Immortal Paladin

When I returned to the waking world, the chaos had not ended. The ocean boiled beneath the fury of two gods. The Sun’s humanoid form blazed with endless light, while Aixin’s celestial arm, still thrust through the hole in the firmament, burned like molten stone. Every time the two clashed, explosions rippled across the sea. Great waves of fire and vapor rose into the sky, and if not for the protective barriers around New Willow, the city would have been erased by boiling tsunamis.

Far above, Da Ji, Alice, and the demonic octopus continued their battle. Their struggle stretched from the sea to the heavens, ice meeting shadow, foxfire clashing against abyssal corruption.

“This could get troublesome,” I muttered as I surveyed the growing storm.

The octopus was swelling by the second, its limbs as thick as mountains. I could feel the familiar taint of the Supreme Void seeping from its flesh, the same kind of essence I’d fought in the False Earth. My mind quickly pieced together the cause. When Yuan Shen “corrupted” the sea creatures earlier, the octopus had likely ascended from the Tenth to the Eleventh Realm. Because of the Curse of the Hollowed World, anything that reached the Eleventh Realm would inevitably lose its sanity.

I had once believed that the curse was crafted by some unknown existence or rival Supreme Being. But now, I understand. The mark of madness belonged to the Supreme Void itself. That bastard never did know when to stop.

The octopus screamed, its voice echoing across the shattered sky. “ASDACARSWSSR~! RETURN TO THEE! DEVOUR! CONSUME!”

Its voice alone could make the ocean tremble. The sound of collapsing reality followed, space distorting under the call of something that shouldn’t exist.

“This isn’t good,” I whispered.

Even imprisoned, the Supreme Void could still project influence through a vessel. If this octopus was truly its proxy, then every moment it existed risked inviting the Supreme’s will into the world. I could already feel the fabric of the Hollowed World shuddering.

Suddenly, the stars went out. Every single one. The heavens turned black as pitch, swallowing the world in silence.

Da Ji’s voice brushed through my mind in Qi Speech, steady despite the turmoil.

“Brother, this is the celestial phenomenon we’ve been waiting for your coronation!”

“Now of all times?” I exhaled in disbelief.

Still… she wasn’t wrong. The signs matched what Gu Jie had predicted. Though the timing was insane, perhaps it was fated this way. Gu Jie had warned that performing my coronation under the light of stars or celestial bodies would bring ruin. Perhaps this was the best time to do it.

“I can’t do it here with the Sun literally standing there,” I raised a hand and spoke softly, “Egress.”

The world folded around me. In the next instant, I stood atop Yellow Dragon City.

The night here was deeper than any I’d ever seen. No stars, no moon. Instead, there was only the faint shimmer of the city’s protective formations flickering in the distance. The wind carried the faint hum of spiritual energy as I descended onto the highest pagoda.

“Let’s begin,” I murmured to the still air. “I’m here.”

From the pagoda’s peak, a familiar voice answered, calm yet reverent.

“Yes, Father…”

It was Gu Jie, my daughter and disciple. Her dark robes fluttered like banners. In her hands, she held the Hollow Star. It broke free from her palms as a streak of silver light and stopped before me, hovering at eye level. I could only stare as it shifted and solidified.

The crown was a band of metallic gray, its surface rippling like steel and smoke. Intricate reliefs circled it with humans, beasts, spirits, angels, and demons. They were all running endlessly around its edge. Their faces moved as if alive, twisted in pain, yearning, or supplication. Each figure was locked in an eternal cycle, unable to escape.

A deep voice, neither male nor female, echoed from within the Hollow Star.

“SUPREME BEING OF THE LOST PATH, SWEAR UPON YOUR EXISTENCE.”

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Supreme Being, huh? You really know how to make introductions.”

I had been accused of being many things, but that title still felt alien. What was I supreme over, exactly? I didn’t feel mighty or divine. I didn’t even understand what kind of existence I truly was.

Still, the crown pulsed with a rhythm that felt like destiny. The more I stared, the heavier it became, not in weight, but in meaning. I could sense the oaths and burdens of countless existences before me, each whispering to my soul, demanding judgment.

The Hollow Star spoke again, its voice resonating like a celestial decree:

“MAKE YOUR OATH. SWEAR TO PUNISH THOSE WHO HAVE WRONGED ALL OF EXISTENCE—THOSE WHO HAVE PERVERTED LIFE AND DEATH, WHO HAVE DESTROYED THE POTENTIAL OF MORTALS, WHO HAVE SCARRED THE FATES THAT BIND THE LOGIC OF THE WORLD, AND WHO HAVE DARED TO GO AGAINST PROVIDENCE ITSELF.”

The crown trembled, waiting for my answer.

“No,” I said flatly. “I don’t like it.”

The Hollow Star froze midair, its gray sheen rippling like liquid steel. It began to tremble violently. The metallic band screamed a chorus of warped souls echoing through the skies.

“HOW DARE YOU!? PERISH! PERISH!”

The Hollowed World itself groaned in protest. The heavens split with thunderous light, and I could feel quintessence itself pressing down upon me like a divine judgment. Mountains cracked in the distance, the earth roared beneath Yellow Dragon City, and the pagoda below my feet shook with the weight of creation’s wrath.

Yet… I didn’t even flinch.

The pressure felt like a warm breeze brushing against my cheek. My Exalted Renewal had boosted my stats to the point that even the “wrath of providence” barely registered as more than an inconvenience.

I folded my arms and glared up at the crown. “You’re just a thing,” I said. “A tool that’s been given a name and a voice. Don’t act like you have authority over me. I’m not here to play servant to some relic that forgot its place.”

The Hollow Star shuddered again, its voice deepening until it felt like an army of gods speaking at once.

“I AM THE PROVIDENCE THAT MADE THIS WORLD! THE BLAZE OF HOPE THAT BOUND THE HOLLOWED WORLD TO EXISTENCE! I AM THE FINAL BREATH OF MANY WORLDS! TO GO AGAINST MY WORDS IS TO DISOBEY PROVIDENCE!”

“Providence?” I snorted. “You sound like every other megalomaniac who thinks yelling louder makes them right.”

I raised a hand and focused the golden radiance of faith within my palm. “You talk too much.”

“Exorcise.”

The word rolled from my lips. Divine light surged forth, coalescing into the force of two Immortal Arts—Godslayer and Divine Appointment of the Faithful. The twin forces intertwined, burning away the Hollow Star’s screaming essence.

The air cracked. The tremor stopped.

The crown floated motionless before me, faint tendrils of shadow evaporating from its surface. What remained was a subdued relic, its voice gone and its arrogance erased. I exhaled and rolled my shoulders. “Finally. Some peace and quiet.”

Still, the crown quivered faintly, like a beast refusing to die. The fragments of its will lingered, but they no longer had teeth. The sense of self it once had was gone, but not entirely.

“So feisty…”

It wasn’t strange for artifacts in this world to awaken sentience since cultivators forged weapons and relics that housed wills, sometimes even souls. It was rare, yes, but not impossible. Yet, the Hollow Star had been too willful for its own good.

Now, it was time to make my own oath.

I lifted my hand, letting the crown hover above my palm. The faith that surrounded me pulsed in response, brighter than any star that had once filled this sky.

“I’ll make an oath,” I said quietly. “But not the one you demanded.”

