The Ye Clan estate trembled beneath a dawn sky ablaze with gold and infinity, the air thick with a radiant hymn that drowned out the fading void of Yin Xiao's retreat. The courtyard lay taut, the fire flickering faintly as Ye Hua clutched a patched cloak, her gray eyes wide with dread at the heavens where a colossal figure descended, his qi a golden cosmos of infinite power casting a glow that swallowed the world in divine majesty. Ye Qing gripped his spear at the gate, his grizzled face etched with exhaustion, his voice a hoarse growl as he urged Ye Jun and Ye Mei to huddle behind the barricade, their small figures dwarfed by the celestial light. Ye Chen knelt by the western wall, his ward-stone clutched tight, his twisted leg braced as the earth quaked beneath the weight of eternal might. Ye Ling paced the gatehouse, her dagger a restless gleam, her braid snapping with each tense stride, her breath sharp with defiance and awe.
Lin Feng stood before the gate, his silhouette a dark blade against the golden cosmos. Yin Xiao's defeat had forged the Ye Clan into a bastion of unyielding spirit, but the Celestial Emperor himself—his presence a storm of infinite dominion—stirred a tempest of ancient vengeance, the architect of his divine fall now towering above him. His muddy-brown eyes locked on the colossal figure, calm yet relentless, a quiet fury blazing within. Inside, Zhan Tian's divine soul surged, the seal shattered, golden qi a boundless tide flooding his veins. Each battle had tempered this once-frail shell into a vessel of divinity, now burning with the full might of a Martial God reborn. He tilted his head, the hymn resonating through his bones, power thrumming within—a god's wrath unleashed, ready to face the heavens' supreme ruler.
Ye Ling dropped beside him, her boots thudding on the trembling earth, her voice a sharp whisper cutting through the hymn. "That's the Emperor," she said, dagger trembling in her grip, her eyes wide with fire and fear. "The top?"
"The heavens' heart," Lin Feng replied, his tone cold as frost, stepping forward. "He buried me. Now I bury him."
Her grin flashed, fierce and wild, a spark of reckless courage in her dark eyes. "We'll end him together, then."
"He's mine," he said, meeting her fire with an unyielding chill, his gaze steady. "Get them ready. This is the final storm."
The clan rallied in the courtyard, their movements a thread of steel woven through their fatigue, each breath heavy with the scars of survival. Ye Qing planted his spear, its shaft notched from countless battles, his stance rigid as stone. Ye Chen pocketed his stone, his fingers stained with the grit of endless wards. Ye Hua stood with the kids, her hands trembling but her spine straight, a quiet strength anchoring them in the chaos. Lin Feng turned to them, his presence a steady flame piercing the golden cosmos, his voice a blade that sliced through the radiant hymn.
"The Emperor's here," he said, each word deliberate, resonating with destiny. "The heavens' lord. He wants my soul. We don't break. We shatter him."
Ye Qing's grip tightened on his spear, his voice rough as broken rock, strained from shouting over storms past. "Stronger than the silver one? Beyond Soul Transformation?"
"Peak-stage, maybe more," Lin Feng said, his eyes glinting with a golden spark, a promise of power unbound. "Woods to slow his dogs, walls to hold. I'll take him alone."
Ye Chen's sharp gaze cut through the light, probing as always, his mind racing behind those keen eyes. "Peak Soul Transformation's the heavens' ceiling. You're sure?"
"He's the heavens," Lin Feng said, unyielding, his voice a quiet thunder. "I'm beyond. Move."
The clan surged into action, their weariness burned away by the fire of necessity. Ye Ling darted into the woods, her movements swift and silent, a hunter's grace as she checked snares—barbed twine stretched taut, stakes driven deep into the quaking earth. Ye Chen carved wards along the walls, his strokes frantic yet precise, the air buzzing with protective qi, a lattice of defiance against the coming cosmos. Ye Qing and the kids piled logs into a jagged barricade, their small hands trembling but resolute, stacking higher as the hymn grew louder. Lin Feng worked alone, reinforcing the gate's keystone array—a lattice of golden qi, primal and fierce, pulsing with an intensity that rivaled the dawn. The unbound power flowed freely, a river of divinity coursing through him, his frame a conduit for the god he had reclaimed.
