182 End of Book 3 - The Potential of a Miracle

[POV: The Cloud Mist Sect Master, Jia Sen]

Months had passed since the world cracked at its seams—since the event now whispered as the Sundering of the Summit. In taverns, temples, and ruined monasteries, the tale spread with equal parts awe and dread. Two hundred and thirty-seven cultivators had gathered in unity atop the summit. Fewer than sixty returned.

The rest fell to a single man.

An enigma cloaked in dogma, he delivered slaughter as if it were scripture. He preached peace even as his hands dripped with the blood of sages and sect leaders. Those who listened either lost their minds or surrendered to zealotry.

Jia Sen, Sect Master of the Cloud Mist Sect, belonged to neither.

He stood at the edge of the Unnamed City, a title given by survivors too afraid to recall its past. Once meant to be a bastion for a descending realm, it was now a monument to failure, sealed beneath a dome of sanctified light. Above it hovered angels with jagged wings and fractured halos, silent and eternal. Since their arrival, no one who ventured deeper had returned whole.

Jia Sen stroked his beard, eyes fixed on the faintly pulsing dome.

“Father,” a voice called softly to him. “Is it true?”

He glanced sideways. His daughter stood beside him, silver-haired and sharp-eyed. Her aura brimmed with restrained power. Jia Yun had advanced quickly, her rise fueled by the Immortal Beast their sect had worshipped for generations.

“I see you have finally cast aside that tiresome habit of referring to yourself in the third person,” Jia Sen said with a faint, dry snort. “Only to replace it with an endless stream of questions.”

“Is curiosity so terrible?” she asked, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

“Yes,” he replied flatly. Then, after a pause, “But I’ll answer.”

His gaze hardened.

“The one you once addressed with such warmth, Da Wei, now walks the world under the title of Holy Taint. With his own hands, he turned the Summit into a sea of blood, yet dares to name it justice.”

Jia Yun’s voice faltered. “That… can’t be true.”

“You wish it to be false,” Jia Sen said, his tone cold as winter frost. “But the Dao of truth does not yield to mortal desire. You should have spoken of that artifact, the one that cloaked his mortal shell and masked his aura so completely. Even a Tenth Realm Grandmaster would fail to pierce such deception. He walked unseen beneath heaven’s gaze because of it… because of your silence.” His eyes narrowed, sharp as drawn blades. “Tell me, Yun’er—do you comprehend the weight of the karma you have incurred?”

Guilt flickered across her face as she lowered her head.

“I didn’t know he would… I thought…”

“You thought he was good.” Jia Sen let out a low, bitter laugh. “Since when did my daughter become so naïve? Did your time at the branch sect make you forget what kind of world this is?”

She said nothing.

He turned back to the glowing dome.

“War is coming,” he said. “Not between sects, but for the soul of this world. The Heavenly Temple will move. The Empire has grown too bold.” His voice hardened. “We’ll remind them who built this world from its ashes and held the sky, so that it wouldn't fall.”

“And Da Wei?” she asked quietly.

“He’ll die,” Jia Sen said. “Or burn the world trying to save it. Either way, we won’t be standing aside. Though chances are, we won’t need to worry about him anymore. After all, he might be already dead!”

…

..

.

[POV: Mistress of Ten Thousand Tools, Zai Ai]

Zai Ai cut through the sky like a streak of silver fury, her sword artifact blurring against the clouds. Her form vanished and reappeared with each step. For months she had crossed oceans, deserts, frozen wastes, and cursed valleys in pursuit of a single soul.

Her disciple.

He had vanished after the Sundering of the Summit, and ever since she had chased rumors and shadows. Yet the world was vast, even for a Tenth Realm Master. At this rate, she would exhaust herself long before she found him.

The wind died around her as she withdrew her blade into her pocket dimension and descended into the Imperial Palace courtyard.

Phoenix Guards in golden cuirasses immediately surrounded her. Their cultivations ranged from the Fifth to Seventh Realms. Their spears gleamed in the morning light, but none dared take a step forward.

"Stand down."

The command came from a giant of a man clad in onyx-black armor. It was Zhu Shin, the Iron Bull of the Empire. Loyal, unwavering, and bound to the Emperor like flesh to bone.

"His Majesty is expecting you," he said. "Please follow me, Master Zai."

