Michael's voice cut through the silence, steady and resolute.

"You've come far in two years. But everything until now… was just the beginning."

He let the words hang in the air for a heartbeat before continuing.

"Today marks a new chapter. I'm officially forming my own combat unit — a true elite team that answers to no one but me and the Hall's supreme authority."

His gaze swept across them — sharp, golden eyes locking with each of theirs.

"This team will not be a continuation of the Platinum Generation. That title, once shared between Renxue, Felicia, and myself, has served its purpose. What we build now will surpass it."

He motioned subtly to Renxue, who gave a small nod and stepped back beside him, followed by Felicia — Xue, the Lioness of Annihilation — her expression calm but her presence suffused with simmering flame and shadow.

"They were the first. My original core — Holy Daughter Renxue, and Felicia, who you've all come to know."

Michael continued, stepping forward, his cloak stirring behind him as the spiritual pressure in the courtyard subtly thickened.

"Then came the next layer: Xiao Tian, with his stormborn instincts. Zhu Zhuqing, who tempered herself in silence and flame. Qinghe, whose past is burdened but whose resolve is unshakable. And finally…"

He paused, eyes resting on Mei.

"…Mei, who awakened her potential at the edge of death and walked the path back with her own two hands. You've all proven yourselves. And as of today — the seven of you are no longer just rising talents."

"You are the core of my unit. The Divine Platinum Spear. My personal strike team."

The air tensed as those words settled into the hearts of his followers.

He didn't raise his voice. He didn't have to. The gravity in his tone left no room for doubt.

"You'll be the blade I draw when I want heads to roll. The shield I raise when the storm hits. You've been forged in the wilds, in secret realms, in blood and spirit rings. Now, you stand at the edge of the true stage."

He turned slightly, now addressing the others who stood just behind the main seven — newer additions to their group. Talented cultivators, yes, but not yet battle-tested on the same level.

"As for the rest of you… you are not forgotten. You will act as substitutes — auxiliary members of the team. That means you will continue training under Spirit Hall's resources. You will accompany us when necessary, support us in missions, and prove your worth."

His voice was firm, but not dismissive.

"Should you grow strong enough — if you surpass even one of these seven — then you will earn your place in the core."

The substitute members — a mix of Spirit Elders' disciples and wild prodigies Michael had picked up in the last year — bowed their heads, understanding their position.

Some burned with ambition. Others simply looked relieved to be included at all.

Then Michael turned once more to the seven.

"This team won't carry titles for show. Our enemies will be sects. Empires. Gods, perhaps."

"I don't need saints. I don't need heroes."

"I need killers with discipline. Shields with loyalty. I need warriors who will not bend."

He let the words cut deep.

Then finally, softer — just slightly — he added, "And I need all of you alive."

Behind him, Renxue gave a small smile. Felicia tilted her head, amused.

Then Michael nodded once. "Rest tonight. Tomorrow, we begin orientation into Spirit Hall's War Division."

He turned and began walking away. Renxue and Felicia followed.

The night air grew still again.

But the seven stood there in silence — the weight of their new names, new roles, and the battles ahead pressing into their hearts.

They were no longer simply students or talents.

They were soldiers of Spirit Hall.

And they bore the mark of Mo Luochen's Divine Platinum Spear.

After the meeting ended and everyone left the courtyard, Michael — Mo Luochen — walked away by himself.

He moved quietly through the halls of the estate, then stepped out into the moonlit streets of Spirit City. His footsteps were silent as he made his way toward the center of Spirit Hall.

He was going to see her.

Bibi Dong.

The guards outside her private residence didn't stop him. They simply bowed. They already knew he might come.

He stepped into the Holy Pavilion, a sacred, quiet room where only Bibi Dong lived.

And there she was.

She wasn't wearing her usual grand robes. Instead, she wore a soft, deep violet gown. Her long hair flowed down, and even after all this time, she still looked breathtaking — graceful, calm, and powerful.

She looked up the moment he entered.

For a few seconds, neither of them said anything.

Then, without hesitation, she walked over and hugged him tightly, as if she had been waiting for this moment for a long time.

"…You came," she whispered.

"I said I would," Michael replied, slowly wrapping his arms around her.

She pressed her face against his shoulder and quietly said, "…I missed you, Luochen."

He gently ran his hand across her back, saying nothing.

There were things he wanted to ask — things he wanted to confront her about. But not yet.

Not tonight.

She pulled back slightly and looked into his eyes. "You've changed," she said softly. "You've become colder. Is that what leading others does to someone?"

Michael didn't respond with words.

Instead, he touched her cheek and looked at her silently.

Her skin was warm.

She didn't move away.

He leaned in and kissed her.

Slowly. Gently.

She froze for a moment.

Then, suddenly, she broke the kiss and flicked him lightly on the forehead. "What are you doing? I'm your Master," she said, her voice trembling — caught between scolding and something far more uncertain.

Michael didn't let go. His arm stayed around her waist, steady and firm.

"But I like my Master," he said calmly, his eyes locked on hers.

Before she could respond, he leaned in again — and this time, his kiss was more confident. She started to step back, to pull away… but he caught her lips again. Not forcefully, but with a quiet certainty that made her breath hitch.

Her hands rested against his chest, not pushing… just trembling.

Her heartbeat betrayed her even more than her silence.

His lips were warm. Sure. And in that moment, something inside her faltered.

By the time they parted again, her cheeks were flushed and her gaze unsteady. She turned slightly, her fingers brushing her lips — as if trying to steady herself.

"…Come with me," she murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "To my room."

*******

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