Myth Beyond Heaven

The portal to Ancient Xia City shimmered as Yun Lintian stepped through, Linlin and Qingqing perched on his shoulders. The once-devastated city now buzzed with activity—workers repaired broken walls, merchants reopened shops, and children played in streets that had been bloodied just months before.

Yun Lintian wasn’t in a hurry. He walked slowly, observing the recovery. The resilience of these people reminded him why he fought.

Linlin’s ears twitched. “Big Brother Yun, why aren’t we going straight to the battlefield?”

“Let’s check it out first,” Yun Lintian said. “Nian Shi’s forces were active here. There might be clues.”

Qingqing tilted her head. “But the Chaos Knights are gone now, right?”

Before Yun Lintian could answer, a familiar voice cut through the crowd.

“Lintian!”

Yun Meilan emerged from a side street, her dark robes blending with the shadows until she chose to reveal herself. As head of the Cloud Shadow intelligence network, she moved like a ghost—present only when she wished to be.

Yun Lintian nodded slightly. “What happened?”

Yun Meilan’s sharp eyes darted around before she gestured toward a nearby tea house. “Not here.”

Inside a private room, she set up a soundproof barrier before speaking.

“The Primordial God Tribe isn’t what we thought,” she said bluntly.

“Right. The Primordial God Tribe. I almost forgot it.” Yun Lintian poured tea for them. “What is it? Fan Shen is gone now. They should have gone into hiding, right?”

Yun Meilan shook her head. “Fan Shen isn’t the true leader. He was one of them. And it’s not Nian Shi either.”

Linlin gasped. “Then who?”

Yun Meilan’s fingers traced the rim of her cup. “The Butterfly God Clan.”

Yun Lintian’s hand froze mid-pour.

The Butterfly God Clan—one of the two subordinate clans of the God of Fate. If it was true, why would they attack the Divine Realm, especially Yun Tian, who was the rightful inheritor of the God of Fate?

“Eighty percent,” Yun Meilan admitted. “Our spies found records here recently. Apparently, they were one of many True Gods who survived the Primordial War. And all the clues we found lead to them.”

Qingqing tugged Yun Lintian’s sleeve. “But why would they help Nian Shi? Weren’t they loyal to the God of Fate?”

Yun Meilan’s lips thinned. “That’s the question. Unless…”

“Unless their loyalty was never to Yun Tian,” Yun Lintian finished. “But to the original God of Fate.”

The room fell silent.

If the Butterfly God Clan still regarded the God of Fate as their master—not Yun Tian—then everything changed. The God of Fate had sacrificed himself to arrange his grand scheme. But what if his subordinates disagreed with that choice?

Yun Lintian set down the teapot. “Dig deeper. I need confirmation.”

Yun Meilan nodded. “Already on it.”

Yun Lintian watched as Yun Meilan left and fell into deep thought. It didn’t seem to make sense at all for the Butterfly God Clan to go against the God of Fate’s will. There must be something deeper behind this.

Yun Lintian shook his head, dismissing thoughts of the Butterfly God Clan for now. The immediate concern was the Ancient Battlefield’s core—if Nian Shi had taken it, he needed to confirm it personally.

“Let’s go,” he said to Linlin and Qingqing.

The trio left Ancient Xia City and went to the desolate expanse of the Ancient Battlefield. What was once a war-torn land teeming with corrupted creatures was now eerily silent. The Misty Cloud Sect’s purge had left the battlefield empty—no armies, no scavengers, just endless ruins under a blood-red sky.

Linlin’s ears drooped. “It’s so quiet…”

Qingqing shivered. “Too quiet.”

Yun Lintian’s gaze swept across the wasteland. The northern, southern, eastern, and western armies that once controlled sectors of the battlefield had been wiped out. The cities built by desperate survivors had collapsed. Only the earth itself remembered the battles fought here.

Soon, they reached the center—where a massive tunnel had once connected to the Realm of Chaos. Now, it was guarded by a contingent of Misty Cloud Sect disciples in white robes.

At their forefront stood a young woman with sharp eyes and an air of quiet authority.

“Headmaster!” She bowed deeply as Yun Lintian landed.

Yun Lintian smiled. “Xiaohong. You’ve grown up.”

Yun Xiaohong straightened, her cheeks tinged pink. “It’s been years since you last visited me, Headmaster.”

The disciples behind her stared in awe. Many were new recruited disciples who had never seen their legendary sect master in person.

Yun Lintian nodded to them. “You’ve all worked hard guarding this place.”

Yun Xiaohong’s expression turned serious. “The chaotic energy has weakened, but the tunnel remains unstable. We didn’t dare to go in.”

Yun Lintian nodded slightly. “Good decision. There’s no need to check it out… You all can leave. I’ll handle it.”

Yun Xiaohong hesitated. “Headmaster, are you sure—”

“I’m sure.”

With a final bow, Yun Xiaohong signaled the retreat. The disciples filed out, casting backward glances at their sect master.

Once they were gone, Yun Lintian raised a hand.

Space itself twisted under his command. The power of the God of Space flared, weaving an intricate net of sealing runes over the tunnel’s gaping maw. The unstable energies within bucked and writhed, but Yun Lintian’s will was absolute.

“Seal.”

With a final pulse of light, the tunnel collapsed in on itself, erased from existence. The last traces of chaotic energy dissipated like smoke in the wind.

Qingqing clapped her hands in surprise. “Wow! Gone just like that!”

Yun Lintian exhaled. One threat neutralized. But his real objective lay elsewhere.

His divine senses spread outward, combing the battlefield for traces of disturbance. Near the sealed tunnel, the earth had been recently disturbed—carefully covered up, but not enough to fool his perception.

“There.”

He waved a hand, and the dirt exploded upward, revealing a massive excavation site. The hole was deep, its walls smooth as if cut by divine power. At its bottom lingered a faint, ancient aura—the last remnants of whatever had been taken.

Qingqing peered over the edge. “They dug something big out!”

Linlin jumped down. “This energy… it’s like the battlefield’s heartbeat.”

Yun Lintian frowned slightly. Jian Yun had been right.

The core was gone.

And the traces left behind…

His fingers brushed the earth, reading its memory. The aura was old—older than the Primordial War. But mixed within it was something else.

“So, this is the power of those ancient gods?” Yun Lintian muttered to himself. Clearly, the aura was mixed with countless essences of the fallen ancient gods.