Within the passage of time, mortals would experience the ebb and flow of life—some would rise like flowers in full bloom, their beauty reaching its peak, while others would wither away, fading into the endless stream of existence.
And for Xia Qingyue, the passage of time did not diminish her beauty.
It only refined it. Far far beyond mortals could hope for, far far beyond what cultivators could dream of.
Back then, in the God Realm, her beauty had already been nearly unrivaled. Only Qianye Ying'er and Shen Xi surpass her in term of beauty.
But now, in the Abyss, she had surpassed even that.
If Shen Xi was the undisputed number one beauty of the God Realm, then at this very moment, Xia Qingyue was the most breathtaking existence in the entire Abyss. If not the entire Primordial Chaos.
Her beauty was no longer just a fleeting charm—it was ethereal, carrying with it the weight of divinity and fate.
To say that Yun Che had not harbored desires toward her since their "kidnapping" four years ago would be an understatement of the century.
He had.
Many times.
Yet, burdened by the weight of everything—his battles, his vengeance, his struggle to survive—he had not dared to act on it.
His responsibilities had kept him restrained, forcing him to suppress the emotions he had locked away for far too long.
But now—
She had taken the initiative.
And Yun Che would gladly comply.
As soon as the final layer of barriers settled around them, Yun Che's composure shattered like fragile glass.
In a blur of movement, he tore away her robes, his actions as wild and unrestrained as a beast finally freed from its chains.
Xia Qingyue did not resist.
Her body, now fully revealed beneath the soft glow of their secluded space, was flawless—like a masterpiece carved from the purest, most radiant jade.
She was perfection incarnate—not simply in form, but in the way she stood before him without hesitation.
In the way she gave herself to him without reservation.
Yun Che felt his mind spiral, his very soul trembling at the sight before him.
For years, she had been untouchable—a celestial beauty who had always been just beyond his grasp.
But now—
Now, she was his.
And at this moment, there was nothing else in the world.
There were no wars to fight.
No divine beings to challenge.
No burdens to carry.
Only them.
As he embraced her, as their bodies intertwined, Xia Qingyue did not hesitate.
She had spent years running away from fate.
But at this moment—fate no longer mattered.
She no longer cared about the future, nor about the past that had shaped them.
She only wanted to be by Yun Che's side—to surrender herself fully, without regrets.
In this moment, she was not the Moon God Emperor.
She was not the Divine Daughter of Eternal Night.
She was simply Xia Qingyue.
Yun Che's wife.
A title she had never truly accepted until now.
But now—she welcomed it.
She welcomed him.
With open arms.
With an open heart.
Then, they joined as one.
--------
In a space where time itself had ceased to exist, where all movement, all change, all reality seemed frozen in an eternal stillness, three figures could be seen within the vast, empty void.
One was kneeling, his posture rigid with unwavering reverence, his head bowed so low that his forehead nearly touched the ground.
The other two—seated upon twin thrones of absolute dominion—one, radiated an overwhelming presence, so vast and unfathomable that even the very fabric of existence seemed to tremble in their wake.
This was a place where laws did not apply.
A place where no force dared intrude.
And in this unchanging realm, the fate of the Abyss was being decided.
"Lord Prince, should we begin the hunt for the Fog Monarch?"
The voice was low, cautious, and reverent.
The Chief Priest, an elder figure of immeasurable power and influence, knelt before the grand throne, his head bowed in submission. The weight of his words carried the tension that had gripped the entire Abyss.
"The entire Abyssal World is in chaos right now."
His tone was measured, but the concern was evident.
"If we allow this to continue, the influence of the Fog Monarch will only grow stronger with each passing day. If we do not act soon, we may find ourselves unable to control the consequences."
He had seen it firsthand—the whispers of fear, the trembling voices of even the mightiest beings. A True God had fallen.
That singular fact had shaken the world.
And in the wake of that battle, the Fog Monarch's presence had only grown, looming over the Abyss like an impending catastrophe.
The Chief Priest waited.
But the one seated before him—the Abyssal Monarch—did not immediately respond.
He remained seated upon his obsidian throne, fingers lightly tapping against the armrest, his gaze fixated on something far more important to him than mere politics or war.
A figure lay quietly by his side, bathed in the ethereal glow of divine energy—a presence that made the entire world around them seem insignificant.
