In the early morning, the brilliant sunlight chased away the last vestiges of chill from the desolate land.

Zong Shou, however, sat contentedly on the roof of the carriage, cross-legged, directly opposite Hu Qianqiu.

And Xuanyuan Yiren was right there beside them, personally pouring wine for the two men. In ancient times, a wife's virtue was to keep her head level with her husband's. But at this moment, Xuanyuan Yiren possessed none of her usual sharp, aggressive edge. Her expression was calm and solemn, her graceful posture one of kneeling submission. Her movements were gentle and soft, yet grand and appropriate, displaying the perfection of feminine charm in every gesture.

Beside them sat Hu Zhongyuan, but Zong Shou’s gaze automatically avoided him.

In fact, he dared not look. The Clan Chief of the Iron Tiger Tribe currently sported a swollen nose and face—his appearance was truly not presentable.

The scene of Hu Qianqiu disciplining his son just moments ago was still vividly before his eyes. Wielding the seven-foot-long Hu Ba Saber, he had beaten his son without regard for the setting. The curses he spat out were ones Zong Shou still couldn't forget.

"You little bastard," "Do you really think your old man's mind has gone senile?" "Trying to curry favor with Zong Ling, aren't you ashamed?" He had used the harshest words possible; even Zong Shou found them grating and couldn't sit still.

At this moment, Zong Shou truly couldn't bear to provoke the man. Yet, Hu Zhongyuan seemed entirely unbothered, smiling broadly and heartily despite his bruised and swollen face.

Hu Qianqiu shot him a look of disdain, snorted, and then smiled sweetly and kindly towards Zong Shou, as if Zong Shou were his own flesh and blood.

"How is the young lord’s injury now?"

Zong Shou stretched slightly, and his entire body emitted a series of popping sounds, like soybeans being roasted. Then he laughed, "I am largely recovered, thank you, Uncle Hu, for holding back your strength!"

Hu Qianqiu nodded slightly. He knew the situation well and asked no further questions. He understood that Zong Shou only suffered from disharmony in his internal qi channels after a long battle. He had controlled his strength throughout and hadn't truly injured Zong Shou. Though he had coughed up blood, it was merely from the shock of the counterforce, not actual injury; a little post-battle recuperation would suffice.

Staring at Zong Shou again, assessing him from head to toe, the smile on Hu Qianqiu’s face gradually faded. His expression grew grave as he slowly raised his wine cup. "This first cup, I toast the spirit of the late Sovereign in Heaven—" Zong Shou froze, unsure whether to laugh or cry. His cheap father wasn't even dead yet!

In just a few short years, he would return from his immersion in the Sea of Clouds, unleashing terrifying might.

First, he would personally annihilate the Zong Clan, hanging Zong Shi’s head on the flagpoles of Qiantian Mountain for three months.

Afterward, angered that Lingyun Sect failed to keep its promise, he would single-handedly storm Danling Mountain, commencing a massacre, slaying thirteen Heaven Rank experts before departing. Even the combined efforts of several Sect Elders couldn't hold him back, nearly costing the Eastern Lin Cloud Continent's foremost sect its sacred land.

Of course, that was because of his death. Whether this era would unfold the same way, Zong Shou couldn't be sure.

He held a degree of apprehension toward this powerful figure. Every action he took was weighed down by caution; he dared not easily touch the unclaimed treasures, nor venture beyond the sight of Yin Yang and Chu Xue.

Though these thoughts churned within him, Zong Shou’s expression turned solemn. He solemnly raised his cup and poured a portion of the wine onto the ground beside him.

Hu Qianqiu sighed softly, then raised the second cup of wine, but did not drink. Instead, he looked at Zong Shou with probing eyes. "I am very curious. Within Qiantian Mountain now, both General Qiu Wei of the Left Court Pillar and I are impartial and uncommitted. Why did the young lord summon me, and not Pillar Chief Qiu?"

Zong Shou’s eyes narrowed, and he pondered with a composed elegance. "I heard from Yin Yang that Qiu Wei is most fiercely loyal to my father, and the only minister who would support my succession to the Demon King’s throne regardless of the cost. Uncle Hu, however, is more cautious and mindful of the larger picture. You have never aligned with one side, perhaps to counterbalance those three in Qiantian Mountain?"

Hu Qianqiu burst into booming laughter, laced with satisfaction. "The young lord is truly intelligent! Truly worthy of being the Sovereign’s offspring. Your Sky Fox Clan is indeed born with unparalleled cleverness. But perhaps too clever; my brother Weiran kept me completely in the dark. The young lord possesses peerless talent, unrivaled in the Eastern Lin, yet he refused to tell us brothers. These past few days, I’ve been terribly anxious—"

Hu Zhongyuan nodded vigorously in agreement, a hint of resentment in his expression.

Zong Shou felt helpless. Before Zong Weiran disappeared, he truly possessed no internal energy whatsoever.

However, there was no need to explain now.

Then, Hu Qianqiu’s expression shifted, contemplative. "Thinking deeply, perhaps it was necessary to conceal things. Although your Eight-Tailed Royal Clan of the Sky Foxes cannot shake the foundations of Qiantian Mountain, they have become quite troublesome recently. These fellows, who abandoned us long ago to escape human hunters and left the Cloud Realm, now have the audacity to try and return. If the young lord’s true situation had been known early, it would likely have been disastrous. Dirty tricks like poisoning and assassination—they are capable of anything. Furthermore, there is your mother’s clan; the Sovereign surely had his reasons—"

The hand holding the wine cup trembled slightly in Zong Shou’s grip. His eyes widened, and his mouth hung open, unable to close.

