For any person of supreme power, a following was not optional.

Even the most solitary, temperamental autocrat had loyal supporters standing somewhere behind them. There was a saying — better to be the head of a chicken than the tail of an ox — and it had its truth, but only for the young and proud who had not yet learned the world, or for the genuinely isolated individual with nothing to lean on. Anyone who had grown up inside a great family, accustomed to advantages and networks that ordinary people simply didn’t have, thought about it completely differently. Nearly every scion of a great house wanted to align with strength — to find the largest tree available and stand in its shade.

This was especially true for clan heads, sect masters, and lords whose decisions carried the weight of their people’s survival. The considerations they had to hold in mind extended far beyond any individual horizon.

Sea Fatty, in his own colorful way, had once made the point that being the tail of an ox wasn’t so bad. Because the tail of an ox, after all, was — well. It was the back end of something tremendous.

The observation was a bit crude. It was also essentially correct.

After his complaints to Jun Wuyou and the old fox, Yueyang accepted the reality of his situation. A person of supreme power attracted dependents — that was simply how it worked — and pooling everyone’s resources was vastly more efficient than going it alone. Better to have a crowd of loyal followers than a crowd of competitors grinding their teeth at you from across the room. Take the best of what was available, leave enough for everyone else to feel they’d gained something, and only a fool would call that insufficient.

With Jun Wuyou and the old fox accompanying him, Yueyang received the delegations from across the Sky Stairway’s allied races: Gold Elves, minotaurs, dwarves, pig-folk, toad-folk, gnomes, the Underworld Clan, the Demon Abyss Clan, the Eastern Demon Clan, and more besides. With the leading figures of the Warriors’ Guild and the Innate Alliance bearing witness, and Elder Nangong presiding, a series of cooperation agreements were signed.

In substance, they were affiliation contracts — each allied race formally committing their finest young talents to serve in Yueyang’s Dragon Rider Legion reserve as a gesture of celebration for his upcoming marriage. In reality, it was a declaration of allegiance, and a way for each clan to place their most promising members under the protection of a supreme power. Whether those members were called Dragon Riders or anything else was beside the point. What mattered was having a name on Yueyang’s roster — having a place in his field of vision. Once everyone stood on the same stage under his eye, the rest depended on what each individual could actually do.

“I hereby announce,” Elder Nangong said, his voice ringing through the hall after Yueyang’s signature was set, “that the Dragon Rider Legion of Yueyang, Yue Titan, is formally established today!” He lifted the contract high above his head. He was witnessing history on behalf of the Sky Stairway’s Innate Alliance, and he knew it.

The assembled delegates erupted in applause.

This signing ceremony would be spoken of for ten thousand years. Future generations would be grateful for what their forebears had done today.

Before today, no power in the Sky Stairway’s history had ever extended this kind of multi-racial contractual recognition. The Empress Vivienne, the Prison Emperor Zhanfeng, the Sleeping Princess Night Dream — all of them had primarily accepted the allegiance of their own kind. Vivienne’s threshold was relatively low, but her genuine trust was reserved for the serpent-demon race; everything else was either conquered into submission or ignored entirely. Night Dream accepted only those descended from the Sky Stairway’s own lineage, and barely acknowledged the existence of other races at all.

The Prison Emperor had been somewhat more open, willing to accept people generally, with a particular emphasis on human warriors from the Longteng continent.

But Yueyang — Yueyang had put down in writing that it didn’t matter whether you were sea-folk or demon-folk, minotaur or human; whether you came from the Ancient Wind Continent or the Aoga Continent; whether you lived on the first floor of the Sky Stairway or the tenth. On paper, every race was equal.

This, too, was a first in history.

Every race present understood perfectly well that the Longteng continent would receive the most favorable treatment in practice — and they understood why. Perfect impartiality was a fantasy. Being treated as equals in principle, given the same genuine opportunity to compete — that alone was unprecedented.

Could Gold Elves and toad-folk truly be equals in every respect? The most impressive toad-folk in the room, Jude the enormous — Yueyang’s Titan Guild proxy — still couldn’t quite stop himself from smoothing down his posture when Lynn, Anna, and Bao’er of the Gold Elves walked past. Certain races carried innate advantages that couldn’t be erased. A rat-person who had spent generations in servitude couldn’t demand identical treatment to a Sky-rank dragon, and everyone knew it.

But what Yueyang was offering wasn’t identical treatment. It was a real chance.

