After Lang Junqi returned, the atmosphere within the Lang Family suddenly grew tense.
The servants cautiously attended to the two young masters, following every old routine to the letter, not daring to make even the slightest mistake.
Any misstep could mean a fate unknown.
Yet Lang Junxian paid no mind to this elder brother.
Lang Junqi appeared mature and steady, but in truth, he was proud and arrogant, stubbornly self-willed and deaf to any harsh advice.
His years of smooth sailing had spoiled him, and even after falling from such a height, he couldn’t shake these faults.
Although no one knew exactly how he had obtained his cultivation, there was no way it had been through genuine hard training.
So no matter how much Lang Junqi strutted around, in Lang Junxian’s eyes, this older brother was nothing more than a grasshopper after the autumn rains.
He was busy building a new power—who had time to bother with these irrelevant people?
For the past few hundred years, Shangjing had been divided among the Mo, Lang, and Ji families, the three great clans.
Over time, these families had become so used to the three mountains pressing down on their heads that even though they had long since decayed and declined within, no one dared to challenge them.
A camel, even when skinny, is still bigger than a horse.
Unfortunately, this dying camel had caught the eye of a wild wolf who wouldn’t rest without tearing off a large chunk of its flesh.
Lang Junxian had been operating his secret forces for a long time.
With the Treasure Vault of the Qianji Sect in hand, he lacked nothing in liquid funds.
What he needed were connections and the right opportunity.
Bearing the title of Lang Family Young Master for two full years, there was no notable family in Shangjing that didn’t know him.
Plus, with Mo Qin’s secret backing, Lang Junxian’s network had spread wide enough—he was just waiting for a chance to surface.
And that opportunity was about to come.
A few days ago, Mo Qin had sent word that something major was happening in the Xiu Zhen Realm.
Truly, one finds a pillow when they nod off.
Lang Junxian didn’t care about the major event itself; what interested him was using the chaos to stir up the Xiu Zhen Realm, shake the power structure of Shangjing’s great families, and seize the moment to push the Qianji Sect into the spotlight.
Yes, the Qianji Sect.
Ever since arriving in Shangjing, Lang Junxian had entertained this idea.
The Qianji Sect was deeply rooted, passed down from ancient times.
With some packaging and operation, presenting the Qianji Sect as a hidden high gate in the open world would make it no weaker than these so-called Xiu Zhen clans.
The Xiu Zhen Realm was about to descend into chaos—perfect timing.
Heroes rise in times of turmoil; unveiling the Qianji Sect now wouldn’t be too conspicuous.
Everything was ready, just waiting for the east wind.
Mo Qin’s news was reliable.
The atmosphere in Shangjing suddenly thickened with tension.
The great families increased their frequent exchanges, and in just a few days, Lang Juntian’s study had seen five or six groups of visitors, all entering with furrowed brows and leaving with sighs.
Lang Junxian wisely did not pry, quietly going about his duties as the young master.
He passed nearly a month in steady calm.
Then Lang Juntian summoned him to the study.
Inside, the Lang Family Old Master was present, both men frowning deeply, their eyes shadowed with dark bruises and their faces drawn.
Lang Junxian bowed respectfully, then calmly sat down, waiting for Lang Juntian to speak.
The Old Master, seeing his composed demeanor, nodded subtly and gave Lang Juntian a meaningful glance.
Only then did Lang Juntian begin.
He first explained the current situation to Lang Junxian, who did not hide that he had already received news and nodded as he responded, “Mo Qin told me earlier that something big is happening.”
He frowned with concern.
“Is it very serious?”
Lang Juntian did not answer directly but showed more interest in Mo Qin’s connection to him.
“Oh? The Mo Family Head told you beforehand?”
“Yes,” Lang Junxian explained, “but only briefly, without details.”
Lang Juntian stroked his chin and nodded approvingly.
“I called you here today for this matter.”
He slowly explained, from the ancient battle between humans and demons, all the way to the present state of the Xiu Zhen Realm.
According to the surviving records, humans won that ancient war, and demons were defeated.
Against the wishes of the Human Sovereign, human cultivators combined forces to seal the remaining demon elites in the Nirvana Realm.
No one had ever seen what the Nirvana Realm looked like.
It was said to be an eternal night—no spiritual energy, no life, and no borders.
Only emptiness.
The belief was that those demon elites sealed inside would either perish or go mad after thousands of years, with no chance of escape.
But in truth, their assumption was half right.
Half of the demons sealed away had died, but the rest had gone mad.
