Chapter 7: Promotions, Demons, and Unfinished Business

Ethan returned to the upper world, gained insights from his trip to the lower world, his bottleneck loosened, and upon return, entered seclusion to cultivate.

Time flew by; in the blink of an eye, two thousand nine hundred years passed. He exited the cave, feeling the power of a mid-stage True Immortal, couldn’t help but smile, feeling great.

After visiting some old acquaintances, he returned to the Heavenly Soldier camp to report.

"Not bad, mid-stage True Immortal."

Ethan’s captain, Parker Young, who led a hundred-man team, looked at him with satisfaction. "Just right—the captain of the third squad was transferred. You take over."

In the Heavenly Command, there are ten-man squads, hundred-man teams, thousand-man battalions, ten-thousand-man regiments. Actually, a True Immortal can be a captain, but Ethan had no connections, so he could only wait it out.

"There’s an early-stage True Immortal who fell into the demonic path, privately refining a Hundred Million Soul Banner. The regiment found traces in Sunridge Realm—take your people and execute him on the spot."

Ethan received the order, gathered his team, and went directly to the realm point. Official missions don’t need a visa—or maybe they do, but that’s not his concern.

Promotion in the Heavenly Command was like getting a bump up from assistant manager at a big-box store—not about merit, just who you knew and how long you kept your nose clean. Parker Young clapped me on the back like we were old war buddies. I didn’t mention the ache in my bones, the loneliness that never really faded. You just take the next step because that’s all you’ve got.

"Captain, how long do we have to wait?"

At the realm point, immortals waiting to descend lined up, but no one at the registration desk was registering—just fiddling with items on the table.

Ethan heard his subordinate’s words, just stopped him with a look, said nothing, and turned to look ahead.

"The pen rack and paper must be in a straight line."

"The left tablecloth has one more wrinkle than the right—fix it."

"That dark cloud—go disperse it."

...

At the Eastern realm point, the leader kept nitpicking, the usually laid-back registrars were all in blue uniforms, hair neatly slicked down.

The waiting crowd grew louder, though not daring to question openly, their mutterings got more heated.

"We hold the Star Order of Altair, this is urgent, how can we just wait here?"

A white-haired, baby-faced old man said to a companion:

"Seriously. If we delay the Star Order, we’ll have to report this to the Star Lord and hope for forgiveness."

He raised his voice, even Ethan at the back heard clearly.

The leader heard, looked back, and snorted coldly.

"I’ve worked here thirty-eight thousand years, seen countless people depart this realm point. I can see what you are at a glance—just some unknown clerks from Altair Star Lord’s office, probably running some petty errand, and you dare use the Star Lord to pressure me? Think my superiors are absent?"

At the end, he erupted with Heavenly Immortal power, forcing the two to retreat several yards, almost falling.

The two flushed, waved their sleeves, and flew away.

The leader withdrew his aura, looked around, and said loudly:

"Everyone, I’m not making things difficult, but in three days an honored guest will ascend from the lower world, passing through this point. I must be cautious."

A young female immortal in front looked thoughtful, then asked, "Who is the honored guest? Do we need to avoid?"

The leader was about to answer when a golden light flew in. He caught it, his face changed.

"Here, here."

Before he finished, the Eastern Gate shone with golden light, celestial music wafted.

First came a team of Heavenly Soldiers, all spirited and strong, all True Immortals. Then came the flag bearers, holding postnatal spiritual treasures—the Five-Colored Swift Wind Banner, inscribed—

[Majestic and Powerful Grand General]. On the left, another flag bearer, holding the Seven-Colored Spiritual Treasure Banner, inscribed—

[Marshal of the Central Altar].

Seeing this, everyone trembled and stepped aside, bowing, not daring to look up. A moment later, a young general in red armor, with delicate features, standing on the Universe Ring, draped in the Sky Ribbon, holding the Fire-Tipped Spear, flew past. The young general didn’t look at this place, led the Heavenly Soldiers away quickly. Only after he disappeared into the sky did people look up.

The leader exhaled, wiped sweat from his forehead, saluted the crowd, and left.

"C-Captain, just now, was that..."

Before his subordinate finished, Ethan nodded:

"Yeah, that was Lee Jennings’s third son, the Great God of the Three Altars Sea Society, Marshal Nash."

"I wonder why Marshal Nash descended this time, for what important matter." A Heavenly Soldier muttered, looking to Ethan for an answer.

Ethan couldn’t help but smile bitterly. How could I know such things? Those people are the stars of heaven and earth, the favorites of the three realms, born with great fortune.

It’s the same everywhere—VIPs blow through, everyone straightens up, and for a moment the world holds its breath. Even the hard-assed desk sergeant sweats when the big brass walk by. I kept my head down, wondering if anything ever really changed, or if we all just waited for someone else’s story to pass us by.