the highest peak of the Azure Pine Immortal Sect, the grand Immortal Hall rose majestically above the clouds, its vast eaves painted in shimmering gold and azure, each roof tile engraved with intricate patterns of pine needles and celestial runes that seemed to shimmer with latent spiritual energy. Massive jade pillars, carved with scenes of ancient battles and the rise and fall of cultivators, supported the hall, while wind chimes of crystallized qi tinkled softly in the breeze, echoing through the mountains like a whisper of eternity.

  Within, the hall stretched wider than a hundred ordinary halls combined, its polished marble floor reflecting the faint glow of suspended spiritual lanterns. At the center, a circular dais of translucent crystal rose, upon which the Supreme Council convened—ancient cultivators whose presence radiated authority and power, their robes flowing like living streams of energy. The walls were lined with countless spiritual paintings that depicted the Sect’s glorious history, battles with demons, and feats of immortal cultivators, each seeming almost alive, pulsing with residual qi.

  Here, in this awe-inspiring chamber above the mortal clouds, the highest authorities of the Azure Pine Immortal Sect gathered to deliberate matters of utmost consequence, their voices carrying the weight of centuries of wisdom, ambition, and unyielding power.

  The Azure Pine Immortal Sect was less a mere assembly of cultivators than a sprawling spiritual bureaucracy, a leviathan whose reach spanned towering mountains, winding rivers, and even mortal kingdoms where spiritual qi barely stirred. Its innumerable departments managed every facet of existence: recruitment, missions, disciple affairs, governance, and specialized offices of every kind, while the inner sect governed the heart of the Sect—alchemy, weapon forging, formations, resource allocation, scriptures, and divine rites. Each branch and office functioned in flawless synchronization across vast territories, their operations guided by the unyielding hand of the Supreme Council. To the outside world, the Azure Pine Immortal Sect was less a sect and more an unstoppable engine of authority—a living empire of power, wealth, and immortal dominion.

  Today, within the vast main hall, more than thirty Golden Core True Masters gathered around a colossal jade table, its surface carved with intricate celestial patterns that shimmered faintly under the spiritual qi-infused light. The sect counted over fifty Golden Core masters in total, but the absent few were either stationed in distant regions carrying out critical missions or secluded in meditation, refining their essence in preparation for future trials. The hall itself radiated an aura of authority and timelessness, every stone, pillar, and hanging banner a testament to centuries of the sect’s might and influence.

  The Supreme Council stood as the highest authority within the Azure Pine Immortal Sect. Only Golden Core True Masters were eligible to claim a seat at that immense jade table, their status forged through centuries of cultivation and survival.

  Above them, like distant constellations, stood the three Supreme Elders. Nascent Soul True Monarchs. Pillars upon which the sect’s ultimate authority rested. They rarely interfered in routine matters. Their time was spent in deep seclusion, comprehending the Dao, stabilizing their realms, or guarding against unseen calamities.

  For such existences to issue a direct order…

  It was no trivial matter.

  Today’s assembly had been called urgently by Sect Master Mo Cangyun, a peak Golden Core master whose cultivation stood only a step away from Nascent Soul. Normally composed and deliberate, he had convened the council with unusual haste.

  The jade doors of the Immortal Hall sealed shut with a low, resonant hum. Spiritual formations activated silently along the walls, isolating the chamber from prying senses.

  Every Golden Core present felt it.

  This was not an ordinary meeting.

  Sect Master Mo Cangyun rose from his seat at the head of the jade table. His robes, embroidered with ancient pine motifs, flowed softly despite the still air. His gaze swept across the gathered True Masters before he spoke.

  “The Supreme Elders have issued a directive.”

  His voice was calm.

  But beneath that calm lay the weight of mountains.

  The hall grew so silent that even the suspended spirit lamps seemed to dim in anticipation.

  Sect Master Mo Cangyun’s expression was grave. His fingers rested lightly upon the jade table, yet faint ripples of qi spread from the contact point.

