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

Chapter 710: Chapter 710- Catching the Running Rat

"Move," Wang Deyu said. The word was flat. Dismissive. The Jade River Sect leader didn’t even look at the mayor. His small eyes were on the ship’s ramp.

"Move aside," Han Tianxiao said. His rough voice carried the edge of a man who had no patience for civic officials. "This doesn’t concern you."

Madam Fengyan said nothing. Her dark eyes, cold, swept the delegation beyond the barrier. They passed over the mayor, the elders, the academy heads. They found nothing of interest. She stepped aside, positioning herself to the right of the ramp, her thick body, the formal robes pulling across her curves, standing with the other sect leaders.

The mayor’s mouth opened. Closed. His round face was the color of old paper. He stepped back further. The town elders, their cultivation bases insignificant compared to the forces before them, retreated behind him. The academy heads followed.

All except Madam Yueying.

She stood. Her thick body was rigid. Her dark eyes, wide, were fixed on the ramp. On the space that the sect leaders had cleared. On the entrance to the ship.

The sect leaders, four peak Golden Core cultivators, beings of immense power in the lower realm, stood aside. Like attendants. Like guards. Like subordinates waiting for their master.

The ship’s doors opened.

The interior was dark. The contrast with the morning sunlight was stark. From the darkness, a figure emerged. One step. Two. The boots, dark leather, touched the ramp. The sound was soft. Almost silent. But in the hushed silence of the plateau, with ten thousand cultivators watching, the sound of those boots on the ramp was the loudest thing any of them had ever heard.

Tianlong descended.

His dark hair was loose, falling across his shoulders. The morning light caught the strands, the black hair gleaming with a faint golden sheen. His formal immortal’s attire, dark silk and crimson rope, was immaculate. The jade band secured his hair. His golden skin, visible at his chest and arms where the robe opened, gleamed. His gold-crimson eyes, those striking, impossible eyes that mixed gold and red in irises that seemed to hold fire, swept the plateau.

His hands were behind his back. The posture of a lord. A young master. A being who owned the ground he walked on and the sky he flew through.

Behind him, three women descended.

The first was Jin Yuhan. The princess. Her slender body, in formal white and jade-green robes, moved with a grace that belied her exhaustion. Her obsidian hair was pinned with jade. Her porcelain face was composed. Her dark eyes were forward. But her walk, her gait, was different. There was a slight shift in her hips, a subtle adjustment in her stride, that spoke of a body that had been recently and thoroughly used. Her thighs, beneath the silk, moved with a cautious closeness.

The second was Liu Mei. The former astral spirit. Her voluptuous body, the enormous tits barely contained by the purple formal robe she wore, moved with the confidence of a woman who had spent three thousand years learning how to walk. Her amethyst hair, long and thick, fell down her back. Her amethyst eyes, sharp, scanned the crowd. Her thick hips, wide and curved, swayed with each step, the silk pulling taut across her ass.

The third was Madam Fengyan. No. She was already with the sect leaders. The third was...

Madam Yueying’s dark eyes, scanning the three women, realized. The third woman was not Madam Fengyan. It was someone else. A woman she didn’t recognize. No, wait. She did. The Phoenix Tribe sect leader. The woman who had been standing with the other sect leaders. She had moved. She had joined the three women descending the ramp.

Four women. Three descending behind Tianlong, one joining from the sect leaders. All of them, their cultivation bases radiating, their spiritual pressure unmistakable.

Soul Formation.

Four Soul Formation cultivators. In the lower realm. Where Soul Formation was myth. Where the strongest known cultivators were peak Golden Core. Four Soul Formation cultivators, walking behind a man whose divine qi pressed against everything.

Madam Yueying’s legs nearly gave out.

’Four Soul Formation. Four. The strongest cultivator in recorded history of the lower realm was a single Nascent Soul, three thousand years ago. And there are four Soul Formation cultivators walking behind him. Like concubines. Like wives. Like...’

’Oh heaven. Oh heaven oh heaven oh heaven.’

’What is he?’

Tianlong reached the base of the ramp. His boots touched the plateau stone. His gold-crimson eyes, sweeping the area, found the barrier. Found the delegation beyond it. Found the mayor, the elders, the academy heads.

His eyes moved through the crowd. Past the mayor. Past the elders. Past the academy heads. To the back of the delegation.

To the woman standing there. The thick woman, in dark blue robes, her hair up, her beautiful face white with fear.

His eyes met hers.

Madam Yueying’s heart stopped. Literally. For a single heartbeat, her peak Golden Core qi stuttered, her dantian froze, her heart ceased its rhythm. The gold-crimson eyes, even at this distance, even through the crowd, even past the barrier, found her. Locked onto her. Held her.

’He sees me. He sees me. He knows. He knows I’m here. He knows who I am. He knows about...’

He looked away. His gold-crimson eyes returned to the front. He walked. Past the sect leaders, past the elders, past the soldiers. He walked toward the center of the plateau.

The soldiers parted before him. The sect leaders followed. The four Soul Formation women followed. The procession moved across the plateau, ten thousand eyes watching, ten thousand cultivators bowing as he passed.

He reached the center.

The burn mark was there.

It was purple. A scar on the stone, roughly circular, ten feet in diameter. The stone within the circle was not merely discolored. It was changed. The molecular structure, the spiritual composition, the fundamental nature of the rock had been altered. The purple was not a stain. It was the stone itself, transformed by an energy that did not belong to the lower realm.

Tianlong stood at the edge of the burn mark. His gold-crimson eyes looked down. At the purple scar. At the stone. At the residual energy, faint but present, that still lingered in the mark.

He crouched. His hand, large and pale, extended. His fingers touched the stone. The divine qi in his body resonated with the residual energy in the mark. The two energies, both from the upper realm, both carrying the signature of power that transcended the lower world, communed.

Liu Mei, standing behind him, spoke. Her husky voice was soft. Meant for his ears.

"This is the exact place," she said. "Where we felt the energy. The night the signal was sent. The night the presence manifested."

Tianlong’s gold-crimson eyes, still on the burn mark, narrowed. His fingers traced the edge of the purple scar. The energy, the residual, was familiar. Not demonic. Not divine. Something between. Something that carried the signature of a heavenly force channeled through a mortal vessel.

’A boy. A mortal boy. Chosen by something from the upper realm. Something that gave him the power to transform. To manifest a void entity. To heal mortal wounds. To kill Core Formation cultivators with a thought.’