The Leader of the Celestial Orthodox Martial Alliance.
The Immortal Golden Dragon.
The Hero of the War of Corruption.
The Most Powerful Expert in All of the Celestial Heavens.
The Golden Spear of Justice.
Long Tianjin.
Father of Long Qianyao and father-in-law of Long Qingyi.
His palace, the official residence of the martial alliance’s leader, stood upon an island floating in the void of space. Around it drifted numerous other islands—each one a moon in its own right—chained to the main island by colossal links.
In total, its area rivaled that of the planet Earth, housing more than ten million inner disciples, fifty million outer disciples, and just over five billion stationed soldiers. Another fifty billion tirelessly patrolled every corner of the central region.
A truly formidable military force, especially when bined with the countless sects and empires of the central region, along with allies from the north, east, and west—all ever ready to deploy billions of soldiers to wage war against the demons of the southern region.
It was this military force, coupled with the presence of Tianjin himself—practically a god in the eyes of the mon people—that made the Celestial Orthodox Martial Alliance the overwhelming power it was today.
This, of course, was reinforced by a policy he had enforced for two hundred thousand years: open recruitment, available even to the most insignificant moner.
While most sects focused on noble and wealthy lineages, the Celestial Orthodox Martial Alliance reached out to the marginalized and forgotten.
Such a practice not only reduced the number of talented yet neglected youths who ended up drawn to demonic arts, but also granted him access to a pool of talent far superior to that of any rival sect.
Talents utterly loyal only to Tianjin, with no powerful families behind them pulling the strings.
Even those who went on to form powerful families—and there were many over the course of these hundreds of millennia—had, in reality, established lineages that existed within the Celestial Orthodox Martial Alliance itself.
Grandparents, parents, children, and grandchildren—generation after generation born and raised under Tianjin’s wing.
Currently, twenty percent of the alliance’s elders were of peasant origin, virtually all of them loyal to him until death.
Among the inner disciples, that number jumped to sixty percent. Among the outer disciples, it exceeded eighty, many ing from poor families, some without any prior cultivation whatsoever.
Entering the Alliance was an arduous journey, with an admission rate of less than 0.01 percent, but it did not discriminate against anyone.
At that very moment, Long Tianjin sat in his office, his fingers firmly gripping a pen as he signed one document after another.
He could have used his Qi to finish it all in the blink of an eye, but these were important papers, and he preferred to be cautious, carefully analyzing each line.
Suddenly, his pen jammed, slipping from his fingers and clattering onto the desk with a sharp thud that broke the quiet of the office.
He looked up just as an elder—his left-hand man and Feiyue’s brother—burst into the room without ceremony.
"Master Tianjin, Feiyue is back, but she’s not alone! Acpanying her are Long Qingyi, Long Rou’er, and Long Qianyao!" the elder declared, his voice trembling with excitement.
He was too young to grasp the true weight of those names, but his sister had made their importance abundantly clear, ordering him to run and report everything without delay.
They must, without a shadow of a doubt, be extremely important people.
Tianjin sprang to his feet at once, the chair scraping across the floor with an abrupt squeak. An intense, incredulous gleam filled his eyes.
"R-Rou’er? Are you sure you heard that right?" he asked, his voice trembling, his fingers clenching the edge of the desk until the knuckles turned white.
He knew that, given Qingyi’s talent, their reunion was only a matter of time... but Long Rou’er... his little niece?
"Y-yes, Master Tianjin, that’s the name I heard! A girl with pink hair and—"
The elder didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence.
Before his lips had even closed, Tianjin had already vanished, his body transformed into a luminous blur that tore through the office air, sending documents swirling in every direction.
His aura expanded outward like an invisible wave, sweeping across the entire martial alliance before narrowing onto a spaceship already descending toward one of the many docks in the central region.
Tianjin’s presence there naturally drew a flood of attention.
Several smooth talkers surrounded him at once, trying to flatter him and win his favor, but he ignored them pletely, quickening his pace toward the front of the ship.
With a simple wave of his hand, he scattered the crowd like dry leaves before the wind.
A few seconds after his arrival, ten men materialized around him: the Golden Guard, protectors of the important figures of the Celestial Orthodox Martial Alliance.
Created after the assassination of the Divine Sword Fairy and the subsequent kidnapping of her corpse, the Guard existed precisely to prevent similar tragedies from ever happening again.
In a matter of seconds, they brought the crowd under control, forming a perfect perimeter around their leader.
Tianjin watched, his eyes trembling, as the massive main hatch slowly opened. The metal panel creaked on its hinges before crashing down onto the reinforced concrete floor, the impact reverberating throughout the dock.
From that opening, a figure he knew all too well began to emerge.
It was Long Qingyi.
"Father-in-law, it’s been quite a while," Qingyi said as he approached and, to the shock of everyone present, enveloped Tianjin in a firm, tight bear hug.
The shock only deepened when Tianjin, without hesitation, returned the embrace with equal intensity.
"I’m the one who should be saying that, my son-in-law... I thought my experts would be able to find you before I did, but it seems I was wrong, hahaha!" Tianjin roared with laughter, the deep, warm sound resonating across the dock, while his eyes slowly rose over his son-in-law’s shoulder.
There, he saw Qianyao, his daughter, and Rou’er, his niece—not by blood, but one he had always treated as his own.
Today would be a day of celebration in his palace. For today, after so long, he was finally a plete man.
If only his beloved wife, Qianyao’s mother, were back in his arms...
Unfortunately, it was impossible to bring her back; no one had the power to revive the dead, not even through demonic means.
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