The stench of blood had long faded, but the silence screamed louder.
Liu Chen walked through the ruined city like a monarch returning to a fallen empire. His long robes fluttered with each step, soaked in an air of inviolable calm. The city, once full of life, had become a grave of ashes and echoes. Shattered buildings slouched in surrender. The roads were cracked and littered with weapons—blades rusted, talismans torn, scrolls soaked in dried blood. And corpses. Dozens of them. Some twisted in agony, others stiffened in unnatural silence.
Behind him, Cai Lin followed without a word.
Her beautiful, beastly tail coiled low, steps light and obedient. She said nothing. She knew her place. She was not his equal. Not even his companion. Just a presence at his heel, permitted to exist by his grace.
Liu Chen did not spare a glance at her.
His golden-black eyes moved from one corpse to the next. Slowly, he knelt beside a young man's dead body—armor cracked, face twisted in fear. He placed two fingers on the forehead. A faint pulse of golden light traveled into the corpse.
Gone.
The blood essence—vanished.
The soul—not even a wisp.
His gaze darkened, not from fear, but cold calculation. This was wrong.
Even among the weak, a soul did not vanish entirely. It lingered. Faded slowly. It wasn't something that disappeared like smoke in wind. Cultivators who trained their souls often left remnants that could survive for days… weeks even. And blood essence, rich with life force, did not dry up overnight. Unless it was extracted.
Harvested.
Liu Chen stood and dusted off his hands, expression unreadable. He looked around again. The dead weren't just victims. They were offerings. Fuel. Someone—or something—had come here for more than war.
He did not speak of it. Not to Cai Lin. She didn't need to know.
As they walked deeper into the city, the air thickened. The very ground felt disturbed, as if something ancient and foul had been awakened below.
They reached the central tower.
Half-broken but tall, it stood like the spine of a forgotten god. Liu Chen ascended its stone steps, not in haste, but with quiet power. The door creaked open with the touch of his hand. Inside, the tower was hollow—walls cracked, shelves toppled, the scent of spiritual herbs long faded.
He raised his hand.
A ripple of spatial energy shimmered in the air, and with a casual flick, a crimson-gold sofa appeared before him. He sat down without a word, like a king upon a forgotten throne, crossing one leg over the other.
From his storage ring, a tray of spiritual fruits appeared—ripe, glowing, kissed by the fire of the sun.
He bit into one lazily.
Sweet juice ran along his fingers.
He gestured once.
Cai Lin stepped forward immediately.
He didn't look at her.
His hand reached around her waist, pulling her close without urgency. His fingers toyed lazily with the smooth scales at her hip, trailing over the curve of her beast tail. She stiffened but didn't move. Didn't protest. Her breath was tight, but she obeyed.
That was all that mattered.
Liu Chen leaned back, eating slowly, his eyes scanning the ruined cityscape through a broken window. Souls gone. Blood stolen. Minds corrupted.
And still, he said nothing.
Because knowing was one thing.
Revealing it… was a weakness.
This world had changed. Something old had stirred, and the ripples were only beginning. But for now, he enjoyed the fruit. Enjoyed the silence. And the feel of his servant, quiet and docile by his side.
His voice was low.
"I warned you once, didn't I? Never waste a second chance."
Cai Lin didn't reply.
She only nodded faintly.
That was enough.
---
Far above, in the Immortal World...
The sky was too bright.
Stars shimmered even in daylight. Clouds moved with quiet purpose over a land untouched by mortal filth. In a divine garden where time moved like breath, flowers bloomed with immortal essence. Trees bore fruit that could grant longevity. The wind carried the scent of spirit tea and old power.
Among them stood a man.
Middle-aged, hair silver at the edges, robes pristine white. He held a jade ladle, gently pouring crystal-clear water onto a bed of golden peonies. His presence stirred the Dao itself, yet he moved without arrogance.
He was not calm.
He was beyond calm.
The serenity of someone who had lived too long and still hadn't seen everything.
Behind him, footsteps echoed lightly.
"Father," a young voice called.
The man didn't turn.
He continued watering his flowers.
"What is it?" he asked.
The one who spoke stepped into the garden. A young man in his early twenties, robes embroidered with phoenix and dragon thread. His posture was straight, but not stiff. His face was handsome—refined—and his eyes carried the bearing of royalty.
His name was Bai Yan.
And he bowed slightly before continuing. "Old Xi has sent a message."
The older man finally paused.
He placed the ladle down with care.
"And?"
"He said… all the stars are bright."
The garden seemed to quiet.
Birdsong stopped.
Wind paused.
The middle-aged man turned, his expression still calm, but a spark lit behind his eyes.
"All the stars?" he asked again, softly.
"Yes. Every celestial node has aligned. The heavens are moving. The last time this was recorded was in the ancestral books... over a million years ago."
A long silence.
The elder turned his eyes to the sky.
What had been speculation now felt certain. A force beyond fate had entered this world. A variable even the heavens had failed to measure.
He exhaled slowly.
"So finally that point of time in history has appeared. Three great divide bodies has already awake. Great powers will be awaken again. World has to create protectors of this era. Dark Void.... is coming."
Bai Yan stepped forward, voice low. "Could it be related to the Netherworld Battlefield?"
The man nodded.
"The battlefield opens in half a year. Talents will gather. Blood will be spilled. But this... this is not coincidence."
Bai Yan lowered his gaze.
"I'll be there."
"You must be," his father said. "You carry our blood. The Bai Clan does not retreat."
He paused, then added with a weight that pressed against the air itself:
"And if fate has brought forth a heaven-defying existence… then you must either walk beside it, or bury it."
Bai Yan nodded.
The flowers swayed again as the breeze returned.
But high above them, stars continued to gleam—even as the sun blazed.
All the stars were bright.
And the world would soon change.