Far above the mortal world, beyond the clouds that cloaked the highest peaks, the heavens pulsed with ancient rhythm. Amid a swirling sea of celestial light and thunderous silence floated a black monolith, impossibly vast — The Ascendant Gate.
The monolith was neither forged nor formed, but birthed at the beginning of the current era, a divine construct woven from the Will of the World itself. Its surface bore no carvings, yet those who gazed upon it saw images of battles, screams of ambition, and crumbling stars — echoes of every cultivator who had dared to defy the natural order.
And floating around this Gate were five thrones.
Each throne drifted within its own domain — not merely symbolic seats, but realms forged by the power of those who sat upon them.
The Throne of Death, wreathed in pale lotus blossoms, sat in a realm where bones bloomed from the soil and time ran in reverse. Its ruler, Emperor Xi'Zhun, closed a scroll of names — souls he'd reaped that year — and looked up.
He felt it.
BOOM…
A low bell tolled from within the Ascendant Gate.
Its first toll in over a century.
Xi'Zhun's skeletal fingers curled.
In the Realm of Mirage, where rivers flowed upside down and words shaped reality, the Empress Yeyu stirred from her meditation. Her lips parted in a soft, silvery laugh.
"Another fool seeks the throne?"
BOOM…
The second toll rolled across the heavens.
In the Domain of War, a land of endless battlefields soaked in golden blood, the Emperor of War, Tyr Guhuan, cracked his knuckles. "Been a while," he muttered.
BOOM…
Third.
The tolling was a cosmic law: ten strikes for ten breaths. When the bell finished ringing, the challenge must be issued, or death would fall upon the defiant.
BOOM…
Fourth.
In the Realm of Time, the oldest of the five thrones, Empress Nian, sipped slowly from a cup of starlight, her aged fingers trembling only slightly. She glanced at the sky and whispered, "Child, you are too early."
BOOM…
Fifth.
The final domain, the Void of Silence, responded to nothing. The throne there — dark as collapsed space — held a still, unmoving figure. The Silent Emperor made no sound. But he too watched.
BOOM…
Six.
In the mortal world below, mortals could not hear the bell. But every cultivator of Core Formation and beyond felt it. The earth groaned. The heavens shifted. Beasts howled and bowed in instinctive fear.
High above the Eastern Realms, atop a desolate mountain surrounded by black clouds, Li Shibai sat cross-legged. His hair billowed as if caught in a storm. Spiritual energy poured into him from the air, the ground, the heavens themselves — unwillingly drawn by his defiance.
His Core was cracking.
Not breaking, but evolving.
His body bled from the nose, mouth, and ears, and yet he remained still, eyes closed, immersed in a trance that hovered between death and ascension.
He had begun the breakthrough.
But he had not issued a challenge.
BOOM…
Seven.
Sect Master Tianyan stood atop Crimson Cloud Peak, robes soaked in rain. "Foolish boy," he muttered. "Even heaven gives a chance — ten breaths, one challenge. And still he refuses?"
BOOM…
Eight.
In hidden realms and imperial courts, high elders and sect masters gathered in panic.
"Who dares challenge the Gate?!"
"Is it the White Crane Monarch?"
"No, no—someone young. But his qi… it's blasphemous."
BOOM…
Nine.
In the Astral Sea above the Southern Sky, a divine beast of flame — the last Vermilion Phoenix — screamed as it turned to the east.
It saw a blinding light.
A light defying fate.
BOOM…
Ten.
Then came silence.
The kind of silence that devours sound, hope, and time.
Ten breaths had passed.
No challenge had been issued.
No Emperor had been called out.
No blood wager made.
The world froze.
A golden rune, the size of a mountain, appeared above the Ascendant Gate. It was the Heavenly Seal of Judgment — the final law of the world. Where challenge was denied, death must descend.
The Will of the World awoke.
In a voice that echoed in the soul of every living cultivator:
"You who seek ascension without challenge. You who defy the law of five. You who would tread the heavens without paying the price—"
"—Suffer."
A chain of divine light descended from the Gate, its links forged of karma and truth. It coiled like a serpent, faster than lightning, crashing down toward the mountain where Shibai sat.
The world held its breath.
Then it struck.
Li Shibai's body convulsed. His dantian shattered. His Core exploded. Spiritual essence rampaged through his veins like wild fire, eating him from within. Every meridian snapped. His vision turned red.
But in that moment of absolute ruin—he did not scream.
He laughed.
A gurgling, blood-filled sound.
"Is this all... heaven dares send?"
A second chain struck — this one aiming for his soul.
And it pierced him.
Shibai's spirit was yanked from his body, hovering above like a ghost, wrapped in divine fire. A normal man would've died instantly, soul erased, body disintegrated.
But Shibai's spirit trembled… and refused to scatter.
His will was stronger than heaven's punishment.
His voice — no longer from his lips, but from his very soul — thundered through the skies:
"You say five may sit upon thrones."
"I say six."
"I defy your law."
The Will of the World hesitated.
For a flicker of time — an imperceptible instant — it paused.
That had never happened before.
And in that instant of stillness, a black vortex exploded from within Shibai's shattered dantian. It wasn't qi. It wasn't demonic energy. It was something else — something primordial. It tore open space, swallowing the chains, shattering the golden runes of divine punishment.
The chains broke.
The Gate pulsed in confusion.
And then… the heavens went dark.
Far above, in the floating throne realms, the Emperors stirred once more.
Empress Nian stood. "Impossible."
Emperor Tyr Guhuan roared. "He resisted the Will?!"
In the Realm of Death, Xi'Zhun closed his scroll.
"…This one is dangerous."
Empress Yeyu smiled, but it was no longer amusement — it was interest.
And in the Void of Silence, the Silent Emperor spoke a single word for the first time in three thousand years:
"…Intriguing."
Li Shibai fell.
His soul collapsed back into his ruined body.
He lay motionless on the mountaintop, blood soaking into the stone, dantian hollow, bones shattered, cultivation crippled.
But his heart still beat.
His eyes, barely open, stared at the heavens.
"I failed," he whispered. "But I… survived."
A tear, not of weakness but fury, rolled down his cheek.
"Remember this… world. I am not gone. I am not broken."
"I am the crack in your perfect sky."
And the heavens, for the first time in ten thousand years… did not respond.