The whale carried its own sky.

  Origin Lake lay cupped on its back like a second sea; mist rose from the water, wrapped the island, turned every breath into incense.

  Sunlight struck the surface and shattered into a million gold coins.

  Lu sat in the Thousand-Blade Chair, white sleeves snapping.

  Behind him, Ning Zhao’s hair fluttered like black banners.

  Ni Yu stood on tiptoe, black pot on her back, Little Yinglong draped over her head like a sleepy cat.

  Below, the continent unrolled—rivers glinting, mountains bowing.

  From the ridge came one last shout, thin as thread:

  “Farewell, Young Master.”

  Then silence.

  The whale veered south.

  Every village it passed spilled people into the fields.

  Farmers dropped hoes, shaded eyes, fell to their knees.

  “Immortals!” they cried, begging next year’s harvest.

  Cultivators balanced on rooftops or treetops, staring until necks ached.

  Lu closed his eyes.

  Divine sense spilled down like warm rain, tasting every sorrow, every hope.

  His heart grew still as deep water.

  Du Longyang whispered, “He’s growing again—right in front of us.”

  Leaf Blade nodded. “A single view of the world, and his Dao ripens. Monster.”

  Terminus South Mountain.

  Hua Dongliu stepped from his hut, blood-inked pigeon note in hand.

  Every Sword Pavilion disciple sheathed their blades and bowed toward the drifting island.

  Heaven-Sway Mountain.

  Xie Yunling triggered every array on Star-Plucking Peak.

  Runes detonated into silent fireworks that painted the sky in farewell.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  East Sun Prefecture—again.

  The governor clutched the battlements.

  First the whale alone had nearly killed him with fright; now it returned wearing White Jade Capital like a crown.

  A pigeon landed.

  He read, bowed, said nothing.

  Ten thousand soldiers behind him bowed in perfect silence.

  CRASH.

  The whale dove.

  Fifty-meter waves slapped the reef where Lu Changkong waited.

  “If seclusion bores you, come home,” the old general said, clapping his son’s shoulder.

  Then he leapt, robes snapping, and walked across the sea until the horizon swallowed him.

  Du Longyang cupped fists. “See you on the other side of Yin Spirit.”

  The Empress opened crimson lips, closed them, sighed.

  Four streaks of light shot away—four Infant Transformation tyrants racing the wind.

  Zhu Long’s lashes trembled.

  Lu touched her brow; light poured in.

  She bowed, vanished.

  Little Yinglong tried to follow.

  Lu flicked his tail. “You stay. Boot camp starts now.”

  The dragonet squirted a nervous jet of water.

  “Walk,” Lu told the whale.

  It sang—one pillar of rainbow water—then turned and swam.

  The island floated behind it like a dream on a leash.

  Clouds closed.

  The sea erased every ripple.

  White Jade Capital was gone.

  …

  Word spread faster than fire in dry grass.

  “First holy land—vanished.”

  “No more White Jade Capital. My heart feels hollow.”

  “Maybe… this era belongs to us now?”

  Wolong Ridge.

  Nie Changqing sat with Dragon-Slayer across his knees, staring east.

  Jing Yue lay on his back, sword pointed at the sky, lost.

  Tang Xiansheng patted Tang Yimo’s shoulder.

  “Keep climbing the Hells. Don’t die.”

  Then he marched the Southern Legion home.

  Overlord dove back into the Secret Realm, laughing.

  The mountain on his chest had rolled away; suddenly the air tasted like freedom.

  Black Dragon Cult’s Liu Yuanhao clenched sweat-slick fists.

  The dragon coiled in his gut roared awake.

  Tianyuan prodigies shrugged.

  “Some sect hid? Whatever.”

  Zhong Nan hugged his knife. “Hiding means falling behind. Falling behind means getting cut.”

  Feng Yilou rolled his eyes. “You understand nothing.”

  They stormed the second Hell Gate harder than before.

  North Luo Lake—Dragon Gate.

  Two black robes burst from the portal.

  Yi Yue’s hood fell; lake wind slapped her pale face.

  The island was gone.

  She sank to her knees on the water, empty sky reflecting in her eyes.

  Mo Liuqi pulled his own hood back.

  “Only one cure for grief,” he said quietly.

  “Become strong enough that he can’t leave you behind twice.”

  …

  Great Xuan, Ask-Heaven Peak.

  Dawn bled across the ridge.

  Tan Taixuan joined Mo Beike on the summit, robes whipping.

  “White Jade Capital retires to legend,” the emperor said.

  “Your thoughts, Giant?”

  Mo Beike’s wrinkled lids lifted.

  “I admire the boy.”

  “Confucius once told me: rivers, courts, even the world—these are not Lu Ping’an’s stage.

  His stage is the entire cultivation realm’s growth.”

  Tan Taixuan listened, still as stone.

  “Today the tiger leaves the forest.

  Beasts will fight to be king.

  Great Xuan is merely one of those beasts—strong, but not strongest.”

  Tan Taixuan’s eyes narrowed. “Chaos coming?”

  Mo Beike smiled without humor.

  “Chaos or opportunity—same wind, different sails.

  Our sail is the Academy.

  Train them.

  The wager with Xiliang is still three months away.”

  Tan Taixuan blinked. “White Jade Capital is gone. Does the bet matter?”

  Mo Beike’s gaze cut like winter.

  “Gone, not dead.

  A legend that once crushed continents does not need to be present to be feared.”

  Far below, the Academy banners snapped crimson and gold.

  Tan Taixuan threw back his head and laughed at the sunrise.

  “Giant,” he declared, “small goal first—”

  Mo Beike raised a brow.

  “Let Great Xuan Academy become the second White Jade Capital!”

  Mo Beike’s ancient face twitched.

  Your Majesty, you who can’t even sense Qi…

  where exactly does this confidence come from?