The Tang Clan no longer resembled the unified organization it once was. It had become a colossal force, seated not within one continent, but shadowed across many dimensions. Though they ruled without fanfare, their influence colored the very core of spirit civilization. Despite that, the world rarely heard from their Ancestor.
Tang San had vanished from all sight, buried in the depths of space between realms, alone with his will.
He had forged his own path toward godhood, unwilling to accept the ordinary trajectory.
There were gods—low, normal, high, elite. And then there were those who surpassed it: Supreme Gods.
But to stand there meant breaking not only mortal limits but also divine rules.
Tang San had destroyed and reconstructed his godhood nine times over these twenty-five years. Each time, he refined the flaws, tore apart what was "sufficient," and carved something beyond design. He created a godhood refined by karma, spirit power, and soul tempering.
Now, at this very moment, deep in the hidden inner world of the Tang Clan—beneath layers of sealed formation, karma circles, and space-breaking barriers—Tang San sat in lotus.
A blue-gold storm of divine light whirled around him, thrumming with transcendent force. Spirit rings circled him—some no longer colors, but radiant forces. His twin martial spirits floated in the void: the Clear Sky Hammer and the Blue Silver Emperor, both now altered by time and evolution.
A ring of Supreme Dao Laws emerged above his head.
Then, silence.
The wind, the world, the heavens—froze.
Tang San opened his eyes.
They glowed with threads of starlight and fate.
His cultivation base surged to Level 99, but this was not the mortal 99. This was the gate of gods torn open. His body trembled, not from weakness—but from a fullness beyond comprehension.
He had forged his Supreme Godhood.
Unlike ordinary ascension, Tang San had created a godhood completely of his own structure. The gods in the upper realms, even those watching from far beyond the star sea, stood still in awe.
He spoke no words.
But across divine realms, one truth became known: a new Supreme had been born.
Elsewhere in a tranquil forest brimming with spiritual energy, a woman's soft breath echoed.
Xiao Wu floated in mid-air, her delicate figure veiled in divine glow. Long since no longer mortal, her soul and spirit beast essence had been refined over these twenty-five years.
She had always stood beside Tang San, not as a shadow—but as a pillar.
Thanks to his guidance, support, and forbidden herbs drawn from realms long-lost, Xiao Wu now stood at Peak Elite Godhood.
A single step remained between her and supremacy, but Tang San did not wish to rush it.
He desired that her godhood be beautiful, untainted by blood or greed.
And so she waited.
Though her cultivation had soared, she often remained hidden, tending to spirit beasts and guiding disciples. Her presence served as a gentle force that balanced the terrifying strength the Tang Clan now possessed.
During these two and a half decades, Tang San also created a forbidden technique.
It had no name, no heritage, and no lineage.
Only he and Xiao Wu practiced it.
A body-forging cultivation technique—one that slowly, subtly, quietly—refined physical strength. It made no outrageous leaps, but its terror lay in time.
One percent every two years.
That sounded insignificant. But for those already beyond mortal flesh, that gain stacked into monstrous reality.
He had practiced it for 25 years.
Now, his raw physical body could fight divine beasts without relying on godly power. His punches tore through sub-realms. And the worst part? He was only getting started.
This technique was limited to only two users—never to be shared.
Because as he said:
"Some things must remain with those I trust beyond godhood."
The Tang Clan had evolved into a divine fortress. More than twenty titled Douluo had reached Level 95+. Among them, three stood at Level 98.
None had ascended to godhood.
Because Tang San had forbidden them.
He did not trust the heart of gods.
Power above divinity required will beyond greed. And in his eyes, many of them—even his own elders—held ambition too fragile for true ascension.
So he placed divine weapons in their hands, gave them body-forging relics, and limited them to peak mortaldom.
The world changed.
The Sun Moon Empire had risen fiercely after its loss.
But they dared not war with the Tang Clan.
When they proposed marriage between their next emperor and Tang San's daughter, they were not met with refusal.
They were met with destruction.
Tang San did not move. But a divine-level spirit weapon was activated by a silent elder. In a single blinding eruption, the empire's palace and ten million soul masters were incinerated.
Only innocents were spared.
And the world understood.
The Tang Clan did not parley with greed.
It did not bow.
And its Ancestor did not negotiate.
Atop the heavenly cliffs within the clan's inner sanctum, Tang San stood quietly. Beside him, Xiao Wu placed her hand in his.
Below, disciples trained in silence. Children born in the clan already wielded spiritual gifts unmatched on the continent.
And yet he remained detached.
"Do you feel regret?" Xiao Wu asked gently.
He shook his head. "Only calm."
She smiled. "Then it's time."
He nodded. The mirror of stars before them shimmered. A sealed gate, far in the cosmos, pulsed in answer.
There, the realm of Supreme Gods waited.
He had no intention to rule it.
Only to surpass it.
End of Chapter 25