The long wind roared across ten thousand li, dragging the clouds into a pale, drifting sea.

Empyrean Shitian. Sword Immortal Sect. Mistborne Peak.

At its highest cliff stood a lone stone shaped like a spirit roc about to spread its wings—Spirit Roc Stone.

Upon it sat a young man, handsome and quiet, legs folded, breath slow and steady. He drew in wind and mist, exhaled all distractions, as though returning everything to its origin.

Below the stone, several outer disciples pointed at him, their faces twisted with disdain.

“Hey, Xavier Evernight is meditating again?”

“That useless brat? He deserves to be called ‘Uncle’?” Their leader, Brutus Ironforge, spat a heavy wad of phlegm.

A new disciple blinked in surprise. “An uncle of the sect… and he’s a cripple?”

Brutus Ironforge snorted. “Ten years ago, Sword Immortal Sect had a grand event.”

“Under our former Sect Master’s arrangement, nine second‑generation disciples were to marry on the same day.”

“Nine brides—each born noble. Immortal maidens of major sects, heirs of hidden clans, even a princess of the Primordial Beast Tribes.”

“And every single one of them ranked in the top ten of the All‑Seas‑Eight‑Desolations Beauty Ledger.”

Greed flickered in Brutus Ironforge’s bull‑like eyes.

The new disciple swallowed hard. “Top ten… on that ledger? Our sect is barely third‑rate. How could such women marry in?”

Brutus Ironforge’s eyes widened, and he cursed under his breath. “Heaven only knows! The whole world was shaken. People said our former Sect Master fooled half the realm to pull it off.”

“Who knew joy would flip into tragedy.”

His tone sank low. “A Nascent Soul fiend—Adrian Bloodfiend—set his eyes on Sword Immortal Sect. During the wedding ceremony, he slipped past our mountain gates and slaughtered his way in.”

“A Nascent Soul demon? Adrian Bloodfiend?”

The new disciple’s face went pale.

In Empyrean Shitian, a Nascent Soul cultivator could establish a sect and be worshiped as a patriarch. A Spirit Severance expert like Adrian Bloodfiend… belonged to legends. Ordinary people had no chance to even glimpse such beings.

Yobrutus Ironforge let out a cold snort. “The former sect master and the nine second‑generation disciples couldn’t stop him. Cornered, they chose to self‑detonate together, stirred the heavens, and drew down a lightning strike. Only then was Adrian Bloodfiend heavily wounded and forced to retreat. Pity those nine bridal beauties—married that very day, never even saw their husbands’ faces before becoming widows.”

The new disciples stared, dumbstruck.

They had never imagined Sword Immortal Sect carried such a brutal past.

“When the former sect master blew himself up, he passed the sect master’s mantle to the eldest disciple’s wife, Seraphina Nightvale. The eight other brides were all promoted to Elders. Since then, our Sword Immortal Sect has been led by women—Yin flourishing, Yang withering—mocked by countless outsiders.”

Brutus Ironforge cast Xavier Evernight a sidelong glance. “And the funniest part? This smallest second‑generation disciple, Xavier Evernight.”

“Not only useless, but he got caught in that explosion, struck by heavenly lightning, his spiritual root destroyed. He can’t cultivate at all.”

“For ten years, this cripple shows up here every day to ‘cultivate,’ rain or shine. Waste of breath. He’s just a mortal.”

“Lives off the nine senior sisters spoiling him—the female sect master, the female elders—all shielding him. Everyone knows him as the king of freeloaders.”

“How does a useless man win the hearts of the sect master and all the elders?”

A new disciple asked cautiously.

Brutus Ironforge smirked. “His spiritual root’s ruined, but he ain’t a eunuch. Why shouldn’t the senior sisters pamper the little junior?”

The disciples burst into crude laughter, winking as they walked off.

“Daily check‑in complete.”

“Congratulations. Ten years of check‑ins achieved.”

Hearing that gentle female voice, Xavier’s tense heart finally loosened. He opened his eyes slowly, emotions surging like a tide.

“Ten years.”

Everything Brutus Ironforge said was nonsense.

Ten years ago, the nine disciples were getting married on the same day. Adrian Bloodfiend broke in and slaughtered wildly. The former sect master and the nine disciples did self‑detonate, but the blood fiend only suffered light injuries.

A Fiend‑Transformation monster—far beyond what a group of Nascent Soul cultivators could harm with a suicide blast.