The guards dispersed at once.

"You will be compensated for your trouble," Zhu Shin added.

Zai Ai's lip curled.

"Compensated?" she asked. "Word is the Emperor's little friend is the same lunatic who razed the Summit. Da Wei, was it? You want to compensate me for a stolen disciple and an unpunished slaughter?"

Zhu Shin moved and his anger flared.

He turned and drove a fist into a nearby marble pillar.

The stone exploded.

"Apologies for the unsightly display," he said calmly. "Da Wei is a hero of the Empire. That much I know. Beyond that, I know nothing."

His gaze met hers.

"How about you, Master Zai? Are you certain he's what people claim he is?"

Zai Ai hesitated.

Because the truth was, she wasn't. She had been present during the massacre, but she hadn't witnessed it. Da Wei had somehow put her to sleep so one-sidedly, without ever revealing his true strength.

"I didn't see it," she admitted. "But what does it matter? He's a stranger to me. My disciple isn't."

The rest of the walk passed in silence. Soon, they entered the throne room. Crimson banners hung between golden drapes. Black jade steps led to a throne upon which sat Emperor Nongmin. His face remained regal and unaged. His eyes were hidden behind a strip of white silk.

Zai Ai probed him with her senses and frowned.

"What happened to your eyes?"

"I donated them."

The answer only sharpened her irritation.

"Then you're useless to me. How am I supposed to find my disciple if the only man capable of piercing time and space no longer can?"

"Your disciple is alive," said Nongmin. "But I cannot tell you where he is."

Zai Ai stepped forward, her aura flaring. "And why should I believe you? Is it that you cannot tell me or you will not tell me? I grow tired of your games, Nongmin! I've ran out of patience! Any affection between us is gone! Do you hear me!?"

"To ease your doubts, I make this vow. I shall never lie to you again! So, please... Ai'er, be patient..."

Zai Ai laughed bitterly. "Empty words. The last time I believed you, you broke my heart."

Nongmin did not waver. "Then I swear it upon Heaven and Earth. Should I ever lie to you again, let lightning strike me where I stand."

The world fell silent and the qi of the realm trembled. Even Zai Ai felt her spine stiffen as the heavens acknowledged the oath. For a moment, she looked beyond the blindfold and saw not a crippled sovereign, but a ruler still capable of bending fate itself.

"Your disciple is alive," Nongmin repeated, his voice softer now. "And I promise you will see him again."

Slowly, his expression hardened.

"But in return, I need everything you know about the Heavenly Temple."

Zai Ai bit her lip. She no longer belonged to that self-righteous faction. Nongmin had seen to that long ago when he ruined her standing and shattered whatever trust had once existed between them. "I was cast out," she said coldly. "You made sure of that. But the Heavenly Temple was still my home!"

Nongmin offered no defense.

Silence stretched between them.

Zai Ai closed her eyes as she thought of her disciple. The boy who had once looked at her with admiration and called her Master. For him, she could endure this. Even this. She exhaled as she slowly opened her eyes. "Fine. I'll tell you everything."

…

..

.

[POV: Final Emperor, Nongmin]

The great doors groaned shut behind Zai Ai, their echo rolling through the chamber like a slow drumbeat of fate. Nongmin, Emperor of the Grand Ascension Empire, did not move. Draped in black-and-gold robes, blindfolded and still, he sat upon his throne like an unmoving mountain at the center of a storm.

Zai Ai’s presence had receded like the tide, her fury leaving only emptiness behind. Nongmin merely leaned back, folding one hand over the other. Though his eyes were gone, willingly given to another, he could still see through understanding, memory, and the immeasurable depth of his cultivation. The blessing of the Heavenly Eye was no longer his, but vision had never belonged to the eyes alone.

Zhu Shin remained at attention.

“War is coming,” Nongmin said softly, yet the air trembled beneath his voice. “Be alert. Begin preparations.”

Zhu Shin dipped his head. “Shall I inform the other Great Generals?”

“That is your task,” the Emperor replied. “Do not come to me asking if your legs can walk. Go, Western General. See to your duties.”

Zhu Shin bowed deeply. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

The giant of a man turned and departed, the doors closing behind him with a thunderous cry.

Silence reclaimed the hall.

