Under the light of three moons, the grey desert shimmers like a sea of dust.

From a distance, a pride of Stone Lions charges across the dunes, their roars echoing through the night, each step shaking the sand.

Around the small post surrounded by tents, soldiers scramble into formation.

Jingxuan stands at the front, his men arrayed behind him, guarding both their own and the other teams’ civilians.

He feels the weight of dozens of eyes—curious, measuring, waiting. Some belong to his allies; others, to those who wish the Ji family gone.

They want to see how strong the fallen son of the Ji family truly is.

He knows what they expect. He should hide his strength, play the weakling, bait the wolves into lowering their guard.

That’s the usual game among military families—camouflage the tiger as a pig until it’s too late.

But Jingxuan has no interest in playing weak. He needs resources, not pretence. Strength shown is strength rewarded.

He steps forward, sand crunching beneath his boots.

Weird energy surges through him, the Sandman core in his spirit space humming like a living thing. His skin takes on a grainy texture, veins of shimmering dust spreading across his arms.

The sand before him rises, twisting into a grey tide.

With a thought, he sends it crashing forward like a desert storm—an ocean wave of sand roaring to meet the charging Stone Lions.

The wave surges over them, swallowing half the pride in a thunder of grit and dust. For a moment, silence follows.

Then six Stone Lions burst free, their roars tearing through the night. Their bodies gleam under the moons, carved from living rock.

The largest, a male with cracks glowing faintly gold, radiates the power of a Five-Ring low-level common Weird.

The five lionesses behind him each exude the aura of the Fourth Ring.

Their gazes fix on Jingxuan, primal and murderous.

He narrows his eyes, sand still swirling around his feet. “I’ll handle them.”

Before anyone can stop him, Jingxuan charges forward, sand trailing his steps like a storm following its master.

The lead Stone Lion roars and swings its massive paw, claws glinting like shards of obsidian, while its body quivers and fractures, sending thousands of sharp stone splinters shooting outward like a deadly hailstorm.

The five lionesses leap in formation around their leader, claws tearing at the air, bodies pounding the ground, and stone shards raining toward Jingxuan and his men.

Jingxuan doesn’t falter. He lifts a hand, and the grey desert sand rises in response, swirling violently into colossal fists, whips, and ropes, each obeying his will.

A giant palm slams down on the lead lion, crushing stone fragments into dust. Another whip lashes out, wrapping around a lioness and yanking her violently into the air.

The sand ropes coil around another, pinning her as the fists slam from all directions, breaking her body piece by piece.

The battle rages, sand and stone flying, the desert itself trembling under the force. Jingxuan moves like a storm incarnate, every motion calculated, every attack precise.

The male leader thrashes and strikes, but the sand palms catch him mid-leap, smashing him to the ground.

One by one, the five lionesses are annihilated, their bodies shattered, cores spilling onto the sand like glowing seeds of power.

From beneath the grey sand, the rest of the pride erupts, roaring in unison, but Jingxuan’s mastery of the desert overwhelms them.

Sand lashes, palms crush, ropes bind and break. Within moments, the entire pride is destroyed, bodies broken and cores fallen, leaving nothing but silence and the swirling dust of a battlefield claimed by the Warlock.

Jingxuan stands in the centre, grey sand coiling around him like a cloak, the faint glow of the cores scattered at his feet.

The desert falls into an eerie calm, the moons reflecting off the settling sandstorm like light on a silken curtain after a tempest.

Jingxuan glances back at the post, where everyone stands frozen, eyes wide with shock and awe.

He turns to his three family guards. “Mingli, store the cores and bring them to me,” he commands.

Then, addressing the others, he adds, “You all, help gather the rest.”

Mingli and a few men step forward to collect the glowing cores, while the rest return to fetch the crystal gold boxes to seal them.

Jingxuan walks past the bustling activity and enters his large tent, sitting cross-legged on his bed to meditate.

Minutes later, his three guards call from outside.

“Bring them in.” They enter silently, placing five golden boxes before him and retreat without a word.

Once alone, Jingxuan carefully inspects the boxes and lifts the core of the lead Stone Lion, its faint glow pulsing in his palm.

Tonight, his performance will be known to anyone watching closely.

Without a rare-grade core, his cultivation realm cannot advance, and to face the challenges ahead, he must grow stronger.

