The man’s voice was clear yet husky, possessing a captivating magnetism that drew listeners in, faintly laced with an aura of sharp nobility, its edge concealed.

“It is rumored that in the north of the Central Continent, there is a youth from a prestigious family. At the age of nineteen, he single-handedly, with a single sword, slew a Seventh-Order Thunderous Giant Butterfly. He is already highly regarded by the various sects of the Cloud Realm.”

“This person cultivates both spiritual and martial arts. Due to his family's deep heritage, both his martial path and spiritual techniques have reached the level of the Returning Yang Black Tortoise Sect. He is arguably the foremost talent on the Eastern Lin Cloud Continent in the last decade. It is fortunate his kin chose to keep such a talent hidden for so long.”

Taking up the thread of conversation, the youth's eyes narrowed slightly: “To slay a Seventh-Order Giant Butterfly while only at the Sixth-Order realm… even if he is dual-cultivator, it is nigh impossible. It suggests he either commanded the might of an Emperor’s Martial Path, harnessing the power of a nation and its army, or he truly achieved Spirit-Martial Unification.”

“Though this person comes from a great family, he holds no military command, nor has he ruled a state. However, his clan is undeniably ambitious, currently mustering troops, recruiting heroes, and accumulating strength. They likely harbor treasonous intentions. On that day, others did not see clearly, but if my assessment is correct, he must have experienced a sudden enlightenment under the immense pressure of the Seventh-Order Giant Butterfly, achieving the realm of Spirit-Martial Unification. For someone his age, twenty-one, this is truly rare. While his martial talent might not match that of Zong Shou, who achieved sword spirit connection at thirteen, among the younger generation, if there are no others capable of Spirit-Martial Unification, this youth is likely unrivaled.”

The statement carried a subtle undertone of admiration. Then, the man’s tone deepened.

“It is said this youth also wields a Xie blade!”

Hearing this, the youth in Confucian robes let out a hearty laugh: “So, your Sword Sect is preparing to recruit that person as well?”

The purple longsword showed no hesitation, its tip pointing slightly: “That is indeed the intent. Do you, of the Mortal Path, not feel tempted?”

“To be frank with Your Excellency, I, the current Master of the Mortal Path, have certainly never been tempted.”

The Confucian-robed youth chuckled lightly, a hint of self-mockery in his eyes: “I retain some self-awareness. The Mortal Path has always been viewed as heretical. Causing minor disturbances in the Central Continent is manageable. But if we attempt to interfere with these potential God-Emperor candidates, we will certainly be besieged by everyone—be it the Buddhist, Confucian, Daoist schools, or even the Demonic Sects—none will tolerate the Mortal Path meddling.”

His gaze flashed, sharp with cunning: “How about this proposal? If your Sword Sect is willing to yield Zong Shou to my Mortal Path, then my Six Gates of the Mortal Path will wholeheartedly assist your Sword Sect in securing that God-Emperor seed!”

The purple sword fell into silence, then, after a brief pause, asked with apparent confusion: “Are you truly resigned to that? Sword Spirit Connection is excellent, yes, but the gap in comprehension might still be bridgeable. The aptitude for Spirit-Martial Unification, however, is a treasure encountered once in a thousand years.”

“If I am not willing, then what?”

The Confucian-robed youth shook his head slightly, then raised an eyebrow, his eyes brimming with expectation: “I have high hopes for Zong Shou; he suits my disposition perfectly. **His mastery of the sword path might not ultimately fall short of your Sword Sect’s future direct successor. However, Your Excellency, if you truly choose this youth, you must be cautious in the future. Having the aptitude for Spirit-Martial Unification is beneficial, certainly. But truly mastering it requires significant effort and concentration. A slight misstep could lead to ruin. There are many precedents for those who achieve Spirit-Martial Unification by chance before reaching the Celestial Rank, but few manage to replicate it later.”

“How I train my disciples is none of your concern.”

The purple sword ceased its chatter, its body trembling again: “Since your mind is set, let it be so. This is excellent! I yield Zong Shou to you, but your Mortal Path must equally pledge full assistance to my Sword Sect’s contention.”

As the voice faded, the sword body vibrated once more, piercing the air and vanishing from the spire of the tower.

Seeing this, the Confucian-robed youth felt intensely envious. Having a Second Nascent Soul was indeed incredibly convenient. He resolved that once he had leisure, he would certainly acquire one for himself.

He also felt a quiet sense of relief. Spending over a month atop this spire wasn't just about verbal sparring; the Sword Sect's methods always involved fighting with force, seizing things with the sword.

He muttered inwardly: “Finally settled. But he agreed just like that? Isn’t he afraid of being accused of colluding with the Demon Path by those scoundrels? Does the Sword Sect truly harbor such ambition as to contend for the Central Continent’s throne?”

Shaking his head in confusion, the Confucian-robed youth stood up fully and stretched with a yawn.

Observing the lightning gathering more intensely above the spikes below, he sneered faintly, and with a casual step, sent the thousand-foot tower into a violent tremor.

