Re: God of Formation.

It had been three days since the Old Dean clashed with the Gong Clan's cultivator and the mysterious unknown Expert.

That battle had shaken the entire city, killing tens of Master Realm warriors.

Yet, even after three full days, the Mystic City had not recovered from the shock.

Whispers of the battle could still be heard in tea houses and taverns.

And today… the city received new visitors.

Their very presence made the air heavy, whose arrival made countless people tremble.

"Are you sure it's them?" a man asked from the corner of the bustling street, his voice hushed but full of disbelief.

"Of course it is," another replied sharply, rolling his eyes. "Do you think everyone is blind like you?"

"Ah! I've heard countless rumors about them," the first man murmured, excitement and fear warring in his tone. "But who would've thought I'd see the legendary Knights of the Jun clan with my own eyes?"

"I thought they were just stories," a third man whispered, his face pale. "But now… I know they're real."

While the ordinary citizens gossiped in awe, two figures stood quietly on the balcony of the City Lord's mansion, overlooking the streets below.

The Old Dean of the Academy stood beside the Dean of Frostwind Academy, both looking in a particular direction.

"Do you think they'll try to force him?" The Frostwind Dean asked in a calm, thoughtful tone, though her hands were tightly clasped behind her back.

The Old Dean shook his head slowly, though doubt flickered in his weary eyes.

"I don't think so… As one of the direct lineages, they have no authority over him. Not officially, at least."

"I hope you're right," she murmured, sighing softly as she looked away from the direction.

"How are the preparations?"

"Slower than I'd like," the Old Dean said, his face darkening.

"Those bastards have already begun moving against us. But thanks to you and your city's support, everything should be ready by the end of the day."

The Frostwind Dean frowned, knowing exactly whom he referred to.

She hadn't expected that simply siding with Jun Wu would provoke such chaos throughout the region.

Perhaps they had all underestimated the allure of Heaven's Blessing… or perhaps there was something deeper, something none of them yet understood.

Either way, everything now depended on Jun Wu today's decision.

….

Jun Wu Mansion

The air inside was still, heavy with pressure.

Five figures sat calmly in the main hall, yet their presence alone distorted the atmosphere.

Each wore a black silk robe embroidered with a golden falcon — the unmistakable insignia of the Golden Falcons of the Jun Clan.

They were not ordinary warriors.

Though none had stepped into the Expert Realm, every one of them possessed the power to battle them as equals.

Their calm faces hid lifetimes of slaughter, countless life and death battles.

It was on their blood and sacrifice that the Jun Clan's legacy had been built.

Many believed that without the Golden Falcons, the Jun clan would have fallen centuries ago.

Their name commanded fear across the Soaring Cloud Region and beyond. Even the Old Dean himself was forced to treat them with respect.

Seated before them, Jun Wu gazed at the five with a mixture of awe and respect.

This was the first time he had ever seen the legendary protectors of his clan in person.

He had read about them in the clan's library, paragons of loyalty and strength, revered by all.

Even men like Zhang Wei and Mao Yun, both fierce in temperament, trembled in their presence.

"What do I owe the honor of the Golden Falcons visiting me?" Jun Wu asked evenly, his tone respectful yet distant.

Though he despised much of his clan for what they had done to him, these five were different.

The Golden Falcons had never participated in the schemes that had nearly destroyed him.

They had shed their blood for the clan, not for politics.

The thin, bamboo-like man seated at the front began.

"Young Master, I believe you already know why we're here," he said. His voice was soft but carried weight. "Please, prepare your things. It's time to return to the clan."

Jun Wu's expression did not change.

He held the man's gaze for a long moment before speaking slowly.

"Senior, I'm afraid I must disappoint you. I cannot return." His voice was calm but firm. "You all know what the clan has done to me. You know the situation I left behind. So, I cannot and will not go back."

The five remained motionless, their faces unreadable.

Of course, they knew the truth, the humiliation Jun Wu had endured, the countless plots to end his life.

They had watched from the shadows, unable to intervene.

"Young Master," said a mature woman among them, her beauty sharp as a blade, "if you return, you can bring your grievances before the Ancestors. They will decide what is best for you."

Jun Wu chuckled bitterly, his eyes narrowing.

"Decide for me?" His voice rose, the mockery in his tone unmistakable.

"I've shown you all the respect you deserve, but don't insult me with false promises. You should leave, you know you cannot force me."

That was the truth.

The Golden Falcons, for all their might, had no authority over the direct lineage.

Their power was meant to protect, not to command.

"Young Master, I urge you to reconsider," the thin man said, his tone softening. "Our presence here is proof of how much the clan still values you."

"Value?" Jun Wu sneered, his eyes burning with suppressed rage.

"What value are you speaking of?" He rose from his seat, glaring at them.

"When I was treated like filth, where was that value you speak of? When I was humiliated and cast aside, when they pushed me around like a fool, where was your clan's so-called value then?"

His voice echoed through the hall, filled with years of bitterness.

"I achieved everything I have without their help — without the value you speak of. So don't come here pretending they care now. Leave, before I lose the last shred of respect I have for you."

Silence.

None of the five speak again.

Even a fool could see how deeply the clan's action had wound him.

They knew what others had done to him.

How the other factions had tried to assassinate him.

How they conspire against him to banish him out of the clan just to get to his father.

No words could heal such hatred.

No false kindness could erase that betrayal.

The five exchanged brief glances, coming into a tacit understanding.

Then, as one, they stood.

"Young Master," the bamboo-thin man said quietly, bowing his head, "please take care. We shall take our leave."

With that, the Five Golden Falcons turned and departed the mansion.

Their black robes fluttered behind them with grace that commanded respect.