CHAPTER 157: CH-157: RIDERS APPROACHING

The Feilun Sect had always prided itself on its tranquility. Its mountains pierced the sky like jagged blades, wrapped in veils of mist and the fragrance of pine. To many disciples, this land was sacred—untouched by worldly chaos, preserved by generations of cultivation and discipline.

But tonight, that illusion was broken.

The mountain’s peak still smoked, its once-pristine courtyard shattered into blackened stone. The Sect’s protective wards lay cracked and tattered, glowing faintly as they struggled to reknit themselves. Disciples moved with hushed voices, sweeping rubble, repairing damage, whispering about what they had witnessed.

The tribulation was over.

But the echo of it lingered like thunder in their hearts.

At the center of it all, Tian Shen stood at the edge of the crater, overlooking the sect grounds. His body still bore the wounds of heaven’s judgment—charred skin, torn flesh, lines of dried blood carved across his arms and face. Yet the air around him shimmered faintly, bent beneath the weight of his new aura.

The Utopian Core.

Its presence was unmistakable. Every pulse from his dantian rolled outward like waves, harmonizing with the world yet dominating it at the same time. His breath carried a force that made weaker disciples stumble when they stood too close. Even the elders who had weathered storms of their own breakthroughs felt their hearts constrict in his presence.

Tian Shen’s spear rested loosely at his side, its shaft still crackling faintly with residual lightning. His gaze, however, was not turned inward upon his newfound strength. Instead, he swept it over the Feilun Sect—the bowed disciples, the elders repairing wards, Feng Yin and Little Mei watching him with open relief.

This sect, battered though it was, still stood. And for that, he felt a weight settle deeper on his shoulders.

Sect Master Liang emerged from the inner sanctum at last, his steps steady despite his age. His white beard swayed with the night breeze, and though his robes were singed from helping maintain barriers, his presence was as immovable as stone.

The disciples parted immediately. Silence blanketed the courtyard as all eyes shifted toward the man who led the Feilun Sect.

Liang’s gaze fell upon Tian Shen. For a long moment, he said nothing—simply studying him as though measuring both man and core. Then, slowly, he descended the steps until he stood level with the younger cultivator.

"You have stepped into the Utopian Core Realm," the Sect Master said at last, his voice calm yet heavy. "And in doing so, you have shaken the heavens themselves. The Sect bears the scars of your trial... but it also bears witness to your ascension."

Tian Shen inclined his head, not bowing but not meeting the Sect Master’s eyes directly either. "I thank the Sect for enduring what should have been mine alone."

Liang’s mouth curved faintly—not quite a smile, not quite reproach. "The tribulation is not something one faces alone, no matter how solitary the chamber. When you stood against heaven, the Feilun Sect stood with you, whether by choice or inevitability. Do not mistake this bond."

The disciples murmured softly at his words, some with awe, others with pride. For them, Tian Shen’s ascension was no longer only his triumph—it was theirs as well.

That night, the Sect held no feasts, no celebration. Too much had been damaged, and too many hearts still trembled with the shadow of heavenly wrath. Instead, lanterns burned through the night as work continued—repairs, meditation, watch patrols doubled at the mountain passes.

For although the storm above had passed, another storm was coming.

Tian Shen felt it in his marrow.

...

At dawn, he stood alone on the eastern cliff, gazing over the valley. Mist curled between the trees, golden sunlight bleeding slowly across the horizon. His newly forged core resonated in rhythm with the world, yet there was a dissonance too—a faint hum, a whisper that did not belong.

He was not alone.

"You don’t look like someone who just defied heaven," a familiar voice called lightly from behind.

Feng Yin stepped onto the cliff, arms folded, her hair tied in a neat braid though strands had escaped during the chaos of the night. Her eyes lingered on him, sharp yet laced with something gentler.

Tian Shen allowed himself a breath. "And you don’t look like someone who spent the night keeping disciples from panicking."

"I didn’t." She smirked faintly. "Elder Su did most of the scolding. I just made sure Little Mei didn’t faint."

Silence stretched between them, filled only by the rustle of pine needles and distant calls of morning birds. Finally, Feng Yin’s expression softened.