“I’ll skip the long speeches,” Yueyang said, when it was his turn. “I don’t enjoy saying things that sound good and mean nothing. That kind of talk wastes everyone’s time. I have one thing to say. For as long as I am here: any talented person, of any race, will have the best conditions to grow. I have no upper limit on how many geniuses the Sky Stairway produces, or how many Sky-rank warriors it eventually contains — because against the whole of the heavenly realms, the Sky Stairway is small. Genuinely, embarrassingly small. Delegates, please carry my words back with you. All young people with ambition — come. Come and join us. Together we will take on the heavenly realms. However long it takes, there will come a day when the Sky Stairway stands at the peak of all that exists. If that sounds like a life worth living to you — then come.”

The hall went to pieces.

Jun Wuyou and the old fox looked at each other across the room and smiled.

The new Prison Emperor had arrived at the Sky Stairway.

Not just the Longteng continent. Every race in the Sky Stairway — their rise was no longer in question. It was only a matter of time.

The allied races had originally planned to wait and see. No one had anticipated how fast Yueyang’s cultivation would move. In what felt like the blink of an eye he had broken through to Innate realm. Extraordinary talents — once-in-a-thousand-years prodigies like the Prison Emperor himself — needed centuries for that. This young man had cleared Innate and then, within roughly three years, cracked the Perfect Innate Sovereign Realm as well. The word was that he was already approaching the legendary divine realm.

There was no precedent for it. But nobody doubted that this monstrous talent would eventually stand at the pinnacle.

To wait until he reached godhood before pledging allegiance — what would be the point? By that stage, the entire heavenly realms would be lining up to flatter him, let alone the Sky Stairway. But to be among the first — to be there at the foundation, when history was still being laid — that made every affiliated race a founding contributor. The status that came with that was incomparable.

Conquering the heavenly realms was a long road. But with this foundation built, did the Sky Stairway’s allied races really need to worry anymore about where that road led?

The delegates were seen off. Yueyang then received the heads of the Longteng continent’s various sects and noble houses.

These were a different matter entirely from the previous group — they had long since accepted their status as part of the Yue family’s sphere of influence. There was nothing more to discuss.

Each of them simply received a flying dragon.

One per house. Directly given.

The dragons themselves cost nothing — summoned from Dragon Valley via the Dragon Whistle, not a coin spent — and they were genuinely eager to leave the enclosed valley and follow someone of real power. When Yueyang returned to Dragon Valley with Queen Zige, he didn’t even need the whistle. Several hundred dragons with potential lined up on their own initiative. For the most promising among them, Yueyang used Sky-rank Quasi-Sky-rank Dragon King magic crystals and blood to help them advance to full Dragon King status. For the dozen or so with the highest potential, he was — as the outside world would say — generous enough to gift them genuine dragon blood, advancing them directly to Gold rank.

When word spread that exceptional performance might earn ancient dragon blood, the reaction was immediate and total. Ancient dragon blood — did that mean they could become the legendary Sky-rank dragons? Dragon Emperor tier?

With that dangling in front of them, the dragons were enthusiastic beyond measure.

Even without any of it, they would have followed Yueyang at the Celestial Dragon-Women’s direction. With the ultimate promise of ancient dragon blood on top — there was simply nothing left to consider.

By the same logic, a certain Golden Dragon in the heavenly realms had also been persuaded. After some careful application of Yueyang’s fists and the promise of ancient dragon blood, a being who had been quite powerful and rather proud in its own right had agreed to serve as nominal mount. Which wasn’t actually a bad arrangement — ordinary war beasts couldn’t even get an audition for the role of the Third Young Master’s mount.

Maybe someday I’ll actually be promoted to a real mount, the Golden Dragon thought.

It also understood that this day was not imminent. Among Yueyang’s war beasts, even a random pick from the bottom of the list would vastly outclass it. If it tried to claim the title of Yueyang’s mount in front of Gray Wolf, Taotie, and Starweave Scorpion, they would divide it into equal portions and have it for lunch.

With all the formal duties handled, Yueyang saw no reason to linger. He was the master — the whole point of followers was that they handled things so he didn’t have to.

Having signed what needed signing and promised what needed promising, he slipped away from the main hall, leaving the Golden Dragon behind as a display piece, and went with Princess Qianqian to the hot springs at Jun Wuyou’s detached palace.

Wuxia — who normally preferred staying in with a book to going anywhere — apparently caught wind of what certain wolves and tiger-girls had in mind for the evening, because she announced she was coming too, which came very close to ending Yueyang’s vision of an intimate evening for two before it began.

“Come on,” he said to Wuxia in a low voice, while Qianqian was changing. “I’m just a man trying to make a living. Winning over a girl isn’t easy, you know. Cut me some slack here. I’ll buy you supper next time. Late supper. Whatever you want.”

