Capítulo 407: Chapter 525 — The Return of the Heaven’s Chosen
Chapter 525 — The Return of the Heaven’s Chosen
When the Ghostfire Old Demon perished, the vast tide of black mist he had summoned dispersed as though the world itself exhaled in relief.
But before the air could settle, dark clouds began to coil and converge overhead.
From their depths fell a soft, sorrowful drizzle—each drop light as silk, yet laden with lancholy. The faint chill that ca with it stirred the heart with inexplicable grief, as though the heavens themselves were weeping.
Fang Luo and his two companions stood in silence beneath the grayened sky.
They understood at once what this on ant.
This was no ordinary storm. It was the Heavenly Mourning, a phenonon that appeared only when a cultivator of the Emperor Realm fell.
They had witnessed it once before—when the eminent monk Kongjing of the Western Buddhist Domain perished. That sa somber rain had veiled the skies then as well, a requiem sung by heaven and earth.
And yet, though the sight was familiar, they felt no awe this ti—only a single question burned within their minds:
Who had slain the Ghostfire Old Demon so effortlessly?
Who had appeared from nowhere to save them at the brink of death?
As if in answer, a gentle, ethereal voice brushed past their ears like the touch of wind on water:
“It has been a long ti… you three have grown far more than I expected.”
Before they could react, the mists before them parted, and a woman stepped forth.
She was clad in a flowing azure gown, upon which a single red leaf was embroidered—its color vivid as fresh blood, yet elegant beyond compare. Her beauty was the sort that silenced words: refined, remote, and serene, like the moon reflected upon a lake of ice. Her presence carried the faint fragrance of lotus petals and autumn rain, as though she belonged not to the mortal world but to so celestial palace high above.
What unsettled the heart most, however, was her aura—or rather, her lack of one. At first glance she seed an ordinary woman. But to eyes sharpened by cultivation, each of her movents, each flutter of her sleeve, revealed the underlying resonance of the Great Dao itself.
Here stood a being whose rest gaze could annihilate saints.
The three young n imdiately bowed deeply, voices trembling with reverence.
“We greet Your Highness, the Eldest Princess. We owe you our lives.”
Their savior was none other than Jiang Hongye, the Eldest Princess of the Great Zhou Dynasty.
She inclined her head slightly, her tone calm as rippling water.
“It was but a small matter. Think nothing of it.”
To her, it truly had been effortless.
Years ago, when she was sealed by the imperial family, she had already attained the third tier of the quasi-Emperor realm. After her release, she cultivated in seclusion, and in the ti since had broken through to the fourth tier—a boundary few in the mortal world could even dream of.
The Ghostfire Old Demon, in contrast, had only just stepped into the quasi-Emperor stage, barely brushing the threshold of true mastery. Between their realms lay three vast chasms of difference. Against soone of Jiang Hongye’s power, his resistance was no more aningful than that of a candle before a storm.
She had slain him with a gesture—swift, silent, and absolute.
Yet the truth remained that this being, whom she dispatched as one might brush away dust, had nearly taken the lives of Fang Luo and his companions. The young n could not simply accept her words as if nothing had happened.
“Your Highness’s grace will be rembered forever,” Fang Luo said solemnly. “Should there co a day when we may serve you, we shall do so with all our strength.”
Jiang Hongye studied them with quiet eyes, then smiled faintly.
Had such words co from ordinary Great Saints, she would have dismissed them without a thought. But Fang Luo and his two brothers were far from ordinary. Though slightly below the level of true Celestial Physiques like Fang Mu Ge and Fang Ying, they stood just a breath away from that divine echelon.
Their potential was vast, their destinies bright. She saw in them the future’s fla—the kind that might one day ignite an empire.
Letting such talents owe her a debt was a favor well worth granting.
“You are bound for Cangzhou, are you not?” she asked.
Fang Luo nodded. “Yes, Your Highness. We were returning ho.”
The princess’s lips curved into a smile soft as dawnlight.