The Hollow Star vibrated, faintly resisting. I ignored it and continued:

“I swear to judge fairly, without prejudice or hate.

To guide those lost in their paths.

To raise those who deserve better fates.

To heal and protect those who were hurt.

To bless those who do good.

And to embrace those who have fallen into despair.

That is my oath.”

The trembling grew violent for a moment, then faded. The Hollow Star dimmed, its glow softening into a faint golden shimmer. It wasn’t acceptance exactly, but it wasn’t rejection either. Perhaps, in its broken arrogance, it had realized something it couldn’t understand.

I gazed at the now-muted crown and thought of Yuan Shen.

He hadn’t given up, not until the very end. Even when the veil swallowed him, even when the Supreme Beings twisted his soul beyond recognition, he had fought to hold on to his sense of self. Just before his existence was erased, I saw briefly through the remnants of his consciousness… that of a dark void, a massive hand breaching from beyond the shell of the world, and Yuan Shen screaming as the hand grabbed him, dragging him into the veil, the barrier that caged this realm.

His body twisted into mist, his soul splintering. From that suffering, he created Shenyuan, the clone who would continue his will. A fragment left behind, desperate to leave a mark before he vanished completely.

He didn’t stop struggling. Even when everything turned against him, he still tried.

“Honestly,” I whispered, half-smiling, “if he hadn’t fought like a lunatic, I probably would’ve lost.”

After all, Yuan Shen had been a [Level 47] Ascended Soul.

If he fought fairly with his cultivation, I didn’t think I could honestly win. Imagine, Yuan Shen spamming his Immortal Art from the start… It would be hellish to deal with, and I’d have to die several times just to take away a layer of his immortality.

“Let’s get this over with.”

The Hollow Star floated higher, its once dull metallic color shifting. The gray melted away into molten gold, radiant and pure. Waves of quintessence poured from it, spiraling into the heavens like a divine storm.

I felt it.

A thousand, a million, a trillion voices whispered in unison, not of defiance but reverence. Their tones were soft, distant, yet overwhelming, echoing from the stars that no longer shone.

“Your Eminence…”

“Your Eminence…”

“Your Eminence…”

Their voices were no longer the same arrogant decree that once demanded punishment upon all existence. No… Instead, these were voices of recognition. Of beings long gone, calling to something greater than vengeance.

That was why I remade the oath.

How could I possibly punish all of existence? The voice that had demanded vengeance and annihilation wasn’t truly wrong, but it was misguided. I knew it referred to the Supreme Beings, but what good would it do to devote myself entirely to destroying them? Even if I succeeded, what then? Would the Hollowed World be healed? Would the lives lost ever come back?

No… if I could do better, I should.

The arrogant voice from before had been the accumulated resentment of countless dead worlds, all perished in the creation of this realm. Each fragment of their pain, their hatred, their helpless cries… all of it had been sealed inside the Hollow Star. It wasn’t a crown; it was a curse, a vessel of mourning pretending to be a symbol of power.

If I accepted the oath it offered, I wouldn’t be freeing them. I’d just be feeding their hatred, chaining their souls to a false sense of justice.

“FROM NOW ON,” the voice echoed. “THE HOLLOWED WORLD IS YOUR DOMAIN.”

The Hollow Star lowered itself and settled upon my brow.

The instant it touched me, I felt it.

Worlds exploded into existence within my mind. My veins burned with the light of creation, my bones cracked beneath the weight of infinite lives. I could feel entire civilizations rising and dying in a heartbeat. My skull throbbed as if it would burst.

I quickly invoked Divine Possession upon the Hollow Star itself, splitting the burden across my Six Souls. Even then, I barely held on.

Power flooded me. It was raw, ancient, and endless. It felt less like ascending and more like drowning.

With that power came the visions.

…

..

.

I saw worlds fall.

Planets once shining like jewels were torn from the fabric of the cosmos, falling into the Hollowed World like meteorites, crushing and folding into its layers. Each collision sent waves of destruction rippling through the void.

Human realms burned. Asura battlefields turned to dust. Ghost kingdoms unraveled into mist. Beast domains were consumed whole. Hell itself cracked open, its flames devoured by the endless dark. Even the Heavens, proud and radiant, collapsed into the black void, their stars shattering like glass.

All of it was drawn into the Hollowed World, ground together into one monstrous sphere of ruin.

There were no exceptions.

The cries of billions echoed through the darkness with fear, sorrow, rage, and despair. All of them were blending into a single tone of agony.

I gritted my teeth. My Divine Sense buckled. If I let this continue, I would lose myself completely. So I used the skill I had avoided all this time.

Transcendent Heart.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

My heartbeat dulled, then slowed to a stillness that felt unnatural. My emotions drained away. They were not gone, but suspended, like ripples frozen mid-motion. Calm replaced panic, and clarity spread through me like cool water.

…

..

.

I saw more.

Entire races slaughtered. Civilizations razed. Skies falling under divine fire. Oceans boiled to ash. The proudest of empires reduced to dust under the hands of their own gods.

Every cry, every death, every broken plea entered my mind, merging with me.

This was the cost of the Hollowed World.

A world made from other worlds.

…

..

.

When I used Divine Possession on Nongmin before, I thought I had seen the limit of my endurance, the branching timelines, the alternate versions of myself, and the unbearable flood of foreign memories. But this… this was something else entirely.

If I hadn’t used Transcendent Heart, the sheer weight of these lives would have torn my mind apart, or worse, turned me into something like the Hollow Star’s former self… a vengeful echo of all that had perished.

Still, even through the calm, a single emotion refused to fade. It was Pain. It began as a small ache, then grew until it overflowed. My eyes burned, my vision blurred, and I realized I was crying.

I didn’t even try to stop it.

My tears fell into the black air, dissolving into golden motes of light.

“This is so unfair…” I whispered hoarsely. “The heavens truly are merciless.”

When I opened my eyes, everything felt different.

The first thing I noticed was the weight… or rather, the absence of it. My body felt lighter, my breathing steadier, as though the world itself had adjusted to my existence. I looked down and realized my Wandering Adjudicator armor was gone. In its place were robes of silver and gold, the fabric shimmering faintly under the starless sky.

The texture was soft, almost weightless, yet I could feel the immense energy flowing through every thread. The Hollow Star had woven them for me, shaping their form and color to match its temperament. Across the back, a golden cross was etched in radiant lines, while intricate embroidery of the Six Paths trailed down the sleeves and hem like flowing rivers of light.

My entire being pulsed with vitality. The Divine Spark within me flared as quintessence flowed naturally into it, strengthening it, mending every flaw that once plagued it. I could feel the cycle of Exalted Renewal no longer threatening to tear my essence apart.

“At least this way, I won’t accidentally kill myself with Exalted Renewal…”

I looked up at the heavens and froze.

“Huh? Is that… me?”

Suspended high above in the endless black sky was a mirage of myself. It was colossal, visible from horizon to horizon, a luminous reflection painted against the void. The figure looked exactly like me with the same face and bearing, but its eyes glowed gold with a faint hint of emerald, radiating divine authority. Upon its head rested the Hollow Star, and it wore the same regal robes as mine.

It looked… majestic. Also, annoyingly flashy.

“Yeah, that’s too flashy.”