The nine immortal maidens also joined forces, yet Adrian Bloodfiend crushed them all, capturing each one—danger closing around them like a tightening noose.

Adrian Bloodfiend burst into wild laughter, his fingers tightening around the “little junior brother” Xavier Evernight as he prepared to end the boy’s life.

Facing death, the little junior brother roared in despair, cursing Adrian Bloodfiend to die without a corpse, to be smitten by heaven’s thunder.

And right at that moment, Xavier Evernight crossed into this world on a bolt of lightning.

The lightning struck true, smashing straight into Adrian Bloodfiend.

The old monster was scorched outside and tender inside, stumbling away in humiliation.

The nine senior sisters stood frozen, stunned beyond words.

The original “little junior brother,” the famed Great Prophet, vanished without a trace.

And Xavier Evernight—bearing the exact same face—took his place, becoming the sole surviving second-generation disciple.

No exaggeration: Xavier Evernight was the savior of Sword Immortal Sect, the man who had saved nine peerless senior sisters from certain death.

Only he and the nine women knew the real truth.

All others were gone.

There was just one flaw… Xavier Evernight, a man from the modern world, possessed no “spiritual root.”

After brooding over it, he finally crafted a story: he claimed he had performed the Great Prophecy Technique that day, revealing heaven’s secrets, which destroyed his spiritual root.

The senior sisters believed him. After all, that day had been filled with too many strange, unbelievable events. And out of gratitude and guilt toward their “savior,” they competed to dote on him, shielding him with tenderness.

They had originally planned to announce the truth to the world, to let Xavier Evernight gain eternal fame.

But Xavier, guilty and terrified of being exposed, firmly refused. He begged them to keep everything hidden. “For the sake of the dead,” he said, let the world believe that their master and senior brothers had bravely self‑detonated to repel the enemy, earning them honor after death.

This instead won him even deeper respect and affection. The newlywed senior sisters felt only more gratitude and remorse.

After all, in this era, the dead mattered most; they must be honored as if still alive.

Their husbands had died in vain, accomplishing nothing. If the truth were known, they’d be remembered with shame.

But if the world believed they had died in a fierce battle, driving back a monster of the Transforming Spirit realm, their names would echo with glory instead.

The truth was buried. Even the disciples of Sword Immortal Sect believed the one who drove off Adrian Bloodfiend was their Ninth Martial Uncle. Xavier Evernight? In their eyes, just a useless tag‑along.

Xavier didn’t argue. He kept his head down, quietly enjoying the sweet life of being spoiled by nine senior sisters. Not a handsome young lord—no, just the pampered little junior brother.

At least when he crossed over, a woman’s voice had told him to check in at the Lingjiu Stone every day. “Sign in for ten years, and fate will answer.”

So for ten years, through wind and rain, Xavier never missed a single day.

“Ten years… finally done.”

“System! Come out!”

He waited, eyes bright with hope, for that promised “karma.”

A cup of tea passed.

A stick of incense burned out.

An entire hour slipped away.

Nothing happened.

Xavier froze.

“That’s it?”

Ten years of check‑ins… for empty air?

He cursed under his breath. “Damn system. No honor at all.”

Before his temper could flare further, a slender jade hand slipped around him—bold, possessive.

A soft breath of orchid fragrance washed over him, cool and intoxicating.

Xavier turned.

Standing behind him was a stunning empress‑like woman, beauty sharp enough to cut the world. Her tall, graceful figure wrapped in a tight gold‑thread phoenix robe, its high slit failing to hide those long, flawless legs. Her flame‑red lips glowed with dangerous allure.

But what truly seized his breath were her eyes—clear autumn‑water pupils carrying the dignity of a sovereign, yet every flicker of her phoenix gaze shimmered with bewitching charm.

Seraphina Nightvale. His First Senior Sister. The Sect Master herself.

The nine‑heavens beauty, regal as an empress, appeared behind Xavier Evernight without a sound. Her jade‑smooth arms slipped around him, light as moonlight.

“Little Xavier… who dared bully you?”

“Huh? Senior Sister?” Xavier jolted, nearly jumping out of his skin.

The newcomer was his eldest senior sister—Seraphina Nightvale, the Sect Master of Sword Immortal Sect.

A direct disciple of the Nine‑Heavens Mystic Maiden lineage, a top‑grade Nascent Soul powerhouse.