She, is the most precious thing in existence to him.
And so, without even bothering to look at his subordinate, the Abyssal Monarch finally spoke.
"There is no need."
His voice was deep, commanding, carrying an absolute authority that left no room for argument.
"Once the Boundless End Divine Regent is reborn, we will have our answers."
There was no urgency in his tone, no concern over the growing fear within the Abyss.
"When that time comes, the truth of this so-called 'Fog Monarch' will be revealed. And when it does, planning his demise will be infinitely easier. There is no need for impatience."
The Chief Priest lowered his head even further, absorbing those words with solemnity.
"I understand, Your Majesty."
The matter was settled.
There would be no immediate hunt for the Fog Monarch.
At least—not yet.
But then—
The Abyssal Monarch's fingers suddenly stopped tapping.
A thought seemed to surface in his mind, pulling his attention away from the figure before him.
He finally shifted his gaze, though his expression remained unreadable.
"One more thing."
His voice carried a subtle, dangerous edge.
"Were there any survivors from the Ancestral Dragon Clan?"
"No, Lord Prince."
The kneeling figure, Chief Priest Big Rage, spoke with unwavering certainty.
"It is highly unlikely that any of the dragons survived."
His voice was heavy, laced with finality.
"By the time our knights arrived at the scene, the abyssal dust was so dense that it had already corroded and annihilated everything. There was no trace of life—nothing but devastation. They scoured every inch of their mountain range, and yet, they could detect no remaining presence."
A pause.
Then, with solemn conviction, he delivered the final verdict.
"It is more than likely that this marks the end of the dragon race."
For a moment, silence hung in the air.
Then—
"It's a pity."
The words came lightly, almost absentmindedly, as if spoken out of mere courtesy rather than any genuine sense of loss.
The Abyssal Monarch leaned back slightly on his throne, his expression utterly indifferent.
His voice carried no sorrow, no regret.
It was cold, emotionless—detached.
As if the annihilation of an entire race meant nothing.
As if the death of the dragons was no more significant than a passing breeze.
Big Rage remained silent, his head still bowed, waiting for his Lord's next command.
The room was quiet, the weight of the Monarch's presence suffocating, like an unseen force pressing against existence itself.
Then, after a long pause—
"Has the message been sent to the Boundless Divine Kingdom?"
The Monarch's voice broke the silence, his tone casual yet carrying an underlying authority that made it clear—this was not a simple inquiry.
Big Rage immediately responded.
"The message has been sent to the Boundless Divine Kingdom's Divine Son, as per your instruction, my Lord."
He lowered his head even further.
"They should have already come to a decision. Their arrival is expected soon."
A faint hum of approval came from the Abyssal Monarch.
"Un."
A simple acknowledgment.
His gaze remained distant, as if his mind was already on something far beyond this conversation.
As if everything—the destruction of the dragons, the gathering of the Divine Kingdoms—was nothing more than mere pieces shifting on a board he had already won.
The Abyssal Monarch's gaze shifted, his attention turning away from matters of war and destruction to something far more precious—the woman seated beside him.
His once impassive expression softened, but the warmth in his eyes was tinged with sorrow—a mixture of love and guilt intertwined, forming an unshakable weight deep in his heart.
She was here. Yet she was not.
And no matter how much power he held, no matter how much he had sacrificed and orchestrated, he had still failed to bring her back completely.
A decision took root in his mind.
The countless chess pieces he had moved across the grand board of fate, the empires he had shaken, the lives he had controlled and destroyed—all of it, every single action, was for this one person.
The Abyssal Monarch was silent for a long moment, lost in thought, before he finally turned back toward Big Rage.
His voice was low, yet carried an absolute authority that brooked no refusal.
"Make sure to extort everything from them. Everything—for what they did to Ling Xian."
The moment the words fell, Big Rage's face lit up with pure delight.
"YES!!!!!"
His response was immediate, filled with satisfaction.
The opportunity to exploit the Boundless Divine Kingdom, to make them pay a price beyond measure, was something he relished.
And with that order set in stone, the Abyssal Monarch gave a subtle motion of dismissal.
Understanding the unspoken command, Big Rage bowed deeply once more—then vanished from the Cradle without a trace.
The moment he was gone, silence once again descended upon the chamber.