With a single thought, I willed my attire to change. The silver and gold bled into black silk, laced with emerald trim that shimmered faintly when it caught the light. The golden cross on my back remained, gleaming brighter against the dark fabric like a mark of faith.

Above, the mirage obeyed, transforming in unison. The stars themselves bent, linking together into a web of golden constellations that outlined my shape in the night sky.

The Hollow Star spoke once more.

“HIS NAME IS DA WEI, MASTER OF THE HOLLOW STAR, RULER OF THE HOLLOWED WORLD—BOW TO HIS GLORY!”

The voice wasn’t a sound. It was a vibration, echoing through heaven and earth, through sea and soul. I could feel it shaking mountains, stirring oceans, and resonating across every city and realm. The Hollow Star was using Qi Speech on a planetary scale, the fucking size of the Hollowed World.

“You piece of shit…” I muttered under my breath. “You’re too arrogant!”

I could sense its smugness through the bond.

Seriously, it wasn’t enough that it had projected my mugshot into the heavens. It was now declaring me to the entire world. I tried to pry it from my head and forcibly suppressed the transmission, but the Hollow Star resisted, its will intertwined with mine.

“THE NEW AGE IS UPON US!” it thundered, voice bright and triumphant. “HIS EMINENCE IS MERCIFUL, BUT KNOW—TO GO AGAINST HIS WILL IS TO STAND AGAINST PROVIDENCE!”

“Hey! You piece of shit!” I shouted at the sky, my voice lost under the echoing declaration. “Don’t make me sound like some tyrant! Stop attracting aggro, you idiot!”

Of course, it ignored me.

The mirage in the sky raised its arms, and light poured out from its palms. Cities, mountains, and even the deepest trenches of the sea were illuminated. The Hollow Star’s proclamation reached its peak.

“REJOICE! REJOICE! FOR TODAY IS THE CORONATION OF THE HOLY EMPEROR, DA WEI, SUNDERER, GREAT GUARD, AND PALADIN!”

After that arrogant declaration, I felt the flow of faith within me surge like a floodgate had burst open. Every heartbeat thrummed with the voices of believers, every breath drew in the reverence of countless souls. The Hollow Star’s proclamation had spread across the entire Hollowed World… and now all that faith was pouring into me.

I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “There’s no helping it.”

I gave up trying to pry the crown from my head. The more I resisted, the tighter its presence clung to my Divine Spark, merging itself deeper into my existence. I didn’t know if this crown would one day be my undoing, but denying its power was pointless. The Hollow Star wasn’t merely an artifact. It was a world consciousness, the heart of the Hollowed World itself.

Now, it was mine.

“Screw levels of immortality,” I muttered under my breath. “This thing is too OP…”

No wonder Gu Jie and Nongmin had been so confident in me. I didn’t think I’d ever lose to Yuan Shen, even if he had returned to his peak, with this crown on my head.

…

..

.

Above, the mirage of myself still loomed in the heavens, glowing faintly against the fading dark. I realized it wasn’t just a projection. Instead, it was an extension of the Hollow Star, a formation bound to the ley lines of the Hollowed World. Through it, my awareness stretched across continents, mountains, and seas.

“As long as I’m in the Hollowed World,” I whispered, gazing at my reflection, “I’m invincible.”

With a focused thought, I projected my consciousness into the mirage. In that instant, I was no longer standing in Yellow Dragon City.. Instead, I was the sky itself. My senses expanded beyond mortal and immortal comprehension, seeing through the Hollow Star’s eyes. I beheld the distant clash between the Sun and Aixin’s arm, their battle tearing the horizon apart.

The arm burned in golden fire while the Sun roared in celestial fury, their conflict shaking oceans and boiling seas. Waves rose like mountains, threatening to swallow New Willow.

I frowned.

“The two of you have no place in this world.”

My voice resonated through the mirage, echoing across heaven and earth.

Through the Hollow Star, I invoked my authority.

“Exorcise.”

Reality itself folded. Space twisted like rippling silk. Aixin’s arm was severed, its essence sliced apart by the world’s own fabric, while the Sun’s blazing form was pushed upward, forcibly returned to the skies above the False Earth.

“Oh, I almost forgot about you.”

The void-touched octopus was seemingly struggling. I endowed more quintessence in Alice and Da Ji, ensuring they deal with the creature successfully.

“I trust they will manage, but man… Expelling them sure uses a lot of energy, huh?”

The backlash was enormous. My quintessence drained rapidly, and even a fragment of my Divine Spark cracked under the strain. It was reckless, but the Hollow Star responded immediately, replenishing my reserves as if to say, I’ll handle it.

When the chaos finally subsided, light began to break through the horizon.

The night receded like a shadow undone by dawn. The sky brightened to a calm blue as the boiling sea cooled, and the golden sunlight spilled across the battered world.

I exhaled softly. “That’s better.”

…

..

.

Returning to my body, I turned my gaze to Gu Jie, who still stood at the pagoda’s peak. She had witnessed everything from the crown, the mirage, and the command that bent the heavens. Her expression was a strange mix of awe and quiet pride.

I nodded once, and she returned it, her lips curling in a faint smile. That was enough.

Using Zealot’s Stride, I vanished from the pagoda and reappeared on the far border where the army of Riverfall was still clashing with the invading forces. The air was thick with blood, smoke, and exhaustion. Corpses of experts littered the torn earth. Yet the fighting hadn’t stopped.

I descended into the storm of chaos and raised my hand.

“Divine Word: Rest.”

The word left my lips like a wave of tranquil wind. My quintessence fueled the skill far beyond its normal range. The battlefield fell silent as soldiers on both sides staggered, their weapons clattering to the ground. The strong wavered, and the weak collapsed.

In seconds, the endless noise of war turned into the gentle rhythm of slumber.

I landed softly before Zhu Shin, who was staring at me in disbelief. He had always been skeptical of my methods, my power, and my title. But the instant our eyes met, the skepticism vanished. His body trembled, and then he dropped to his knees.

I wasn’t even finished yet.

“Divine Word: Life.”

Emerald light spiraled around me as life force surged outward, blooming through the battlefield like a spring wind after a long winter. The wounded gasped as their torn flesh closed. The weary blinked as their strength returned. Confused soldiers from Riverfall looked at their hands, unscarred, unbroken, and alive.

Zhu Shin stared at the miracle unfolding before him. His eyes widened, and his voice broke as he bowed deeply, forehead pressed to the earth.

“Your… Your Eminence,” he whispered hoarsely. “This one is… awed by your divine might.”

I looked down at him, then reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder.

“Rise,” I said softly. “Raise your head proudly, Zhu Shin. There’s no need to bow before me.”

He hesitated, still trembling.

“Why, Your Eminence?”

“Because,” I smiled faintly, “there’s no need to kneel to your friends.”

“I must go now,” I told Zhu Shin, brushing the dirt from my robes. “Handle the clean-up here. Detain all of them. We’ll ransom the survivors… if not, we’ll find another use for them. Also, gather the dead… No need to bury them just yet.”

Zhu Shin nodded, still half-stunned by everything that had just happened. Before he could reply, I pressed my foot into the earth, and Zealot’s Stride carried me away in a burst of golden light. The world blurred into streaks of motion until I landed atop a shattered mountain wreathed in divine flame and the acrid scent of ozone.

Below, Nongmin fought like a storm.

