Chapter 105
Tao Long was a streak of lightning across the sky, his serpentine form twisting and coiling through the heavens as if he were a living conduit of divine power. The wind howled around him, but he paid it no mind. His focus was singular—his target, the one from Shouquan's prophecy. But the world was vast, and even a dragon of his stature could not bend space to his will.
Continents were never meant to be crossed in an instant. Even for him, a Divine Flood Dragon, the sheer distance was an obstacle he could not simply ignore. The power of heaven and earth accelerated his speed, but the heavens had their limits, and the earth had its restraints. And he was already too late.
Dawn had begun to set in, the first rays of sunlight peeking over the horizon, but they brought no warmth, no promise of renewal. Instead, they cast light upon a scene of ruin.
Tao Long's elementalized, serpentine form slithered through the sky before coming to an abrupt halt. His draconic body solidified, storm-forged scales shimmering before peeling away, revealing his humanoid form. In a final flash of lightning, he stood as a man once more, high above the carnage.
His breath hitched.
Below him, the lake that surrounded the Shadow Clan's island was no longer a lake—it was an abyss, suffused with a dark miasma so thick it had become a suffocating fog. The once-still waters churned with something unnatural, something defiled.
By the shore, the remnants of battle lay strewn across the land—blood, bodies, broken weapons, and shattered hopes. Gore splattered the rocks and sand, staining the ground in a manner that only slaughter could.
And in the middle of it all stood a man.
At first glance, his presence was unremarkable. His spiritual pressure was deceptive, subtle, as if it wished to be ignored. Were it not for Shouquan's prophecy, Tao Long would have dismissed him entirely. But he knew better.
Beside the man, a little girl knelt in the bloodstained sand, sobbing. Her presence caught Tao Long's attention—not just because of her grief, but because of her bloodline. A trace of something sacred lingered within her, something ancient. Koi.
The sky darkened.
A crimson hue spread across the heavens, as if the very world mourned what had happened here. Malicious qi lingered in the air, thick and cloying, a stain upon the natural order.
Tao Long did not hesitate. He descended.
Lightning crackled as he landed upon the shore with a resounding blast, the sheer force of his arrival parting the fog for a brief moment.
The little girl did not react. She remained on her knees, hands clenched into fists, her tears mixing with the blood-soaked ground.
The man stood still, staring between his fingers at something unseen, something intangible. Ash drifted through the air, weightless and unbound, dissolving into the crimson sky.
Tao Long's presence demanded recognition. His bloodline roared within him, ancient and mighty. He did not whisper his name—he proclaimed it, his voice booming like the thunder that heralded his storms.
"I am Tao Long, the Divine Flood Dragon!"
Still, the man did not look at him.
Tao Long narrowed his eyes, his majesty pressing upon the battlefield like a decree from the heavens themselves.
"What did you do?" he demanded.
Silence.
His gaze shifted to the little girl. "You," he addressed her, softening his tone slightly. "What happened here?"
She lifted her face, tear-streaked and empty, but she did not speak. She only stared.
Tao Long's eyes swept over the carnage once more. His mind raced, filling in the gaps. The devastation, the miasma, the unnatural qi in the air. This was not an ordinary battle. Something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.
His gaze returned to the man. "Did you do this?"
Finally, the man looked at him.
His eyes were hollow. Grief-stricken.
His voice, when it came, was quiet—but it carried the weight of something irrevocable.
"I made a choice," he said. "That's what happened."
Tao Long stilled.
The man was drowning in sorrow. Whatever had happened here, whatever destruction had been wrought—he was at its center. But he was not in a state to answer, not truly.
Tao Long exhaled slowly.
This was not what he had expected.
Tao Long's gaze remained locked onto the man as he finally spoke. His voice was steady, but there was something hollow beneath it, a depth of grief that could not be concealed.
"I just killed my disciple," the man said.
Tao Long's expression darkened. He studied him carefully, sensing no falsehood, only sorrow.
"I could tell through my Divine Sense," the man continued. "It was the only choice. Shenyuan would have escaped if I hadn't finished him there and then."
As his words fell upon the bloodstained shore, the very earth beneath them trembled. A low rumble echoed through the land, as though the island itself groaned in agony. The crimson light in the sky twisted, thickening into a dense fog. And then—
A mirage appeared in the center of the island.
Tao Long stiffened. It was massive, towering over the island like an omen. Though flickering like an illusion, its presence was undeniable. The shape of a colossal gate loomed within the mist, ancient and foreboding, its surface etched with unfathomable symbols.
The little girl wiped her tears, staring at the apparition with wide eyes. "What's that?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
The man's gaze did not waver. "That's a Hell's Gate," he said. Then, after a pause, he added, "But an incomplete one."
Tao Long's brows furrowed. Hell's Gate?
Despite his time within the Ward, despite the vast knowledge he had accumulated, he had never heard of such a thing. But the name Shenyuan—that, he knew.
Shenyuan.
The One True Death.
The Abyss.
The Eternal Heir.
A peer of Shouquan himself.
Tao Long's hands clenched into fists. He had never expected to hear that name again, let alone under these circumstances. The Grand Emperor should have ended that old monster long ago. And yet—
He forced himself to focus, pushing back the tide of thoughts threatening to overwhelm him.
His gaze returned to the man. "Was it you?" Tao Long asked, his voice sharp. "Did you summon the Hell's Gate?"
The man met his eyes and nodded. "Not by choice," he said. "It was the consequence of killing Shenyuan."
Tao Long narrowed his eyes. "Explain."
The man exhaled, the weight of his next words evident in his expression. "Shenyuan prepared for his own demise. He used a unique mechanism—one that would trigger upon his death. An incomplete Hell's Gate would be summoned, and his subordinated demons across the Empire would be driven into a frenzy."
Silence stretched between them.
Tao Long felt his breath catch. A scheme of this scale… even for an immortal monster like Shenyuan, this was too much.
A slow rage began to build within him. This was not just one tragedy. This was a calamity waiting to unfold.
Before he could gather his thoughts, the little girl, still kneeling beside the man, clenched her fists. Her small frame trembled with barely contained fury.
"They all deserve to die," she muttered. "The bad people. Every—"
Before she could finish, the man placed a hand on her head, silencing her gently. His fingers combed through her hair, and his other hand gave her shoulder an affectionate rub.
She flinched slightly, but after a moment, she leaned into his touch.
Tao Long's mind raced as he pieced everything together.
Shouquan's prophecy…
It had spoken of an unprecedented calamity, a tragedy that would shake the very foundations of the Empire. And now, as he stood amidst the ruins of the Shadow Clan's island, gazing at the man and the little girl, he realized the truth.
This was it.
The prophecy was no longer a warning of what was to come. It had already happened. The Empire's fate had been sealed, and there was nothing he could do to change it.
His grip tightened. He had come too late.
The man exhaled softly, his gaze settling on the little girl beside him.
"Take care, Jingyi'er," he murmured. His voice was gentle, affectionate. "And know that I will always cherish you."
Ren Jingyi's tired, teary eyes looked up at him, confusion flickering across her face.
Before she could respond, the man pulled out a piece of parchment and tore it.
A golden spell formation erupted around the girl. She blinked, swayed—then collapsed, unconscious.
Tao Long's frown deepened. "What are you—"
The man turned to him. "I need a favor."
Tao Long's storm-filled eyes studied him warily. He did not like the weight in the man's tone.
"I will hear you out," he said carefully.
The man nodded. "No matter what happens, you must take Ren Jingyi to the Riverfall Continent. There, you will entrust her to a man named Jiang Zhen."
Tao Long's frown did not ease. He had never heard of this Jiang Zhen, but the way the man spoke of him made it clear this was no ordinary request.
Before he could respond, the man's eyes narrowed slightly. "What is your weapon of choice?"
The sudden question threw Tao Long off. He hesitated, but still answered truthfully. "A spear."
The man reached into an invisible gap in space and procured a pristine spear, blue and white in color, gleaming with power. With a casual toss, he threw it toward Tao Long.
Tao Long caught it instinctively. The moment his fingers closed around the shaft, he felt the surge of divine energy within it. This was no ordinary weapon.
"That spear is Drakon Mar," the man said. "It is your payment."
Tao Long studied the weapon, then returned his gaze to the man. "…You're bribing me?"
"I am compensating you."
The storm dragon warrior exhaled sharply. There was something about this whole exchange that unsettled him.
The man's eyes sharpened. "Will you do as I ask?"
For the first time, Tao Long felt the weight of the man's presence.
The pressure was overwhelming.