The hymn swelled—a pure, overwhelming chime that shook the sky, light bending as the Celestial Emperor descended. His qi was a golden cosmos of infinite power—Soul Transformation realm, peak-stage, a force of eternal dominion distilled into a towering form. His face was regal, framed by golden hair, his eyes glinting with eternal dominion beneath a crown that blazed with cosmic fire. His voice boomed, resonant and absolute, a sound that shook the soul. "Zhan Tian, fallen Martial God! I am the Celestial Emperor, ruler of the Crimson Order. Your defiance ends in dust."
Ye Qing shouted back, his spear thrust high, his voice cracking against the cosmos's weight. "He's ours, you cosmic bastard! Come take him!"
The Emperor's lips curled into a faint, scornful smile, his eyes narrowing with disdain. "Take? I'll erase." He raised a hand, qi flaring—a wave of golden cosmos roaring forth, searing the earth in a blazing scar. Behind him descended twenty-five warriors in golden armor, their qi a disciplined storm—Nascent Soul peaks, their swords and spears glowing with celestial runes, a tide of eternal wrath.
Lin Feng stepped beyond the gate, alone, his boots sinking into the scorched earth. "Hold," he murmured to the clan, his voice a low command that pierced the fire, then faced the Emperor head-on. The warriors hit the woods—Ye Ling's snares snapped, barbs slashing armor, stakes tripping boots into the dirt. Six stumbled, their curses drowned by the hymn, as her dagger flashed from the shadows, slicing a throat with a wet hiss before she vanished back into the dark. Ye Chen's wards pulsed, a golden barrier slowing the rest, their steps faltering as light clashed with light. Ye Qing hurled a log with a roar, smashing a chest with a dull thud, the warrior crumpling.
The Emperor glided through, his golden qi a storm of cosmos—peak-stage Soul Transformation power warping the air. He lunged, a fist of celestial fire striking for Lin Feng's heart with a deafening roar. Lin Feng shifted, the strike grazing his chest, leaving a faint burn, and countered—qi surging, golden light flooding his veins, a tide unbound by mortal limits. Pain was a forgotten echo; power was his essence now. He struck the Emperor's arm—qi hardening his fist to steel—a sharp thud rippling through the colossal frame, the cosmic fist flickering. The Emperor's smile vanished, replaced by a flicker of shock, and he swung again—faster, a barrage of golden fire raining down.
Lin Feng wove through the storm, his movements fluid as shadow, palming a runed stone from his sleeve. He tossed it at the Emperor's feet—the array flared, a cage of golden force gripping his legs, roots of light binding him to the earth. The Emperor snarled, his qi surging to shatter the trap, flames of cosmos cracking the array, but Lin Feng struck his chest—a golden pulse slamming into him, cracking ribs with a sound like breaking stone. The colossal figure staggered back, his cosmos dimming for a heartbeat, his breath a ragged hiss.
The warriors pressed the gate, their spears and swords hammering the barricade, fire swirling as they clashed with Ye Chen's wards. Ye Ling darted out, her dagger a blur as she slashed a thigh, blood spraying across the dirt as she ducked back into the shadows. Ye Chen's sling cracked through the air, a stone smashing a helm with a clang, the warrior crumpling. Ye Qing roared, thrusting his spear into a gut, the shaft bending under the strain as the foe fell with a gurgle. Ye Jun peeked from the hall, clutching a rock, his small face set with fierce resolve— "Now!" Lin Feng shouted, his voice cutting through the fire. Ye Jun hurled it, small but fierce, striking the Emperor's hand as he rose, the cosmic fist faltering mid-strike. Ye Ling seized the moment, lunging from the shadows, her dagger slashing his arm—a crimson line blooming against the gold.