They had become neither human nor ghostly monsters, wandering the Nirvana Realm until the seal between the Human Realm and Nirvana Realm cracked, allowing some demons to escape.
If they hadn’t accidentally captured one of these escaped demons, they wouldn’t even have known the seal had broken.
“Can’t they reseal it?”
Lang Junxian asked.
Lang Juntian shook his head.
“The seal requires an immense amount of spiritual energy. With how thin the current spiritual energy is, it’s impossible to support a new sealing.”
Lang Junxian still found it odd.
“After all these thousands of years, even if some demons survived, there can’t be many left. Wouldn’t it be better to draw them all out and kill them to prevent future trouble?”
Lang Juntian looked at him in surprise, as if not expecting such a remark.
Still, he explained, “A few demon cultivators are not the problem. What worries us is that spiritual energy from the Human Realm is beginning to drain into the Nirvana Realm. If this continues, the Human Realm’s spiritual energy will be exhausted, and then the Xiu Zhen Realm will cease to exist.”
That was indeed a grave issue.
Cultivators relied on spiritual energy.
After the ancient war, the heavens and earth were damaged, making spiritual energy increasingly scarce.
The current result was that no one could cultivate to the highest realms anymore.
Today’s cultivators could at most reach the Refining Void and Dao Union stages, with lifespans no longer than eight hundred years.
But in the ancient times, cultivators could reach even higher stages and live thousands, even tens of thousands of years.
Those were now mere legends.
If the spiritual energy were completely drained, the future of the Xiu Zhen Realm was bleak.
No wonder those ancient recluse monsters who had been meditating for years couldn’t remain hidden any longer.
They had summoned Lang Junxian precisely to bring him to the upcoming Xiu Zhen Realm conference.
To keep it secret and avoid public chaos, only family heads and their designated heirs could attend.
The conference was scheduled for tomorrow.
The reason Lang Junxian was called only today was because they had been observing him.
Now that Lang Junxian stood here, it meant he had passed their assessment and was confirmed as the Lang Family’s future head.
With everything explained, Lang Junxian went back to the small courtyard to pack.
Time was tight—they had to depart that very night.
In the small courtyard, Bai Maomao was cultivating while waiting for Xiao Hei to return.
Rarely unsettled, today he found himself restless, unable to calm down no matter how he practiced.
He finally gave up and leaned against the bed, scrolling through his phone.
Yan Miao, who had just learned WeChat, was awkwardly chatting with him.
Miao Miao: Momo said to take me out to play.
Bai Maomao: Where to?
Miao Miao: Bu Ji Island.
Bai Maomao: Watch out, he might sell you.
Miao Miao: QAQ
Bai Maomao curved his mouth, put down his phone, stretched lazily, and just then saw Xiao Hei enter.
“Back. What did they want with you?”
Lang Junxian sat beside him and carefully recounted what he knew.
When Bai Maomao heard about the Demon Clan, his expression was a mix of anger and sorrow.
He understood the Demon Clan’s current plight better than anyone.
Seeing him upset, Lang Junxian comforted him, “Everything will be fine.”
Bai Maomao pouted, knowing being angry wouldn’t help.
He turned his attention back.
“So, you’re leaving tonight?”
“Yeah,” Lang Junxian began packing two suitcases—one his own, one for Bai Maomao. “
You’re coming too.”
Bai Maomao was confused.
“Why would I go?”
Lang Junxian smiled gently, “Mo Qin got you a spot. You’ll be going as the Young Master of the Qianji Sect.”
Bai Maomao’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Qianji Sect Young Master?”
Lang Junxian chuckled, swiftly finished packing, and began explaining the full story.
Bai Maomao hesitated when he heard about the plan to push the Qianji Sect forward.
“But Mother said to keep a low profile?”
“Fool,” Lang Junxian bumped foreheads with him.
“The great families are in chaos now. Suddenly bringing out the Qianji Sect won’t draw attention. As long as we establish a foothold now, we won’t have to hide later.”
“Besides…”
Lang Junxian dragged out his words, savoring the focused look in his beloved’s eyes, and slowly said, “You’ve always wanted to do something for the Demon Clan. If the Qianji Sect grows big, we can shelter those homeless demon cultivators in the future.”
Bai Maomao was surprised and a little embarrassed, never expecting a casual remark he made long ago to be remembered.
Seeing him stunned, Lang Junxian took the chance to plant a soft kiss on his lips.
“I will help you fulfill your wish.”