“I’m not going to be in the way,” Xue Wuxia said mildly.

“You just being there means Qianqian won’t relax. Any chance of getting away with anything goes straight out the window.” This was the kind of thing Yueyang only said to Wuxia — their understanding was deep enough that words were almost redundant. Whatever he said or didn’t say, she could sense it if she chose to.

“What about Xiao Nu?” Wuxia asked, smiling, raising a question the group had almost collectively forgotten to ask.

“That — is a very long story. Three days and three nights wouldn’t cover it.” Yueyang scratched the back of his neck. One thing had led to another, and then Pandora had gotten involved, and somehow it had all become extremely complicated.

“Take your time,” Wuxia said pleasantly, picking up a back-scrubbing cloth. “I’ll take care of your back. Comfortable pressure?”

Princess Qianqian came out in a bathrobe, took one look at the scene, and clicked her tongue loudly. “My, my. The Third Young Master really does live well — the eldest daughter of the Xue Clan personally scrubbing his back. The luxury.”

Her tone was perfectly composed. The sourness was thick enough to turn the hot spring to vinegar.

“Qianqian, Wuxia — don’t misread this, here’s actually what happened—” Yueyang gave them the full account of Desire Valley, editing the more eventful parts to a brief summary.

“Oh, so that’s how it was,” Princess Qianqian said, borrowing one of Yueyang’s own pet phrases back at him, and added a small reproachful sound that served as both acknowledgment and forgiveness.

“Poor Pandora,” Wuxia said. “Let her come out and enjoy the hot spring too — we should have a proper talk.” Then she raised the final outstanding question: the Death Reaper Mantis.

Since passing through the Rebirth Gate in Beast Valley, the Death Reaper Mantis had evolved a human form, and her power had surged beyond measure — past Sacred Beast, pressing toward the threshold of Divine. But there was one thing she still didn’t have.

A name.

In Beast Valley it hadn’t mattered — there had been only her and Yueyang. But now that they were back in the world, Wuxia and Qianqian both felt she deserved one. It was a matter of proper respect.

Yueyang offered a few suggestions. Qianqian shot them all down. Finally, Wuxia spoke:

“The Death Reaper Mantis has been the most fortunate creature I’ve ever known. She came into the world with nothing but bad luck — her siblings all destroyed, she alone surviving. She found you, and was reborn. She grew through everything, step by step, and in the end was given the Rebirth Gate itself — gaining a human form, breaking records, receiving the Celestial Divine Brilliance and the Sacred Wisdom Fruit’s awakening, becoming a Quasi-Divine Beast. She has been so, so lucky…” Wuxia paused thoughtfully.

“You call that lucky?” Qianqian said.

Wuxia shook her head gently. “That luck came from following the right master. With Yueyang, she had all of it. So — let’s call her Future. She is a fortunate creature with a future ahead of her.”

“Thank you, Principal Wife Wuxia, for the name!” The Death Reaper Mantis flitted out at once, landed on Wuxia’s shoulder, and pressed a grateful kiss to her cheek with the enthusiasm of a small creature who had been waiting for exactly this moment.

“Look at you,” Qianqian said, laughing despite herself. “Of all the role models available, you had to pick up Gray Wolf’s habit of fawning.”

“Gray Wolf—” Xiao Nu, who had taken over scrubbing duties from Wuxia, stopped mid-motion. Her voice had changed slightly. “There’s something wrong with Gray Wolf. It may be in danger.”

It wasn’t Xiao Nu speaking.

It was Pandora.

Her Calamity god-force and the divine nature of the Goddess of Misfortune had both been transformed — but her gift of prophecy remained intact.

Yueyang was on his feet instantly. “What happened? It’s in the Longteng continent — how is it in danger there? It went to Buried Sword Valley — is there something still living in Buried Sword Valley that shouldn’t be?”

Wuxia and Qianqian looked at each other. The answer arrived on both their lips at the same moment: “Could it be the Inferno Sovereign?”

The pleasant evening evaporated.

Wuxia and Qianqian — bathrobes slipping, unnoticed — helped Yueyang dress with urgent hands. He opened his arms and pulled both of them close, apologetic and hurried at once. “I’ll make it up to you — proper hot spring, just us, I promise. Right now I have to go get Gray Wolf.” Both women and Xiao Nu followed Future into Yueyang’s Grimoire World, dressed quickly, and armed themselves, ready to fight beside him.

Yueyang activated the Three Realms Compass.

He moved at maximum speed toward the outskirts of Buried Sword Valley.