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

Chapter 738: Chapter 738- The Home of Lost Astral Spirit

"Even elder brother cannot stand in front of my family," the younger man said. His voice was flat. The statement, the declaration, was not a boast. It was a fact. The younger man’s family, his lineage, was powerful enough that even the elder brother, the Divine Integration cultivator, could not challenge them. "Do you think it matters? The emperor? The Human Ancestral Sect? In front of my family, they are nothing."

The woman, the prodigy, trembled. Her cold face, her beautiful features, contorted with frustration. She sighed. Her internal thoughts, the voice inside her head, were a scream of suppressed rage.

’Damn it. Why is it so infuriating to be here? This arrogant bastard, this spoiled brat, this... this insect, who thinks his family’s power gives him the right to disrespect the emperor, to disrespect the elder brother, to disrespect me. And I can’t say anything. Because his family, his power, his backing, is real. If I offend him, if I challenge him, the consequences would fall on my sect, my master, my lineage. I have to swallow this. I have to endure. For the Reincarnation Pool. For the memories. For the future.’

’Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.’

The conversation, the tension, the political undercurrent, was interrupted.

The air changed.

Every cultivator in the throne room, the emperor, the elder, the woman, the younger man, felt it. The shift. The atmospheric pressure, the spiritual energy, the natural qi of the Purple Astral Province, shifted. Not gradually. Suddenly. As though something massive, something overwhelming, something that displaced the very fabric of the world, had arrived.

They moved. The emperor, the elder, the woman, the younger man, all four, moved. Through the doors, through the corridors, out of the palace, into the air. Their bodies, their cultivation bases, their spiritual senses, extended upward.

The sky was trembling.

The air, the atmosphere, the barrier between the mortal world and the Upper World, was shaking. The ripples, the waves, the distortions, were visible. The sky, the blue, clear, peaceful sky of the Purple Astral Province, was being torn.

The ships appeared.

One. Two. Three. Four. The vessels, enormous, the hulls dark, the sails black, the formation arrays glowing with golden qi, descended through the rifts. The rifts, four of them, the spatial tears in the fabric of the world, were the passages. The ships, the imperial fleet of the Long Dynasty, were arriving.

The sheer strength, the spiritual pressure, the combined power of four Upper World ships and their occupants, pressed against the mortal world. The air, the ground, the buildings, the people, everything, trembled. The citizens of the Purple Astral Province, the mortals, the cultivators, the soldiers, the officials, felt it. The fear, the overwhelming, primal, instinctive fear of beings in the presence of something greater, spread.

"What is the meaning of this?" the younger man said. His arrogant face, for the first time, showed fear. His dark eyes, wide, were on the ships. His cultivation, his Divine Integration mid stage power, his family’s backing, his confidence, all of it, was irrelevant. The ships, the fleet, the power radiating from above, was beyond anything he had ever encountered.

An imperial elder appeared. The man, an old cultivator who had been hidden in the air, his presence concealed, his cultivation at peak Divine Integration, materialized beside the emperor. His face, aged, weathered, was alarmed.

"Your Majesty," the elder said. His voice was urgent. "Lean now. This is the fleet of the Imperial Long Dynasty."

The words, the name, the identification, hit the throne room group like a hammer. The emperor, the elder, the woman, the younger man, all four, flinched.

"Long Dynasty?" the emperor said. His warm voice, his genial tone, was gone. Replaced by the sharp, clipped tone of a man who had just heard something terrifying. "The higher column of the mortal world? What are they doing here?"

"Long Dynasty!" the elder said. His scholarly face was white. "The imperial family! The rulers of the Upper World! Here? In the Purple Astral Province?"

The younger man, the arrogant one, was pale. His dark eyes, wide, his handsome face, the arrogance, the confidence, all of it, was gone. His lips, the mouth that had spoken so dismissively of the emperor, of the Human Ancestral Sect, trembled.

’My family. My family’s power. In front of the Long Dynasty... we are nothing. We are less than nothing. We are insects. The Long Dynasty, the imperial family, the rulers of the Upper World. If they wanted to, they could erase my family with a word. With a gesture. With a thought.’

’I have been a fool. I have been arrogant. I have been...’

He bowed. His body, the arrogant frame, bent. His forehead touched the air. The prostration, the submission, was instinctive.

Everyone bowed. The emperor, the elder, the woman, the younger man. Their bodies, their cultivation bases, their pride, their positions, all of it, was surrendered. The fleet, the Long Dynasty, the imperial family, was above them. Above everything.

The ships descended. The hulls, touching the ground, the purple crystal of the palace grounds, cracked the stone. The ramps extended. The guards, their masked faces, their dark armor, their Divine Integration cultivation, descended. Hundreds of them. The army, the Soul Formation and Nascent Soul cultivators, followed. Thousands.

And then, from the main ship, a figure descended.

His robes, dark silk and crimson rope, moved in the wind. His dark hair, loose, fell across his shoulders. His golden skin, visible at his chest, gleamed. His gold-crimson eyes, sweeping the scene, were calm. The eyes of an emperor.

Tianlong.

His power, his cultivation, his divine qi, was unfathomable. The beings present, the emperor at peak Divine Integration, the elder at Divine Integration early stage, the younger man at Divine Integration mid stage, the woman at Soul Formation, all of them, could not sense his cultivation. It was beyond their perception. Beyond their comprehension. The power, the divine qi, the imperial blood, was so dense, so concentrated, so absolute, that it appeared as nothing. As emptiness. As the void that contained everything.

The three women, behind him, descended. Jin Yuhan, her slender body, her formal robes, her dark eyes. Liu Mei, her voluptuous body, her purple robes, her amethyst eyes. Madam Fengyan, her thick body, her dark red and gold robes, her beautiful face. Three Soul Formation cultivators, late stage, their spiritual cores pure and condensed, their power peaking.

The guards, the Divine Integration cultivators, flanked them. The army, the Soul Formation and Nascent Soul, stood behind.

The Purple Astral Province, the palace, the throne room, the emperor, the sect disciples, all of it, was below. Below the emperor. Below the Long Dynasty. Below Tianlong.

He looked down. His gold-crimson eyes, the angle, the perspective, was the angle of an emperor looking down at subjects. The gaze, the assessment, was the gaze of a man who owned the world he stood on.

"The Purple Province," he said. His voice was calm. Conversational. The tone of a man naming a location.

A voice, from beside him, responded. Liu Mei, her amethyst eyes, her purple hair, her voluptuous body, spoke.

"Indeed," she said. Her husky voice was soft. "This is my home."