So there was actually a reason for him to conceal his brilliance and keep a low profile?

The Sky Fox Royal Clan? This was different from the Seven-Tailed Zong Clan. The Eight-Tailed Sky Fox Royal Clan, the Xue family, was famous even in the era of the Divine Emperor. Their strength was no less than that of the Holy Land Sects.

A slight shift in thought solidified everything in Zong Shou’s mind; the idea of laughing proudly over the Eastern Lin and testing his sword against the world after today was completely gone. It seemed that being low-key was the better path in life.

After drinking the second cup, Hu Qianqiu casually tossed his wine cup aside, took two bowls from a servant behind him, and placed them between the two men.

Xuanyuan Yiren’s expression flickered slightly before returning to calm; she held the flask again and solemnly refilled both cups.

Hu Qianqiu paid her no mind, his eyes gleaming sharply. "My previous concern was that if you took control of Qiantian Mountain, the several provinces we spent ten arduous years conquering for the millions of demons in our mountain city might collapse overnight. Now that this worry is gone, there is naturally no reason for me to serve others. You asked Yin Yang to summon me; what are your orders? With a single word from the young lord today, I, Hu Qianqiu, will accompany you back to Qiantian Mountain! I will chop off Zong Shi's head and use it as a wine jug for you!"

Zong Shou’s lips curved slightly, and his composure returned. "Uncle Hu, the position of Demon King is not urgent. For the next three to five months, I wish to remain outside, finding a place for dedicated cultivation."

Seeing Hu Qianqiu frown as if about to speak,

Zong Shou smiled and waved his hand, signaling him to be patient.

"With the Cloud Scar Mountain advancing now, if I return immediately to claim the Demon King’s title, I will only cause trouble. Nor do I wish to put on an act and be a puppet for them. Moreover, the Zong Clan has extended its reach far too long these years. It is inconvenient for me to act against my own kin, so I must trouble Uncle Hu and the Left Court Pillar! You don't need to eradicate them, just make them behave."

Hu Qianqiu’s eyes bulged, followed by a loud burst of laughter. "My eyes truly were blind. Very well! The young lord possesses the Sovereign’s wisdom, yet none of his indecision. That Zong Clan has been arrogant all these years, yet the Sovereign constantly tolerated and indulged them. I, Hu Qianqiu, have long disapproved. Leave this matter to me; the young lord can rest assured. By the time you return to Qiantian Mountain, the entire city will be purged of that foul atmosphere."

Hu Zhongyuan’s face changed, and he made a face at his father. Were these really his father's words? The young lord's statement also carried a clear intent to deliberately offend the Demon King’s main lineage.

Hu Qianqiu ignored him, his tiger eyes narrowing. "However, young lord, you trust me just like that? Aren't you afraid I, Hu Qianqiu, might play some trick?"

"I trust Uncle Hu, but not entirely!" Zong Shou flicked his sleeve and pointed to the side. "That is why I ask Uncle Hu to take my two servants back with you! With the combined efforts of Uncle Hu and Pillar Chief Qiu, I trust they can secure important posts for them!"

The finger pointed toward Yin Yang and Lian Fan, whom he did not wish to involve. He secretly thought that since he had no intention of spending his days managing political affairs in Qiantian Mountain, getting his trusted subordinates into high positions so he could be free of all responsibility would be ideal!

Hu Qianqiu’s eyes lit up again, his admiration deepening considerably.

Not leaning toward one side, not blindly trusting, even showing caution toward his closest allies. A person with supreme martial prowess, capable ruthlessness, and shrewd means—wasn't this precisely the candidate for a qualified Demon King?

Little did he know that Zong Shou was currently contemplating how to slack off, setting the stage for a wonderfully leisurely future.

Hu Qianqiu felt increasingly satisfied and laughed heartily, retrieving the Hu Ba Saber once more. With a swift slash, a massive volume of crimson blood spurted out.

Once the wine in the bowls was dyed red, he looked over at Zong Shou with intense anticipation.

Zong Shou’s lips twitched. Did this mean he had to bleed again? Right, there was the concept of the Blood Oath among the demon race; once sworn, one never betrayed. But upon the enthronement of a new Demon King, the Blood Oath had to be renewed.

This meant, as Yin Yang mentioned, Qiantian Mountain comprised one hundred and forty-seven clans. Forging these Blood Oaths one by one, he foresaw that his days of suffering from anemia were fast approaching. He considered mimicking Ri Lei Dong, just forcing out a few drops of blood as a gesture. But looking at Hu Qianqiu’s purely hopeful gaze, and the shocking wound on the man's wrist, he felt it would be too disrespectful. With a bite of his lip, he closed his eyes and sliced his own wrist. It was only shallow, just grazing the skin and flesh, releasing a few dozen drops of blood—enough to satisfy the requirement.

At this moment, whether it was Hu Qianqiu, or Xuanyuan Yiren and Hu Zhongyuan at the sides, their expressions grew solemn.

The surrounding individuals knelt down toward Zong Shou, and the atmosphere abruptly turned solemn and sacred.

Hu Qianqiu also knelt halfway, reverently holding one of the bowls out to Zong Shou with both hands.

Only when Zong Shou solemnly accepted his bowl did Hu Qianqiu raise his own high.

"Today, I, Hu Qianqiu, make a Blood Oath. My Iron Tiger Clan of Qiantian Mountain swears allegiance to the young lord as King!"