He stood among a field of his puppets, some the size of towers, others shaped like hulking beasts, each one clashing against an army of angel-like soldiers. They weren’t the kind of angels I once knew, but they carried the same aesthetic with brilliant wings, flawless visages, and auras of divine light that twisted the heavens themselves. Their power scaled according to their opponent’s strength. A broken concept, really. It made them formidable against anyone short of an immortal army.

Still, Nongmin held his own.

His voice reached me through the battlefield, sharp and annoyed.

“Are you just going to watch? Or are you going to do something?”

I smirked. “You got it handled, buddy…”

He barely dodged a spear of light that grazed his shoulder, using a substitution technique at the last second. Another puppet crumbled in his place.

“This is not the time for jokes,” he snapped, voice hoarse. “I’m nearly out of qi, and my control over quintessence is subpar. Are you really going to stand there and waste time?”

“Chill,” I muttered.

I wasn’t ignoring him… I was analyzing. My Divine Sense, now bolstered by faith, quintessence, and the Hollow Star, spread across the battlefield like an unseen tide. Within moments, I had read the structure of the angelic soldiers from their bodies, their energy flow, and their essence.

“Rather than full angels,” I murmured, “these are more like half-angels… They were incomplete constructs, really.”

They had potential. If perfected, they could likely cultivate independently. But right now, their existence relied on imitation, shallow copies of celestial law. I recalled my old world’s angels… They were always scaling, always adjusting, and never truly their own. Back in LLO, we used buffed-up villager NPCs to counter them, feeding our armies while bleeding theirs dry. That memory almost made me nostalgic.

The angels suddenly halted. Their glowing eyes turned toward me.

“It’s Da Wei!”

“Get him!”

“Maintain formation!”

“Use your divine powers on him!”

Their killing intent flared, golden and suffocating. Their power scaled to match mine at the Perfect Immortal realm, but I could already tell it was hollow. A mirror image without substance.

I sighed. “Fake strength, huh?”

They charged.

“Holy Smite.”

A silver halo formed above them, one for each angel.

“Immortal Art: Godslayer.”

The halos ignited, bursting into radiant flame. From each one rained countless silver arrows, each arrow wrapped in godslaying energy. When they struck, the angels detonated one after another into explosions of light and shredded wings filling the sky like falling stars.

Their screams faded quickly.

Nongmin’s puppets moved in eerie synchronization, finishing the stragglers. Mechanical cannons thundered across the battlefield, vaporizing those who tried to escape. In less than a minute, the once-proud angelic legion had been reduced to drifting ash and broken halos.

Silence followed.

Only Nongmin and I remained among the debris. He was breathing hard, sweat glistening on his brow beneath the blindfold that covered his eyes.

“I saw your coronation,” he said finally, his tone a mix of curiosity and dry humor. “So, should I refer to you as His Eminence? Or is it His Holiness now?”

I snorted. “If I were in the joking mood, I’d bicker with you right now… and maybe even decree that you call me ‘Father.’”

“That’s too much,” he replied flatly.

I chuckled, faking a cough. “But I have somewhere else to be.”

Nongmin’s blindfold turned slightly toward me, as if his unseen eyes could pierce the air itself. His voice softened, a rare thing for him. “Go, then. This… this is your rightful place in the heavens. No one will take it from you.”

He lowered his head and gave a small, respectful bow.

“His Holy Majesty.”

Yes. That was right. I’m the Holy Emperor now.

I used Zealot’s Stride and Divine Speed together, tearing through the wind like a storm of golden and silver light. The world blurred into streaks of smoke and sound until I reached the front lines. The air here felt heavy, and the entire sky was cast in shadow. A solar eclipse hung above the battlefield, bleeding faint light like a wounded eye.

“This has to be Ru Qiu’s Immortal Art,” I muttered, narrowing my gaze.

Our forces were winning by a massive margin. Ru Qiu stood at the center of the carnage, his every movement graceful yet brutal, like an executioner’s dance. His dark blazing sword brutally hammered at Jue Bu’s defenses.

“Impressive,” I murmured. Even with the Hollow Star, I hadn’t been able to directly view this battlefield earlier. “This makes me more curious about Ru Qiu’s identity before the False Earth. He wasn’t ordinary then… and he sure isn’t ordinary now.”

I turned my attention to the sky. The rebel fleet was in ruins, ships burning and crashing into the sands below. Ren Jingyi, that fat goldfish of a dragon, was gleefully soaring among her kin, breathing actual golden fire and smashing hulls like they were toys. Yuen Fu and Lu Gao were cutting down hordes of undead, their weapons singing with power.

Farther ahead, Ren Xun was locked in a fierce duel with Bai Rong, their powers carving thunder through the air. I frowned. Did none of them see my coronation? Or were the rebels just that stubborn, still clinging to their doomed ideals? Either way, this battle had gone on long enough.

I raised my hand and channeled faith into my voice.

“Turn Undead.”

The Hollow Star flared above my crown, radiating waves of silver and golden light. The qi of the world quaked in response, trembling under the weight of quintessence as I unleashed it. Across the field, the undead army faltered.

I could hear the collective scream of their essence as my will pressed down upon them, souls of the restless silenced by divine command. I didn’t destroy them outright; I wanted them subdued. I’d need their strength for the coming World War, and perhaps, I could restore some of them to life one day.

The flow of faith surged through me, filling every vein, replenishing the quintessence I spent. The Hollow Star pulsed warmly, pleased.

“Now, to deal with the fox…”

Jia Sen was fully transformed, his monstrous form bristling with illusions and frost alike. His tails lashed violently as he clashed with Ru Qiu, but his strength was waning. Using Zealot’s Stride, I leaped and crossed the distance in an instant. My foot landed squarely on his back, slamming him into the ground with the weight of my will.

Ru Qiu, bloodied and exhausted, looked up at me. His robes were in tatters, and his breath was visible in the cold air radiating from his own power.

“You’re late,” he said, his voice sharp and shaking. “Don’t make me fight your battles, Da Wei. What happened to you?!”

I ignored him for the moment. Jia Sen writhed beneath my heel, growling curses through a cracked muzzle.

“Stay still.”

I drew a vial from my pocket dimension, filled with crimson liquid swirling within. The blood of Da Ji. Without hesitation, I poured it over him, chanting Exorcise again and again. Divine power surged, filling the air with a high-pitched hum.

“My daughter told me to take it easy on you,” I said evenly, “so be grateful, Jia Sen.”

He howled as the sacred blood soaked into him. His monstrous form began to crumble, fur and flesh peeling away like old bark until all that remained was a frail, naked old man lying beneath me. His cultivation was collapsing, suppressed completely by Da Ji’s blood, an ancient power that recognized the lesser bloodline of foxes.

I didn’t understand why Gu Jie wanted me to spare him, but I trusted her enough not to question it. For all my ruthlessness, I wasn’t one to deny those I loved. Besides, keeping Jia Sen alive might prove useful later.

I grabbed him by the throat, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. His frail body trembled as his eyes met mine, eyes filled with hatred and despair.

“It’s my overwhelming victory, Jia Sen.”

He coughed blood, trembling as his lips twisted into a bitter smile.

“It’s not the end yet… The Heavenly Temple… won’t fall so easily!”

His teeth sank into his lower lip, blood gushing as the formation beneath his skin lit up. Frost erupted from his body in a violent surge. His flesh turned crystalline, freezing from within until he became a statue of pure ice.

