The whale bore an immortal island on its back.

  A living continent of flesh and song, draped in mist and rainbow.

  Every breath it took showered the earth with spirit rain; every tail-swing painted a bridge of seven colors across the sky.

  Beautiful enough to stop hearts.

  Terrifying enough to start them again.

  North Luo City.

  Citizens flooded the streets, necks craned, mouths open.

  “Our White Jade Capital… is leaving?”

  “Young Master Lu is taking the whole island on a trip?”

  “Will it come back?”

  Whispers became wails.

  Cultivators felt the chill first.

  Luo Cheng stood atop the wall, sword at hip, staring at the familiar island now sailing away on a mountain of whale.

  His chest hurt like someone had punched it.

  A Dragon Blood captain bellowed, voice cracking:

  “From this day forth—North Luo has no White Jade Capital!”

  The words struck like a funeral bell.

  Knees hit stone.

  Foreheads kissed dirt.

  “Young Master Lu, don’t go!”

  “North Luo can’t live without you!”

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  “Stay… please…”

  Tens of thousands chased the whale down ten-li boulevards, out the gates, up North Luo Peak.

  They ran until lungs burned and tears froze on cheeks.

  On the whale’s back, Lake-Heart Island.

  Lu Changkong watched the tiny figures shrink.

  “Your popularity outstrips this old governor’s by a mile, kid.”

  Lu’s white sleeves fluttered.

  He said nothing, but the wind carried salt.

  Du Longyang’s group hovered nearby, stunned silent.

  The Overlord of the Eastern Sea—reduced to a moving van.

  Lu glanced at them.

  “I gave you the map past Infant Transformation.

  Cultivate.

  Or the next generation will slap your faces off.”

  The Empress twirled a lock of hair.

  “Brother Lu, any openings for maids?”

  “Taken.”

  Lu Changkong coughed into his sleeve.

  My boy’s aiming for monkhood?

  Little Ni Yu’s voice cracked across the sky.

  She and Ning Zhao had rocketed up on a paper-thin sword, piggy-back.

  “Young Master!”

  Ni Yu’s eyes were red. “You’re abandoning me?!”

  Lu sighed, flicked a finger.

  The two girls tumbled onto the grass, panting.

  “I sent you to the Secret Realm to train, not to cling.”

  “White Jade Capital may vanish for ten, a hundred, a thousand years.

  Still want to follow?”

  Ni Yu wiped snot with her sleeve.

  “Wherever Young Master goes, I go.

  No regrets!”

  Ning Zhao simply knelt, forehead to grass—answer enough.

  Lu’s laugh was soft.

  “Fine.

  But daily drills double.

  If White Jade Capital returns and my maids can’t flatten continents, I’ll be embarrassed.”

  Far below, Nie Changqing roared upward, spine glowing, knife qi tearing clouds.

  He met an invisible wall and cratered.

  Jing Yue stabbed the sky until his sword split space—still bounced.

  Lu’s voice drifted into every loyal ear:

  “White Jade Capital retreats; you enter the world.

  When the time is ripe, I’ll call you home.”

  Onlookers—Overlord, Sima Qingshan, Mo Tianyu, Kong Nanfei—bowed in unison.

  Tang Xiansheng smiled at the horizon.

  “Little Tang, remember this day.”

  “Why hide, Master?”

  “Because no one else could kill White Jade Capital.

  So Lu Ping’an killed it himself.”

  Wolong Ridge.

  Lv Dongxuan clutched his gold chain, eyes wet.

  Gongsun Yu’s feathers trembled.

  “Farewell, Young Master.”

  Lv Mu hammered his chest, spat blood, and wrote in crimson ink:

  Let the world know—

  the immortal island has sailed beyond the sun.

  Jiang Li, Sima Qingshan, every cultivator on the ridge, every soul beneath the sky—

  they bowed toward the vanishing rainbow.

  They were not merely bidding farewell to a man.

  They were burying an era

  that only its creator had the courage to bury.

  High above, the whale sang.

  The island rose until it kissed the clouds.

  White Jade Capital was gone.

  And the world, for the first time in years,

  remembered how to breathe fire.