Yu Xuan suddenly turned toward a particular direction, his senses felt a gaze settle on him.
"Who’s there?" he asked into the air, suspicion edging his voice.
There was nothing.
His eyes, capable of seeing through illusions, barriers, even flesh and closed doors found no trace of anyone.
Yet his brows slowly furrowed.
’That wasn’t my imagination,’ he thought grimly.
’So what was that?’
He replayed the sensation in his mind, dissecting it bit by bit.
The non-existent harmless gaze.
The faint, indescribable familiarity.
Then sothing clicked.
His pupils shrank.
This feeling... this scene... if looked from a third person’s perspective...
’No way,’ he thought, a chill running down his spine.
’This is the sa.’
The sa scene he had seen back then.
The day he first t Ming Tiani during the tournant.
The first ti when his skill [Fated Encounter] was activated.
Before he could fully connect the dots, sothing snapped into place.
An invisible thread, formless yet absolute – latched onto his existence through ans he could neither perceive nor block.
In that instant, Yu Xuan’s instincts scread.
Not severe danger.
Death.
True death.
Every cell in his body trembled violently.
His heart thundered as he released everything, every drop of Qi he possessed, forcing even the countless miniature golden cores within his cells to their absolute limit.
Barriers blood one after another in front of him.
Hundreds of them, layered, reinforced, and overlapping as the terrain itself twisted to shield him.
Space locked down with a deafening pressure, while abyssal darkness erupted from his body, wrapping around him in multiple defensive shells.
His expression darkened completely.
All his personas were with him now.
If he died here, there would be no return.
No second chance.
For the first ti, Yu Xuan did not hesitate.
He activated the trump cards his parents had given him, pouring his Qi into the Talismans without restraint.
Instantly, two lifelike phantoms manifested beside him, the silhouettes of his father and mother, their presence carrying an indescribable sense of protection.
At the sa ti, the multicolored robe sealed within his space ring sensed the mortal threat to its soul-bound master.
It burst forth on its own, unfurling and wrapping around Yu Xuan in radiant layers of defensive light.
His dallion blazed.
And then.
The projection of his master appeared in front of him, standing firm as if facing the heavens themselves.
Yu Xuan’s instincts, sharpened to perfection by [Ultra Instinct] had not been wrong.
Because in the very next instant.
Space above his head shattered.
***
Fallen Heavens, Great Ascension Continent.
The God-Weeping Sovereign sat with Evil Mind – Xie Zhi, and a third presence occupied the space between them like a silent abyss.
This being was known by a title that sent tremors through the Fallen Heavens.
Ten Thousand Eye Horror, the Ancestor of Wan Shou.
The three were seated around a low table, upon which lay a board of Slaughter Chess, a brutal strategic ga unique to the Fallen Heavens, where each piece represented armies, bloodlines, and the rise or extinction of entire races and planets.
"So," Xie Zhi said casually, his fingers idly hovering over a piece carved from obsidian bone.
"Have you decided? Will you take that child back... or will you let him remain in the Lower Realm?"
Ancestor Wan did not answer.
In his current form, he appeared as an elderly man with a calm deanor, his back slightly bent, his hands steady.
Yet his eyes betrayed the truth.
One eye shimred faintly, the Heavenly Pupil of Wisdom, capable of dissecting cause and effect with terrifying clarity.
The other was darker, the Eye of Prediction, forever gazing into the present and a second into countless possible futures branching endlessly from the present.
Instead of responding, Ancestor Wan advanced a piece on the board.
The God-Weeping Sovereign countered imdiately.
Several turns passed in silence, the atmosphere heavy.
Only then did Ancestor Wan speak, his voice mild.
"That child is clever," he said.
"You know he could have refused your summons by telling my na alone... yet he didn’t."
Xie Zhi smiled faintly.
"Exactly. Which is why I’m curious. Why let such a seed go to waste? Would you not want to nurture him yourself?"
"I wondered the sa," the God-Weeping Sovereign added smoothly.
He knew Ancestor Wan well enough.
He was very petty but never foolish. A talent capable of becoming a successor was not sothing this old monster would discard lightly, even though the current Wan Shou was barely worth the attention.
Which ant.
There were benefits involved.
Benefits neither of them had fully grasped yet.
Ancestor Wan chuckled softly.
"Haha... I was simply srized by the boldness of the younger generation," he replied, neatly sidestepping the question.
"But tell sothing instead."
His fingers paused above the board.
"Why did you send so many of those young ones into the gate? Even if they did not truly die, their True Selves suffered grievous harm. You knew very well that his disciple would be protected, at least while we are present here."
Xie Zhi laughed openly.
"Isn’t that precisely why I guaranteed they wouldn’t die?" he said lightly.
"And let us not pretend killing that disciple was even the goal. We both know he is... unkillable, for now that is."
Ancestor Wan frowned slightly.
On the board, his position was deteriorating.
Then.
His eyes glead.
With a single, deliberate move, he shifted a piece that should not have worked.
The board trembled as an ordinary piece turned into a monster.
In an instant, the balance of slaughter reversed.
The God-Weeping Sovereign leaned back, genuinely impressed.
"What an unexpected move," he remarked.
Ancestor Wan did not respond.
Instead, his gaze drifted, piercing space.
After a brief pause, he spoke calmly.
"...It seems Wan Shou would prefer to remain in the Lower Realms."
Xie Zhi’s smile faded.
At the sa mont, he sensed it too.
His hand moved to the pendant at his hand, the one imbued with karmic power, its surface now vibrating faintly.
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