It was not the oppressive aura of raw power that came from high-level cultivators flaunting their superiority. This was something more subtle… more terrifying. It was the feeling of absolute danger.
'If I refuse, I will suffer. No… I will die…'
Tao Long's instincts screamed it at him.
He gritted his teeth. He did not enjoy being forced into a decision, but neither did he see another choice. He had already seen too much.
"…Yes," he finally answered.
The man's gaze lingered for a moment. Then he nodded. "Good. You didn't lie."
Tao Long frowned. "And if I had?"
The man did not answer. He simply turned away.
"Pick up the girl," he ordered. "And go."
Tao Long ground his teeth but said nothing.
Then—
A deep groan echoed across the island.
He snapped his head toward the Hell's Gate.
The massive doors, sealed moments ago, were now… moving.
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the gate was being pried open.
Tao Long's chest tightened.
Whatever was coming…
They did not have much time.
Tao Long tightened his grip around Ren Jingyi's unconscious form, securing her in his arms before turning to the man one last time.
"What is your name?" he asked.
The man smiled faintly. "If you ever meet the Emperor, tell him Da Wei apologizes for being unable to attend his invitation for tea."
Tao Long's gaze flickered with recognition. Da Wei…? He did not know the name, but for a man to casually mention the Emperor as if he had been personally invited…
He could only imagine what sort of existence he had just met.
With a slow nod, Tao Long remarked, "Rest assured, the little girl will be sent to the man you requested."
Da Wei said nothing, only watching as Tao Long activated his movement technique.
A streak of lightning shot through the sky.
Tao Long ascended rapidly, pushing himself higher and higher—yet, no matter how far he flew, the Hell's Gate still loomed over him.
The sheer size was suffocating.
Then, it opened.
A monstrous presence surged forth.
From the depths of the gate, a horned creature so gigantic it had to crouch just to force its way into this world emerged.
A wave of malicious qi flooded the battlefield.
Tao Long clenched his teeth. "By the heavens…" Comparing his size, he was probably bigger, but still…
Da Wei took a step forward, ascending into the air. With each step, golden radiance bloomed beneath his feet, leaving a trail of light in the darkness.
Then, Da Wei took a deep breath—
And roared.
The sky shuddered. The ground trembled.
Tao Long's eyes widened. The technique was unmistakable.
Lion's Roar.
A basic martial technique, yet in Da Wei's hands, it shook the heavens.
The colossal demon rushed forward, its presence like a tidal wave of destruction.
The island crumbled beneath its weight. Buildings and structures that once stood as part of the Shadow Clan's stronghold collapsed as it advanced.
Then, the demon swung its massive arm, an arc of destruction descending upon Da Wei.
Tao Long instinctively held his breath.
Yet—
Da Wei did not move.
The arm connected.
And then—
It shattered.
The demon's limb exploded, flesh and bone bursting apart, leaving only a string of mangled, barely attached muscle.
Blood and gore rained down.
Da Wei, bathed in the carnage, stood in the air.
Unbothered.
Unharmed.
Even as Tao Long streaked across the sky with Ren Jingyi in tow, he could not resist turning his gaze back toward the island. With a breath, he activated a technique, sharpening his vision beyond his cultivation.
Da Wei.
A lone figure stood against the tide of darkness.
There was something utterly fascinating about a single warrior blocking an entire army by himself. It was a sight that defied reason, that defied fate.
The Hell's Gate loomed, its presence suffocating, as yet another gargantuan demon emerged from its depths.
Tao Long could scarcely believe it. Even from so far away, he could see its massive size, its hulking form dwarfing the very island and lake beneath it.
And yet—Da Wei did not waver.
The warrior now wore a helm, obscuring his face. He stood alone, bathed in golden radiance, a single light amidst an endless abyss.
The demons swarmed like an ocean, an endless tide of horror and madness.
The last thing Tao Long saw before he turned away was a brilliant flash of light.
And at its center—
A bloodied warrior, carving his way through the horde.
Chapter 106
I remained aloft in the air, watching the two gargantuan demons in front of me. Their massive, twisted forms loomed over the battlefield, their skin like molten rock, their eyes burning pits of malice. One of them was still regenerating its arm, the limb that had been obliterated earlier. The other let out a guttural roar, the force of it shaking the island beneath us. More demons spilled forth from the incomplete Hell's Gate behind them, their forms twisting and writhing as they emerged.
I reached into my Item Box and pulled out my helm piece, fitting it into place. The weight of it settled over my head as the first light of dawn broke over the horizon.
Good. That meant my spell slots had recovered.
Unlike skills or ultimate skills, spell slots would regenerate twenty-four hours after the first spell had been cast. I'd been burning through Divine Possession at the break of dawn every day since my training arc, making sure my mana cycles aligned with my peak condition.
Sigh… I'd love to be carefree about this, but this was real bad.
I focused inward, sensing the lingering effects of my previous spells. Divine Word: Life was still active, and my accumulated reflect was holding strong. But that wasn't enough. Not against this.
I reached into my Item Box again, pulling out Magic Scrolls. With a flick of my wrist, I tore them apart, unleashing their stored magic.
Greater Strength. Greater Freedom. Greater Thought. Anti-Demon. Heaven's Embrace. Magic Reflection. Fortified Sanctuary. Arcane Warding. Divine Aegis.
The power surged through me, layer after layer of protection and enhancement reinforcing my body. The crackling energy of Magic Reflection hummed against my skin, and the divine warmth of Heaven's Embrace settled into my core.
Then I turned to my skills.
Bless. Lion's Courage. Shield of the Eternal. Holy Sanctuary. Shield of Faith. Holy Aura. Armor of the Indomitable. Spell Resonance: Sacred Bulwark.
Golden radiance flared around me as the skills took effect. My Holy Aura pulsed, a beacon of divinity cutting through the darkness, searing the ground where lesser demons dared step.
The wounded demon growled, its infernal voice dripping with rage. "I will rend you to pieces until nothing remains!"
Thanks to my Translation Skill, I heard him loud and clear.
I raised an eyebrow. "That's cute. Say it again after you grow your arm back."
The other demon roared again, louder this time, sending tremors through the battlefield. The Hell's Gate crackled with energy, and more demons poured forth—lesser fiends, but still enough to overwhelm a small army.
Deep breaths.
I could do this.
I'd fought against an incomplete Hell's Gate before. The problem was, this was my first time soloing one.
I just needed to survive.
As long as I held out, the incomplete Hell's Gate would eventually dissipate. But that meant enduring the relentless onslaught until then.
I swept my Divine Sense across the battlefield, searching for any survivors. A few Shadow Clan cultivators still fought desperately, shielding what remained of their people. They were battered and bloodied, but they hadn't given up yet.
Without hesitation, I activated Voice Chat, broadcasting a message across my Divine Sense radius to anything non-hostile.
"To all surviving members of the Shadow Clan—hurry and evacuate! Things are about to get messy!"
There was a pause, then flickers of movement as they started retreating.
Good.
I renewed Blessed Regeneration, feeling my body reinforce itself further, then reached for my Item Box once more. A handful of mana potions materialized in my grasp, and I chugged them down one after another. The moment the last vial shattered in my grip, I summoned my weapons.
Silver Steel.
Hellcleaver.
The long sword and great axe gleamed in the morning light, radiating an aura of divine power and hellish touch.
I adjusted my grip, rolling my shoulders.
"Alright, you oversized abominations," I muttered, exhaling slowly. "Let's see who lasts longer."
Then I dove straight into the fray.
The only strategy I could think of at the moment was to abuse Reflect damage.
That meant abusing Sacrificial Zeal, my passive ability that turned every hit I took into divine retribution.
The flying demons—gargoyles, fallen angels, red-skinned horrors, djinns—screeched as they swarmed me from all sides. But the moment they got too close, they exploded.
Feathers, stone, and charred flesh scattered in the air like grotesque fireworks. Even those that barely grazed my aura detonated on contact.
The swarm quickly realized the problem.
They dispersed.
And that gave the demons below an opening.
Blinding arcs of flame, spiraling lances of darkness, searing void beams—spells of terrifying potency surged toward me.
I let them hit.
They should have incinerated me. Instead, the moment they struck, the casters themselves suffered.
Some erupted into gore, obliterated by their own attacks reflected back at them. Others staggered, their bodies mangled by the overwhelming damage rebounding at multiplied force.
Normally, Reflect only worked in a certain radius. But I was too stacked with buffs right now.
The battlefield turned chaotic.
I gestured in the air.
Summon: Holy Spirit.