“Then allow to see you safely there. I am heading in that direction—it costs nothing to bring you along.”
Before they could reply, she raised one slender hand.
Space rippled like a mirror touched by rain, and a rift opened before them, a glowing wound in the fabric of the world. The force that surged from it was both terrifying and beautiful, filled with the hum of endless void.
In a single motion, Jiang Hongye enveloped the three in her aura and stepped forward, carrying them into the Void Passage.
For cultivators of the Emperor Realm, such travel was as natural as walking. They could stride between heavens in a heartbeat, unbound by distance or ti. What would have taken over a year by conventional flight was now traversed in only a few days.
When the light of the void faded, they found themselves once more upon the familiar soil of Cangzhou.
The princess turned to them, her expression unchanged.
“Your journey ends here. I have other matters to attend to. Should fate permit, we shall et again.”
With that, her figure dissolved into the wind, leaving behind only a single red leaf drifting down—a quiet echo of her presence.
The three bowed deeply toward the fading light. None of them spoke; each understood that they had glimpsed a height of cultivation far beyond their reach.
A month later, the long-awaited day arrived.
From the skies above Cangzhou descended two radiant streaks of light—one golden, one azure. When they touched the earth, their brilliance subsided to reveal Fang Mu Ge and Fang Ying, returned at last from the trials of the secret realm.
“Ho,” Fang Mu Ge murmured, gazing upon the familiar mountains and rivers. “We’re finally ho.”
Years of wandering, fighting, and cultivation had tempered them into warriors of the heavens, yet as they crossed the Fang family’s threshold, a warmth stirred in their hearts—an emotion untouched by battle or ambition.
For all their strength, for all the immortal power coursing through their veins, they were still children returning to their family.
When they saw their kin, joy flooded their hearts until words failed. Fang Ying’s eyes glistened; the tension of countless days lted away, replaced by laughter and tears.
She had fought demons, emperors, and destiny itself, but none of it had stirred her spirit as deeply as this mont.
“You’ve grown into a fine lady,” her mother, Su Xinyan, said fondly as she brushed the tears from her daughter’s cheeks. “Why are you still crying like a little girl?”
Fang Ying pressed her face against her mother’s shoulder, her voice muffled.
“Because… no matter how strong I beco, I’ll always be your daughter.”
Mother and daughter wept together, their tears shimring like jewels.
In the days that followed, the Fang household overflowed with laughter. Lanterns glowed late into the night, and even the stars above seed gentler than before.
Both Fang Mu Ge and Fang Ying had reached the Second Layer of the Saint King Realm—an achievent unheard of at their age. Even among the countless realms of the Tianyuan World, few geniuses could boast such cultivation.
Fang Luo, Fang Chen, and Fang Qiufeng too had advanced to the Ninth Layer of the Great Saint Realm, standing on the threshold of Saint Kingship.
The barriers that had stymied countless prodigies across history seed almost weightless before them.
In ti—perhaps a year, perhaps a few months—they too would ascend.
anwhile, the elder Fang Chu, long considered the family’s steady pillar, had finally reached the Ninth Layer of the Fusion Realm, just a step away from the Saint threshold. His progress was remarkable, aided by the power of his Five-Elent Divine Physique. Without it, he would likely still linger at the lower stages of Manifestation.
As for Fang Hao, who traveled often between the Immortal Realm and Tianyuan, he not only supplied the clan with resources and treasures beyond price, but had himself advanced to the Fourth Layer of the Great Saint Realm.
All this prosperity flowed upward to the clan’s patriarch, Fang Ting, who—despite his leisurely nature—found his own cultivation soaring as if by fortune’s grace. He now stood at the Fourth Heaven of the Quasi-Emperor Realm, a height that made the Fang family’s na resound through all of Cangzhou.
Peace, warmth, and laughter filled their halls.
Yet beneath that harmony, unseen by any of them, the winds of fate had already begun to shift.
Far beyond their borders, in places where shadows gathered and power conspired, a storm was forming—one destined to fall upon the Fang clan.
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