SSS-Rank 10x Reward System: Accepting Disciples to Live Forever Chapter 123: Non-existence Authority

Mo Huyan stood motionless at the edge of the chamber, her figure frozen as she watched everything unfold.

For the first ti since her fall into this cursed dinsion, she forgot to breathe.

Her long lashes trembled, casting faint shadows against her pale cheeks as her gaze locked onto Wang Chen’s silhouette. She did not dare blink. Not even for a heartbeat. So instinct buried deep within her scread that missing even a single mont of what was happening now would beco a regret that followed her for eternity.

"This atmosphere..."

Her lips parted slightly.

Badum. Badum.

Only then did she realize her heart was racing.

Each beat echoed heavily in her chest, loud and invasive, as if it were trying to escape. An invisible pressure spread through the chamber, not violent, not oppressive in the conventional sense—but absolute. The air itself felt thinner, brittle, as though reality had been reduced to a fragile shell.

And with it ca a sensation Mo Huyan had not felt in countless ages.

Déjà vu.

No—sothing deeper.

An ancient, unfathomable presence was coalescing above Wang Chen’s figure. It did not belong to the Nine Realms. It did not belong to the Upper Heavens. It did not even belong to existence as it was currently defined.

It was older.

She knew this force.

She had touched it once.

Long ago—back when she tore open the cycle of reincarnation with her own hands and laid the foundations of the Nether Realms. Back then, in her arrogance and defiance, she had brushed against the outermost boundary of this sa power... only for it to reject her.

Her pupils shrank violently.

Her throat tightened.

A whisper escaped her lips, fragile and reverent, like a forbidden prayer spoken to the void.

"Non-Existence Authority..."

The words tasted unreal.

How could this be?

How could a re mortal—an unnad cultivator from a lower world—comprehend the most transcendent principle that even the heavens themselves feared?

It was lunacy.

In the Upper Realms, god-kings, saints, sovereigns, and ancient monstrosities beyond count had sought the Authority of Non-Existence. Every single one of them had failed. So shattered their cultivation. So erased their own souls. Others were devoured by the concepts they dared to touch.

Because all Authorities—fate, ti, destiny, space, the elents—were ultimately owned by Heaven.

To transcend them, to truly escape the shackles of creation, one had to reach beyond existence itself.

To comprehend what ca before existence.

That was what Non-Existence represented.

Not destruction.

Not annihilation.

But the absence that preceded creation.

The silent, absolute void where laws had never been written and authority had never been claid.

A realm where even Heaven was nothing more than an afterthought.

Mo Huyan’s heart trembled violently.

Even she—an immortal who had defied epochs, overturned cycles, and mocked the heavens for untold years—had failed to touch its essence. Decades spent beneath the crushing will of eternity had taught her a cruel truth:

So doors were simply not ant to be opened.

And yet—

Here it was.

Manifesting around Wang Chen.

Not violently.

Not forcibly.

But naturally.

As if the concept itself had acknowledged him.

Her breath hitched.

Her thoughts froze.

For the first ti since she had beco Mo Huyan—the Nether Empress feared across realms—she felt sothing dangerously close to reverence.

And sothing even more terrifying.

Hope.

The number of tis Wang Chen had left her astonished was already beyond counting.

And yet, this mont eclipsed all of them.

[Ding! Congratulations, Host.]

[Minor comprehension of Non-Existence Authority achieved.]

[A path beyond the Supre has been revealed.]

Wang Chen did not know how long he had been subrged in ditation when his eyes finally opened.

For a fleeting instant, galaxies blood within his pupils.

Countless stars spun, collided, and were extinguished—swallowed whole by an endless, soundless void. Creation and destruction replayed themselves in silence, over and over, until even those concepts lost aning.

The thousands of heavenly runes that had once revolved around his body began to tremble.

Then twist.

Then collapse inward.

What had been many fused violently into one.

A single rune erged.

It was not divine.

It was not demonic.

It radiated neither light nor darkness.

It radiated nothing.

Sound ceased.

Light withered.

Existence itself recoiled.

Where the rune hovered, all creation was stripped away—peeled layer by layer until nothing remained but pure conceptual emptiness. No matter. No energy. No law.

And yet...

Within that absolute void, sothing stirred.

A minuscule spark.

Creation, born from oblivion.

"So... this is the source of everything..."

Wang Chen’s whisper trembled, disbelief bleeding seamlessly into awe.