Only then did Nongmin relax. His shoulders softened as he turned his senses toward the world. With a thought, the threads of fate unraveled before him. It was not as clear as it once had, more like smoke drifting through the wind. He examined the invisible marks he had placed upon certain individuals across the world, people of potential and consequence. In his youth, he had called them knots, the inevitable tethers woven into destiny's fabric.

Among those threads glimmered one more volatile than the rest, Mao Xian.

The name summoned conflicted memories. Zai Ai’s disciple. Guildmaster of the Adventurer’s Guild. In many timelines, he had been affable and harmless. Yet in far too many futures, he had become entwined with Da Wei’s journey, helping him bring about the world's end. Other iterations painted Mao Xian as a loyal friend, a trusted comrade, a prophet, or, in more tragic versions, the hand that pushed the world to the brink.

Now, in this life, Mao Xian appeared to have played a role in luring Da Wei into the Unnamed City, and Nongmin had allowed it to happen. He still did not know how or why. That knot was too tangled to unravel. Rubbing his temple as a familiar migraine surfaced, he grimaced. Reaching into the future now felt like grasping thorns in the dark. The price of surrendering the Heavenly Eye had been steep.

Still, he had no regrets.

If there was even the slightest chance Da Wei could be saved from this iteration’s madness or from the weight of his past lives, then Nongmin had to try. The irony was not lost on him. Da Wei had brought unimaginable suffering across countless timelines. He had toppled empires, shattered heavens, and slain kings. None of it erased the horrors he had caused, yet he had also done good.

And Nongmin, foolish as he might be, believed that mattered.

A soft chuckle escaped him.

“I should wish you dead, Da Wei. You’ve cost me more than any enemy ever has.”

He tilted his blindfolded face toward the high windows.

“Yet here I am, hoping you’re still alive.”

Leaning forward, he brushed his fingertips against the armrest.

“Da Wei,” he whispered before correcting himself. “David.”

The name left his lips with quiet reverence, spoken not as an Emperor, but as a man.

“I pray you’re not dead yet,” he murmured. “I might feel just a little sad if you were gone.”

It was the closest thing to affection he had ever voiced. Throughout a lifetime of rule, surrounded by advisors, wives, lovers, generals, and admirers, he had rarely made friends. Many had loved him, but love was not the same as understanding. Strange, stubborn, and righteous David had understood him in ways no one else ever had.

Even if they had stood on opposite sides of countless wars.

The thought lingered like smoke in the stillness.

Then the great doors opened once more.

A tall, graceful figure entered, cloaked in fabric that shimmered like moonlit silk.

Nongmin turned toward the sound.

The name surfaced before the figure could speak.

“Aili Si.”

The pronunciation felt wrong.

With deliberate care, he corrected himself.

“Alice.”

The room grew cold.

…

..

.

[POV: The Vampire from Another World, Alice]

The throne room of the Grand Ascension Empire shimmered beneath the midday sun filtering through vaulted stained-glass windows, casting celestial patterns across the polished floor. Alice strode forward, her boots echoing against marble. Ornate columns lined her path, carved with dragons and ancient script, but none of it impressed her. She had walked through stranger halls and stood before stranger thrones.

What did surprise her was the blindfolded Emperor seated at the far end of the chamber.

“Alice,” Nongmin greeted, his voice calm and composed. “How may I help you?”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Alice paused.

Most people mangled her name. Aili Si, they usually called her, like a song sung off-key. The fact that he had taken the effort to pronounce it correctly only made her more suspicious.

“How long do you plan to keep us here?” asked Alice coldly.

Though unarmed, the mana simmering beneath her skin was enough to make the guards beyond the chamber hesitate.

“I don’t like being confined,” she continued. “And trust me, you wouldn’t enjoy seeing me angry.”

“I have no intention of confining you,” replied Nongmin. “You are free to leave whenever you wish. But once you do, you will be exposed. The Empire has many enemies, and David’s association with me is no longer a secret.”

Alice folded her arms.

“I know your kind. My people thrive on politics, deception, and schemes layered upon schemes. I can smell manipulation like blood in the wind. My kind respond to scheming in two ways. We either out-scheme you, or we burn you. I’m leaning toward the latter.”

"But why?" asked Nongmin.