For a brief moment, his frozen eyes still glared at me. With a sharp crack, the statue shattered, crumbling into a thousand shards of frost that scattered across the ground and vanished into mist.

I exhaled slowly, lowering my hand.

“Typical,” I murmured. “Even in death, you just had to make a scene.”

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose as the smell of frost and blood lingered in the air. The battlefield had quieted, save for the occasional hiss of vapor where ice met flame. Ru Qiu stood several paces away, his sword still resting on his shoulder, breath steady, but his expression unreadable.

“Ru Qiu,” I said, exhaling. “Can you turn off your Immortal Art?”

He turned his head sharply, glaring at me with the pride of a man who refused to bow to anyone, not even to me.

“How dare you order me?”

A moment later, the dark eclipse above us began to fade, sunlight piercing through the roiling clouds. The oppressive weight that had been pressing down on heaven and earth slowly lifted.

I brushed the frost off my robes and turned my attention back to the patch of ground where Jia Sen had turned himself into a statue of ice. My Divine Sense followed the last threads of his fading essence. The method he used to self-destruct was clever and destructive enough to erase him completely, but intricately crafted to counter resurrection spells.

Still, he should’ve known better.

“You thought that’d stop me?” I murmured. “Cute.”

The Hollow Star pulsed faintly atop my head, resonating with my will. I raised a hand.

“Divine Word: Life.”

The command rippled through the world like a gentle bell tone. Life qi gathered, glowing green motes swirling above the frost dust that had once been Jia Sen. I felt my quintessence dip sharply, but the Hollow Star immediately replenished it, drawing on faith from across the Hollowed World.

“Blessed Regeneration.”

The frost dust shivered, melting into flesh and bone. Within seconds, Jia Sen’s form reassembled before me, his chest rising in a ragged breath as life was forced back into his lungs.

“Divine Word: Raise.”

Jia Sen gasped awake, his eyes wild, before my hand shot forward and seized him by the throat. His attempts to resist were pitiful, a flicker of foxfire that sputtered out against my aura.

“You’ve lived long enough to know that defiance is useless,” I said coldly.

With my Divine Sense, I delved into the fractured remains of his pocket dimension, ignoring his muffled screams as I pushed deeper, bypassing seals and illusions. What I found twisted my gut. Floating within the core of his dantian was a body.

“Lin Lim,” I whispered, feeling a surge of anger crawl up my spine.

Through quintessence telekinesis, I dragged the body out. The air rippled as the corpse emerged and lay gently at my feet. She was intact, her face peaceful in death. Ren Xun’s bride. A mortal woman, far too delicate for the games of immortals.

“You really stooped this low,” I muttered, tightening my grip around Jia Sen’s throat. “Keeping a mortal’s body in your dantian? What did you even want from her?”

His eyes widened, but I had already sealed his throat by crushing them in my palm. His voice choked out, silenced permanently.

“I’m curious why you took her body and what you saw in her,” I said. “But that’s for another time.”

I released a slow breath. My patience was wearing thin.

“Now that I’ve taken away your voice,” I continued, “I’ll take away your cultivation.”

I raised my right hand and pressed my palm against his chest. Divine light flared.

“Divine Smite.”

Power surged from my hand, slicing through his meridians like molten glass. I felt his core shatter, and his qi dissipating into nothingness. To ensure permanence, I infused the strike with Immortal Art: Godslayer, leaving not a fragment of spiritual energy behind.

Jia Sen convulsed, eyes rolling back, as an eerie howl filled the air.

From his ruined dantian burst thousands of fox-shaped phantoms. They were translucent and wailing, their eyes empty but full of sorrow. They were all connected by faint red threads of karma. The realization struck me like a blade.

“The Cloud Mist Sect…” I whispered. “Your disciples.”

Each fox spirit lunged at Jia Sen, teeth gnashing, their ghostly cries filled with hatred and despair.

“So this is what you did,” I said bitterly.

I lifted my hand.

“Exorcise.”

The silver light of purification washed over them, unraveling the vengeful phantoms one by one until only motes of light remained, souls finally freed from torment. The wind carried them away like ashes returning to heaven.

When silence returned, Jia Sen lay trembling, a mortal once more. He was powerless, voiceless, and stripped of every shred of pride.

“You devoured your own disciples,” I said quietly, my voice trembling between fury and disgust. “You consumed the very people who followed you, twisted them into ghosts, and bound them to your core just to strengthen yourself.”

He could not answer, his breath came in wheezes, and his eyes swam with hollow shame.

“If that’s the way of the Heavenly Temple,” I continued, “then you’re no temple. You’re just a den of demons who don’t know any better! You disgust me, Jia Sen! Are you not ashamed!?”

“Ru Qiu, handle the rest,” I said, my tone leaving no room for argument. I didn’t even wait for him to respond as I bent down and lifted Lin Lim’s limp body in my arms. Her skin was pale, her pulse absent, yet her face held a serenity that felt like a quiet plea for peace. I could still feel faint traces of her lingering soul. It was fragile, but not gone.

Ru Qiu’s qi flared behind me like a cutting blade, irritated by my command. His pride always had a sharp edge to it. Still, I layered my words in Qi Speech, letting the resonance of divine will echo through the air.

“That old man is important to us. Gu Jie specifically asked me to spare him.”

There was a pause, the kind that carried grudging respect tangled with resentment. Then Ru Qiu’s voice cut through the silence, equally through Qi Speech.

“This is the last time, Da Wei.”

I didn’t answer. In the blink of an eye, Zealot’s Stride carried me across the wasteland, wind tearing at my robes as the world blurred around me. I stopped at the heart of the desert where two figures clashed under the dim sky. It was Bai Rong and Ren Xun.

The scene was chaos. The sands were torn and pitted with gaping craters where dragon corpses lay half-buried, their scales dimmed of light. Bai Rong, his body pulsing with strange crystalline roots, fought with an eerie calm, each strike birthing spears of jagged crystal that skewered undead and dragons alike. The air was thick with death qi and fragments of divine essence.

Ren Xun, though empowered by borrowed might, was clearly faltering. His dragon form flickered between scales and skin, his breathing labored. Despite the borrowed strength of an Ascended Soul, he was reaching his limit.

My gaze shifted briefly to the undead still clawing their way across the battlefield. I frowned.

“My Turn Undead didn’t work… The roots are sustaining them,” I muttered under my breath.

The essence of the roots carried a familiar taint, something I hadn’t felt since using my Asura Soul. It was alive, parasitic, and feeding on both death and divinity.

Enough of that.

I raised a hand, summoning halos of silver light that floated above every corrupted corpse.

“Holy Smite.”

“Immortal Art: Godslayer.”

The halos pulsed, releasing endless torrents of silver arrows made of godslaying quintessence. One by one, the undead erupted in bursts of light, their shells disintegrating to ash. The sky turned white for a moment before silence returned, broken only by the rustling wind.

“Divine Word: Raise.”

I spoke softly, and the sand trembled. Life qi blossomed in emerald waves. The fallen dragons stirred, their once dull scales regaining color. One after another, they rose and, with thunderous roars, ascended back into the skies.