A pillar of light and a golden sigil manifested beside me. From it, a familiar figure materialized in divine brilliance—
Dave.
His form was ethereal, his presence like a fragment of the divine itself.
I turned to him. "Use Divine Possession on me."
"Yes, my Lord."
His voice held no hesitation.
When Divine Possession was nerfed back in LLO, I had devised a workaround—a combo using a summoned Holy Spirit.
As Dave merged into me, I felt it instantly—his emotions, raw and true.
He was hurting.
Just like me.
But he didn't waver.
He pushed his emotions aside. Not to suppress them, but to turn them into strength for me.
My stats skyrocketed by fifty percent. On top of the fifty percent buff, I gained two additional spell slots, a trick I had discovered by accident. The Holy Spirit's presence provided me extra divine reserves, allowing me to stretch my endurance even further.
I needed every bit of power I could get.
And my Reflect damage? It multiplied several times over.
The gargantuan demon with its arms still intact suddenly lunged.
Each step shattered the ruins beneath it. Buildings crumbled as it charged straight at me.
I didn't stop swinging.
Silver Steel. Hellcleaver.
The divine blade and demonic axe cut through the demons in my path like wheat before a scythe.
The gargantuan demon leaped, both arms wreathed in hellfire, swinging down in an arc meant to crush me.
I dismissed Hellcleaver.
And summoned World Aegis.
The tower shield materialized in my grip just in time—
BOOM!
Its fiery limbs collided with my shield.
The result?
Not me breaking—but its arms shattering on impact.
Bone burst through its flesh, jagged and exposed, as its own force rebounded against it.
Dave's voice resonated through our connection.
"My Lord—I have evolved Heavenly Punishment."
I grinned. "Then do it."
As one, we activated it.
The sky darkened.
Storm clouds churned, thick and foreboding, gathering above like the wrath of the heavens itself.
In its original form, Heavenly Punishment was a gigantic sword of judgment descending from above.
But now?
The divine punishment was contained within a single sword.
My Silver Steel glowed.
Brighter. Hotter.
The storm above rumbled as I raised my sword.
Then—
I swung.
Divine Smite.
The gargantuan demon had no time to react.
The blade cut straight through it.
Bisected.
A clean, brutal split down the middle.
Because of Hollow Point, which gave me near-perfect critical chance, the strike registered as a critical hit.
The demon never even screamed.
Its body fell apart, severed completely—its blood evaporating before it even touched the ground.
A silence, brief but heavy, hung over the battlefield.
Then—
I roared.
The catharsis burned through my veins.
The battlefield trembled in response.
A voice reached me through the chaos—old, weary, yet unmistakably alive.
Hei Yuan.
I glanced in his direction, half-expecting to see only his severed corpse. But there he was—hovering in the air, his face soaked in blood, his right arm completely gone, torn away in some battle I hadn't seen.
And he wasn't alone.
A handful of Shadow Clan cultivators stood with him, some barely holding themselves upright. Their ashen hair and battle-worn faces suggested they were elders—survivors of this slaughter.
Hei Yuan's gaze locked onto mine. "Master Wei, we will fight alongside you."
My Divine Sense swept over the battlefield. The demons swarming them were roughly level 100, though I could tell some stronger ones lurked among their ranks, hiding within the lesser horde.
The Shadow Clan elders weren't in much better shape than Hei Yuan. Wounded. Drained. Struggling.
I opened my mouth to tell them to retreat—but then, in the distance, the gargantuan demon with the missing arm moved.
It picked up an entire ruined building and hurled it toward me like a toy, carefully angling it to descend on Hei Yuan's group.
I didn't hesitate.
Zealot's Stride.
The air beneath my feet solidified as I burst forward, bridging the distance between myself and Hei Yuan in an instant.
A serpentine demon—massive, sinuous, covered in writhing black scales—lunged from the ruins of the building, its body expanding as it shot toward Hei Yuan and his group, intending to crush them whole.
Thunderous Smite.
I swung Silver Steel, and the force of my strike sent a roaring shockwave outward. The serpent reeled back, its flesh burning from holy energy, but the attack also blasted Hei Yuan and his elders backward—away from me.
It wasn't gentle.
But it got them out of danger.
I hovered in place, glaring at Hei Yuan. "You're a burden."
Silence.
For a moment, just a moment, I saw something in his eyes.
Pain.
Not just physical, but wounded pride.
The other elders stared at me with grim expressions, their faces hardened—not from anger, but from the unforgiving truth of my words.
Hei Yuan gritted his teeth, then forced himself upright, blood dripping from his missing arm.
"Even so," he said, voice unwavering, "we will fight."
The other elders nodded, some summoning what remained of their strength, others gripping their weapons tighter.
Fools.
But determined fools.
The days blurred together in an endless cycle of blood and steel.
I killed.
Then I killed again.
Then I kept killing.
The Shadow Clan cultivators fought alongside me, their movements swift, precise, and merciless. We were warriors locked in a hopeless battle, drowning in the tide of demons spilling forth from the Hell's Gate.
They died.
One by one, they fell.
But they died smiling—as if they had already accepted their fate.
Meanwhile, the demons fought like they wanted nothing more than to see me erased from existence. Their hatred for me was palpable, their screeches deafening, their attacks relentless.
It was as if my very existence offended them.
I felt no pity. No sorrow. No guilt.
Just resolve.
Hei Yuan approached me between battles, his face weary but his voice steady. "Wei, use us as you see fit. We are yours to command."
I scoffed, swinging Hellcleaver through a lesser demon's skull before answering.
"I have no use for you."
Hei Yuan didn't react, only nodded in understanding.
"Then," he said, "we will fight and die as warriors."
I didn't stop him.
Somewhere, deep in the back of my mind, a darker part of me whispered.
"Use them."
"Throw them at the enemy."
"Abuse your resurrection items and keep them fighting."
But I didn't.
Every time a Shadow Clan cultivator fell, I snatched their body and stuffed it into my Item Box—a cold comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.
Because if I lived through this day…
If I survived…
I would resurrect them.
If not—then at the very least, I would give them a proper burial.
I wouldn't die here.
I couldn't die here.
Not before I found Gu Jie and Ren Xun.
The thought was both sobering and suffocating.
So I swung my weapon and lost myself in the battle once more.
Time lost all meaning.
Days bled into weeks.
I fought.
I butchered.
I pushed forward.
The battlefield became a graveyard of demons, their corpses piling so high they formed mountains of the damned. My armor, once pristine, was now drenched in gore, my weapons chipped, my mana reserves strained—but I endured.
Because I had to.
Because there was no one else left.
The Shadow Clan cultivators were gone.
Every last one of them had fallen.
Their bodies were now safely stored away, a silent promise that I would bring them back—or, at the very least, lay them to proper rest.
But now, I stood alone.
At the threshold of hell itself.
I had bottlenecked the Hell's Gate, forcing the demons to trickle out in smaller numbers, making them easier to cut down. If I could just hold this position… if I could last long enough… the incomplete gate would eventually collapse.
That was my gamble.
That was my only hope.
I had slaughtered my way forward, step by agonizing step, until I now stood inside the gate, positioned at its very mouth, where the fabric of reality twisted and screamed.
Hell's breath burned against my skin.
The sky above was wrong, a swirling abyss of impossible colors.
The ground beneath me pulsed like a living thing.
And beyond, in the writhing depths of the infernal, I could feel them watching.
The true lords of this abyss.
The ones who had not yet emerged.
The ones waiting for me to break.
I tightened my grip on Silver Steel and Hellcleaver, my body aching, my soul screaming—but I refused to fall.
I had come too far.
I had lost too much.
I was not going to die here.
So I raised my weapons, took a deep breath, and prepared for the next wave.
Days stretched into eternity. It was hell.
I fought.
I bled.
I survived.
At first, the demons were mere fodder—low-level creatures that shattered upon my Sacrificial Zeal, their grotesque bodies bursting into pools of ichor the moment they touched me. Gargoyles, their stony forms cracking like brittle clay. Red-skinned fiends, their claws snapping against my armor. Lesser djinns, their smoky bodies torn apart by my relentless attacks.
But as the days dragged on, the enemies grew stronger.
I knew this pattern. This was a Raid.
In LLO, the waves would escalate, moving from elites to Wild Bosses, and then finally to World Bosses.
The realization sent a chill through me.
Because I was alone in every sense of a word.
And this wasn't a game.
But did I let that stop me?
"No."
The first to test me was a Fallen Angel, his wings scorched black, his golden armor warped into cruel spikes.