He channels the energy of the Stone Lion core through his body into his spirit space, wisp by wisp, reconstructing the essence of the core.

The core reacts with the Sandman core already within him, drawing him into a faint illusion.

Stronger than before but still insufficient to confuse him, he shatters it effortlessly. Both cores are then sealed within golden chains.

He feels the subtle change in his body—his realm remains the same, but he can now draw energy from both cores.

The Stone Lion core grants him a new ability: Stone Shards Barrage, forming hundreds of razor-sharp stone shards and hurling them toward his target.

As he channels this newfound power, he senses another layer of mystery entwined with the sand—the essence of stone itself.

He meditates and comprehends it until dawn, then prepares to depart for Ding Town.

Back in Sandrift City, Su Qianyu rocks slightly in his chair, listening to his subordinate’s report.

When it ends, Su Qianyu leans forward and asks, “Jai, do you think Jingxuan has shown his full strength, or is he holding back?”

Jai raises his head, brow furrowed. “Jingxuan was a mortal when he left the capital three months ago. If he absorbed the core after that, it’s frightening—astonishing—that he’s grown strong enough to slaughter a low-level weird group. I don’t think he’s hiding much. Even if he is, it can’t be by a large margin.”

Su Qianyu nods slowly. “It must be a special-grade core. That would explain his rapid rise. I thought the Ji family didn’t value him much.”

Noble children valued by their families are given territory, industry, or command upon adulthood—but Ji Jingxuan became a mere military officer.

Jai says, “Perhaps it’s because the emperor arranged his marriage to the Princess Royal.” Su Qianyu hums in thought.

Jai then asks, “Lord, what should we do about him?”

Su Qianyu replies, “Nothing for now. Just gather more information. The Wen and Ju families will be far more eager to kill Ji Jingxuan after this.”

Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

Jai nods and leaves.

The next day, news of Ji Jingxuan’s battle with the Lion Pride reaches the Ji family. A meeting is immediately called.

The third elder frowns and asks, “Patriarch, I didn’t know our family possessed a special-grade core.”

The family, like everyone else, assumes Ji Jingxuan’s sudden strength comes from refining a special-grade weird core—one they insist must have come from the family vaults.

The room tightens with accusation.

The second elder fixes Ji Jingxuan’s father with a hard stare. “Patriarch, you know we’re building a Warlock team. Why hand a core to someone who contributes nothing to the family?”

Other elders murmur agreement, their faces cold.

Ji Jingxuan’s father feels the questions like knives. He has no clear answer—he, too, is baffled by the speed of his son’s rise.

The latest reports from the servants and guards that accompanied Jingxuan say they killed a common-grade Sandman before reaching Sandrift City.

Everyone assumes Ji Jingxuan refined that core and became a Warlock overnight. And with even a single common-grade core, to reach the Seventh or Eighth Ring in three days would be unbelievable.

A chill runs through him. If word spreads that Jingxuan advanced so quickly on a common core—if anyone traces the source—his son will be in real danger.

He clamps his hands on the edge of the table and forces his voice steady.

“That special-grade core was mine,” he says. “I acquired it myself, and a father may give his private property to whomever he wishes—especially his son who has been to death’s door.”

His tone brooks no further argument.

A few elders remain unconvinced and open their mouths to object, but he raises a palm. “Discussion ends here. It was my private property. You may all leave.”

Reluctantly, they rise.

As they move toward the door, the second elder throws one last barb over his shoulder.

“The ancestors will know of this,” he says, his voice echoing down the corridor.

The others follow in silence, leaving the patriarch alone with the weight of a secret that could doom them all.

He waves a hand absently, barely aware of their departure. The first ancestor once told me… when Jingxuan is born, if he ever begins to act differently, I must inform him.

The memory chills him.

After Jingxuan woke from his coma, the fear that once filled his eyes was gone.

He had spoken calmly, too calmly for someone who once trembled before him. And now his strength grows at a speed no mortal should possess.

He closes his eyes and murmurs a silent prayer, calling to the ancestors.

The air stirs.

A cool, refreshing breath sweeps through the room, brushing against his face. When he opens his eyes, the hall is gone.

He stands upon a vast, shimmering cloud.

Before him towers a golden palace that pierces the heavens, its gates carved with dragons and runes pulsing with ancient light.