I descended slowly, divine radiance blooming beneath each step as I landed between Ren Xun and Bai Rong. My presence halted their duel. With a flick of my hand, I cast Halo of Restriction not once, but three times. Silver rings layered themselves around Bai Rong, locking him mid-motion. His limbs stiffened, his qi collapsing under the divine seals.

Ren Xun dropped to one knee, chest heaving, eyes glistening with exhaustion.

“Apologies, Lord Wei…” he said, his voice hoarse. “I’ve proven myself inadequate… time and time again.”

I shook my head. “No. You did well, Ren Xun.”

He blinked, confused, before his gaze darted to the still form in my arms. His breath hitched.

“Is that…?”

“Yes.”

The single word broke him. Tears welled up as he stumbled forward, his hand trembling as he reached for her. His knees hit the sand as I gently laid Lin Lim before him.

“Divine Word: Raise.”

A warm light enveloped her body, threads of green and gold wrapping around her frame. Her lips parted faintly at first, before a fragile breath escaped her chest. Her eyes fluttered open, reflecting the light of the restored sun.

“Lin Lim…” Ren Xun whispered, his voice breaking as he pulled her into his arms.

Behind them, Bai Rong thrashed within his restraints, his once-calm demeanor shattered.

“THIS CAN’T BE! THIS CAN’T BE!” he screamed, his voice raw with desperation. “I CAN’T ACCEPT THIS RESULT! I SHOULD’VE WON! IT’S MY DESTINY!”

I tilted my head, watching him with mild pity. “Maybe I’d be more convinced if you could break my Halo of Restriction.”

Silver light shimmered around the rings, sealing tighter as Bai Rong screamed and struggled to no avail.

Ren Xun’s tear-streaked face lifted toward me. His eyes were no longer clouded by grief, only resolve.

“Lord Wei… allow me. Let me end this.”

I studied him for a long moment. His grip around Lin Lim tightened. There was fire in his eyes. It was righteous, but dangerously close to vengeance. I exhaled softly. “Ren Xun, as the Dragon King and Sovereign of Riverfall, you are more than a man seeking retribution. Killing from hatred is beneath you.”

He looked down, his jaw trembling.

“I see…”

Ren Xun helped Lin Lim to her feet, arms steady but hands trembling slightly as he supported her. She blinked, disoriented, then found her balance, eyes searching until they landed on Ren Xun. He gave her a small, decisive nod and then turned to face Bai Rong. The fire in Ren Xun’s gaze had hardened into something else. It was not rage, but a ruler’s resolve.

I cleared my throat and spoke to him plainly, the words coming out harsher than I expected. “I’m probably going to kill more people in the future, and with my temper, I will probably do it with revenge in mind, because I hate seeing my people hurt. But I don’t want vengeance to be a cheap relief that only makes me feel lighter. Killing for catharsis is weak. There doesn’t need to be a grand reason to punish someone, Ren Xun, but remember this: when you judge, it’s not only your choice. It’s the fate of those who depend on you.”

Ren Xun studied me a beat, then bowed his head as if the words sank into him. “I understand,” he said quietly, voice steadying. “A ruler carries more than his own temper. I will carry the burden of the people first.”

He turned to Bai Rong and began to list the crimes as if reading from a ledger of ruin: inciting rebellion across the border provinces, colluding with foreign forces, ambushing pilgrims, stealing grain convoys, murdering envoy caravans, sacrificing villages to test blood rites, and betraying trust by poisoning the alliance treaty during peace talks. Every accusation was a cut of cold truth.

Bai Rong laughed, wild and defiant. “Don’t think of yourself too noble, boy! You’re going to kill me out of revenge for your parents—”

I cut him off simply. “A crime judged now is a crime judged forever.”

Ren Xun didn’t hesitate. With a single, clean motion, he swung his great dragon spear, and the world seemed to catch its breath as Bai Rong’s head separated from his shoulders. The headless body went limp for a heartbeat, but then Bai Rong’s voice still rose, mad and loud and full of hate. “I CAN’T LET THIS STAND! THE BLOOD OF AN ASURA FLOWS WITHIN ME! I AM AN ASURA! I WILL DIE LIKE AN ASURA!”

Power gathered at Bai Rong’s empty chest like a storm, qi spiraling into a terrible, pulsing core. An explosion was imminent, one that would scorch the sand and everything near it. My hand already twitched to stop it, but Ren Xun moved faster. Several dragon scales spun from his body and clustered around the headless form, glinting as formations flared along their edges. He guided them with will and telekinesis, weaving them into a perfect spherical barrier that swallowed the blast before it could break free. For a few terrifying seconds, the barrier held, light and force wrestling inside that sphere while the desert held its breath.

Then the containment ruptured upward. The blast drove skyward in a column of raw energy that exploded above us, but its force dispersed harmlessly into the thinning clouds instead of raining down on the battlefield. The miracle followed: life qi poured like rain. Where the column touched the sand, green shoots pushed up and spread, grass unfurling as if spring had been loosed across the desert. Roots threaded into the soil, and small plants bloomed in the footprints of boots and dragon claws. The dead air became sweet.

“Marvelously done, Ren Xun.”

I watched the green spread and felt something knot loose inside me. It was a small, ugly tension that had been building since the Hollow Star had laced me with a world’s burden. It eased. The Hollow Star hummed in a way that felt like approval.

Ren Xun lowered his spear and looked at me, his robes dusted with sand and new grass. “Lord Wei,” he said, voice tired but clear, “the field is cleared. The rebels are broken. The dragons will return to the skies for patrol. What do you require?”

“We finish this war,” I said. “Gather survivors, secure the borders, and mend the Empire. Raze what needs rending, but rebuild where we can. We patch lives first, then punish properly. Start with relief and food. Then trials. Mercy, where it protects the many. Let the people see the meaning of our justice.”

“We will do as you command, Your Eminence,” he said, and there was no pleading in his voice. Instead, only duty. “Riverfall shall not fail you.”

I launched with Zealot’s Stride, tearing across the sky until the last battlefield lay beneath me like a blot on a map. The air tasted of burned banners and iron; the ground was a quilt of scorched earth and discarded standards. Men and beasts alike were moving in confused lines as Yuen Fu and Lu Gao barked orders to contain the rout. At the center of the chaos, Feng Shuren, scarred, one arm missing, pride still burning in his eyes, tried to marshal a retreat formation as his officers shouted behind him.

I let the wind die down around me and used Lion’s Roar, my voice booming like a temple bell, then layered it with Qi Speech so the words carried as law and not merely sound.

“THE WAR IS OVER! THE SEVEN IMPERIAL HOUSEHOLDS ARE NO MORE. I, DA WEI, CLAIM DOMINION OVER THE EMPIRE! GREET YOUR RULER WITH SUPPLICATION OR PERISH UNDER HIS LIGHT! CHOOSE WISELY, AND I MAY GRANT YOU MERCY!”

A golden cross, the shape of Judgment Severance, ripped open a rift behind me and hung there like a verdict. I hovered above Feng Shuren, letting my spiritual pressure swell until the winds whipped the field into a gale and banners flapped like drowned beasts. The pressure pressed in on every chest, making knees buckle and reasoning thin.

Feng Shuren’s face brightened with fury and fear. He spat words at me, voice raw with command and pleading both. “You can’t simply demand surrender as if exile were the only fate! Do you know what surrender means for men like us? Exile, dishonor, the slaying of families to stamp out future revolt… do you think we will accept that? Run now, and perhaps the gods will grant us a second life!”