He descended like a comet, sword raised high. "You reek of divinity, mortal!" His voice dripped with contempt and arrogance. "This place shall be your grave!"
I let him connect—his blade biting into my shoulder. But the moment it did, Sacrificial Zeal activated, and his form twisted. His body convulsed, veins rupturing, as my reflected damage tore him apart from the inside.
He screamed, his arrogance melting into pure agony, and then—he burst into ash.
Next came demonic nobility.
A Marquis of Ruin, his twin blades crackling with cursed lightning, moved faster than I could track.
A Countess of Slaughter, her spindly fingers dripping acid, danced around me, laughing as she conjured illusions.
A Duke of Madness, a three-headed beast, each maw chanting a different spell, weaving destruction in chaotic, unpredictable patterns.
They were nothing like the mindless demons before them.
They were tactical.
They coordinated their strikes, forcing me to burn through mana potions, to cycle through buffs and defensive spells at an unsustainable pace.
I blocked the Marquis's twin blades with World Aegis, only for the Countess to sink her claws into my back.
I retaliated with Thunderous Smite, sending a shockwave through her skeletal frame—only for the Duke to nearly incinerate me with an Eldritch Cataclysm.
I endured.
I adapted.
I slaughtered them.
Then came the Named Ones—the true monsters.
A demon clad in black chains, his body an ever-shifting mass of shadowy tendrils.
A colossal warlord, his four arms wielding molten cleavers, his body pulsing with unstoppable bloodlust.
A sorcerer, his voice like a dying whisper, who twisted reality with every incantation.
These were the kinds of foes that, in LLO, would have required a full guild raid to take down.
But I had no raid party.
I had only myself.
And Dave.
Through Divine Possession, he shared the burden. He channeled power into me, strengthened my attacks, enhanced my defenses, guided my hand when exhaustion blurred my vision.
Every strike felt like swinging through molten steel.
Every demon slain left a scar on my soul.
Every victory only brought another challenge.
But I did not break.
I would not break.
I roared, Divine Smite igniting my blade, and cleaved through the warlord's chest, watching as his four arms spasmed, his molten blood turning to steam as his massive body collapsed.
The sorcerer whispered a final curse before my Hellcleaver split his skull in two.
And the shadowed demon, the one who had lurked at the edges of my vision, trying to wear me down with deception and despair—I caught his tendrils, tore them apart with my bare hands, and burned his essence away with Judgment Severance.
I stood atop a mountain of corpses, my breath ragged, my vision blurred with exhaustion.
And still—the demons came.
But they were afraid now.
I could see it.
They hated me.
They feared me.
And for the first time, I realized—they weren't just trying to kill me anymore.
They were desperate to erase me.
Because I had become something they could not understand.
I was still standing.
I laughed in the face of death.
It was a ragged, broken sound, something between exhaustion and pure, unhinged exhilaration.
I had long stopped counting the days.
At some point, I must have breezed through Mind Enlightenment while cycling my Mana Road Cultivation mid-combat. It wasn't intentional—I was simply fighting, adapting, growing, my very existence pressed to the breaking point.
And before I knew it—I had stepped into Will Reinforcement.
Something changed then.
My movements sharpened. My mind refined every action into pure efficiency. Every swing, parry, dodge—everything I did carried purpose. There was no wasted effort.
No hesitation.
Only slaughter.
Yet, even with this newfound clarity, I had long lost the ability to hold a proper conversation.
At first, Dave and I spoke, exchanging strategies, reinforcing our synchronization.
Then it became one-sided—his voice pressing into my mind, but I gave no response.
Then, finally—silence.
Even the Holy Spirit's presence faded to the edges of my perception.
There was only battle.
Only me and the demons.
My armor had seen better days.
My helm had cracked, revealing half of my face, the exposed skin streaked with blood and soot.
A hole had been torn through my breastplate, right over where my heart should have been. The jagged edges still smoldered, remnants of whatever unholy strike had nearly taken my life.
My weapons, once pristine, were starting to chip.
Even Hellcleaver, a legendary axe, showed visible wear, its edges dulled, its once flawless metal now marred with fractures.
Silver Steel, my trusted sword, was similarly worn, its once radiant glow flickering, struggling to sustain itself under the sheer onslaught of battle.
They would regenerate, given time.
But I wasn't giving them time.
I cycled through my arsenal, alternating weapons to keep up the tempo. Whenever a weapon felt too strained, I'd dismiss it, calling forth another from my Holy Spirit's innate conjuration or from the wealth of weapons I have from my Item Box.
Even that had become a mindless action—a practiced rhythm, like breathing.
And still, I fought.
I felt so tired.
A distant part of me—one that still remembered what it meant to be human—whispered that I should stop.
That I should rest.
But that voice was small, insignificant beneath the overwhelming fury of battle.
Because the demons were still here.
Because the Hell's Gate was still open.
Because I wasn't done.
And until it was over—
I would not stop.
The air trembled, a violent shudder rippling through the battlefield.
The turbulence became erratic, spiraling out of control as the Hell's Gate began to collapse.
I had done it.
I had fought for weeks, probably a month or so, cut down everything that dared to stand against me, and now—the invasion was over.
The war was won.
A breath left my lips—something like relief, but too hollow to feel real.
I tried to cast Zealot's Stride—my body screamed for escape. I needed to move. To leave before I was caught in the destruction.
Nothing happened.
It was dispelled.
I turned, my worn-out grip tightening around my sword, and there it was.
A black knight stood before me, wreathed in black flames that crackled with a presence far beyond any demon I had faced before.
It spoke, its voice a guttural snarl in the infernal tongue.
"Your efforts are meaningless. You may have sealed the gate, but as long as we take your life—"
The rest of its words burned into my skull, unintelligible but carrying weight, a command, a curse.
The exhaustion in my bones sank deeper.
I had fought so long. Too long. I wasn't sure if I had anything left to fight this one.
But I raised my sword anyway.
Before I could act, spectral chains erupted from the ground, wrapping around my limbs, my torso—binding me in place.
I struggled, but my body felt heavy.
The black knight strode forward, deliberate, uncaring. It raised its sword, black steel humming with an energy I did not recognize—an energy that made even my divine defenses recoil in disgust.
Then it drove its sword into my chest.
Pain exploded through me.
The impact triggered Sacrificial Zeal and Reflect—a pulse of reflected damage shattered through barriers and armor surrounding the black knight.
Yet it did not move.
It simply stared down at me, as if mocking the very idea that my damage could reach it.
Fine.
If this was how it was going to be—
I activated Heavenly Punishment.
Not through my sword.
Not through my hands.
But through my teeth.
Everything about it felt wrong.
Heavenly Punishment wasn't meant to be used like this. It should have been channeled through a blade, not something as crude and primal as a bite.
But I did it anyway.
A blinding backlash tore through me—the very act of forcing divine judgment into my own body nearly crushed my skull from the inside out.
I ignored it.
I sank my teeth into the black knight's armored shoulder.
My teeth cracked.
The knight's armor split.
And then divine light erupted, spreading like fire through dry wood, burning and bursting the corrupted metal apart.
The black knight finally reacted, its body jerking from the unexpected attack.
I triggered Flash Parry.
The chains holding me shattered.
I honestly didn't think that would work.
With everything I had left, I kicked the black knight in the chest with War Smite, sending it flying back, crashing through ruins and debris.
I stumbled, my vision wavering.
The Hell's Gate collapsed.
The path back to the mortal world was gone.
"Fuck."
The world blurred.
My knees buckled, my body crashed onto my back.
I was going to die here.
Then—a voice.
"You've done well, God of War."
A faint green spark flickered in my dimming vision.
It grew, expanded, forming a circle beneath me.
My body fell.
I barely registered a new place, a new presence—two figures, a man and a woman.
The man looked at me and smirked.
"It's been a hundred days."
He leaned slightly closer, as if amused.
"Now, if I recall correctly—"
"You owe me tea."
And then—
Everything went dark.
Chapter 107
The imperial throne room was a vast chamber of solemn majesty, its floor a seamless expanse of polished jade that reflected the golden light cast by towering braziers. Pillars of verdant nephrite, each carved with the writhing forms of celestial dragons, stretched high into the vaulted ceiling, where a mural of the heavens was depicted in exquisite detail—stars of crushed gemstone glittering against a lacquered night sky. At the end of the hall, raised upon a dais of radiant gold, stood the throne of the Grand Emperor. It was a masterpiece of divine craftsmanship, sculpted from a single slab of orichalcum, its backrest carved into the shape of an unfurled lotus.
