Wind howled along the northern cliffs of Celestial Dawn.
Mist curled like breath held too long.
Lu Xuan stood on cracked stone, eyes steady. His aura held firm: Early Nascent Soul Stage, dense but still restrained. Behind him, Su Xue watched silently, her seal pulsing once—then stilling.
A tear opened in the sky.
Down came the envoy.
Robes laced in imperial gold.
Eyes burning with cold intent.
Cultivation flaring: Soul Ascension Realm.
Not a messenger.
A test.
"I come with terms," the envoy said. "Surrender your soul history. Seal your future. The emperor will offer safety."
Lu Xuan didn't respond.
Bai Yujing stepped forward, but paused.
"He doesn't negotiate," she said.
The envoy didn't wait.
A spear of soul force cut through the mist—fast, sharp, lined with spirit brands designed to unravel memory and fracture qi flow.
Lu Xuan didn't dodge.
He raised his hand.
A spiral of reversed qi flickered once—and the brand hit, tore through his robe—
And vanished.
Not shattered.
Devoured.
The envoy's eyes narrowed.
"Impossible. That seal was tuned for your current stage."
Lu Xuan tilted his head.
"Then maybe your emperor misjudged the path I walk."
Another brand came—larger, heavier, glowing with bloodline inscriptions. This one could erase a cultivator's last five breakthroughs.
Lu Xuan stepped into it.
His body shook once.
Then stilled.
The brand folded inward.
His core began to drink it.
Not just the brand. The formation essence behind it. The spiritual logic it carried.
The cliff beneath him cracked.
The wind stopped.
Su Xue gasped.
Her seal trembled—no longer in rhythm.
It couldn't read his pulse anymore.
"The devouring," she whispered. "It's evolving."
The envoy moved faster now.
His cloak split into threads of soul silk, spinning seals midair to bind Lu Xuan's limbs—not physically, but through mental echoes, a rare Soul Ascension technique used to trap intent before movement.
Lu Xuan smiled once.
"You fight to seal. I fight to remember."
He closed his eyes.
And released breath.
The air warped.
The seals spun backward.
The soul silk twisted.
And then, with a flash of inner flame—
Lu Xuan devoured the envoy's binding thought.
Not his move.
His will.
The sky pulsed.
The cliff shook.
Lu Xuan's aura exploded—not outward, but inward.
His soul core cracked once.
Then reformed.
A second breath burst inside him.
The world around him bent.
And in that moment—
He stepped into Late Nascent Soul Stage.
The envoy staggered.
Not from wounds.
From disorientation.
"How—" he whispered. "Your body… I never saw the Demon God flare."
Su Xue stepped forward.
"He didn't activate it."
Bai Yujing nodded slowly.
"He rose without it."
The envoy fell to his knees.
Lu Xuan looked down.
"You didn't come to kill," he said quietly.
"You came to see what the myth remembers."
He lifted one hand.
The spiral sketch floated from Su Xue's sleeve.
It turned once—twice—
And pressed to the envoy's forehead.
A whisper passed through him.
No scream.
Just silence.
Then the envoy collapsed.
Still breathing.
But emptied.
Lu Xuan stepped back, calm.
"That wasn't power.
That was proof."
Back in the imperial palace, Emperor Zhao Rui received the message through his crystal mirror.
He saw the spiral form.
He saw the breakthrough.
And he saw no trace of the Immortal Demon God Body—not level one, not ripple.
Just silent, pure advancement.
"He devoured a Soul Ascension cultivator," whispered one advisor.
Zhao didn't reply.
He stood alone before the fire basin, hands folded.
He tapped his ring once.
Then twice.
"So the boy breaks gates without the God Body," he murmured.
"Then what will he break when it awakens?"
He turned to his scribe.
"Prepare the invitation.
Bai Yujing. The elders. The sealmasters.
Let them witness what comes next."
"A peace offer?" the scribe asked.
"A summit," Zhao said. "Where no peace is offered.
Only history."