His captains echoed the sentiment, voices fractured by panic: “If we flee… if we live… we build a chance. We are not ready to die like dogs!”

“YOU ARE FREE TO TRY!” I shouted back. “WITH THE HOLLOW STAR UPON MY BROW, EVEN HEAVEN WILL BEND, SO BE FOREWARNED OF TERRIBLE FATES IF YOU STILL CONTINUE TO RESIST!”

The wind knocked their words into ragged silence. They were itching to run, boots already turned to flee, but the presence of the crown and the cross held them like an invisible leash.

I let them feel the choice in full: flee and die by the hunt, or kneel and live uncertainly under my law. The soldiers wavered, eyes darting, shame pricking them for the families they might yet protect. One by one, excepting Feng Shuren, the remaining captains dropped to their knees. Pride buckled under survival.

Feng Shuren did not kneel. He straightened and spread his one good arm across his chest as if to shield its decay. “I will die a hero’s death,” he declared, voice ringing with stubborn theater.

I laughed, low and hard. “YOU ARE NO HERO.”

He flung his arm wide, daring me. “STRIKE ME DOWN, DA WEI!” His words were merely showmanship, an attempt to reclaim dignity in the face of death.

Under the weight of my crown and the truth it enforced, his bravado looked small.

Feng Shuren’s jaw worked. He spat blood and vowed theatrically about legacy and honor, and his captains trembled even as their knees sat firmly on the ground. Traitorous officers mouthed pleas for mercy in their hearts; some mumbled about children at home and fields to be tended. The choice wore them down.

“No choice remains for you,” I said, the words soft but absolute. “You will all live as mortals. That is the end of your punishment as leaders. Repent, struggle, and learn to feel the pains of those you once crushed. Maybe then you will learn to be greater by being less.”

I centered my breath and gathered holy light around my palms. The field dimmed as the silver radiance of Holy Smite congealed. The halos above my hands hissed with quintessence altered by the Hollow Star, by Exalted Renewal, and by the faith that hummed through every living thing within range. I guided the beam.

A dozen leaders went still, eyes wide and stunned, thinking for a desperate flash that they might bargain, shout, or flee… until the light struck.

Meridians exploded like glass under pressure. Dantian cores cracked and hissed, losing their spiritual resonance as the Holy Smite shattered the lattice of cultivation and technique inside them. Screams tore the air into ragged silk, then stopped as breath became raw and shallow. The smoke of divine rupture curled in the sunlight.

“BE GRATEFUL, MORTALS, FOR I’VE GRANTED YOU MERCY.”

In the following couple of months, I worked harder than I ever had in my entire life. Rebuilding an empire was no small feat, but resurrecting it literally was another matter altogether. I spent days and nights using the Hollow Star, invoking the divine words of creation and rebirth to bring back every casualty of the war. Every fallen soldier, every cultivator, every poor soul who perished in the flames of conflict, enemy or ally, returned to life. I didn’t resurrect the ‘enemies’ as cultivators, though. Their cores were sealed, and their dantians were shattered. They woke as mortals, weak but alive. That was enough.

Gu Jie oversaw the delicate matters that came afterward: redistributing the Seven Clans across different continents, giving them new names, new lives, and new beginnings. We needed every ounce of manpower we could muster. The World War was already brewing on the horizon, a dark promise waiting beyond the veil of our fragile peace. In my eyes, a mortal was just as valuable as any cultivator. Every mortal carried a spark of destiny. When millions of sparks gathered, they became a sun that could illuminate an entire civilization.

I had learned that lesson the hard way when I lived as Wen Yuhan. Destiny wasn’t just about strength. Instead, it was about survival, perseverance, and the will to keep going even when no one else believed you could. Still, even I knew my generosity came at a cost. The Hollow Star was too overpowered and perfect. I’d been waiting for the price to reveal itself. So far, nothing. And that terrified me more than anything else.

But fear didn’t mean I could afford to rest. The duties of a Holy Emperor left no room for hesitation. I rewarded my champions, honored the dead, and called for the greatest banquet in our empire’s history.

The hall of Mount Qingshi shone in candlelight. The mountain itself had survived the war’s impact, wedged like a heavenly citadel between Riverfall and Evernight. We’d rebuilt it, not as a fortress, but as a palace, a place of remembrance and rebirth. I sat upon a dragonbone throne, watching as the people closest to me gathered: my disciples, my twin sister, Alice, my comrades, and my most trusted allies.

“I am truly blessed,” I said, the words heavy yet sincere.

Their faces glowed with pride and exhaustion. But among them, I saw the quiet grief that lingered in every heart. Liang Na wasn’t here. Ren Xun’s parents, Ren Jin and Yue Ruo. They were all gone. Even Sikao Biaoji wasn’t here… I missed that arrogant man more than I’d ever admit aloud. Even in death, he managed to make the world feel smaller without him.

I raised a goblet of golden wine and stood. “My friends, comrades, and family,” I began, my voice carrying across the grand hall. “Tonight, we celebrate victory. But before we drink to our triumph, I ask for a moment of silence.”

The chatter faded. Every hand lowered. I closed my eyes and let the silence stretch, heavy but sacred.

“Let us offer a prayer,” I said softly. “To the gods within our hearts, who guide us even in silence. Grant us strength to endure what comes next. Grant us peace for the loved ones we’ve lost. Let our pain become the soil from which new hope may grow. May we fill the emptiness they left behind not with sorrow, but with purpose.”

The prayer lingered in the air like incense. The warmth of divine light pulsed faintly in the hall, brushing against their hearts. But the moment the glow faded, so did the solemn peace. The atmosphere turned heavy, and I sighed, realizing perhaps I’d gone too far with the emotion.

“Please,” I said, forcing a smile, “raise your heads.”

A few sniffled. Even the usually composed Hei Mao pretended he wasn’t wiping his eyes. Nongmin sat quietly in the corner, wine untouched. I knew his grief ran deeper than most. His empire was gone, his son Ren Jin dead, and his other children scattered. The Seven Imperial Households had fled like broken constellations across the continents. I wanted to tell him I’d already set plans to find and protect them, but I knew words would only cheapen his pain.

I looked around again at my people, my family, the empire reborn, and felt a rare, fragile warmth bloom inside me.

“We survived,” I said, my tone soft but unwavering. “We did great. But we will do better.” I paused, meeting every gaze I could. “All of this… the rebuilding, the peace, this empire… it would have been impossible without you. Everyone of you. So, from the bottom of my heart…” I bowed my head deeply. “Thank you.”

There was a collective gasp as everyone scrambled to their feet, some even panicking. “Your Majesty! Please don’t bow!” “Your Holiness, we’re unworthy!”

Their cries filled the hall, but I didn’t raise my head immediately.

The banquet hall shimmered like a living jewel. Light from hundreds of hovering spirit-lanterns danced across the marble floors, divine incense rolled through the air like soft clouds, and laughter replaced the sounds of war drums.

After finishing my commendations, each medal, title, and sacred blessing bestowed, I let them enjoy themselves. They deserved it. Every one of them had spilled blood and tears for the world that was now being reborn before our eyes.