The Abyssal Monarch did not move for a long time.
Then, with the same gentleness that seemed almost unnatural for a being of his status, he turned back to the silent figure beside him.
A woman as still as death, yet as beautiful as a dream.
His throat tightened.
Slowly, he scooped her up into his arms, carrying her as if she were the most fragile thing in existence.
He moved through the dimly lit chamber, every step carrying a heavy, unspoken weight.
When he reached her place of rest, he lowered her down with a care so delicate that it seemed out of place for the ruler of the Abyss.
His hands lingered, brushing against her cold skin, his touch barely a whisper.
His expression—normally an unreadable mask—fractured for just a moment.
If only she would wake up.
If only she could look at him again.
If only he could hear her voice, see her smile—
Then everything.
Every battle. Every drop of blood spilled. Every plan, every sacrifice, every endless, agonizing year of waiting—
It would all be worth it.
His fingers trembled slightly.
He had waited for millions of years.
But even now, her silence remained unchanged.
"Wait just a little bit more, Xiaodie… just a little bit more."
Mo Su's voice was a whisper, barely audible in the vast stillness of the chamber. He stood there for a moment, his fingers lingering on the doorframe, as if reluctant to let go. Then, with a deep, almost imperceptible sigh, he gently closed the door behind him.
As he walked away, his footsteps slow and measured, his expression remained unreadable—yet the weight in his eyes was unmistakable.
When he had put enough distance between himself and the silent figure within the chamber, he suddenly stopped.
Then, lifting his head, he gazed upward into the endless abyssal sky.
And spoke.
"Yun Che…"
His voice was calm, yet beneath the surface, there was an undercurrent of something deeper—something far more profound.
"As the inheritor of my brother, I will trust you."
His fingers curled slightly, as if grasping onto something unseen.
"I will turn a blind eye to everything you do. I will not interfere, nor will I stand in your way."
A pause.
Then, his next words carried an unmistakable weight.
"All I ask is that you become stronger. And when that time comes…"
His eyes darkened, his voice dropping into a low murmur, barely above a whisper—yet in this silent abyss, it resounded like an oath etched into fate itself.
"Just as I have allowed you to do as you please… you must grant me my happiness."
His words… they were only for himself to hear.
If the other Gods were to hear this—they would be shaken to the core! Even the High Priests are unaware of this!
"Crack…."
The space beside him suddenly fractured, dark fissures spreading like veins across the void. A suffocating pressure filled the air, a force so ancient and dreadful that even time itself seemed to shudder.
From within the cracked space, a small, dark pearl descended, floating in midair.
It radiated a power that was unfathomable, terrifying—something beyond mortal comprehension.
Then, from within the darkness of the pearl, a figure emerged.
Shrouded in pure blackness, its form was indistinct—neither man nor beast, neither alive nor dead.
It was a spirit, yet not a mere remnant of will.
It was something far more dangerous.
The spirit of a Heavenly Treasure.
It hovered before Mo Su, its gaze unreadable, before finally speaking.
"Are you sure you've made the right decision?"
Its voice was like a whisper echoing through eternity, layered with countless voices, as if speaking from across time itself.
But Mo Su only smiled.
A faint, knowing smile.
"Right or wrong… there is no way of knowing. Only time will reveal the answer."
He let out a slow breath before turning his gaze back to the spirit.
"But regardless of the outcome… thank you for cooperating with me that day."
For the first time, the Heavenly Treasure Spirit fell silent.
It did not speak, did not question further.
Then, with a simple nod, it slowly dissolved into darkness, retreating back into the pearl.
The dark pearl hovered for a brief moment, pulsing with an ancient, unfathomable energy, before it ascended back into the cracked space.
And as the pearl disappeared, the space around it healed itself, the rift sealing as if it had never existed.
The world returned to silence.
Mo Su stood there for a long time, his gaze once again fixed upon the abyss above him.
Then, with a final glance toward the chamber he had left behind, he turned and walked away.
--------
As a warm, flowing stream of energy surged into her body, Xia Qingyue's mind momentarily went blank.
Her Yin and his Yang had intertwined, merging into a perfect cycle of balance. The sensation was overwhelming—too deep, too vast, too profound for words.
She could only hold onto Yun Che tighter, her delicate fingers pressing against his back as she felt herself weaken.