It is the Ji Family Palace—seat of their divine lineage—floating within the Zhou Empire’s vast divine domain that stretches across the empire like a celestial web.

He strides forward. The divine guards lining the entrance bow their heads and do not stop him. Passing through the radiant halls, he heads toward the First Ancestor’s quarters. But before he reaches the doors, a deep voice echoes in his mind—Come to the meeting room.

He halts, turns, and walks toward the great chamber. When he enters, the six ancestors of the Ji family are already seated, their auras so immense that the air itself bends around them. He steps into the centre of the room and bows.

The six gaze at him in silence for a long moment. Then the Fifth Ancestor speaks, his tone cold and measured. “Ji Chengyuan, do you know why you’ve been summoned?”

Ji Chengyuan frowns. “Why?”

The Third Ancestor answers, his eyes sharp as blades. “More than half the elders have accused you of granting your third son a special-grade weird core—without the council’s approval.”

Ji Chengyuan stiffens. “I didn’t give him any core.”

A stunned silence sweeps through the hall. Even the golden light dims.

Finally, the Second Ancestor leans forward. “If you did not give it to him, then explain—how did your son’s strength rise to such a level in only three months?”

Ji Chengyuan slowly turns toward the First Ancestor, the oldest and most revered among them. “First Ancestor,” he says, voice steady but low, “do you remember telling me, when Jingxuan was born, to report to you if he ever behaved abnormally?”

At that, all six ancestors turn their gaze toward the First Ancestor. The air thickens, heavy with divine pressure, and the golden runes on the walls dim like fading stars.

The Second Ancestor breaks the silence. “Grandfather…”

The First Ancestor’s ancient eyes, calm yet fathomless, settle on Ji Chengyuan. “What happened?”

Ji Chengyuan bows deeply and recounts everything—how Jingxuan changed after waking from his coma, how his fear vanished, how his strength grew at a terrifying pace.

When he finishes, the Third Ancestor leans forward. “Could his body have been taken over by someone?”

Ji Chengyuan’s expression hardens. “What?”

The Fourth Ancestor turns to the First. “First Ancestor, why did you ask Chengyuan to watch over his third son in the first place?”

The First Ancestor closes his eyes for a moment, then speaks slowly. “When Jingxuan was born, I sensed divinity within him. It was faint and vanished almost instantly—but I was already at the peak of the Divine Fire Realm then. I saw it before it hid.”

A ripple of shock passes through the hall.

The Second Ancestor’s voice trembles. “That means… he’s a reincarnation of a god-stage being.”

The Fourth Ancestor’s eyes narrow. “And his strange behaviour, his rapid growth—it means he’s begun awakening his past-life memories.”

The Third Ancestor looks toward the First, excitement flashing in his eyes. “Great-grandfather, we should act now. Send the divine guards to capture him. If we extract the divinity from his body, it may help you break through to the God Stage. Then we’ll no longer have to bow to the Li family—we can build our own empire.”

Murmurs of agreement roll through the hall, thick with greed and divine pressure. Golden light ripples across the walls as the ancestors’ auras flare in excitement.

Ji Chengyuan stands tense among them, his face pale.

They are talking about his son—yet the thought that Jingxuan may no longer truly be his fills him with quiet dread. Then, amid the chaos, determination hardens his eyes.

If sacrificing his son allows the First Ancestor to ascend to godhood, perhaps it is the path fate demands.

But before he can speak, the First Ancestor’s calm voice cuts through the noise. “We are not sending divine guards to capture him,” he says. “We are sending them to protect him.”

The room is still. Shock flickers through the gathered elders.

“Why, Great-Grandfather?” the Third Ancestor blurts out.

Before the First Ancestor can answer, the Sixth Ancestor speaks, his tone grave. “Because Ji Jingxuan was a god. If he chose reincarnation of his own will, then he surely left safeguards in place. One wrong move from us could bring ruin upon the entire family.”

The First Ancestor nods. “Zhiyuan is right. We cannot take that risk. The other families already watch us closely—if we provoke something beyond our understanding, it may mean our destruction.”

He turns to Ji Chengyuan. “Chengyuan, send a team of divine guards to protect Jingxuan. Let no harm come to him.”

Ji Chengyuan bows silently.

The next moment, his eyes open back in the mortal realm, the golden palace fading from his mind like a dream.