“Fine! You don't need to kick me out; I'll leave myself. Since the Sword Sect Master has departed, there is no reason for me to linger here. Hmph! If this wasn't the only place to conceal my aura, do you think I'd have the patience to be in your wretched place? What a hideous tower! Don't expect me to help you later even if you beg!”

Just as the massive tower shook violently, sparking with countless arcs of lightning, the Confucian-robed youth swept his wide sleeve, commanding the wind and clouds for a thousand miles, and stepped out, instantly covering hundreds of miles.

Weaving through the clouds, the youth suddenly exclaimed in surprise. He closed his eyes, sinking into profound concentration.

“Imperial Path Secret Martial Arts? This Zong Shou truly learns whatever he touches. But this is troublesome; he isn't a God-Emperor, so why would he need Imperial Aura?”

He let out another wry smile: “Does this mean the moment this child joins my ranks, the Mortal Path will lose a rare treasure? This child truly makes one worry.”

Yet, his face held no sign of true distress; instead, a hint of delight surfaced.

Two days later, they were still on the peak of Mount Qiantian. The summit of Mount Qiantian had once been extremely steep.

But after Zong Weiran established his city here, he had the peak completely leveled, creating a vast flat expanse stretching a thousand zhang north to south.

Behind the Hall of State Affairs was a palace of no small stature. Although the structures built here were grand, the internal decorations were somewhat modest.

This allowed Zong Shou a glimpse of the simple lifestyle his nominal father maintained when he was still the Demon King.

At this moment, Zong Shou sat listlessly in a warm chamber.

This place was Zong Weiran’s usual study for handling state affairs. Upon succeeding as the Demon King, Zong Shou naturally followed the succession, taking over this space.

But now, his face was etched with worry. This was the first time he felt that being the Demon King, the master of a city, was not so easy.

For the past two days, he had been buried under piles of animal hides and bamboo slips. Indeed, animal hides and bamboo slips.

In this era, paper was still an extremely rare commodity. All clans and vassal cities under Mount Qiantian used hides and slips to replace paper for official reports and memos, saving expenditure.

In later generations, this would be termed saving on ‘public operational costs,’ and more than half of it was free animal hide.

This was torment for Zong Shou. After two days, he smelled of earth, saltpeter, and raw musk. Even with the strength of ten thousand jin, his arms ached slightly from the weight of the bamboo slips.

The hides and slips currently stacked in the room amounted to several days' worth.

Although this was inventory accumulated over the half-year Mount Qiantian was without a ruler, it offered a glimpse into the sheer volume of work a City Lord faced daily.

He truly couldn't understand how Zong Weiran managed to keep the affairs of the Nine Provinces meticulously organized while simultaneously making rapid advancements in his martial cultivation.

With a sigh, Zong Shou opened his mouth to speak to Ruoshui, who was handing him a hide, but his voice was hoarse, unable to produce much sound. Finally, he resorted to using his hands to gesture and mime.

Ruoshui looked utterly bewildered, watching Zong Shou wave his hands about. After a while, she managed to guess: “Does the Young Master mean you want to pick out the important ones?”

Zong Weiran, at this moment, was so moved he was near tears. This girl had finally understood; it was truly not easy.

Beside them, Suchu Xue couldn't help but chuckle: “Young Master, you are truly unprecedented. Even the Heavenly Fox Patriarch couldn't manage you, yet you managed to silence yourself by laughing? Why are you laughing, Young Master?”

Zong Shou let out a sound that was supposed to be a 'Hmph,' but no sound emerged. He could only glare angrily at Chuxue, making frustrated noises to show his displeasure. This girl truly never learned her lesson. Not long ago, he had severely ‘disciplined’ her snowy backside; how dare she mock her own Young Master now?

“The Young Master is likely undergoing a voice change. My uncle said children are like this. Our Demon Race, merging with the Divine Beast bloodline, is even more distinct.”

Glancing at Zong Shou’s Adam’s apple, Chuxue recalled her own future and felt a momentary worry.

But in the next instant, she noticed the threat in Zong Shou’s eyes, instantly recalling something. Her pretty face flushed red. Then, her eyes darted, and with a hint of vengeful spite, she snorted coldly: “But I’ve never seen anyone laugh themselves mute like the Young Master. They say we have residual laryngeal bones. Some people recover their voice in a day or two after losing it, some take one or two months, even years. Some never speak again in their lives. Right, Sister Ruoshui?”

Ruoshui was currently picking out the ‘hides’ that seemed most important from the stack of animal skins.

Hearing this, she nodded blankly.

Zong Shou froze, a wave of worry washing over him. During his internal inspections over the past two days, he had used his internal energy to check. Indeed, there was a piece of extra bone in his throat, and his vocal cords seemed slightly altered. The condition didn't appear too severe.

But when would he be able to speak and produce sound again, he couldn't say for sure.

Did this mean if he didn't recover in a few months or years, he would have to remain mute for that long?

He deeply regretted his actions that day at the Sacrificial Altar; he had truly gotten carried away by his excitement.

In fact, acting cool and aloof like others would have been fine; one didn't necessarily need to roar with laughter to display the demeanor of a powerful leader. That was too vulgar!