And upon this throne sat the ruler of all under heaven, a man known by many names. To the world, he was the Grand Emperor. To those who feared him, he was the Final Emperor, the wielder of the Heavenly Eye, whose mere gaze could sunder mountains and lay truth bare. But to an affectionate few, he had a humbler name—Nongmin.
He exhaled softly, his expression unreadable as he snapped the portal shut with a flick of his fingers. Green sparks flared and vanished into the ether, leaving only silence in their wake.
And in that silence lay a man—Da Wei—unconscious and battered, his body slumped against the jade floor like a discarded weapon. His once-pristine armor, a fusion of foreign craftsmanship and divine invocation, was now a ruinous shell. The breastplate, once engraved with holy inscriptions, was cracked down the center, fissures branching outward like a shattered mirror. The pauldrons bore deep gouges, torn apart by forces that had no place in the mortal realm. His gauntlets were bent out of shape, fingers barely visible beneath the blood and soot that clung to the metal.
Beneath the ruined armor, his body fared little better. Blood seeped from wounds both fresh and half-clotted, staining the tattered remnants of his undershirt. A deep gash ran along his side, just beneath his ribs, the torn flesh a stark contrast against the faint glow of lingering divine energy that struggled to mend him. His face, partially obscured by tangled strands of black hair, was pale from blood loss, but his expression, even in unconsciousness, held an iron-willed defiance.
The air around him still crackled with remnants of power, vestiges of whatever battle had left him in this state. Though his body lay still, his presence was undeniable—like a blade dulled but not yet broken.
"While I'd love to share tea with him, it is clear he is in no condition to engage on such frivolity," said the Nongmin as his golden eyes, radiant as twin suns, settled upon the only other person in the chamber. "Divine Physician Xin," he said, his voice steady, neither demanding nor pleading, simply stating. "Take care of our guest. And make sure to protect his privacy. I'm sure our dear guest would appreciate being spared from dealing with flies, worms, and your average day vermin."
The woman beside him—Xin—moved without hesitation. She was dressed in flowing white robes embroidered with silver lotuses, the very image of serenity. With a casual wave of her hand, the broken and bloodied body of the stranger lifted from the floor, weightless as though caught in an unseen current. The man, Da Wei, as Nongmin believed his name to be, remained unconscious, his injuries grievous but not beyond Xin's skill.
The Divine Physician studied the wounded man for a moment before nodding. "It would be best to tend to him in your private chamber," she remarked, her voice light but assured. "The energies here are not suited for healing."
Nongmin inclined his head slightly, conceding the point. With another flick of his fingers, the great doors of the throne room opened, and the Divine Physician, with Da Wei floating behind her, departed in silence.
For a moment, the Grand Emperor remained seated, his golden gaze lingering on the space where the portal had been. Then, with a quiet sigh, he closed his eyes.
The throne room returned to stillness.
The Empire had endured another crisis. Under his guidance, such tribulations rarely left lasting scars. However, one thing still lingered in his thoughts—Shenyuan. That old monster still lived. How unexpected. Nongmin had thought the Black Clan's and Shadow Clan's past had long been buried, its remnants either scattered or faded into obscurity. Yet, not only had Shenyuan survived, but he had reemerged with designs of his own, entwined with the Eternal Undeath Cult.
A troublesome development.
Still, the most surprising aspect of the recent ordeal had not been Shenyuan. It had been Da Wei who ended it all.
The stranger was… an anomaly. He was not a blind spot to Nongmin's Heavenly Eye—few things in existence were. Yet, Da Wei was concerning in a different way. The man's moral compass did not fit this world. It was neither naive nor foolish, but it operated on principles that felt out of place, untethered from the unspoken laws of survival that dictated life in this realm. Nongmin had encountered many types of men—heroes, tyrants, visionaries—but Da Wei was something else entirely.
He sighed, rubbing his temple before raising his fingers. With but a thought, Qi Speech carried his command across the vast reaches of his domain.
"Zhu Shin. Attend me."
Moments later, the throne room's grand doors swung open with a deep thrum, reverberating through the chamber like the beating of a great war drum.
A man entered.
He was large, built like a moving fortress, every step heavy with restrained power. His presence alone carried the weight of a seasoned warrior, one who had stood at the Empire's borders and held back countless tides of destruction. His armor, though grand in craftsmanship, bore the marks of battle—etched scars of long-forgotten wars.
He was General Zhu Shin, a cultivator of the Ninth Realm and one of Nongmin's most trusted subordinates.
Zhu Shin knelt before the throne, fist to chest in a formal salute. His voice was deep, steady. "Your Majesty."
Nongmin regarded him for a moment before speaking. "How fares the defense against the demonic forces?"
He already knew the answer, of course. His Heavenly Eye had long since shown him the state of the frontlines, the battles fought, the victories claimed, and the lingering struggles. But this was not an empty question.
It was a habit.
A habit he had cultivated for the sake of his people—to acknowledge their efforts, to ensure their work was appreciated, to make clear that the battles they fought were seen.
Zhu Shin exhaled before responding. "The demonic incursions have been repelled along the western border. The Black Tides were held at Mount Qingshi, and our forces secured a decisive victory. However, there are still lingering infestations in the northern wastelands. We have sent purification squads to deal with the remnants."
Nongmin nodded. "Well done. You have led them admirably."
Zhu Shin did not smile, nor did he boast. But there was a shift in his posture, the smallest sign of pride in his duty.
The Empire endured because of men like him.
General Zhu Shin remained kneeling before the Grand Emperor, his expression composed as he continued his report. His voice carried the weight of a man who had seen countless battlefields and knew the cost of war.
"The Seven Imperial Houses have been cooperative," Zhu Shin stated. "Their swift response minimized casualties and prevented widespread damage. Their unity has been commendable."
Nongmin inclined his head slightly. The Seven Imperial Houses were the backbone of his Empire, ruling vast territories and commanding immense power. It was always a delicate balance keeping them aligned with his rule, but in times of crisis, their cooperation was paramount. That they had acted accordingly this time meant fewer matters to clean up.
"However," Zhu Shin continued, his tone shifting slightly, "the Black Clan suffered the most from this ordeal."
Nongmin sighed inwardly. That was hardly surprising. The Black Clan, also known as the Black Imperial House, had once been the direct sword and shield of the throne. They were meant to be an unshakable pillar of the Empire. But now, they had become the greatest victims of what was likely the most significant coup attempt in the last millennium.
Though, in truth, neither the Black Clan nor the Shadow Clan was at fault.
They had once been one—a single, mighty clan. But history had split them apart, and their paths had diverged. The Black Clan remained in direct service to the Empire, while the Shadow Clan had withdrawn into secrecy, guarding there inherited knowledge that most had long since deemed dangerous or forbidden.
Yet despite their differences, they had both been manipulated. Shenyuan had used them as pawns in his grand scheme.
"They were not the ones pulling the strings," Nongmin murmured, his tone laced with irritation. His Heavenly Eye had long since shown him the truth. Shenyuan had been the true architect of this disaster. The Shadow Clan, the Black Clan… they had merely been caught in the web of a monster that should have died centuries ago.
But Shenyuan was dead now.
That should have brought Nongmin satisfaction. And yet… he clicked his tongue, a faint sense of disappointment lingering in his thoughts.
It had not been his hand that ended Shenyuan.
It was good riddance, of course. The world was better off without him. Had his schemes come to fruition, it would have thrown the entire balance of power into chaos. The Hell's Gate had already been enough of a problem—Shenyuan's frenzied blood demons had only worsened the situation.
Had Da Wei not been involved, Nongmin might have been forced to split his resources and fight a war that his Empire was not prepared for.
That was an outcome he would never have tolerated.
"The blood demons have been secured," Zhu Shin reported. "The military has taken full control with the assistance of the intelligence division. Any remnants are being systematically purged."
Nongmin gave a slow nod. That was as it should be. He had no interest in allowing such creatures to roam unchecked. But Zhu Shin was not finished.
"There is another matter," the General added, his tone shifting to something more thoughtful. "The blood techniques used by Shenyuan's creations… they are highly effective. Little cost, great power. If studied properly, they might be repurposed for our soldiers."
Nongmin closed his eyes briefly and exhaled through his nose. Of course, he would think that.
Zhu Shin was proactive when it came to strengthening the military, sometimes to problematic extremes. It was not a bad trait—it was precisely this drive that had made him such an indispensable subordinate. But in this case, it was a dead end.
"That would be a waste of effort," Nongmin stated plainly. "I have already seen the truth of these techniques through my Heavenly Eye. They will not work as you hope."
