A rumble echoed beneath the Hollow Empire.
Not from the mountains, nor from the heavens—but from the throne itself.
As dawn broke, a pale golden light bathed the ruins of the capital. The Abyssal Beacon's black flame still flickered in the sky like a blight upon divinity, but below, within the deepest level of the Imperial Altar, something stirred.
Liu Shen stood at its entrance—alone.
Behind him, the others tended to their wounds. Yu Meixing remained by Yue'er's side as the girl recovered from her transformation. Lei Qing had gone to reinforce the perimeter. Kael had vanished—again—seeking the next dormant beacon.
But Liu Shen's path led downward.
The Hollow Throne was not just a symbol of rulership.
It was a binding artifact—one forged from the spine of a fallen Celestial Beast and steeped in abyssal qi. It once served as the seat of the Hollow Emperors, the line Zhao Ying had claimed to restore.
But it did not belong to mortals.
Not truly.
It was forged for him.
---
The descent was long, lined with murals covered in ash and blood. Liu Shen recognized them—scenes of rebellion, sacrifice, of the great war between abyssal cultivators and celestial armies. At the end of the stairwell stood an enormous obsidian gate, etched with six wings—three severed, three intact.
Liu Shen reached out, his palm pressing to the gate.
His blood pulsed.
The gate responded.
With a tremble and a hiss of ancient power, it opened.
---
Inside the Throne Chamber, there was no light.
Only silence.
The Hollow Throne rested in the center—an imposing chair made of black crystal and bound bones, its back curved like a serpent's spine, its seat resting above a well of still shadow.
Liu Shen approached slowly.
As he did, whispers filled the air—echoes of memories.
Not his.
But those who once knelt here.
Hollow Emperors. Shadow-bound priests. Specters of rebellion and failure.
Each had tried to use the throne.
Each had been consumed.
---
Liu Shen sat.
Immediately, a searing pain tore through his spine as the throne bit into him—literal fangs sinking into his flesh, testing his worth. The well beneath the throne surged, trying to swallow his soul and memory both.
But Liu Shen did not resist.
He commanded.
"Acknowledge me."
The well stilled.
The throne shuddered.
And then—like a beast recognizing its master—it submitted.
Chains of shadow wrapped around his wrists and neck—not to bind, but to connect. Runes old as the heavens lit up along the throne's back, casting the room in a deep violet glow.
The Hollow Throne had awakened.
And Liu Shen was now its master.
---
Outside, across the Hollow Empire, people felt it.
A shift.
The dark spiritual energy that once stagnated began to flow.
Barren cultivation fields sprouted blackened lotus.
Destroyed formations flickered to life.
Demonic beasts paused mid-roar, bowing instinctively to an unseen will.
It wasn't just power returning—it was order.
---
Yu Meixing looked up, heart racing. "He did it."
Yue'er stirred in her sleep, murmuring, "The Throne… listens."
Lei Qing appeared, kneeling beside them, face pale. "Prepare yourselves. Every force in the empire just felt that surge. We've got three days at most before scouts, spies, and sects come running."
Yu Meixing nodded grimly.
"And when they arrive… they'll find the throne already claimed."
---
Inside the throne chamber, Liu Shen rose.
But he wasn't the same.
His aura had deepened—no longer just demonic, but abyssally entrenched. His presence caused even the walls of the chamber to warp. The throne left a mark on his back, glowing faintly—a sigil not of rulership, but of claim.
He did not speak.
The throne did.
Across the Hollow Empire, the mark appeared in the sky.
A declaration written in flame and shadow:
"The Sovereign has returned."