the air straight toward Lin Huang's chest.

Zhao Yufei moved before thought could form.

She had been several meters away, maintaining a secondary formation, but the instant the chain broke, her gaze snapped to the threat. Her clear eyes hardened, and her hands blurred into motion as seals formed at a speed that defied reason. Her aura twisted sharply, no longer passive or gentle, but precise and absolute.

A dome of shimmering azure light bloomed into existence between Lin Huang and the attack, its surface rippling like calm water disturbed by a falling stone.

The demonic arrow slammed into the barrier with a deafening hiss.

Darkness splashed outward, crackling and screeching as if alive, before dispersing into harmless motes that evaporated into the air. The shield trembled once, then stabilized, its glow steady and unwavering.

For a brief moment, the courtyard fell silent.

Several disciples nearby sucked in sharp breaths, the realization of how close they had come settling heavily in their chests. Lin Huang exhaled slowly, not turning his head, his sword qi surging once more to patch the gap left behind.

Even amid the chaos, the eyes of those present flickered with uncontrollable awe.

Zhao Yufei's growth over the past few weeks bordered on the incomprehensible. Not only had her cultivation surged to the Peak Qi Refining Stage, she had gone a step further and established her Foundation outright, without pills, treasures, or external assistance. And it was no ordinary breakthrough.

Her Foundation was transcendent-grade.

Within her spiritual sea, a nascent domain nearly three hundred meters wide had taken shape, its structure stable, pure, and frighteningly complete. Such a foundation was the kind that appeared only once in generations—something that sects would go to war over, something emperors would personally descend to recruit.

Under normal circumstances, news of such a prodigy would have shaken the entire cultivation world.

But there was nothing normal about this time.

The city was collapsing, demonic corruption was spreading like a plague, and the very ground beneath their feet was rotting from within. Against that backdrop, even Zhao Yufei's brilliance was forced into silence, buried beneath the suffocating shadow of an approaching calamity.

If the suppression fails…

If the master doesn't return…

Then everything ends here.

That grim thought echoed in Young Master Yun's heart as he watched the unfolding scene from the side. His fists clenched unconsciously, nails biting into his palms. He had seen enough to understand the truth—if the thing beneath the dojo fully awakened, no one here would survive. Titles, bloodlines, futures… all of it would become meaningless.

His gaze drifted unwillingly toward Rong Lua.

The blood-stained figure was still floating in midair, sword aura surging like a raging tide. During this past month, Rong Lua had thrown himself into the most dangerous zones again and again, intercepting demonic surges head-on without a trace of hesitation. His injuries had piled up, yet his sword intent only grew sharper, more refined, as if every brush with death honed him further.

One of the true prodigies of the Thousand Sword Sect…

His reputation was well-deserved.

Yun swallowed, a bitter taste rising in his throat. In front of such people, his own pride felt unbearably thin.

Then his eyes shifted again, landing briefly on the figures of Fang Biyu and Fang Zhirou.

The two sisters stood together near the edge of the formation, their faces pale as they did their utmost to maintain stability where they could. Their hands trembled, their spiritual power weak compared to the others present, yet neither dared retreat. They knew all too well that running now would mean abandoning everyone behind.

The scene was painfully ironic.

Here were individuals destined to shake entire regions in the future—geniuses, elites, people who could one day command armies and rewrite destinies.

And yet, before the absolute existence stirring beneath the Phoenix and Dragon Dojo, they were helpless.

No matter how bright their potential, no matter how terrifying their future might be, at this moment they could only struggle—desperately, stubbornly—against an overwhelming fate that threatened to crush them all.

On the other hand Li Mei face had turned pale as paper, gone was confidence of a regressed Eternal Emperor, it was replaced by somthing far more chilling.

After fighting for one month, she realized who her opponent was... Original Demon? How can it be?

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