He stands from his chair, expression unreadable, and leaves the room. His thoughts twist in turmoil—Is that truly my son? Or a god walking in his body?

--

That day, Ji Jingxuan’s group arrived at the post before sunset. The desert wind carries the scent of metal and sand as the long caravan halts in front of the golden crystal marker.

Ren Shou rides up beside him, reins tight in his hands. “Commander, we can push ahead. Ding Town isn’t far—we could reach it by evening.”

Ji Jingxuan’s gaze sweeps the horizon, the fading light glinting off his armour. “No. We’ll rest here. We’re too close to the border—anything could happen.”

He turns to the column behind him. “Set camp.”

At once, the air fills with motion. Soldiers and servants dismount, hauling supplies, raising tents in neat rows around the shimmering post.

The clang of tools and the soft rush of the oasis nearby blend into the rhythm of practised order.

Jingxuan walks toward the oasis, washes his face, and returns as his large tent finishes taking shape. Inside, the dim light flickers against the fabric walls.

He sits cross-legged on his bed, his expression calm but his spirit stirring with thought.

He had stopped here for more than rest. A few hours ago, while travelling, he had finally grasped the mystery of the stone hidden within the Stone Lion’s core.

Yet since then, he had noticed something strange—the Sandman and Stone Lion cores inside his spirit space were drawn to each other, even as they repelled, as if bound by a secret law.

He knows from the old texts that Weird cores can be merged—a forbidden method Dark Sun realm warlocks use to advance to the Great Warlock realm. Now, for the first time, he feels he might understand how.

But not yet. There is still one thing he must confirm.

He opens a crystal box and lifts a fiery red core—the core of the Fire Lizard they had slain days earlier. Its heat pulses faintly against his palm.

He closes his eyes, draws in its energy, and an illusion surges to life, trying to twist his form into that of the creature. It’s stronger than before, but his will tears through it easily.

When the vision fades, power settles into his veins. A new ability surfaces—Fire Claw.

He senses the heat burning in his spirit space and realises the mystery within it—the mystery of heat.

By dawn, despite hours of effort, he fails to comprehend it fully. Yet he doesn’t linger. The desert waits for no one. He orders the men to break camp.

Soon after, the tents collapse, the beasts are loaded, and the caravan moves once more toward Ding Town.

The journey is long, the horizon shimmering gold beneath the morning sun. Before they reach the town walls, a flicker of clarity passes through his mind—the final veil lifts.

He has fully grasped the mystery of heat. But as he probes deeper, the new core remains silent, unresponsive to the other two within him.

He expected this.

The mystery of heat comes from the Law of Fire, while the mysteries of sand and stone belong to the Law of Earth. Different origins cannot merge—at least, not yet.

At the gates of Ding Town, the guards watch their approach. Recognising the imperial insignia, they step aside without question.

The moment Jingxuan’s group enters, the town falls still. Merchants freeze mid-call, citizens pause mid-step, and whispers ripple through the streets. Awe and confusion follow them as they pass.

When Jingxuan arrives at the governor’s residence, a young man stands waiting outside, hands clasped behind his back.

The moment he sees Jingxuan, he steps forward and bows deeply. “Pei Shan greets you, Lord Ji.”

Jingxuan blinks, taken aback. Both of them hold the same rank—sixth-grade officials—though Jingxuan’s command over a border force grants him slightly more military weight.

He dismounts quickly and clasps Pei Shan’s arm to raise him. “Brother Pei, what are you doing? We hold the same position.”

Pei Shan smiles faintly, shaking his head. “Lord Ji, even if our ranks are the same, you are the future husband of the Princess Royal. It would be disrespectful of me not to show due courtesy.”

Jingxuan replies calmly, “That’s a matter for the future. When it happens, you can show respect then.”

Pei Shan nods, still smiling. “Understood, Lord Ji. I’ve cleared the barracks for your troops and prepared a residence for you. My subordinates will guide your men to their quarters and your servants to your house.”

Jingxuan glances at the soldiers behind him. “Prepare five more separate residences for the warlocks.”

Pei Shan immediately turns to a subordinate. “Go—empty five more houses for the warlocks.” The man bows and hurries off.

Then Pei Shan gestures toward the mansion gates. “Lord Ji, come with me. I’ve prepared a small feast in your honour.”

Jingxuan nods once and follows him inside, his expression calm, but his mind already weighing the next steps ahead.