Zhu Shin frowned slightly. "May I ask why, Your Majesty?"
Nongmin waved a hand dismissively. "The cost is not as 'little' as it seems. The drawbacks are simply hidden well. To rely on such power is to invite disaster."
The General bowed his head, accepting the judgment without argument. Nongmin appreciated that about him—loyalty tempered by pragmatism. Zhu Shin would push for what he believed would strengthen the Empire, but he also knew when to relent.
"What else?" Nongmin asked, shifting the conversation.
Zhu Shin hesitated for a brief moment before answering. "The World Summit, Your Majesty."
Nongmin's expression immediately darkened.
"Tch." He clicked his tongue in clear annoyance.
The World Summit—the grand gathering of sovereigns, sect leaders, and rulers of the great powers. It was a necessary institution, a place where the balance of power was maintained, where alliances were forged and grudges either settled or deepened.
And he had no interest in attending.
But ignoring it was not an option.
Not now.
Not when the signs of a turbulent era were becoming more and more evident.
Nongmin leaned back against the golden throne, exhaling softly. The weight of the Empire rested upon his shoulders, yet this was no burden—he had long since mastered the art of governance, balancing strength with wisdom.
"Go," he said, his voice steady but firm. "You are dismissed, General."
General Zhu Shin, still kneeling, clasped his hands and bowed low. "As you command, Your Majesty."
The massive doors of the imperial throne room creaked open as the General took his leave, his towering figure vanishing into the dimly lit corridors beyond. The heavy doors shut behind him with a final thud, leaving Nongmin alone in the vast chamber.
Silence reigned, save for the distant flickering of jade lanterns and the faint hum of spiritual formations embedded in the walls.
With a thought, Nongmin opened his Heavenly Eye.
He had already confirmed that Da Wei was in stable condition under Divine Physician Xin's care. That was fine. What he needed now was leverage—to know the people around Da Wei.
With a wave of his hand, a set of bamboo scrolls materialized in front of him, each marked with crimson seals. These were the reports compiled by his son, Ren Jin, gathered from the observations of his grandson, Ren Xun.
It was time to see what pieces he had on the board.
With another thought, his Heavenly Eye turned to Ren Xun.
Dead.
His grandson's corpse lay stuffed inside a Storage Ring of all things—an undignified end. There was not much to see, just an empty, lifeless husk sealed away in a pocket dimension.
But then, as his sight shifted toward the threads of fate, he glimpsed something… unclear.
A possible future where Ren Xun lived again.
Nongmin's brow furrowed. A resurrection?
He prided himself on his ability to see fate's currents, to divine the future with more accuracy than any mere prophet. Yet, even his sight had its limits—it was not absolute.
Still, if Ren Xun could return, it was worth noting. He would not be so foolish as to ignore something so unnatural.
Next, he turned his gaze toward another name on the list.
Gu Jie?
Dead.
A shame, but expected. She was always too reckless, from what little he had seen in Ren Xun's reports. Cavalier even… and sometimes, too reliant on her special ability.
Ren Jingyi?
Alive.
But what truly caught Nongmin's attention was who she was with—Tao Long and a man called Jiang Zhen.
Tao Long? That was a name he hadn't heard in centuries. His old friend.
Curious.
Next, Hei Mao?
…Nothing.
Nongmin frowned. That could mean one of two things.
Either Hei Mao was dead, or something was obstructing his vision.
Given recent events, the former was more likely.
And then, the last name on the report.
Lu Gao?
Out of range. Nongmin could tell, after all, he could perceive his spark still… just too far away.
That meant he was outside the Empire. Nongmin narrowed his eyes. If the Lu Clan child had escaped beyond his sight, he would have to exert more effort to find him.
With a murmured incantation, he channeled his Heavenly Eye's power, weaving a spell to enhance his vision. His sight pierced across the continent, past mountains and rivers, across deserts and oceans, until finally—
A vast desert.
The shifting sands stretched endlessly beneath a burning sun. But before he could focus, before he could see clearly—
A woman with rosy pink hair turned her gaze toward him.
And stared directly into his Heavenly Eye.
The world lurched as a sudden, suffocating bloodlust filled his vision.
Nongmin flinched.
It was not possible. No one—not even the greatest seers of the era—should be able to see him when he scried from such a vast distance. And yet, this woman had not only noticed him but had also locked onto him as if he were prey.
Then—
Darkness.
The connection was severed.
Nongmin lost sight of Lu Gao entirely.
A deep frown formed on his face.
"Tch." He clicked his tongue in annoyance.
Who was that woman?
More importantly, how had she intercepted his sight?
That was a problem for later. For now, he had bigger matters to consider.
Nongmin took a slow breath and exhaled.
Perhaps looking into Da Wei's companions was a waste of time. He would need to adjust his approach.
Instead of chasing shadows, he would focus on the man himself.
With another thought, he turned his Heavenly Eye toward Da Wei's future.
What he needed was a path—a series of simulated events that would allow him to guide Da Wei toward an agreement. One that would benefit the Empire.
The best-case scenario?
He recruited Da Wei.
A man with power beyond reason, someone who could withstand the attacks of the likes of Shenyuan without breaking a sweat—such a person could be an unstoppable force for the Empire.
A storm was coming. He knew it.
And in the end, when the dust settled, he would ensure that his Empire stood above all.
Chapter 108
I woke up feeling like I'd been tossed into a mountainside, rolled down a cliff, and then stomped on for good measure. No—actually, if that really happened, I probably wouldn't feel as bad as I did right now.
This wasn't just physical pain.
This was "I fought back-to-back against a world boss-level monster, then had to deal with some PvP troll immediately after, only to be thrown into a solo raid of Hell's Gate with no party members" kind of pain.
That kind of situation.
My entire body ached. Every muscle, every bone, every nerve—burning, sore, exhausted. I sucked in a slow breath. Not dead, then.
That's a win.
I opened my eyes.
The first thing I noticed?
The bed was soft. Incredibly soft.
So much so that I wanted to just sink in and fall back asleep, aches and all. The sheets were cool, smooth, and had a faint fragrant scent, like some kind of exotic flower I couldn't place.
I'm… wearing unfamiliar clothes.
That's when I noticed the next thing.
Someone stirred beside me.
Sleeping.
Okay?
I froze.
She had dark hair and wore flowing white robes embroidered with silver lotuses. Her breathing was slow, peaceful. Her arms? Firmly wrapped around my waist.
Okay…
This was awkward on so many levels.
If I was any younger—both soul and mind—I'd probably be blushing like an idiot right now. But I had long since tempered myself against such trivial matters.
So I did the only reasonable thing.
I stayed on the bed.
You don't turn away gifts.
A few moments passed before the woman stirred again, her eyelashes fluttering as she opened her eyes.
She blinked at me.
Then, with a calm, almost lazy voice, she murmured, "Oh."
I stared at her.
She yawned, stretching slightly—though she didn't let go—before saying, "I dozed off."
"Right," I said slowly. "And you are…?"
"Xin Yune," she replied.
I nodded. "And what exactly do you do?"
"A physician," she said.
A pause.
I glanced down at her arms, still wrapped snugly around me.
I raised a brow. "So, uh… why are you hugging me?"
"It was part of the healing," she said smoothly.
A moment later, she added, "And you smell good."
I squinted.
"…Okay?"
That was a bit freaky. But hey, to each their own, I guess.
I decided to move on from that particular topic.
"Where's my armor?" I asked.
"Being repaired," she answered.
I frowned. That thing had been with me for a while now—it wasn't exactly disposable.
"Where am I?"
"The Empire," she said.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
"Where in the Empire?"
"The Imperial Capital."
I sighed. "Where in the Imperial Capital?"
She gave me a lazy smile. "In the Emperor's bedchambers."
…
What.
I stared at her.
She smiled back, looking far too amused at my reaction.
I used Flash Step.
One moment, I was in bed.
The next, I was by the window.
A cool breeze drifted in, carrying the scent of incense, lotus blossoms, and the faint trace of steel—the mix of a city that was both spiritual and warlike.
We were high up.
Far below, the Imperial Capital of the Grand Ascension Empire stretched out endlessly beneath a golden morning sun.
I closed my eyes.
With my Paladin Legacy and Will Reinforcement cultivation combined, my Divine Sense had reached a new level.
Range. Accuracy. Refinement.
My five senses, once ordinary, had been honed to the point where I could paint the world in my mind's eye—clearer than sight itself.
So, I closed my eyes completely and let my Divine Sense sweep across the capital.