  “Supreme Elder Duan Fusheng,” he said slowly, “performed a forbidden divination art three days ago.”

  A stir passed through the gathered Golden Core True Masters.

  To divine heavenly secrets was never without cost.

  Mo Cangyun continued, voice low and steady. “He attempted to glimpse the Sect’s future. Not decades. Not centuries. Only a single thread of fate.”

  He paused.

  “And only one thing was determined.”

  The temperature inside the Immortal Hall seemed to drop.

  “One name was revealed.”

  He lifted his gaze, eyes sharp as unsheathed blades.

  “Xuan.”

  The single word echoed faintly against the jade pillars.

  Some elders frowned. Others narrowed their eyes. A few exchanged subtle glances.

  The Xuan family… had already fallen into ruin years ago. Erased. Destroyed.

  Yet fate had whispered that name again.

  Was it a remnant? A survivor? A reincarnation? A bloodline hidden in the shadows?

  Or something far more terrifying?

  Above the hall, beyond mortal sight, the clouds churned gently as if the heavens themselves disapproved of the topic.

  Elder Qin Haitian, head of the Law Enforcement Department and a peak Golden Core master, frowned deeply. His sharp brows drew together like crossed blades.

  “Sect Master… are you referring to the ancient Xuan family?”

  A ripple passed through the hall. Several elders exchanged puzzled looks. Some had never even heard the name before.

  At that moment, a calm female voice spoke.

  Elder Zhao Yuehua, late-stage Golden Core, master alchemist and walking archive of forgotten histories, folded her sleeves neatly.

  “The Xuan family was destroyed alongside the Celestial Void Sect two thousand five hundred years ago,” she said evenly. “The purge lasted another five hundred years. Relentless pursuit. Bloodline extermination. It was eventually concluded that they had gone completely extinct.”

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  A few elders inhaled sharply.

  Another elder added hesitantly, “I recall reading fragments in restricted archives… but the details were vague. Something about a taboo inheritance?”

  Sect Master Mo Cangyun nodded slowly.

  “Exactly.”

  His gaze sharpened.

  “The Supreme Elders’ divination mentioning the word ‘Xuan’ could mean many things. A coincidence. A location. A surname.”

  He paused.

  “But the Supreme Elders believe… it is connected to the Xuan family.”

  The hall grew heavier.

  “Many of you are unaware,” Mo Cangyun continued, “but the Xuan bloodline possessed something extraordinary.”

  He lifted a finger slightly.

  “We are all familiar with mutated spirit roots. Lightning. Ice. Metal variations. Rare, but not unheard of.”

  His voice lowered.

  “But the Xuan family inherited something far more troublesome.”

  A beat of silence.

  “Space.”

  The word fell like a silent explosion.

  For a brief moment, no one breathed.

  Then the hall erupted in murmurs.

  “Impossible…”

  “Space attribute?”

  “That’s a myth…”

  “No… I’ve heard of it in ancient scrolls…”

  Eyes widened. Expressions hardened.

  Space was not merely rare. It was forbidden-tier rare.

  A cultivator capable of manipulating space could ignore formations, bypass defenses, assassinate unseen, escape inevitability.

  An existence capable of overturning sects.

  The murmurs grew louder, layered with unease.

  If the heavens had whispered “Xuan”…

  Then somewhere in this world, the most dangerous attribute imaginable might have awakened again.

  “Silence.”

  Sect Master Mo Cangyun’s voice cracked like a falling blade.

  The murmurs died instantly. Even the spiritual lamps steadied their flicker.

  He turned his gaze toward Zhao Yuehua.

  “Fairy Zhao, you are the most informed among us regarding this matter. Please.”

  She rose gracefully, sleeves flowing like calm water. Her expression was composed, but her eyes carried the weight of old history.

  “According to ancient scriptures,” she began, “the Celestial Void Sect once stood as the absolute tyrant of our Spirit Realm. Their authority was unquestioned. Their dominance overwhelming.”

  She paused slightly.

  “And that supremacy was built upon the Xuan family.”

