The Invictus crawled across the endless ocean of the higher realm, a wounded titan dragging itself through the clouds. It moved at barely a tenth of its cruising speed, its massive hull shuddering with every league. Each vibration sent a groan through the reinforced crimson wood that sounded like a dying beast.

Elder Xuan Ni stood on the bridge, his knuckles white as he gripped the guardrail. "Open Sky! We are sitting ducks at this speed! If the scouts from the Blue Cloud Sect or the Heavenly Sword Pavilion find us like this, they’ll pick us clean. Can you not push the engines?"

Venerable Open Sky didn’t even look up from the glowing runic array he was desperately trying to patch. "If I increase the output by even half a percent, the keel will snap. We are holding this ship together with prayer and the last of our high-grade stones. If you want to reach the Crimson Sect alive, you will endure this pace. If not, we can all sink into the abyss together."

Xuan Ni snarled but fell silent. He knew the old formation master was right.

Deep in the bowels of the ship, in a high-security holding cell lined with spirit-dampening lead, Ethan was suspended in mid-air. Two massive, serrated iron hooks had been driven through the space behind his shoulder blades, emerging from his chest. They were bolted to the ceiling, forcing his body to hang in a state of permanent, agonizing tension. Any movement—even a deep breath—sent a jolt of white-hot pain through his nervous system.

His head hung limp, hidden behind the jagged Iron Mask of Suppression. To any observer, Ethan was a broken shell, his life force barely a flicker. The needles in the mask were designed to strike the exact points required to paralyze the ocular nerves and the mind palace, plunging the prisoner into total darkness.

But they had underestimated the King of the Void.

Thanks to the Flower of Resentment he had consumed long ago, Ethan’s perception didn’t rely on his physical eyes. His consciousness sat in a cold, silent space at the center of his mind, where Crul was working tirelessly. The sub-routine was acting as a signal booster, filtering through the suppression needles and allowing Ethan to "see" his surroundings.

He watched the two guards sitting outside his cell, his amethyst gaze burning with a murderous intent that the iron mask couldn’t hide. He remained perfectly still, suppressing his breathing. His wounds were knitting back together beneath the surface, but the iron hooks were coated in a rust that inhibited Void regeneration. He was healing, but it was like swimming through mud.

One of the guards, a young disciple with a bored expression, leaned back in his chair and yawned. "I don’t get it. Does Elder Xuan Ni really think this brat can escape? Look at him—he’s more meat than man. What a waste of time, sitting here in the dark."

His companion, a more weathered soldier, didn’t look up from the small glowing stone in his palm. "If you’re so unhappy about it, go tell the Elder. I’m sure he’d love to hear your suggestions while he’s looking for someone to blame for his soldiers death."

The first guard flinched, the boredom replaced by a flash of fear. "Forget I said anything."

He reached into a pouch and pulled out a low-grade spirit stone, closing his eyes to begin his cultivation. "My turn first. Keep an eye on the ’package.’ If he so much as twitches, let me know."

"Just shut up and cultivate," the other replied, also drawing out a stone. "The sooner we reach the Sect, the sooner we get a bonus for this mess."

Ethan watched them through the iron. He watched the way the spiritual energy flowed from the stones into their bodies.

--------

On the distant horizon, a fleet of dark ships emerged from the thick morning mist like ghosts rising from the depths. There were dozens of them, their black sails emblazoned with the terrifying sigil of a single, blood-red eye. Though each vessel was nearly two kilometers long, they appeared like mere splinters compared to the hulking, ten-kilometer mass of the Invictus.

"Captain, look," a scout called out from the crow’s nest of the lead ship. "Those are the colors of the Crimson Sect. What are those bastards doing this far out in the dead zones? They’re way outside their jurisdiction."

The Captain of the fleet, a man known throughout the southern reaches as Iron Hand, pulled a brass spyglass from his belt and extended it with a sharp click. He adjusted the lens, his single good eye narrowing as he focused on the wounded titan in the distance.

A slow, jagged smile spread across his scarred face. "It seems the heavens are smiling upon us today! I, Captain Iron Hand, will finally have my vengeance!"

"Prepare to engage immediately!" he roared, his voice carrying across the deck. "Ready the harpoons and the boarding arrays!"

"You’ve lost your mind, Captain!" his first mate, One-Eyed Jace, stammered, his face turning ashen. "That’s an Invictus-class dreadnought! That cursed ship will vaporize us before we even get within range of our cannons. It’s a death sentence!"

Iron Hand didn’t flinch. He shoved the spyglass into Jace’s trembling hand. "Look again, you imbecile. Look closely at the prow."

Jace peered through the glass. His breath hitched. Even with the frantic repairs visible on the hull, the ship’s most distinctive and terrifying feature was gone. The massive main cannon, the weapon that had earned the Invictus its name by being able to level entire sects from leagues away, was missing. It looked as if it had been violently torn from its base by the hands of a titan.

"The cannon..." Jace whispered, his eye widening. "It’s gone. And the main shields are flickering."

"I don’t know what kind of hell those bastards walked through," Iron Hand laughed, a sound like grinding stones. "But it’s clear they had a war and they barely survived it. The heavens have handed me this opportunity on a silver platter. If I let this chance go, I don’t deserve to call myself a man!"

"Signal the fleet!" Iron Hand commanded, his metal prosthetic hand clenching into a fist. "Full speed! We hunt the wounded god!"

In the bowels of the Invictus, Ethan felt the sudden shift in the ship’s vibration. The guards at his door felt it too, their cultivation interrupted as the alarm bells of the warship began to chime with a frantic, metallic rhythm.

Through his spirit vision, Ethan watched the two guards stand up in panic. He couldn’t move his arms, and the hooks still burned in his chest, but the corners of his mouth twitched beneath the iron mask.

The vultures have arrived, Ethan thought, the Lightning Seed in his core pulsing in anticipation. The more chaos, the better.

-------------------

From this moment forward, to avoid confusion regarding cultivation ranks, I will include this footer with the current established levels.

Note: These are only the ranks mentioned so far to avoid spoilers.

Body Refinement Realm

Skin Refinement / Bone Refinement / Organ Refinement

Spiritual Gathering Realm

Spiritual Perception / Spiritual Mist / Spiritual Condensation

Spiritual Core Realm

Core Solidification / Core Awakening / Spiritual Collapse (Half-step Spiritual Core)

Spiritual Soul Realm

Spiritual Soul Awakening / Soul Nourishing / Soul-Core Fusion

Golden Core Realm

Prime Fusion / Core Perfection / Core Destruction

Spiritual Sea Realm

Stage 1 ?? / Stage 2 ?? / Stage 3 ??

Dao Manifestation Realm

Stage 1 ?? / Stage 2 ?? / Stage 3 ??

Spiritual Transcendence

Stage 1 ?? / Stage 2 ?? / Stage 3 ??