Dual Cultivation: Gathering SSS-Rank Wives in the Cultivation World

Chapter 706: Chapter 706 - A Fragmented Memory of Descended Immortal

"Lau is my best," Xu Ran said. The lie was bold. Blatant. But his eyes, hard and cold, dared anyone to challenge it.

The friction lasted three days. Arguments. Glares. Refusals to train together. Han Bo, pride wounded, refused to acknowledge Lau’s existence. Zhou Wei and the others trained with reluctance, their movements stiff, their cooperation forced.

But Lau, in those three days, showed nothing. He trained. He followed. He kept his mouth shut and his brown eyes steady. He didn’t demonstrate power. Didn’t transform. Didn’t glow with demonic energy. He was just a boy. Plain. Quiet. Unremarkable.

And then, on the third day, Han Bo challenged him to a spar.

Lau won. In one move. His hand, thin and unremarkable, caught Han Bo’s fist. His foot, planted, didn’t move. His body, thin, didn’t strain. He held Han Bo’s fist, the fist of a Core Formation cultivator at peak strength, and stopped it. The way one might stop a child’s swing.

He didn’t hurt Han Bo. He just held his fist. And looked at him. With brown eyes that were calm. Patient. The eyes of someone who could have done much, much more.

Han Bo, his scarred face pale, his fist trembling in Lau’s grip, bowed.

"Elder brother," he said.

The friction ended.

The gang, now six strong, trained together. The tournament, the Seven Academy Competition, was approaching. The Crimson Peak Academy, the host this year, would field its best. Xu Ran’s gang, with Lau at the center, prepared. The students talked. The teachers watched. The headmistress, from her office, observed through formation arrays.

And then the sky changed.

It started as a sound. A low hum, barely audible, felt more than heard. The spiritual energy in the atmosphere shifted, the natural qi of the region denser, heavier, charged with something foreign. The air pressure changed. Students felt their ears pop. Cultivators at Core Formation felt their dantians resonate, the golden cores vibrating in response to the external energy.

Then the shadows fell.

The sky above the Crimson Peak Academy, the sky above the town of Qinghe, the sky above the entire region, darkened. Not with clouds. With ships.

They came from the east. Flying vessels, enormous, the hulls carved from spirit-wood and reinforced with formation arrays. The sails, dark, bore insignia. Four different insignia. Four different colors.

The Azure Cloud Sect. Jade-green and white, the cloud-and-dragon sigil on the main sail.

The Iron Mountain Sect. Iron-gray, the mountain-and-hammer sigil on the main sail.

The Jade River Sect. Deep blue, the river-and-lotus sigil on the main sail.

The Blazing Sword Sect. Crimson, the flame-and-blade sigil on the main sail.

And among them, a fourth banner. Dark red and gold. The Phoenix Tribe Sect.

Hundreds of ships. Thousands of cultivators. The combined fleet of four, no, five great sects, moving in formation across the sky, the spiritual pressure of ten thousand cultivators pressing down on the earth below.

The courtyard of the Crimson Peak Academy went silent. Every student, every teacher, every staff member, looked up. Their faces, lit by the shadows of the passing ships, were masks of shock.

"What is this?" a teacher whispered. His voice was barely audible. "This is... this is the four great sects. All of them. Moving together. That’s..."

"War," another teacher said. Her voice trembled. "This is a war catastrophe. The four great sects, moving in formation, with an army... they’re going to war."

The headmistress, Madam Yueying, stood on the roof of the main hall. Her thick body, the formal robes pulling across her curves, was still. Her dark eyes, trained upward, tracked the fleet. Her peak Golden Core energy, cycling steadily, sensed the combined pressure of the fleet. Ten thousand cultivators. Four peak Golden Core sect leaders. And something else. Something that made her peak Golden Core qi recoil.

Something at the center of the fleet. Something that radiated divine qi. Something that was not of the lower realm.

"Is this the war catastrophe breaking?" she whispered. Her rich voice was thin. "Or is this..."

The fleet moved. The ships, hundreds of them, passed over the town of Qinghe. The citizens, the mortals, the shopkeepers and farmers and craftsmen, looked up. They saw the shadows. They saw the sails. They saw the insignia of the four great sects.

The town erupted. The mayor, a portly mortal with no cultivation, ran from his office. The town guards scrambled. The merchants abandoned their stalls. The streets filled with people, their faces turned upward, their mouths open.

The fleet was heading west. Toward the Jade Mountain, the mountain that rose from the plains like a spear, its peak lost in cloud, its slopes dotted with spirit-herb gardens and meditation caves. The Jade Mountain, where the Azure Cloud Sect had its headquarters. The Jade Mountain, where, rumor said, an immortal had descended.

"An immortal has descended," a student said. His voice carried in the silent courtyard. "I heard. In Qinghe. At the Azure Cloud Sect. An immortal from the upper realm. He has united the four great sects. All four. Under one banner."

"That’s impossible," another student said. "The four great sects have been rivals for centuries. They would never..."

"They have," the first student insisted. "My cousin is a disciple at the Iron Mountain Sect. He sent a message. The four sect leaders, all of them, have submitted. To an immortal. They call him... Tian Long."

The name spread. Through the courtyard. Through the halls. Through the town. Tian Long. The immortal. The being who had united the four great sects. Who commanded ten thousand cultivators. Who flew in a ship at the center of the fleet.

The headmistress, on the rooftop, heard the name. Her dark eyes, tracking the fleet, narrowed.

’Tian Long. An immortal from the upper realm. Divine qi. The kind of being that exists in legends, in ancient texts, in the forbidden histories that the orthodox sects kept locked in their deepest vaults.’

’And he’s here. In our region. With an army.’

’What does he want?’

She turned. Her thick body, the robes shifting, the fabric pulling across her ass as she moved, descended from the rooftop. She landed in the courtyard. Her peak Golden Core energy, radiating outward, stabilized the students. The fear, the panic, the chaos, eased.

"All students, return to your dormitories," she said. Her rich voice carried the weight of command. "Teachers, secure the formation arrays. Professors, to the main hall. We will discuss this."

She paused. Her dark eyes found the sky. The fleet, still passing, its shadows falling across the academy.

"And I," she said, her voice dropping, "will go to the Jade Mountain. To greet the immortal."

She rose. Her peak Golden Core energy blazed. Her body, thick and curvaceous, the formal robes straining against her figure, lifted from the courtyard. She flew. West. Toward the Jade Mountain. Toward the fleet. Toward the immortal named Tian Long.

Behind her, the seven academy mistresses, the leaders of the seven academies in the region, followed. Their bodies, various shapes and sizes, their cultivation bases ranging from Core Formation to peak Golden Core, flew in formation. A procession of the region’s educational leadership, flying to greet a being they did not understand.

The students watched. The teachers watched. The town watched.

In the training courtyard, Lau stood. His brown eyes, unremarkable, tracked the fleet. His plain face, composed, showed nothing.

But his hands, in his pockets, were clenched.

’Tian Long. That name. Why does that name...’