The Emperor's qi erupted—peak-stage Soul Transformation power surging, a golden cosmos that shook the heavens. "You defy me?" he roared, his hand sweeping—a wave of celestial fire tearing the earth, aimed to obliterate. Lin Feng met it head-on, golden qi roaring—a boundless tide breaking free. He caught the wave bare-handed—qi a shield against the searing heat—golden light blazing brighter than the cosmos. The power surged, unrestrained, a god's fury unleashed, and he twisted, shattering the wave into a shower of sparks that lit the dawn. He lunged, driving a fist into the Emperor's jaw—a golden burst cracking bone, dropping him to his knees, blood streaming from his lips.
The warriors faltered, more than half fallen, their qi flickering like dying embers. The Emperor staggered up, his voice a ragged growl, his eyes wild with fury. "I'll end you, Zhan Tian! The heavens will reign!" He thrust both hands forward, desperate, a massive cosmic vortex roaring forth, splitting the sky. Lin Feng sidestepped, the vortex scorching the gate behind him, and struck the Emperor's chest—a golden pulse hurling him back into his warriors, toppling them in a heap of gold and broken will. "Reign?" Lin Feng said, voice a quiet blade that cut through the storm. "I'll make you kneel."
The Emperor coughed blood, dragging himself up, his warriors retreating into the sky, their banners torn and trailing. The Ye Clan erupted—Ye Ling's wild cheer piercing the silence, Ye Qing's booming laugh shaking the walls, Ye Chen's stunned grin breaking his stoic mask. Lin Feng turned, the golden qi settling into a faint glow, his chest burned but his stance unwavering, a pillar against the fading cosmos.
Ye Qing thumped his back, his grin wide and mud-streaked. "You're a damn god, lad! Smashed the heavens flat!"
Ye Ling wiped her dagger on her sleeve, her eyes blazing with pride. "He's running—you're beyond everything!"
Ye Chen limped forward, his voice sharp but tinged with awe. "Peak Soul Transformation. You broke him."
Lin Feng pressed a hand to his chest, the burn fading, and shrugged. "He overestimated his cosmos. That's his fall."
That night, the clan huddled in the hall, the fire roaring with scavenged wood, its warmth a stark contrast to the cosmos's heat. Ye Hua bound Lin Feng's burned chest, her hands steady despite the tears brimming in her eyes, her voice a soft tremble. "You're our light, our storm," she said, her fingers lingering on the bandage. "We'd be gone without you."
"Light rises," he said, his tone calm as he let her tend him, a quiet strength in his words. "We're forging something unbreakable."
Ye Ling sat close, her shoulder brushing his, her tone low and insistent. "You glowed—gold, brighter than the dawn. Don't dodge it."
He met her gaze, steady and unyielding, a flicker of something deeper in his eyes. "Stay with me, Ling. You'll see the end."
She smirked, a spark of fire in her grin. "Always, you stubborn bastard."
Later, alone by the gate, Lin Feng knelt, tracing the keystone's golden array—now a permanent mark of his divine might. The seal was a memory, replaced by a boundless tide of golden qi, a river of power that surged with every heartbeat. The Emperor's cosmos had clashed with his essence—a heavenly storm tempering a god's rebirth. He guided the power, forging his frame—senses razor-sharp, strength deepening, the Martial God within him fully awake.
Ye Chen joined him, his shadow faint against the firelight, his voice blunt as ever. "He'll return," he said, his eyes narrowing at the sky. "With more, or worse."
Lin Feng rose, meeting his gaze, his presence a quiet thunder of its own. "Let him try. I'll be stronger."
Ye Chen's lips quirked—a rare spark of hunger in his sharp eyes. As silence settled, a low hum rose—not cosmos, but a deep, resonant void, cold and infinite. Lin Feng's head snapped up—a dark-robed figure emerged from the horizon, qi a black abyss of boundless power, eyes glinting with eternal malice, flanked by a host of shadowed warriors, their banners bearing a mark beyond the Emperor: the Primordial Chaos.