And what did I see?
Wealth. Power. Status. Life.
The Imperial City was a place of contradictions—sacred yet violent, elegant yet ruthless, ancient yet ever-evolving.
Towering jade pagodas gleamed under the sunlight, their golden inlays shimmering like stars against emerald stone. White-robed scholars and cultivators walked its broad avenues, their flowing sleeves brushing against the air, while armored imperial guards stood at every gate, their hands resting on the hilts of spirit-forged weapons.
The streets were filled with life.
Merchants called out their wares in booming voices. Silk vendors. Spice traders. Alchemists hawking miracle pills. An old man sat cross-legged on a wooden mat, painting with a brush dipped in liquid qi, his art infused with spiritual energy that made the ink dance like living creatures.
A group of disciples practiced sword forms in a grand courtyard, their footwork in perfect harmony, their movements like flowing water. Not far from them, priests or monks in golden robes lit fragrant incense before a shrine, their prayers rising in soft murmurs to the heavens.
And above it all, looming in the heart of the city—
The Imperial Palace.
A colossus of jade and gold, its thousand-tiered spires reaching toward the sky like the fingers of a god. The banners of the Grand Ascension Empire flew from every tower, emblazoned with the sigil of the Heavenly Eye, watching over its people with an all-seeing gaze.
It was a city that had stood for thousands of years—the crucible of the nascent Empire that had risen to ascension in the recent centuries.
The Grand Ascension Empire had only begun its true reign three hundred years ago. Before that, it had been a lesser nation, known by a different name, overshadowed by greater powers.
But now—
Now, it stood at the center of the world.
I let out a slow breath, soaking in the details, my Divine Sense drinking in the life and breath of the empire.
Then, a voice cut through my focus.
"His Majesty bids thee attend, that ye may partake in tea and discourse."
I opened my eyes.
Xin Yune was watching me, a small, knowing smile on her lips.
I stared at her.
Tea?
With the Emperor?
…Right. Because that was a totally normal thing to happen.
Ah, right… The imperial summons.
I recalled the Emperor had invited me for tea.
But… I didn't remember coming here.
The last thing I recalled was the Hell's Gate, the endless waves of undead and demons, and then—being sucked into a green portal. I heard a voice. Someone had told me that I owed them tea.
And now, here I was.
I sighed.
I never imagined my first real adventure would be so thrilling that I'd lost almost my entire party—except for Ren Jingyi.
A ghost of a pain rose in my chest.
I hope that dragon guy did as he promised.
I pushed the thought aside and turned to Xin Yune.
"Lead the way," I said.
She dipped her head in acknowledgment, moving with the grace of a drifting cloud.
I followed.
Might as well get this over with.
Then, I could start searching for the remains of my fallen party members—and resurrect them.
And after that… I still needed to figure out a way to get in touch with Alice, Joan, and Lu Gao.
There was so much to do.
I searched inward, reaching for the presence that had always been there—Dave, my Holy Spirit.
Silence.
Nothing.
That was… worrying.
I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to stay calm. There were too many unknowns, and panicking wouldn't solve anything. I needed to prioritize the conversation ahead.
As we walked through the Imperial Palace's grand halls, I cast a sideways glance at Xin Yune and decided to make some idle conversation.
"Just so you know in advance, the honeypot strategy won't work on me."
She blinked at me, her expression as placid as still water. "I don't understand what you mean, but I would love to know about this… 'honeypot strategy.'"
…Right.
Either my joke didn't translate well, or Xin Yune was that much of a straitlaced person.
I missed my party already.
At least they humored my eccentricities instead of just staring at me like I was an unintelligible relic from an alternate reality.
We arrived at a terrace, bathed in the soft golden light of the late afternoon sun.
And there, seated at an exquisitely carved jade table, was a middle-aged man.
He was handsome, in the way that sculptors dreamed of capturing in stone—his features sharp, but not harsh, with the kind of ageless refinement that made it impossible to tell whether he was in his forties or hundreds. His long black hair was streaked with faint traces of silver, tied loosely behind him, as if he couldn't be bothered with overly elaborate styles.
Draped over his shoulders was an ornate imperial robe of gold and black, the embroidered dragon patterns almost seeming to shift with every movement.
In his hand, he held a delicate porcelain cup, steam rising from its contents as he took a slow, unhurried sip.
He didn't even look at me.
Xin Yune stepped forward and inclined her head, her tone measured and formal.
"His Majesty, the Grand Emperor, Wielder of the Heavenly Eye, doth bid thee welcome, Honorable Daoist and Esteemed Guest of the Empire."
I clasped my fist and bowed slightly, offering the standard greeting.
Xin Yune then turned slightly, gesturing toward the man.
"This is His Majesty, Nongmin."
At that, Nongmin finally looked at me.
I smiled at him.
"This humble one is named Da Wei, a wandering traveler of foreign lands, a friend to Yellow Dragon City, and a self-proclaimed minstrel who strums the strings of fate with but meager skill."
Xin Yune gave me a slightly curious look, no doubt noticing that I was mimicking her speech patterns.
Meanwhile, Nongmin simply raised an eyebrow, setting his teacup down with deliberate grace.
"There is no need for such formalities," he said, his voice smooth and assured. "Thou mayest speak freely, without reservation."
Ah, I see.
He wanted me to drop the act.
That was exactly why I wouldn't.
I straightened, meeting his gaze with an expression of solemn reverence that was entirely fake.
"Thy benevolence knoweth no bounds, O Grand Emperor. Yet, how could this lowly one dare cast aside the sacred customs of propriety when standing before the august presence of he who weaveth the tapestry of fate with the eye that peereth into infinity?"
Xin Yune blinked. Nongmin stared.
A tiny, almost imperceptible twitch formed at the corner of his mouth. Was that irritation?
Good.
I disliked this guy on principle, and if I had to be here, I might as well make sure he knew it.
"No need to play the sycophant," said Nongmin. "Speak freely."
I took a slow breath, letting my expression remain as unreadable as possible. Nongmin was watching me with that same calm, infuriating gaze—like he already knew what I was about to say. Maybe he did.
He used me.
I saw it now, clear as day. The pieces had fallen into place the moment I found myself here, in the very place he had invited me to—a hundred days after his summons. The timeframe wasn't arbitrary. He had known. He knew I would cross paths with Shenyuan. Maybe not every detail, maybe not exactly how it would unfold, but he had accounted for me, pushed me toward an outcome that suited him.
And my party…
Their deaths.
Had he seen that too?
Did he expect it? Want it?
Not as malice, but as a convenient reality. A price I would pay so he could have leverage over me.
A quiet rage settled in my chest, a bitter ember that burned without roaring. He wasn't my enemy—not yet. But this wasn't right.
And what could I do about it?
Mock him.
So, I offered him a poem.
I clasped my hands behind my back and let my voice flow like the wandering bards of old, slow and solemn:
"Upon the stage, a tale was spun, The Shadow rose, the play begun. A hand unseen did guide the thread, We danced, we fought, the stage ran red.
The dice were cast, the script was writ, A tragedy, yet most well-fit. The heroes fell, their names unsung, Yet lo, the curtain still was hung.
Was it fate, or was it art? A grand design, so cold, so smart. Oh playwright throned in halls of gold, Didst thou not know the cost so bold?
Or was it known, yet unopposed, A sacrifice that fate composed? The stage is set, the ink runs dry, And so we meet, just thou and I."
Silence.
I held my stare as Nongmin looked at me with an emotionless stare.
Xin Yune shifted slightly, lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but no words came.
"I spoke freely," I said. "Now it's your turn."
Let him chew on that.
Nongmin took a slow sip of his tea, as if weighing his words. "My people have handled the remainder of Shenyuan's contingency. The blood demons he planned to release have been neutralized."
I frowned. Shenyuan did warn me about them. That smug bastard had muttered something about unfinished business before I sent him to whatever afterlife he deserved.
Nongmin continued, setting his cup down. "We traced an isolated event to Ironmoor City. From there, it was simple enough to track and deal with the outbreaks in other cities before they could escalate. Whatever vile techniques they intended to spread have been contained."
That was… surprisingly efficient. Annoyingly so. The way he said it, as if this had been no trouble at all, irritated me. Had I really been flailing around fighting for my life while his people cleaned things up like janitors sweeping away broken glass?
Still, the Hell's Gate manifesting had been half of my responsibility. Nongmin hadn't lifted a finger for that.
He met my gaze and inclined his head slightly. "For your efforts in holding the line and barring the Hell's Gate, you have my gratitude."