  The hall grew attentive.

  “The Xuan bloodline produced cultivators born with a rare spiritual root capable of harnessing spatial energy directly. The so-called… Space attribute.”

  A faint stir, quickly suppressed.

  “We all understand,” Zhao Yuehua continued, “how costly it is even for our sect to construct teleportation formations. Not only do they require master-level formation experts, but the materials themselves are astronomical in value. Maintenance is complex. Activation consumes vast resources. Such formations are strategic assets.”

  She gestured lightly.

  “Storage rings. Spatial pouches. Pocket realms. All of them require intricate inscriptions and layered formations to stabilize spatial folds.”

  Her gaze sharpened.

  “But the Xuan family required no such mediators.”

  A chill rippled through the hall.

  “A sufficiently powerful Xuan cultivator could carve spatial channels with personal cultivation alone. They could bypass protective formations. Enter restricted zones. Exit sealed domains. Defending against them was… a nightmare.”

  She inclined her head slightly.

  “Elder Cao Changing can elaborate from the perspective of formation theory.”

  Elder Cao Changing, head of the Formations Department, rose with a grave expression.

  “Space,” he said slowly, “is among the most exotic and unstable forces known to cultivators. It is not easily manipulated. For safety, we rely on mediators: inscriptions, arrays, anchor points.”

  He tapped the jade table lightly.

  “Since ancient times, formation masters have developed layered inscriptions to stabilize spatial fluctuations. That is how we created storage rings. Spatial pouches. Teleportation arrays. Even the minor pocket realms used to preserve inheritance grounds.”

  He lifted his gaze, voice lowering.

  “But someone born with direct spatial affinity… does not require such scaffolding.”

  A heavy silence settled again.

  “They could slip through defensive arrays as easily as mist through cracks. Collapse anchor points. Distort coordinates. Interfere with teleportation hubs.”

  His jaw tightened.

  “Such individuals are not merely dangerous. They are unpredictable. Difficult to contain. Nearly impossible to capture.”

  The weight of those words pressed down like an invisible mountain.

  If the name Xuan had resurfaced in heavenly divination…

  Then perhaps the heavens were warning them.

  Or reminding them.

  Sect Master Mo Cangyun inclined his head slightly.

  “Thank you, fellow Daoists, for your clarifications.”

  He straightened, and the air in the hall tightened.

  “That being said, I am issuing a directive effective immediately.”

  The jade table glowed faintly as formation seals activated, recording the order.

  “All departments are to pay close attention to any matter related to the Xuan family. Any anomaly. Any unusual spatial fluctuation. Any individual displaying irregular spatial phenomena.”

  His tone remained calm, but none mistook it for softness.

  “The Formations Department will begin upgrading the Sect’s protective arrays. Suitable countermeasures against spatial interference are to be researched and implemented discreetly.”

  Elder Cao Changing nodded gravely.

  “The Intelligence Department will elevate the Xuan family to priority status.”

  Murmurs of assent.

  “Law Enforcement,” Mo Cangyun continued, turning his gaze, “will oversee the execution of these directives. Elder Qin Haitian, this responsibility falls to you.”

  Qin Haitian rose slightly from his seat, fists clasped. “Understood.”

  Then he hesitated.

  “Sect Master… did the Supreme Elders indicate the level of threat?”

  A question hanging like a blade above the table.

  Mo Cangyun slowly shook his head.

  “No.”

  A pause.

  “We are taking precautions quietly. Whether the threat is distant, weak, or not yet born… awareness is better than ignorance.”

  His gaze swept across the council.

  “Divination arts are not performed lightly. The cost can be enormous. When the heavens yield even a single word…”

  His voice lowered.

  “You take it seriously.”

  Silence followed.

  Heavy. Measured.

  Above the clouds, the wind shifted across the peak of the Azure Pine Immortal Sect.

  And within the Immortal Hall, more than thirty Golden Core True Masters understood something without saying it aloud.

  Somewhere in the vast Spirit Realm…

  Space itself might be stirring again.