A month has passed since the world-shaking calamity descended upon the Five Regions.
The four outer regions—Northern Plains, Southern Border, Eastern Sea, and Western Desert—were drenched in blood. Mortals perished like ants, and even Gu Immortals, lofty and proud, fell to the unseen force. Only the Central Continent was spared their fate... but at a cost.
Their Gu worms—all of them—vanished.
The continent once deemed the strongest for its resources and heritage, now lay barren of power. The most prosperous land had become the weakest. Ironically, the walls that once divided the regions became their salvation.
But wisdom path experts, those who peer beyond the veil of reality, uncovered a horrifying truth.
The formless hands—silent, invisible, unstoppable—had not acted at random. They moved with purpose. They were drawn, somehow, to the Northern Plains.
That land, once wild and untamed, had become a graveyard of fortune. Countless Gu worms, including Immortal Gu, had appeared there, scattered across its savage expanse. The Plains became a hunting ground. A battlefield without borders.
But not a single Gu worm from the Central Continent has resurfaced—at least not yet.
Amidst the chaos engulfing the Five Regions, Fang Yuan sat cross-legged atop Dang Hun Mountain, eyes closed in silent cultivation.
On his right, the shattered remains of a Guts Gu crumbled into dust and on left, floated a single blue beetle, radiating faint, otherworldly brilliance.
Within the depths of his soul, turbulent waves calmed.
His soul foundation fully recovered, Fang Yuan opened his eyes and cast a cold glance at the beetle.
"Rank Ten… Destiny Gu."
His voice was low, emotionless—like a blade being drawn in the dark.
Only a month had passed in the outside world.
But within his aperture, more than eight years had gone by.
Using his supreme grandmaster attainment in refinement path, guided by the unfathomable truths of heaven path, Fang Yuan had spent over three years crafting this Gu, nestled deep in the Northern Plains.
He stood up, the mountain wind howling past him like a mournful ghost.
His thoughts turned inward.
"One year from now... the earthly calamity will descend upon my blessed land," he calculated. "I've already devised a method to overcome it."
But his eyes darkened, narrowing.
"I am still not strong enough."
An idea flickered—like lightning across a stormy sky.
He considered it.
Then crushed it.
"Not worth the risk," he murmured, a shadow crossing his expression as the name Zhao Lian Yun surfaced in his mind.
A moment passed. The wind fell still.
Fang Yuan raised his hand. With a thought, his blessed land folded in on itself, vanishing into his aperture.
In the next instant, space twisted.
With the use of Fixed Immortal Travel, he disappeared from the Northern Plains—silent, swift, leaving not even a trace of his presence behind.
...
"Who dares—?!"
The land spirit's voice echoed with alarm the moment it sensed a foreign presence. But before it could finish, its form stiffened—turned to lifeless stone.
Fang Yuan had arrived.
He stood calmly amidst the now-silent blessed land, eyes sharp and indifferent, like a blade unsheathed under moonlight.
His gaze swept the surroundings—mountains carved like bones, mists coiling—and he muttered:
"This is the place."
Without hesitation, he reached into his aperture.
A series of Gu worms flew out, their auras flickering as they took their places in the air, forming an intricate immortal-level formation.
The air trembled.
The valley beneath him began to shift.
Rocks cracked, the terrain groaned, and slowly—inevitably—the entire Luo Po Valley began to rise from the earth, severing its roots from the land like flesh torn from bone.
Fifteen minutes passed in silence.
Fang Yuan stood unmoving, eyes cold, calculating.
Then, with a wave of his sleeve, the entire valley shrank and vanished—placed inside his aperture.
"I've acquired Luo Po Valley," he said quietly, as if stating a simple fact of nature.
And without another word, he vanished once more—leaving behind a dead land spirit.
....
A young woman knelt alone in the desolate remains of a once-thriving land.
She was youthful, beautiful, gentle and refined.
Her embroidered leather skirt swayed slightly in the wind, adorned with purplish-red flower buds, the hem glinting faintly with silver threads.
Her sapphire-blue hair ribbon held a single white pearl, catching the dying light. Snow-pale hands rested on her lap, her long eyelashes lowered as she sighed softly, lost in silent mourning.
Everything about her—her attire, her bearing, her scent of wild gentleness—marked her unmistakably as a woman of the Northern Plains.
She was reminiscing. Regretful.
And in the next instant—
Her vision spun.
The world tilted.
She saw her own kneeling body from above—headless.
How…?
It was her final thought before darkness claimed her.
Fang Yuan stood behind her, void of expression.
Blood still glistened faintly along the edge of his blade.
With practiced ease, he extended his hand and drew out her soul—a flickering wisp of unwilling light.
Her immortal aperture followed, peeled from her corpse like a page from a book.
He plundered a tiny mountain from her aperture—and placed it inside his aperture.
There were no words, no hesitation, just action.
And in the blink of an eye, Fang Yuan vanished—leaving behind a headless corpse, a scorched land, and the echo of a life erased.
...
"What is this…?!"
Feng Jiu Ge's voice rang out like thunder as his gaze shot skyward. His expression, once calm and unfathomable, cracked under the weight of what he saw.
Above the Central Continent, the skies twisted.
Clouds gathered unnaturally—dense, spiraling, suffocating. The heavens churned like a beast roused from slumber.
And it wasn't just him.
Across the Five Regions, from the vast deserts of the West to the freezing steppes of the North, countless eyes turned to the sky.
And panic spread like wildfire.
"Heaven is angry!"
"It's the end!"
"We're all going to die!"
The cries of mortals and immortals alike echoed through mountains, valleys, and seas. Cities trembled, blessed lands shuttered, immortal apertures sealed tight in fear.
Only a month had passed since the last heavenly phenomenon tore through the world—stealing Immortal Gu, killing millions, uprooting the balance of the Gu World.
And now… it had returned.
A second descent.
The will of Heaven had moved again—and in its wake, all beings felt their insignificance. Under the vast sky, even Gu Immortals were but fleeting sparks. Power, bloodlines, sects, cultivation—all crumbled before this overwhelming pressure.
Heaven was not merciful.
Heaven was not just.
Heaven simply was.