“For two reasons. First, Gu Jie still hasn’t awakened since arriving here. Second, there’s a civil war brewing beneath your precious palace, and I refuse to let myself and my children get caught in the crossfire.”

“They are not your children.”

The sharpness of Nongmin’s response echoed through the hall as he rose from his throne.

“They are David’s disciples. After everything he has done for this Empire, I am bound by duty and debt to protect them. Even from you.”

“Protect them?” Alice scoffed, revealing the edges of her fangs. “That’s rich. The man who delivered David to his death now wants to play guardian? I’ve heard better lies from demons.”

“You think you’re safer outside?” Nongmin asked. “You are not. Whatever power you possess, leaving now will only paint larger targets on their backs. David’s name already marks them. Your presence makes that mark impossible to ignore.”

The palace trembled.

A chill swept through the throne room as Alice’s power leaked into the air. Blood pooled across the marble, spreading like crimson reflections. The scent of iron filled the chamber. Curtains snapped violently. Paintings rattled on the walls. Somewhere beyond the doors, servants fled in panic.

Yet Nongmin remained headstrong.

“Where would you even go?” he asked.

Alice did not answer.

Because she had none.

She had tried to leave. Again and again, she had poured her Warlock mana into planar escape rituals, only for every spell to shatter. Each failure had lashed her soul with vicious backlash. Something in this world had sealed the pathways between realms.

She was trapped.

“We wouldn’t even be having this conversation if I had a way out of this gods-forsaken plane.”

The blood receded as her mana settled, though her crimson eyes continued to glow.

“Outside,” she finally answered. "That's where we'll go. Just anywhere, but here! Now, tell me. How do I do that?”

…

..

.

[POV: Heavenly Grace and Worldly Mother, Tian En]

From the uppermost balcony of her secluded manor, Tian En watched the mortals rebuild. The breeze carried the scent of pine and damp soil, while the sounds of hammering and quiet laughter drifted through the air. These were the same men, women, and children she had hidden within her pocket dimension, the people who would have perished had they remained in the Unnamed City when Da Wei unleashed whatever impossible calamity had followed him.

Her expression remained unreadable, touched only by the faint sadness of someone who had done the right thing and paid the price for it.

“Grandma,” a soft voice called behind her, “can we visit the Empire?”

It was Tian Mei, her granddaughter, barely a decade old and already fascinated by adventure. Or perhaps it was not adventure that interested her. The servants had spent weeks gossiping about the Emperor’s peculiar grandson, the child many now claimed was Da Wei’s lovechild. Tian En had initially assumed the boy belonged to Nongmin, but the rumors had only grown stranger with time.

To make matters worse, Tian Mei’s young fiancé, Shu Dai, had begun making the same request. The boy's eyes were far too sharp and knowing for someone his age.

Tian En turned and smiled.

“I’m sorry, little Mei, but we can’t. Grandma is too busy.”

Shu Dai narrowed his eyes. Polite as ever, he said nothing, but his suspicion was obvious.

Tian Mei tilted her head.

“But I heard the servants say the Heavenly Temple had ex-exi... what was the word?”

“Exiled,” Tian En supplied gently, stroking her granddaughter’s hair. “And no, I didn’t do anything wrong. We’re here because Grandma is on vacation. I’m simply in seclusion.”

That was a lie.

The truth was that the Heavenly Temple had cast her out for opposing the Cleanse. She had spoken against it when it mattered, and they had punished her for it. Now, she lived in a forgotten corner of the world between the Union and the Martial Alliance, ignored by most and abandoned by the Temple.

Yet she endured.

Tian En glanced toward Shu Dai.

“Young Master Shu Dai, thank you for accompanying my granddaughter. However, it seems I have a visitor. Would you two mind giving me a moment?”

The children exchanged glances and nodded. After they departed and the door closed behind them, Tian En moved to the center of the room, fan in hand.

She had sensed the presence long before the wind shifted outside the window.

Covering her lips with her fan, she laughed softly.

“Now, now. Is this really becoming of you, Alliance Master? Entering through the window like some rogue?”

A broad-shouldered man with crimson hair climbed through the opening with all the confidence of someone who had never felt the need to use doors. Yi Qiu, Master of the Martial Alliance, brushed dust from his cloak and grinned.