He could not truly feel the rune. It lay beyond touch, beyond perception, beyond comprehension. And yet, within that infinite nothingness, he sensed sothing terrifyingly clear.

There was no fate.

No ti.

No karma.

No destiny.

Only the void that existed before all things.

"The power to..." His breath hitched. "To steal even fate itself..."

His blood thundered through his veins.

Without realizing it, his fists clenched until his nails pierced flesh, warm blood dripping silently to the ground. Three centuries of struggle, isolation, and sacrifice compressed into a single, unbearable instant.

The rune shimred faintly.

Then drifted downward.

Slowly.

Inevitably.

It embedded itself at the center of his brows.

The mont it made contact, Wang Chen’s entire spiritual world scread.

Cracks exploded outward like spiderwebs. The walls of his inner domain convulsed violently—then shattered, collapsing into nothingness.

Reality itself roared.

Space buckled.

4.1 kiloters.

4.2 kiloters.

His divine sea expanded uncontrollably, serenity obliterated by the surge of an Authority that should never have been touched. The pressure warped the very structure of the dinsion, bending laws as though they were fragile parchnt.

In the external world, spiritual qi from every direction was ripped free.

Mountains went barren.

Rivers ran dry.

Life itself trembled.

All of it was dragged toward him, spiraling into a colossal silver vortex that devoured vitality from miles around—an on visible even to the blind.

And at the center of that storm...

Wang Chen stood.

No longer rely walking the path of cultivation.

But standing at the threshold of sothing that even Heaven feared.

The skies dimd.

The ground shook.

The violent expansion only ca to a halt when Wang Chen’s inner world finally stabilized—five kiloters wide, a spiritual sea vast enough to rival those spoken of only in the oldest myths, the domains once ruled by ancient god-kings.

Had this occurred before the reergence of the cultivation age, the surrounding lands would have been reduced to nothing but drifting dust. Fortunately, the Heaven-Rending Empire’s leyline stabilization arrays groaned into action, their ancient runes flaring as they anchored reality itself, barely preventing the entire region from collapsing under the unbearable pressure.

Then—

Silence returned.

Wang Chen stood alone.

Above him hovered a faintly glowing symbol.

The rune of Non-Existence.

It did not shine brightly. It did not pulse with power. And yet, its re afterimage warped the air around it, as though reality itself hesitated in its presence. Nothing visibly radiated outward, but everything nearby felt subtly rewritten at the most fundantal level.

As if the concept of being itself had beco fragile.

Wang Chen let out a soft chuckle.

Joy welled in his chest—quiet, overwhelming, and undeniable. For the first ti in centuries, a genuine smile tugged at his lips. Not the smile of conquest. Not arrogance. Not triumph.

Relief.

He had done it.

Truly done it.

Three hundred years of solitude, obsession, and relentless trial had finally borne fruit.

Without lingering even a heartbeat longer, he rose to his feet. Power surged through his body, smooth and absolute. Behind his head, faint silver threads from the rune of Non-Existence spread outward, forming a halo that seed both divine and blasphemous.

He raised his hand.

Sword-light scattered like falling stars.

The resentful ghosts that had haunted this realm for centuries didn’t even have ti to scream. They were erased instantly—cut apart like brittle paper, their existence severed so completely that not even echoes remained.

Wang Chen no longer needed to fight.

He commanded existence.

From the shadows, Mo Huyan watched in silence.

Her regal gaze softened, an unfamiliar emotion stirring behind her eyes—sothing dangerously close to awe. She wanted to speak. To ask him what drove him. What he intended to do with a power even the heavens feared.

But in the end, she said nothing.

So monts did not belong to words.

And so destinies were not ant to be interrupted.

Then—

Before her astonished gaze, space itself folded inward around Wang Chen.

His figure shimred, fracturing into countless threads of pale light. The avatar unraveled quietly, without resistance, dispersing like morning mist beneath the rising sun.

Gone.

Leaving only silence.

And Mo Huyan, standing alone in that endless, hollow expanse—staring at the place where a mortal had stepped beyond the reach of Heaven itself.

...

Wang Chen perception shifted before he realised he was back in real world, sitting cross legged in his ditation chamber.

The entire world outside didn’t seem to realize the absence of Qi in the entire city.

The faint thread connecting him and the Ancient beast egg, pulsed as Wnag Chen precious luck flowed through it.