Her body trembled, her strength ebbing away, as an irresistible warmth coursed through her veins. The sensation was so overwhelming that for a brief moment, she wanted nothing more than to let herself go, to simply collapse peacefully onto the soft, flowery ground beneath them.
But then—
"Focus on circulating your energy."
Yun Che's voice, though slightly unsteady, broke through the haze that had momentarily clouded her thoughts.
Still, she could hear the strain in his tone—not just from the exertion of their cultivation, but from something else.
From the internal struggle he was enduring.
For Yun Che, this was the moment he had long waited for, the moment he had once thought would never come.
But now, instead of indulging in it fully, he had to focus his mind elsewhere—on cultivation, on balance, on control.
His body shook, his breath was uneven, but he forced himself to redirect his attention, drawing his mind away from desire and back toward refinement.
And then—
He felt it.
Something foreign, yet familiar.
Something that reached past his body and directly into his soul.
Nine existences.
Each one pulsing with an unimaginable force, containing power that seemed to stretch beyond his very understanding.
The realization struck him almost instantly.
The Nine Worlds.
It was an inheritance—something Xia Qingyue was unconsciously transferring to him through their Duo Cultivation.
Something that belonged only to her.
Something that originated from her Nine Profound Exquisite Body.
A heaven-defying gift—one that could elevate Yun Che's power beyond anything he had ever touched before.
And yet—
He immediately rejected it.
"The Nine Worlds are yours. I have no need for them."
With a mere thought, he pushed them back toward Xia Qingyue, returning them to their rightful place.
Just because he could not fully comprehend their nature, did not mean he could not understand what was happening.
He knew—
If he accepted them, if he allowed them to integrate into himself, then Xia Qingyue would lose them forever.
She would lose her Physique, her foundation, her unparalleled talent.
And that—
That was something Yun Che would never allow. His path was his own. Her path was hers.
And no matter how much he craved strength, no matter how great the temptation—
He would never steal what belonged to her.
Just Duo Cultivating with her was already more than enough for Yun Che.
Even without receiving the Nine Worlds, he could already feel the difference.
As their energies intertwined, the world itself seemed to respond to him.
The surrounding profound energy, once sluggish, was now rushing toward him at an even faster rate, drawn to him like an unbreakable force of nature.
And this was happening within the Primordial Profound Ark.
A space that was already isolated from the outside world.
A space where the laws of profound energy were restricted. If it was this overwhelming here… Then what would happen outside?
Just the thought made his blood boil with anticipation.
Yet, as he reveled in this newfound surge of power, a soft, exhausted voice whispered beside him.
"But… you need to become stronger…"
Even in her weakened state, even as her body trembled from exhaustion, Xia Qingyue's mind and heart were filled only with Yun Che.
She wanted nothing else. She needed nothing else. Only for him to grow strong enough to never be taken from her again. Yun Che looked down at her, his gaze gentle, unwavering.
"I will." And then, as his fingers grazed her soft cheek, he whispered his own resolve.
"And I need you to be by my side, together."
His voice carried the weight of eternity, the promise of a lifetime.
Hearing those words, her heart softened even more.
She had once walked away from him, believing it was the only way to protect him.
She had once shut herself off, believing fate had already written a cruel ending for them both.
But now, here, in this moment—all of that no longer mattered.
Soon, she ignored the exhaustion, pushing past her fatigue as she circulated her profound energy, following Yun Che's guidance.
The moment her profound energy aligned, she felt it—her cultivation stirring, surging with newfound vigor.
Her body, once trembling from exertion, now felt light, empowered.
Yun Che watched her in silence, a tender light flickering in his eyes.
With a simple wave of his hand, a gentle flow of profound energy surged through her, cleansing her body of all impurities, ensuring that she remained pristine—untouched by fatigue or discomfort.
Then, with careful, almost reverent movements, he redressed her, restoring the flowing silk of her robes, ensuring she was wrapped in warmth and protection.
At the same moment, his own garments reformed, his profound energy weaving seamlessly around him.
For a brief second, they locked eyes—
And in that moment, there was no need for words.
Understanding flashed between them.
This time, they would stand side by side.
Then, without looking back—
They stepped forward together, leaving the Primordial Profound Ark behind, their figures vanishing into the endless gray.