“I never properly thanked you for saving my life,” he said. “A visit is the least I can offer.”

“Then consider your debt repaid,” Tian En replied as she took her seat. “Now speak plainly. What is your real reason for coming?”

Yi Qiu smirked.

“Must there always be a reason for a friend to visit another friend?”

“Well said,” she replied. “Still, what news drags someone of your stature away from his bastion?”

His expression turned serious.

“I managed to return Shan Dian’s body to the Union. They're preparing her burial, just as you requested. They’re also preparing for war. Her death will be used as justification to stake a claim against the Empire.”

He folded his arms.

“My spies say the Empire is weakening rapidly. Civil war is no longer a rumor. It’s becoming inevitable.”

Tian En scoffed.

“The Union is always hungry for conquest. Of course they want the first bite. But that only happens if the Heavenly Temple and the Martial Alliance allow it.”

“I intend to remain neutral,” Yi Qiu said. “But if the Temple advances, I’ll be forced to contribute a token force. I dislike the idea, especially after what happened at the Summit. There’s too much I don’t understand. Too much power surrounding that man, Da Wei.”

Tian En narrowed her eyes.

“Is that all?”

“There’s more.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Then stop circling the point.”

Yi Qiu leaned forward and lowered his voice.

“The Cleanse isn't what we were told. There are too many secrets surrounding it. The Heavenly Temple is hiding something deliberately, and I intend to find out what.”

Tian En stilled.

Her fan fluttered once before snapping shut.

“And you need something from me.”

Yi Qiu offered a sheepish smile.

“Information. I’m looking for someone. An old man named Shouquan.”

Tian En gazed out the window toward the distant horizon.

“You truly intend to dig that deep?”

“I have to,” Yi Qiu replied. “If something darker lies behind the Cleanse, none of us can afford ignorance.”

“I might know where he is. But if I tell you, you’ll owe me another debt.”

Yi Qiu laughed.

“Then I suppose I’ll be making a habit of repaying you.”

A faint smile touched Tian En’s lips.

“Be sure you survive long enough to do so, Yi Qiu.”

…

..

.

[POV: Supreme Leader of Ward, Shouquan]

Shouquan couldn't believe his eyes.

“You... you're alive,” he gasped, his voice caught between awe and horror.

The figure before him remained unmoved, his silhouette both familiar and unfamiliar. He neither spoke nor looked back, turning only slightly as though Shouquan's voice were nothing more than a passing breeze.

Shouquan's knees buckled, realizing where he was.

Blood filled his mouth. He doubled over, coughing violently as crimson splattered across the floor. A chunk of flesh followed, and his body convulsed in agony.

His cultivation surged instinctively to repair the damage, but it was futile. The barbed chains binding him dug deeper into his flesh, slicing through meridians and sinew alike. Ancient parasites writhed beneath his skin, feeding on his quintessence and gnawing at his sanity.

Where his robes had long since rotted away, his skin blistered and blackened beneath the prison's toxic miasma. Every breath scorched his lungs. Every exhale felt like a prayer for death.

The chains tightened again.

How painfully ironic.

He was trapped within the very prison he had built.

Forged to contain the worst of the Outsiders, powered by endless suffering, this place had been his masterpiece and humanity's final safeguard against the madness beyond the stars.

He had never imagined becoming its prisoner.

Nor had he imagined the prison surviving that Existence.

After the war that shattered timelines and toppled gods, this cursed pit had somehow endured.

And so had he.

And now, so had his friend.

“No...” Shouquan whispered.

Then his voice broke.

“No!”

Blood streamed from his eyes as his body sagged against the chains.

“You traitor!” he screamed. “You sold your soul to the enemy! I mourned you. I wept for you. I searched for your name when the world had forgotten it!”

The figure did not react.

“I loved you like a brother!” Shouquan roared. “Yuan Shen! How dare you?”

His voice echoed through the abyss.

There was no ceiling, no ground, only endless chains suspended beneath a sky of rotting stars. The cry rang out like a funeral bell tolling across a dead world.

Shouquan thrashed against his restraints. Fresh wounds split open, spilling blood down his ruined body. The parasites responded to his anguish, burrowing deeper as pain lanced through bone and spirit alike.

And with that pain came memory.