"You nearly died."

"I did." Tian Shen’s tone carried no denial, no bravado. "But if I had hesitated, I would still be bound to the limits of Core Reinforcement. That would have been slower death."

Her hands tightened on her sleeves, but she said nothing.

Instead, she stepped closer until she stood beside him, shoulder almost brushing his. Together, they watched the rising sun.

But peace never lingers long.

By noon, word had already begun to spread beyond the Feilun Sect. Messengers carried whispers down from the mountains, and by the time they reached nearby valleys, those whispers had grown into proclamations.

A cultivator had survived heavenly tribulation.

A Utopian Core had been forged in the Feilun Sect.

And Tian Shen’s name was now etched into it.

...

Far to the south, in the city of Luohu, a man clad in crimson armor sat in a shadowed hall, listening to the report. His eyes gleamed like embers.

"Tian Shen," he murmured. "So the boy has leapt beyond heaven’s leash."

Around him, his subordinates shifted uneasily. None dared to speak, but all understood what such words meant. Power draws power—and conflict.

To the north, in the Blacksteel Mountains, a demon lord stirred from slumber, its scales gleaming faintly in cavern light. The tribulation’s echo had reached even its ears, and with it, the promise of a rival to its dominion.

And in distant hidden valleys where rogue sects thrived, Tian Shen’s name was muttered with envy, dread, and hunger.

...

Back in the Feilun Sect, the elders convened that evening within the great hall. Incense coiled upward into the rafters as Sect Master Liang presided.

"Tian Shen’s breakthrough has strengthened our Sect," Elder Su said firmly, her eyes flicking across the gathered council. "But it has also painted a target on our backs. Already, forces beyond our borders will have taken notice."

"Agreed," said Elder Hua, his voice low. "The Feilun Sect has remained neutral in many conflicts, but neutrality becomes weakness when you shelter one who has defied heaven itself."

Whispers rippled among the elders. Some nodded in agreement, others frowned in unease.

Sect Master Liang raised his hand, silencing the room. His eyes turned to Tian Shen, who stood at the base of the hall steps.

"You have taken a step that many dream of and few survive. But understand this: the Sect’s shield will not be enough to hide you. The path you’ve chosen will drag storms to our gates."

Tian Shen met his gaze squarely. "Then I will stand at those gates."

For a heartbeat, silence pressed down heavy. Then Elder Su chuckled softly. "Bold as always. Perhaps heaven itself should learn to fear such words."

That night, Tian Shen sat once more in meditation. The Utopian Core pulsed steady within him, stronger than the night before. Yet each thrum carried a whisper—not from heaven, but from the world itself.

Danger.

The tribulation had not ended with lightning. It had merely begun with it.

...

The next dawn, as the first bells of the Sect rang, scouts returned breathless from the valley.

"Sect Master! Elders! Riders have been sighted approaching from the southern pass—cloaked in crimson banners!"

The Feilun Sect stirred with alarm. Disciples rushed to defensive posts, elders exchanged sharp glances, and the great drums thundered across the mountainside.

Tian Shen opened his eyes within his chamber. His hand closed around the shaft of his spear.

So it begins, he thought.

The heavens had tried to erase him.

Now, men would try.

And he was ready to meet them.

...

The ground shook faintly as the drums rolled, echoing like war itself. From the southern pass, the first glimmers of crimson appeared—banners snapping in the wind, each embroidered with the sigil of a coiling serpent devouring the sun. Their riders were armored in lacquered steel, their formation too disciplined for mere raiders.

Sect Master Liang’s voice rang across the courtyard: "All disciples, prepare the wards! Elders, to the walls!"

Tian Shen stepped forward, spear in hand, his aura flaring like a second dawn. The pressure rolled outward, steadying wavering disciples, silencing their fear.

On the horizon, a horn bellowed. The riders slowed, not charging—yet. Instead, their leader raised a black spear tipped with fire, planting it into the earth as the banners halted behind him.

A challenge, not yet an assault.

Tian Shen narrowed his gaze. So they test me first.

He stepped toward the southern gate.