I almost snorted. It was surreal, hearing an emperor thank me. But then, his expression shifted slightly, and his next words came with a weight I didn't quite trust.
"As for the deaths of your people," he said, "I apologize."
I stiffened.
He continued, "Among those you call your own was my grandson, Ren Xun. So, understand this—I, too, have lost."
I stared at him, searching for any flicker of dishonesty. My Divine Sense stretched out, reading the minute shifts in his breath, the subtle tremors in his body. Nothing. If he was lying, he was damn good at it. Unbelievably good.
But Ren Xun was dead. That part wasn't in question. What was in question was Nongmin's sincerity.
Was he truly grieving, or was this just another layer to his manipulation? Was he trying to draw a false camaraderie between us, playing on emotions to align our interests?
I sighed. The Grand Emperor was far more complicated than I had imagined.
With a shake of my head, I sat down.
Xin Yune poured me tea.
I exhaled, letting my muscles relax. The bitterness from before still lingered, but it was time to move the conversation forward.
So, naturally, I asked, "Is it true you've stayed a virgin for a thousand years?"
Xin Yune froze.
Then, in the next instant, she shook.
She missed the cup.
And suddenly, I was drenched in tea.
For a long moment, there was silence.
Then, she started laughing.
A proper, elegant Imperial Physician laughing like a common tavern girl.
I wiped my face, blinking at her. Did I just break her?
Nongmin's lips twitched. He set his teacup down with a quiet clink before finally responding.
"There is nothing to discuss about my virginity," he said flatly. "And I am no longer a virgin." He exhaled through his nose. "It has been—oh, a century or so already."
I nodded solemnly, as if he had just revealed some grand truth of the universe. "Apologies for my curiosity," I said. "But I'm glad to see that you are human too who could be embarrassed."
Xin Yune, who had only just stopped laughing, let out a small cough and quickly composed herself, though I could still see the ghost of a smile on her lips.
Meanwhile, I focused inward, calling upon my Item Box. With a thought, my damp robes vanished, and in their place, I donned Lofty Jade Proposition. It was made of flowing emerald-green silk, accented with gold thread—elegant, impressive, and most importantly, dry.
At the same time, I discreetly stuffed my soaked robes into my Item Box. No need to give the Emperor the satisfaction of seeing me drenched.
With that handled, I turned my attention back to him.
"So," I said, leaning forward slightly. "What do you want from me?"
Nongmin met my gaze. "I want your power."
I scoffed. "I have no desire to become someone else's sword." My voice was firm. "My sword is my own."
Nongmin didn't seem offended. Instead, he shook his head. "I do not wish to own you," he said. "I wish to sponsor you."
I frowned. That sounded like semantics to me.
He continued, "A World Summit will soon be held. News of the Outsiders must be spread."
I blinked. "Outsiders?"
"To you, they are the Great Enemy," Nongmin lifted his teacup again, this time sipping at a more leisurely pace. "I first heard the term from you." He set the cup down. "Or rather, from Ren Jin. Your battle against a certain demon back in Yellow Dragon City—the report he gave me mentioned your use of that phrase."
I clicked my tongue. So that's how he knew.
"It was not difficult," Nongmin continued, "to put two and two together."
I sighed. "And you want me to come with you to this World Summit?"
"Yes," he said. "There are people you need to meet."
I leaned back in my chair, staring up at the sky. The tea had long since cooled, but I still felt its warmth lingering on my skin.
Honestly, Nongmin was asking a lot.
I had been swept up in events outside my control for too long. The more I fought, the more I traveled, the farther away my old world felt.
Going home… was that even possible anymore?
Was there even a point to any of this?
Why was I still moving forward?
Was it really just about getting stronger?
I closed my eyes for a moment. Then, exhaling slowly, I opened them again and looked at Nongmin.
"...What's in it for me?"
Nongmin sipped his tea, his gaze steady on mine. "In an act of good faith," he said smoothly, "I will tell you where to find the rest of your people… so that you may bring them back to life."
Ah. So that's how it was.
I had suspected it from the start, but hearing it confirmed only made it more obvious—he was using their deaths as leverage.
But… the fact that he gave this information freely, without demanding my loyalty in return, at least spoke to his character. It didn't mean I trusted him, but it did mean he wasn't as manipulative as I initially thought. Or rather, he didn't feel the need to be.
I exhaled. "And what's your source of information?"
Nongmin smiled. "Classified."
Of course it was.
He continued, "The carcasses of Gu Jie and Ren Xun remain with your youngest disciple, Ren Jingyi. Their remains are stored within her Storage Ring."
Gu Jie and Ren Xun… still within reach.
Nongmin went on, "Ren Jingyi herself is doing well. She currently resides in Riverfall Continent and is traveling with a cultivator named Tao Long. Meanwhile, Lu Gao—"
I straightened. "Tao Long?"
"—is in a desert." Nongmin took another sip of tea. "With strange people."
I frowned. A desert? That didn't tell me much, but it was something.
Nongmin set his cup down. "I can help you track them down and bring them here," he offered. "Though retrieving Lu Gao may be… difficult."
It was odd, how he spoke about my people so casually, as if he knew them personally.
I rolled my shoulders, keeping my expression neutral. "I know the 'strange' people with Lu Gao. They're friends."
Nongmin merely nodded, acknowledging my words.
I hesitated for a beat before finally asking, "What about Hei Mao?"
Nongmin shook his head.
That was all.
No explanation. No further words. Just a single shake of his head.
I felt my heart break.
Hei Mao… gone.
I swallowed, forcing my emotions back down. I wasn't going to let Nongmin see my pain.
At the very least, I had some solace in knowing where the others were.
Nongmin set his cup down and regarded me with an unreadable expression. "I have already arranged for Ren Jin to secure Ren Jingyi. A guard has been posted with her at all times."
I kept my face neutral, but I wasn't sure how to feel about that.
"My son will handle the matter of her safety delicately," Nongmin added. "You need not worry—she will be kept safe."
Safe.
I downed the last of my cold tea, then stood. "I'll think about your offer. We'll talk later."
Nongmin simply nodded, as if he had already foreseen my response.
I turned away, resisting the urge to sigh. I thought about using Voice Chat—maybe reaching out to Lu Gao, maybe Alice or Joan—but I decided against it.
Not yet.
Instead, I activated Egress.
I thought about Yellow Dragon City.
A moment later, I stood before the city walls.
The massive walls of Yellow Dragon City loomed before me, a familiar sight, yet distant in a way I couldn't quite explain. I had been away for too long.
Without hesitation, I activated Zealot's Stride.
Mana surged through my body. My feet barely touched the air as I shot forward, streaking across the sky like a comet toward the Yellow Dragon Estate.
The guards stationed outside barely had time to react.
"Halt—!"
Too slow.
I blurred past them, their protests lost in the wind.
I zoomed into Ren Jin's office.
And then—
I stopped.
Stared.
Ren Jin and his wife, Yue Ruo. were making out.
Not just kissing—but full tangling-limbs, hands-wandering, passionately-locked-in-each-other's-arms kind of making out.
I blinked.
I sighed.
They still didn't notice me.
I faked a cough.
They froze.
Ren Jin slowly turned his head, his wife still half-clinging to him, both of them looking like guilty teenagers caught by their parents.
I didn't even care anymore.
I closed my eyes and extended my Divine Sense.
I searched—looking for that spark.
That tiny, unique little presence that reminded me of her when she used to be just a goldfish.
There.
I moved.
I jumped from the open veranda, landing lightly in the courtyard below.
Ren Jingyi was training with a whip.
Across from her, Jiang Zhen stood with arms crossed, his expression calm and patient. Tao Long was off to the side, watching with a contemplative look.
I activated Flash Step and appeared within Ren Jingyi's peripheral vision.
Her whip slipped from her fingers.
Her eyes widened.
She let out a small, choked sound—
Then ran.
Straight for me.
I barely had time to brace myself before the little girl threw herself into my arms.
Ren Jingyi clung to me, her small fingers digging into my robes as if afraid I'd disappear again. "I—I thought I'd never see you again!"
Her fingers tightened around my robes as she trembled. "I was so alone… I didn't know what to do…"
Her voice cracked. "I was so scared… so sad…"
I let out a slow breath, rubbing her back gently. "It's okay. Everything's going to be fine."
She choked back another sob but nodded. "Promise?"
"I promise," I hugged her tighter, murmuring softly, "It's okay. Everything's going to be fine."
Ren Jingyi sobbed into my shoulder, but she nodded.
She hugged me tighter.
And I hugged her back.