Long ago, at the dawn of the Heavenly Temple, he had not stood alone.

Yuan Shen had been there.

His sworn brother. His admired senior. The man who had stood beside him when the Hollowed World first gazed into the void and refused to look away. Together, they had vowed to resist the Outsiders, protect the world, and hold the line no matter the cost.

Then Yuan Shen had been erased.

Not merely killed.

Erased.

Like a word never written. A name never spoken.

The world had forgotten him, and Shouquan had been left grieving a loss he could no longer remember.

Until now.

Until that figure appeared before him once more.

Alive.

Whole.

And tainted.

“You...” Shouquan whispered. “How could you side with them? How many did we bury? How many dreams did we sacrifice just to hold the line?”

No answer came.

The figure drifted farther into the fog, silent as ever.

Shouquan's strength finally gave out. His body hung limp from the chains as rot consumed his flesh and exhaustion frayed his thoughts.

In his final moment of clarity, he no longer felt rage.

Only loss.

“I would have died for you,” he whispered.

His voice faded into the darkness.

“But you... you killed me first.”

The living prison tightened around him, and the abyss swallowed the rest.

…

..

.

[POV: Guardian of Arch Gate, Tao Long]

Tao Long opened his eyes, bloodied, winded, and still alive.

His hands clenched the shaft of Drakon-Mar, the spear still humming with residual energy. The battlefield had fallen silent, the kind of silence only death could grant. Around him, broken bodies lay where they had fallen, robes torn and faces frozen in their final moments. The agents of the Heavenly Temple had been many, but not enough.

The mountain that once housed the Arch Gate had been shattered. Protective structures lay in jagged ruin, and debris still tumbled down distant slopes. Tao Long stood amid the devastation as the unofficial yet undisputed Guardian of the Arch Gate.

A dying shimmer faded before him. The clone of Shenyuan, a mere facsimile of the long-dead monster, had delivered its final words before dispersing into gray smoke.

"We'll be back."

Tao Long spat blood onto the ruined stones. "Cowards."

He knew they would return. The clone had only been the opening move. What troubled him was the timing. The Heavenly Temple had never shown interest in the Arch Gate before. Why now?

His jaw tightened as he considered the cost of victory. Centuries, perhaps millennia, of lifespan had been burned away in a single hour to fuel his arts. Thankfully, his cultivation had stabilized. No deviation. No spiritual fracture. Even so, if he failed to reach the Tenth Realm soon, the next assault might finish what this one had started.

A fresh wave of nausea struck. Blood spilled from his lips, and his vision blurred. He stumbled, catching himself by driving Drakon-Mar into the ground.

The spear pulsed like a heartbeat.

Closing his eyes, Tao Long reached out with his senses and activated the mountain's dormant formations. Layers of spatial fog enveloped the Arch Gate, concealing what little remained. The defense was temporary, but it would buy him time.

His thoughts drifted to Ward, Shouquan, and the others. They should have been here.

"Damn it. We were never meant to fight alone in situations like this."

Only Shouquan possessed the means to contact everyone. Tao Long's grip tightened around the spear. Da Wei had said something went wrong.

But what?

He had delivered the letters Da Wei entrusted to him, as promised. The moment the task was complete, he had rushed back, driven by instinct and duty.

And now he stood alone.

Movement caught his eye.

A lone figure approached from the horizon, swift and unwavering. Tao Long narrowed his eyes and raised his qi. Another agent of the Heavenly Temple? Another monster wearing a human face?

No.

As the figure stepped into the light, recognition struck him.

"...Mao Xian?"

The same young man Da Wei had once possessed. The one everyone had dismissed as a background character.

Yet something was wrong.

Tao Long's senses sharpened. The boy's cultivation was gone, shattered beyond repair. Yet a strange weight lingered around him, something ancient and coiled beneath human flesh.

Tao Long leveled his spear.

"If you wish to pass, you'll have to go through me."

"I don't intend to fight," the figure replied.

"Then what do you want, Mao Xian the Adventurer, disciple of Zai Ai of the Ten Thousand Tools?"

The young man's expression flickered. He bowed slightly, not in submission, but courtesy.

"You may call me Dai Fu," he said. "I shattered Mao Xian's cultivation so I could take over this body."

Tao Long's eyes hardened.

