The Yunlan Sect delegation left before noon.
Their figures gradually disappeared beyond the gates of the Xiao Clan.
No one tried to stop them.
No one wanted to.
The atmosphere inside the assembly hall remained heavy long after they were gone.
Some elders cursed the Yunlan Sect for their arrogance.
Others sighed, believing the Xiao Clan had simply been too weak to refuse.
Only Xiao Zhan remained seated.
His fists rested quietly on the armrests of his chair.
The wood beneath them had already cracked.
Outside the hall, the younger generation slowly dispersed.
Conversations immediately erupted.
“I can’t believe Young Master Xiao Yan actually agreed.”
“He had no choice.”
“But those last words…”
“Thirty years east, thirty years west…”
“He’s still dreaming.”
Some laughed.
Some shook their heads.
Some secretly admired him.
Xiao Feng listened for a moment before walking away.
People always loved judging the beginning of a story.
Very few waited to see its ending.
On the other side of the courtyard, Xiao Yan stood alone beneath an old tree.
His expression was calm.
Too calm.
Xiao Feng approached without making much noise.
“You look surprisingly relaxed.”
Xiao Yan gave a bitter smile.
“If I don’t relax, should I cry instead?”
“That would be awkward.”
“…”
After a second, Xiao Yan actually laughed.
“You always manage to say something strange.”
“I consider it a talent.”
The two stood in silence for a while.
Eventually Xiao Feng spoke again.
“You don’t regret saying those words?”
Xiao Yan looked toward the sky.
“No.”
“They sounded reckless.”
“They probably were.”
“But if I couldn’t even say what I truly felt…”
“…then I would have lost long before I started.”
Xiao Feng nodded.
That answer sounded exactly like Xiao Yan.
Not yet the Flame Emperor.
Just a stubborn young man refusing to bend.
“Then work hard.”
“Hm?”
“The next thirty years won’t wait for you.”
A small smile appeared on Xiao Yan’s face.
“I know.”
Back inside his room, Xiao Feng finally let himself relax.
Today’s events had followed history almost perfectly.
Which was both reassuring…
…and disappointing.
It meant the future was still mostly intact.
For now.
“Ding.”
A familiar notification appeared.
[Historic Event Recorded.]
[Reward Available.]
Xiao Feng immediately sat upright.
“Now we’re talking.”
The golden screen shimmered.
Reward: Minor Sword Intent Seed.
He blinked.
“No cultivation?”
The next moment, countless sword principles flooded his mind.
He saw mountains split apart.
A single sword cutting through rivers.
An old cultivator practicing one slash for thousands of years.
Then—
Everything disappeared.
Only a tiny, almost invisible sword intent remained within his dantian.
It was weak.
Extremely weak.
But Xiao Feng instinctively understood its value.
Cultivation could always be increased.
Sword Intent…
Had to be comprehended.
The system had just skipped years of enlightenment.
“…That’s ridiculously generous.”
He couldn’t help smiling.
This reward was worth far more than advancing another small realm.
That evening, after dinner, Xiao Feng opened the diary.
He twirled the brush between his fingers.
“What should I write…”
After thinking for a moment, he smiled.
The brush touched the page.
Diary Entry #2
Today history officially began.
Cousin Xiao Yan probably doesn’t realize it yet.
Right now he’s thinking about proving everyone wrong.
Years later, he’ll probably wonder why proving everyone wrong required nearly dying every other week.
Being a protagonist sounds exhausting.
As for Nalan Yanran…
I still think she had every right to choose her own future.
Nobody should be forced into a marriage.
She just picked the single most expensive way possible to solve the problem.
Imagine accidentally creating your own strongest future enemy.
That’s almost impressive.
Actually…
The funniest person today wasn’t Cousin Xiao Yan.
It was Elder Ge Ye.
The poor old man spent the entire meeting looking like he wanted the floor to swallow him.
Being the messenger is truly one of the worst jobs in the world.
Anyway.
Today’s biggest winner wasn’t the Yunlan Sect.
It wasn’t the Xiao Clan either.
It was probably every storyteller in the Jia Ma Empire.
They just received enough material to make money for decades.
The brush stopped.
Xiao Feng reread the entry and nodded.
“Much better.”
It felt like an actual diary.
Not a history book.
The system responded almost immediately.
[Diary Entry Completed.]
[Reward Granted.]
Heavenly Step Art — First Layer.
Another inheritance poured into Xiao Feng’s mind.
Unlike a cultivation technique, this was a movement art.
Light.
Elegant.
Almost impossible to predict.
According to the inheritance, even Foundation Establishment cultivators could use it throughout their entire realm without it becoming obsolete.
Xiao Feng’s eyes lit up.
“A movement technique…”
Perfect.
If cultivation determined whether you could win…
Movement often determined whether you survived.
Far away, the golden diary opened by itself.
Nalan Yanran read the newest entry.
Halfway through, she stopped.
“…The most expensive way possible?”
Her expression became rather complicated.
She wanted to deny it.
Yet…
If the diary’s predictions were true…
Perhaps it really had been.
Hidden within the black ring, Yao Lao chuckled.
“Creating your own strongest enemy…”
“What an amusing way to describe it.”
For the first time since receiving the diary, he found himself genuinely looking forward to the next entry.
Not because of the secrets.
Because the young writer was unexpectedly entertaining.
Deep inside the Magic Beast Mountain Range, the Little Fairy Doctor covered her mouth to hide a laugh.
“A storyteller’s biggest winner…”
She could almost imagine Xiao Feng writing that with a grin on his face.
Somehow…
It suited him perfectly.
That night, Wu Tan City gradually fell asleep.
Only one person remained awake.
Xiao Yan sat alone in his courtyard.
The words he had spoken that morning echoed through his mind.
“Thirty years east of the river.”
“Thirty years west of the river.”
His fists slowly clenched.
“Thirty years…”
“No.”
“I won’t need that long.”
Far above him, the stars shone silently.
The wheel of fate had begun to turn.
And this time…
Someone was quietly watching it from the sidelines, pen in hand.