“It’s going to mean a lot of work, though… But I guess, I’m going to enjoy the moment…”

Ru Qiu, as expected, was already causing trouble. He was leaning far too close to Gu Jie, whispering something obnoxious that made her glare at him with that restrained fury that only she could manage. Still, her composure remained flawless as she politely excused herself to join Lu Gao and Yuen Fu, who were boasting about their battlefield feats. “Ten undead generals in one strike,” Yuen Fu claimed, waving his cup. “And none of you can prove otherwise!” Lu Gao nearly choked on his drink, laughing, “Ten? Please, I saw you cry when one of the undead horses bit you!”

At another corner, the newly transformed Ren Jingyi, still trapped in the form of a little girl, was arguing with Hei Mao, who’d somehow reverted to a mischievous boy. They were bickering over sweets, Hei Mao teasing her endlessly. “You eat like a pig!” he laughed, ducking as Ren Jingyi threw a steamed bun at him. “At least I don’t smell like a cat!” she retorted.

Meanwhile, Ren Xun was having a crisis of his own. He was desperately trying to introduce his resurrected bride, Lin Lim, to his dragon concubines. “I swear, they’re just attendants!” he pleaded, as Lin Lim’s confusion deepened with every passing moment. The dragons, proud and radiant in their humanoid forms, were smiling a little too smugly for Lin Lim’s comfort. I couldn’t help but laugh softly when Lin Lim blinked, her eyes, miraculously regenerated through my spellwork, gleamed with the same innocence as before.

“Ah, we’d have to redo their wedding,” I thought aloud. “I wonder what kind of wedding fits best?”

By the window, Nongmin sat in quiet solitude. The blindfold over his eyes fluttered slightly from the breeze seeping through the cracks. He was smoking his pipe, the faint aroma of burning herbs mixing with the feast’s sweetness. His posture was calm, but the wistfulness clinging to his aura told another story. Zhu Shin soon joined him, carrying his gourd of liquor. Without words, he poured a glass for Nongmin. They shared a drink in silence, the kind of silence that only those who understood loss could bear together.

Even the Guardians had come. Ding Shan stood proudly among them, his silver armor glinting as he spoke with Yuen Fu. “So, how many wives do you have now?” Ding Shan asked bluntly. Yuen Fu sighed. “Less than before,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “But their memories live on.” Ding Shan nodded. The two clasped hands not as soldiers, but as old friends.

At the far end, Dave and Joan sat with the dragons. Ren Xun and Lin Lim joined them shortly after, their laughter awkward at first, was slowly warming into something genuine. Nearby, Ye Yong and a few of her Night Blades had joined the table. Ye Yong, in her black silks, was playfully pestering Dave, who looked torn between flattery and fear. Joan’s glare could’ve melted mountains. “Touch him again, and I’ll cut your hand off,” she warned. Ye Yong only smirked. “Relax, I just like his accent.”

As if the chaos weren’t enough, Jue Bu had found his way into the mix, surrounded by Night Blades and dragons alike. He was laughing, flirting shamelessly, and soon stood atop a table with a harp slung across his shoulder. “A song!” he declared. “For the end of war… and the beginning of far more interesting nights!” The Night Blades joined him with flutes and strings, weaving a lively ballad that made even the most stoic of warriors smile.

In the corner near the phoenix-carved pillars, my sister Da Ji was playing a gentle tune with her son, Chen Wei. The elf boy looked mortified as the Phoenix Guards, radiant in their crimson armors, kept teasing him. “Such a handsome young man,” one purred. Chen Wei nearly tripped over his lute. “Mother, please control your guards!” he pleaded, while Da Ji laughed openly.

“I wonder what I’m supposed to do with the Phoenix Guards,” I sighed at the thought. “It’s a waste to leave them as bodyguards…”

I scanned the room again, noting absences and presences. Xue Xin and Lu Gao were nowhere to be seen until my Divine Sense caught them in the foyer, whispering and giggling like a pair of guilty lovers. I didn’t have the heart to interrupt them. Let them have their peace.

Then my gaze fell upon Jia Yun. She stood alone at first, looking uncertain, a ghost of sorrow hovering behind her calm face. The destruction of the Cloud Mist Sect had left a wound deeper than most could understand. Fortunately, she didn’t stay alone for long. Jiang Zhen and Fan Shi, both of the Isolation Path Sect, approached her. They spoke quietly, comfortingly. After a moment, Jia Yun smiled faintly. Good. Maybe she’d find a new path among them.

And then there was Alice. She sat casually on the armrest of my throne, one leg crossed over the other, her floral pink hair swaying in the light. Her expression was soft, but her eyes carried that knowing amusement. “You look like a proud parent watching over children,” she teased.

“Maybe I am,” I replied with a small smile.

“I’m waiting, David,” she said. “Or did you already forget?”

I sighed, already feeling a headache coming. “I told you, didn’t I? Call me Da Wei when we’re in public. Holy Emperor and all that. Image, Alice, image.” I waved my hand vaguely toward the feast around us. “So, what is it you’re waiting for? Hey, you want a reward? I asked you what you wanted during the commendation, but you didn’t tell me.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, lips curling with that infuriating mix of patience and danger. “You can’t keep dodging this, David.”

I blinked at her, feigning confusion. “Wait, do you want a kiss or something?”

“It’s not funny, David.”

“Then what?” I raised an eyebrow, leaning closer. “Is this about your quest to become human again? Because I’ve been working on it, you know.”

She gave me that look, the one that screamed she was losing faith in my intelligence. “Do you have the memory of a goldfish?”

I laughed. “It’s your fault, you’re being vague!”

Just then, the tiny footsteps of chaos approached. Ren Jingyi ran up to us with a spark of excitement in her eyes. “Did someone call me?” she asked earnestly. “I think someone called me!”

That was it. I lost it. My composure cracked as a laugh slipped past my lips. Before I could reply, Hei Mao, now in his adult form, swooped in, picked the little girl up by the waist, and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of rice.

He muttered, “Let adults talk, Jingyi,” as she flailed and yelled at him, “Put me down, you overgrown cat!”

I wiped a tear from my eye, trying to stifle my laughter. “You see, this is why I can’t have serious conversations,” I said, turning back to Alice. “Now, where were we?”

Her smile softened, though the glint in her eyes didn’t fade. “You still haven’t answered my question, David.”

I tilted my head. “Alright then. What is it you’ve been waiting for and vaguely hinting at me for the past week? If it isn’t a reward, then what is it?”

Alice leaned closer, so close that I could smell the faint trace of blossoms from her hair. Her voice dropped to a whisper that brushed against my ear like silk. “You promised me,” she said, “that you would rest.”

I blinked, taken aback. “Rest? I’ll do that when I’m dead.”

She smiled, slow and dangerous, the kind of smile that made me instinctively straighten my back. “Then I’ve decided,” she whispered. “I do want a reward after all.”

I frowned, wary. “And what reward would that be?”

Her tongue darted across her lips, eyes gleaming with mischief and something deeper, something that made my heart beat faster than any battle ever had.

“I want you,” she said softly, “for the night.”

I swallowed hard, feeling an odd mix of dread and heat crawl up my neck. “That’s… uh…”

“If it takes strapping you to the bed,” she added sweetly, her voice dripping with mock innocence, “just to make you rest, then I will do it.”

I gulped audibly this time. Around us, laughter, music, and chatter filled the hall, but somehow, all I could hear was her.

“Ah, can I think about it?”

“No.”