"Possession?"

His spear lashed out like lightning.

Dai Fu flickered aside, vanishing and reappearing several paces away.

"I'm not what you think," he said calmly. "I have little time and even less strength. Let's not waste either."

"You expect me to believe you're not a demonic cultivator?"

"No. I expect you to believe this."

His gaze locked onto Tao Long's.

"I am the Holy Spirit of the Existence known as Da Wei."

The words struck like thunder.

Tao Long staggered back a step.

"What...?"

That, at least, explained the possession technique.

Dai Fu's eyes gleamed.

"I was born of him. Formed during his ascension and fragmented during his sacrifice. I do not claim to be him, but I carry his will."

His voice hardened.

"And I want revenge."

Tao Long remained silent, stunned.

"I do not ask for your trust," Dai Fu continued. "Use me. Discard me. Kill me when you're done. I don't care. But know this: I seek justice."

"Justice for what?"

"For what they did to him. For what they did to us."

Tao Long studied the boy or whatever wore Mao Xian's face... and saw the grief, fury, and echo of a soul too immense for a single body.

His spear lowered slightly.

"Fine," he said. "Prove yourself. If you're truly Da Wei's spirit, then stand beside me. Help me protect the Arch Gate."

A faint, fierce smile crossed Dai Fu's face.

"I intend to do far more than that."

…

..

.

[POV: The Unlucky Bandit, Gu Jie]

After a long slumber, she finally awakened.

The chamber lay hidden behind layers of spatial wards and silence formations, buried where no mortal eye could reach. It was a simple place, warm and softly lit, yet sorrow lingered within its walls.

Gu Jie sat cross-legged upon a woven mat, her breathing slow and steady.

Dark hair draped around her like a velvet curtain. Her ornate robes shifted softly as she moved. Though her eyes were closed, they soon opened with an unnatural golden glow. The gold swirled into crimson, then faded into darkness.

There was no ceremony to the transformation. It was simply who she was.

Gu Jie—first disciple, loyal follower, and daughter of Da Wei.

Not by blood. But what did that matter? He had made them family through kindness, guidance, strength, and sacrifice. She would have called him father even if the heavens denied it.

A sudden impact shattered her thoughts.

"Big sis!"

Golden hair burst into view as Ren Jingyi threw herself into Gu Jie's arms, tears soaking her robes.

"Big sis... why does this always happen to us?" Jingyi sobbed. "It's not fair. Heaven hates us. The world hates us. Even... even Master hates us—"

"That's not true!"

Lu Gao stood in the doorway, fists clenched at his sides.

"Master will return. Just wait for him. I'm sure he's fine."

Jingyi spun toward him, eyes red and swollen.

"Liar! Big Brother Lu Gao is a liar! The others said Master is dead! They said he killed people... lots of people!"

"Where did you hear that?" Lu Gao demanded. "You should know better than to believe rumors. Master will come back."

"I'm not little!"

Jingyi's voice cracked, but Gu Jie wrapped her arms around the girl before another sob could escape.

Silence followed.

"Big sis?" Jingyi whispered.

Gu Jie looked up at Lu Gao.

He froze.

Her eyes glistened with tears.

"Master is dead," she said.

The words struck like a hammer.

Jingyi trembled in her embrace.

Lu Gao stared at her. "This isn't funny," he whispered. "Gu Jie, this isn't—"

"It's true."

Her voice remained steady despite the ache in her throat.

"I saw it through the Heavenly Eye bestowed by the Emperor. I saw him fall."

The color drained from Lu Gao's face.

"Then the Emperor lied," he said hollowly.

Gu Jie shook her head. The chamber fell silent. Lu Gao sank beside the window. Warm sunlight spilled across him, but he seemed unable to feel it. His eyes stared into nothing. Ren Jingyi tightened her grip on Gu Jie's robes.

"What are we going to do now?" asked Ren Jingyi softly. "Do you... know how to pray?"

Gu Jie nodded.

"He taught us. Remember?"

"Yeah." Ren Jingyi lowered her head. "Master said that if we're scared, we can pray. That faith will carry us when strength fails."

Lu Gao laughed bitterly, the sound barely hiding a sob.

"That's it? That's all we have left?"

Gu Jie offered a faint smile.

