Myth Beyond Heaven

Yun Lintian stared at Meng Xuan for a long moment.

Then—

“Can’t destroy?… You better open your eyes wide and watch me.”

He released Meng Xuan, letting him collapse at the base of the altar.

Then he stepped back, his right arm coiling with black energy.

Not just energy—

Death energy.

Primordial, ancient, and wrathful.

The air warped as Yun Lintian’s arm transformed, his flesh shifting into scales, his fingers elongating into claws.

A spectral black dragon materialized around his arm, its eyes burning with the same prismatic light that had defied Lu Xingzhi.

“Dragon Fist.”

Yun Lintian punched.

ROARRRR!!

The dragon roared, its maw opening wide as it slammed into the altar.

For a single, frozen moment—

Nothing happened.

Then—

BOOOOOOM—!

The altar exploded, its flesh-like surface rupturing like an overripe fruit. The blood rivers feeding it evaporated, the slaughter-energy contained within screeching as it was annihilated.

The backlash hurled Meng Xuan backward, his body crashing through three pillars before skidding to a stop.

He raised his head, his golden eyes wide with disbelief.

“Im… possible…”

The altar was gone.

Not just destroyed—erased, as if it had never existed.

Yun Lintian walked toward him, his arm returning to normal, his expression cold.

“Any last words?”

Meng Xuan coughed, his body already crumbling without the altar’s power sustaining him.

But he laughed, his voice weak but defiant.

“You… think this is over?”

His golden eyes glowed faintly.

“The God of Time… won’t let you leave… alive…”

Then—

His body dissolved, turning to golden dust that scattered in the wind.

Silence.

The hall was wrecked, the survivors stunned, the battle finally over.

Yun Lintian turned, his gaze locking onto Long Qingxuan.

She was still kneeling, her breathing labored, her wounds glowing faintly as her draconic regeneration worked to heal her.

Their eyes met.

And for the first time since the fight began—

Yun Lintian’s expression softened.

“Qingxuan.”

He moved, crossing the distance in an instant, his hands gently catching her as she collapsed forward.

“I’m fine,” she murmured, though her trembling body betrayed her words.

Yun Lintian’s jaw tightened.

“Rest.”

He lifted her, cradling her against his chest as he turned to the others.

His eyes swept over them—Linlin, Qingqing, Yue Zhihe, Qian Jinglei, Tang Wei—all battered but alive.

Then they landed on Jian Kun and Lan Huiqian.

The Celestial Pavilion disciples flinched, their instincts screaming at them to flee.

But Yun Lintian didn’t attack.

Yun Lintian’s gaze lingered on the Celestial Pavilion disciples for only a moment before turning away. His attention shifted to the massive hourglass embedded in the far wall—the same one that had marked the beginning of Lu Xingzhi’s trial.

The sands within it had stopped moving, frozen mid-fall as if time itself had ceased to flow.

Ignoring the stunned whispers of the survivors, Yun Lintian walked toward it, his footsteps echoing in the ruined hall.

Long Qingxuan, still cradled in his arms, stirred slightly.

“Lintian…?” she murmured weakly.

“It’s fine,” he repeated softly, his voice a quiet command. “I’ll handle this.”

She said nothing more, trusting him completely.

The others—Linlin, Qingqing, Yue Zhihe, and the rest—followed at a distance, their expressions wary but curious.

Jian Kun and Lan Huiqian exchanged glances but did not dare interfere.

Yun Lintian stood before the hourglass, studying it.

The glass was flawless, untouched by the battle despite the destruction around it. The sands within gleamed like crushed diamonds, suspended in an eternal moment.

“What is he doing?” Jian Feng muttered under his breath, his voice trembling.

No one answered.

Yun Lintian reached out, his fingers hovering just above the glass.

Then—

He touched it.

The moment his skin made contact—

Silence.

Absolute, deafening silence.

The air stilled, the very particles of dust in the hall frozen in place.

Then—

Buzz!

A wave of temporal energy exploded outward, washing over everything in its path. The ruined hall shimmered, its broken pillars mending, its shattered floor repairing itself before their eyes.

But it wasn’t just the structure that changed.

The people did too.

No—not just people.

Memories.

Echoes of the past.

“Hiss.”

The survivors gasped as the Temporal Palace transformed around them.

Gone were the ruins.

In their place stood a grand, pristine hall, its marble floors polished to a mirror sheen, its towering pillars adorned with celestial engravings.

And it was filled with life.

Dozens—no, hundreds—of figures moved about, their forms semi-transparent, like ghosts.

Cultivators in ancient robes hurried down the corridors.

Scholars pored over scrolls at long tables.

Guards in gleaming armor stood watch at the doors.

“This…” Lan Huiqian whispered, her voice trembling. “This is the Temporal Palace… as it once was.”

Jian Kun’s eyes narrowed. “We’re seeing the past.”

Not just seeing.

Reliving it.

The ghostly figures paid them no mind, going about their business as if the present-day survivors weren’t even there.

Then—

A commotion near the hourglass.

A group of figures in black and gold robes approached, their faces hidden beneath deep hoods.

At their center stood a tall man, his presence commanding, his aura oppressive even in memory.

“The God of Time…” Tang Wei murmured, his liquid form rippling in recognition.

Nian Shi.

The ghostly figure of the God of Time raised a hand, and the hourglass responded, its sands shifting unnaturally.

“It is done,” he said, his voice echoing through time itself. “The trap is set.”

One of his subordinates bowed. “And the bait?”

Nian Shi’s lips curled beneath his hood.

“The Seed of Fate will come. He cannot resist the call of the Temporal Palace.”

A pause.

Then—

“And when he does… he will walk right into his own demise.”

The moment those words were spoken—

CRACK!

The hourglass fractured, the vision shattering like broken glass.

The grand hall dissolved, the ghostly figures fading into nothingness.

The ruins returned, the present reasserting itself with a deafening snap.

Silence.

Then—

“So it was a trap after all,” Yun Lintian murmured, his voice cold.

Lu Xingzhi hadn’t lied.

The entire trial, the entire palace—all of it had been designed to lure him in.

And he had walked right into it.

The remaining cultivators stared, their faces pale with realization.

Jian Feng swallowed hard, his earlier arrogance gone. “Th-the God of Time… set this up… for him?”

Jian Kun’s expression was unreadable, but his fingers trembled slightly around his sword hilt.

Lan Huiqian, however, stepped forward, her voice quiet but firm.

“Senior Yun… what do we do now?”

Yun Lintian didn’t answer immediately.

His gaze remained fixed on the hourglass, now cracked but still intact.

Then—

“We leave.”

He turned, his eyes scanning the hall one last time.

“This place has nothing left for us.”

With that, he walked away.

However, before he could leave, an energy ripple suddenly broke out from the deepest part of the hall.

Buzz—