Aftermath and the Martial Alliance Leader

The grasslands' massive invasion finally came to an end with Prince Yong's overwhelming victory.

When the news spread, it shook the entire realm.

Had the steppe clans succeeded in breaching Yongzhou, the heartlands of Great Wei would've been left defenseless. The nation was already crumbling from within; the people, weary and starving, could scarcely bear another blow. None wished to see that grim future unfold.

Well—almost none.

Bang!

A thunderous crash echoed through the imperial palace as Emperor Wei slammed his palm down, shattering the table before him into splinters.

"Late-stage Qi Refining... a yellow-grade spiritual armor... and a damn alchemist. That brat Yong has four cultivators in the Qi Refining stage! Four!"

That, more than anything, was what sent the emperor into a blind rage. Qi Refining stage cultivators weren't some common rabble raised through forbidden techniques—they were genuine. Each one a treasure even the emperor coveted. And Yong had four under his command.

"Calm yourself," came a silken, seductive voice from the shadows—the Demon Queen, her tone teasing. "They're just Qi Refining cultivators. Nothing to fear. And according to our intelligence, that woman has already left Prince Yong's estate. Most likely, it was a transactional alliance. Now that their deal's complete, she's probably gone into seclusion again."

She laughed softly, her voice laced with poison and honey. "Unless we can locate her retreat, there's nothing we can do."

The emperor's jaw clenched. "How long until you can move freely again?" he asked darkly.

The Demon Queen smirked. "Still a while yet. But, Your Majesty… are you sure you want me roaming about already? Your cultivation still hasn't reached the required level."

At that, the emperor fell silent. He knew well the number of enemies lying in wait for his downfall—and the countless atrocities he had committed over the years. There were certainly those capable of bypassing the protective aura of imperial fate and ending him.

The Demon Queen practiced a unique dual cultivation method—an extreme variant of the Hehuan path. Her peak strength had once been fearsome, nearly unmatched. But that very power made self-sealing nearly impossible. The method used by the two Elders of Fire and Earth to hibernate their cultivation was utterly useless for her.

To survive, she had crippled her own cultivation, severing even her foundation in half. Recovery now required two very rare and grim conditions: first, the constant absorption of fresh blood from young maidens; and second, over a century of dual-cultivation with one who bore imperial qi.

And during that period, the two could not stray too far from each other—or the progress would collapse entirely. As for Emperor Wei—his aged body was already failing. Even with her help, and having just broken into the Body Refining stage through dual-cultivation, the damage done by age and illness remained severe and difficult to reverse.

"Humph."

The emperor's brow furrowed deeply. In the end, he could only grit his teeth and swallow his frustration. He knew why the alchemist woman wouldn't side with him—it had everything to do with his attempt to seize that innate spiritual treasure. Not only had his forces failed, but they had also likely offended her beyond measure with their crude tactics. She wasn't openly opposing him—for now, that was mercy enough.

"A pity for that Yong brat… Let him enjoy his victory while it lasts."

His voice turned cold, laced with murderous intent. Yong's prestige was on the rise, and the emperor dared not strike just yet—especially with three Qi Refining cultivators at his side, one of them being his own son. The true source of all this trouble, however, lay in Su Min's alchemy. She had yet to fully stand against him, and already her casual actions pressured him from all sides. If she ever declared herself his enemy outright… the consequences would be dire.

~Edit and rewritten by Rikhi, Reiya_Alberich, ReiNyam~

While politics churned in the palace, the Jianghu erupted with rumors. Su Min's reputation had exploded.

"One woman repelling an army of hundreds of thousands" became legend. The image of her alone scattering nearly a million soldiers defied imagination. Her combat prowess was even more terrifying. Even Mo Zhangmen—the respected leader hailed as the number one figure in the martial world—had been utterly outclassed.

"A shame," people whispered across tea houses and sect halls, "had she remained, the title of Martial Alliance Leader would've been hers, no question."

"That position—so many would kill for it, fight tooth and nail—yet she walked away without a glance."

"Hah. One of her pills is enough to drive an entire sect into madness. Why would she care for a hollow title?"

"Tch…"

The gossip spread like wildfire, mingled with admiration and regret. The Great Martial Tournament was drawing near. Every sect would send their strongest to compete, to determine who would take the mantle of the Martial Alliance Leader—the figurehead capable of commanding the entire Jianghu. But if Su Min had so much as nodded her head, that seat would have been hers instantly.

Instead, she vanished.

And so, the role would likely fall to Mo Zhangmen. His strength and reputation were undeniable—Qi Refining stage cultivators were unmatched within the martial world. He had also played a key role in the war, assisting Su Min in testing the limits of the two ancient monsters now whispered about in hushed tones. Yet compared to Su Min, he was still lacking—both in power and prestige. With Su Min, every great sect had something to ask of her. Their futures, quite literally, were tied to her alchemical creations.

"Humph."

Of course, not everyone was pleased. Mo Zhangmen himself was well aware of the murmurs. He knew—without doubt—that Su Min was more suited to lead the martial world than he.

But what could he say?

His cultivation, his spiritual weapon, his most prized possessions… all were gifts from her hand. Speaking ill of her was unthinkable. She stood so far above him that he dared not even imagine opposing her. The title might be ceremonial in his hands, but she could have truly commanded the Jianghu's forces.

Elsewhere, on a remote mountain peak, a lone figure sat cross-legged beneath the stars. He gazed into the infinite night sky.

"The dragon rises from the west… is it Prince Yong?" The monk who'd parted ways with Su Min gazed upward. "My Buddhist friend's vision aligns with mine."

He rose slowly to his feet, his tattered monk's robe fluttering in the wind. "The world has suffered too long. It is time to move." He had spent countless nights here, watching the stars and divining fate. Now, a shift had occurred—a change so faint, yet unmistakable. He was certain of it. Su Min's cooperation with Prince Yong was no secret to him.

"As expected of a true spiritual friend—her insight is flawless. Very well. I shall go and meet this so-called prince. Let us see if he is worthy… of shouldering the Mandate of Heaven."

With that, his figure faded from the mountaintop like mist, and silence once again embraced the lonely peak.