"It's all we can do right now. We trust the process and hope for the result."

For a long moment, nobody spoke. Then Lu Gao rose, crossed the room, and sat beside them. Slowly, he took Jingyi's hand in one of his and Gu Jie's in the other. The three sat together in a small circle. They felt hurt and broken, yet still together.

"Then we pray," Lu Gao said.

Gu Jie nodded.

"Yes. We pray."

Because in a world ruled by chaos, tyranny, and betrayal, faith was the one thing that could not be taken from them.

And sometimes, in the darkest hour, it was all that remained.

…

..

.

[POV: Perverted Skull, Jue Bu]

“MOTHERFUCKER, YOU AREN’T TAKING ME DOWN WITH YOU!”

Jue Bu's shriek echoed through the abyss, a maddened metallic wail from a skull floating in a place unknown to gods or mortals. His voice carried pure desperation. It was not for honor, heroism, or sacrifice, but simple self-preservation.

Around him, the thing inside Da Wei had opened its true maw.

Eldritch. Endless. Incomprehensible.

Teeth were not teeth. Darkness was not darkness. This was not death.

This was extermination.

And Jue Bu wanted no part of it.

“DAMN YOU, DA WEI!” he howled. “I knew you were cracked in the head, but this?! Noble self-sacrifice? You fool! You stubborn, wonderful, suicidal idiot!”

Something pulled at him. It was not the beast that lurked somewhere inside Da Wei. It was something more complicated than that. It was fate. The next moment, everything vanished. Jue Bu fell into the void. It was not the screaming, writhing kind. This one was silent.

And somehow...

Bored.

...

Time held no meaning there, and Jue Bu had no body to measure it with. He didn't even have his beloved spectral tongue anymore. He was beginning to think he had finally gone mad when he saw them: three motes of light, tiny as butterflies, gentle and brilliant, drifting through the endless nothingness before him.

“The hell is this? More ghosts? Cute. Go away.”

They ignored him and continued circling.

Jue Bu reached out with what little essence remained.

“Quintessence...?”

No. Something more. Hope. Prayer. These weren't random energies but the prayers of those who still remembered Da Wei, who still hoped for him, loved him, and mourned him, their faith so strong that even the void could not erase it.

Jue Bu laughed.

A wild, manic laugh.

“Of course! Of course! You dumb cultivators never understood what prayers really are! You thought it was incense, rituals, and fancy mantras. But this? This is a miracle!”

The motes gathered around him.

Jue Bu seized them and began weaving.

The Reincarnation Scroll of Blasphemous Continuance.

His masterpiece. His pride and joy. A forbidden art forged through millennia of evasion, perversion, and unspeakable bargains with the Nether.

He would live again.

The only question was where.

...

The Hollowed World was vast, not merely because new realms fell into it every century, but because it contained another world within itself—a hidden core surrounded by two celestial titans often mistaken for the sun and moon, a secret within a secret, a prison within a cage. And within that concealed realm stood a small hut where chaos reigned. It was not cosmic chaos or demonic war, but something far more terrifying: a birth.

“Push! Push! Gods above, why is there so much blood?!” the father screamed, frantically waving a copy of How to Be a Dad (4th Edition, Unlicensed Copy).

“Shut up and give me your arm to bite!” the mother shrieked, crushing his hand with enough force to cripple a cultivator.

“If you don't stop yapping,” growled the midwife, “I'll bury this axe in your skull.”

Then came a cry. It was clear, loud, and unmistakably alive. The room froze as it rang out, only to come again moments later.

“WAAAAAAAAH!”

A miracle.

The mother gasped.

The father's jaw dropped.

Even the midwife smiled.

A wrinkled, red-faced infant blinked up at them with watery eyes and clenched fists.

“A boy,” the father whispered.

Tears streamed down the mother's cheeks as she cradled the child.

“What shall we name him?” the midwife asked softly.

The father looked at his wife.

She nodded.

Together, they spoke.

“Da Wei.”

...

Elsewhere in the void, a faint echo of a skull burst into triumphant laughter.

“Hah! You see that, Da Wei? I told you. You can't keep a good skull down.”

Whether it was fate, miracle, or madness, one thing was certain.

Da Wei lived.

And somehow, against all reason, so did Jue Bu.