On a distant, jagged peak, far removed from the hut where Ying Shuang slept in the cradle of her new foundation, Shen Xuan stood like a solitary pillar of ancient frost.
He looked back toward the direction of the basin one last time, his gaze lingering on the flickering karma he had so carefully re-authored.
Turning his face upward, his silver-gray eyes pierced through the atmospheric layers of the Luoshui World.
He could see the invisible ripples of causality violently converging upon his coordinates, tearing the fabric of the sky like a tattered shroud.
"Ling'er, did you feel it?" He spoke softly, his voice a low, melodic chime that seemed to ground the trembling air and stabilize the fraying reality around them.
"Yes, young master."
Xuan Ling'er materialized at his side, her spiritual form shimmering with a haunting, purple-gold hue that defied the natural laws of the plane.
She did not possess her usual mischievous smile; her face was a mask of grave focus as she stared into the deep, churning void of the firmament.
"It seems they have traced the fluctuations we left behind in the heavenly Trade Centre of Heiyun City. The net is closing. They have come for us."
Shen Xuan's fingers tapped rhythmically against the stone, a sound that echoed with the weight of eons.
"How many?"
"There is an Emperor Realm presence," Ling'er whispered, her voice tightening with a trace of ancient dread that even her spirit form could not suppress.
"He has almost half-stepped into the Supreme Realm. It is not his true body, for the laws of this lower plane would collapse into a singularity if he descended in person, but it is a Source Clone. Even so, his Will is sufficient to flatten this entire galaxy into dust."
She paused, her eyes narrowing as she felt the secondary layers of the approaching storm crashing against the world's barrier.
"And behind the shadow of the Emperor, there is a specialized hunting party. Two Holy Realm Saints and seven Quasi-Saint executioners.
They are moving through the void-tunnels with the speed of an unchecked plague, bypassing the natural currents of space."
Shen Xuan's lips curled into a cold, needle-sharp smile.
There was no fear in his expression, only a chilling, predatory interest that flickered like a dying star.
He leaned back against the jagged rock, the silver moonlight of the mountain catching the sharp, regal edges of his jaw.
"A Source-Clone of a half-step Supreme, two Saints, and seven Quasi-Saints," Shen Xuan repeated, as if savoring the weight of the names.
"All this for a boy currently anchored in the second realm of a mortal plane. They truly are terrified of a ghost, aren't they?"
"Looks like they have come for us, right?" He asked, though the answer was already written in the blood-red tint of the clouds.
Shen Xuan remained seated upon the stone, his posture as immovable as a monument to a forgotten age of glory.
Beside him, Xuan Ling'er shimmered like a ghost of a golden era, her eyes fixed on the bleeding sky.
"Though our current cultivation is as shallow as a puddle in a drought, our souls have bathed in the waters of the Primal Chaos,"
Shen Xuan murmured, his voice resonating with a frequency that silenced the wind.
"The Will of the Luoshui World is whimpering beneath my feet, and the entire Azure Star Galaxy is trembling. They are whispering to me of the coming storm. The Heavens themselves are betraying their new masters to seek favor with the old."
Ling'er nodded, her spiritual form flickering like a candle in a gale.
"The Registry's chains are tightening, Young Master. The Emperor-Clone has already anchored the spatial coordinates. They intend to turn this mountain into a tomb that time itself will forget."
"Hmm..." Shen Xuan's lips curled again into that cold smile, expressing a profound, glacial amusement.
"However, before they arrive to claim their 'victory,' let me send a few parting gifts back to the world. If I am to leave this plane, I shall leave behind seeds that will grow into thorns in their side for generations to come."
With a flick of his wrist, he produced a roll of ancient, yellowed parchment and a brush.
He did not use ink of the mortal realm; instead, he tapped his own finger, drawing forth a single drop of essence-blood that glowed with a faint, purple-gold radiance.
He began to write.
His strokes were not mere calligraphy; they were the embodiment of Laws.
Each character carried the weight of a billion years of martial understanding.
He wrote with a speed that left afterimages, inscribing profound, forbidden techniques specifically tailored for those he had encountered.
For Xiao Ding, he inscribed a method to bridge the gap between the Chaos Lord and the Ancestral Realm, a path that bypassed the Registry's artificial bottlenecks.
For the young Xiao Ling, he left a foundation-forging manual that would turn her into a terror of the Middle Planes.
Finally, he laid out a strategic blueprint for the Gui Ran, a plan for their future dominance that would ensure they became a hidden blade in the heart of the Azure Star Galaxy.
Once the scrolls were sealed with his sovereign intent, a small spirit bird, crafted from the condensation of the surrounding mist and a fragment of his Will, materialized upon his shoulder.
It chirped a low, mournful note.
"Go," Shen Xuan commanded, stuffing the scrolls into the bird's translucent spatial pouch.
"Deliver these to the Cloud Rest Inn. Let them be the fire that burns when the frost arrives."
The bird took flight, a streak of silver light that defied the encroaching spatial lockdown, vanishing toward the distant flickering lights of Heiyun City.
Shen Xuan watched it disappear, then leaned back against the rock, his silver-gray hair fluttering in the phantom wind.
He adjusted the dark cloth over his face, his eyes returning to their calm, void-like state.
"Now," he whispered, the golden-purple fire in his eyes igniting one final time as the sky above him finally shattered into a million crystalline shards.
"We wait. Since the cage has been built, let us see if the hunters have the courage to enter the lion's den or not."
An icy smile formed on the lips of Shen Xuan, and the Eternal Spear materialized in his hand, its presence causing the space around it to warp and scream.
"Master.. don't worry, today even if I must burn my origin soul to cinders, I will protect you." Appearing next to Shen Xuan, Wang Lei gritted his teeth, his fur standing on end as his silver aura flared.
"Hah... little guy, you have got guts." Shen Xuan reached out, caressing the back of Wang Lei with a rare moment of softness.
"Hhaa.. master, it's all thanks to you."
"Hmmph.. acting like a dog, even after reaching the DAO origin realm. I don't know how the hell you were born from the ancient Heavenly Frost Wolf race rather than a common stray dog." There was a sharp smirk on the face of Xuan Ling'er as she hugged her chest, trying to hide the tremor in her own spirit.
"Haha... my lady, I am indeed from the Heavenly Frost Wolf race, but before the Master, what is a wolf but a pup?"
"Enough!" Interrupting them, Shen Xuan opened his eyes fully.
As the first cracks in the sky began to bleed celestial light, Shen Xuan reached into the void and withdrew a weathered, ancient zither.
The wood was dark, etched with the scars of forgotten eras, yet it hummed with a resonance that rivaled the heartbeat of the mountain.
He rested the instrument upon his knees, his slender fingers hovering over the silk strings with a grace that felt predatory.
With a sharp flick, he struck a chord.
The sound was not music, but a ripple of pure intent that sliced through the encroaching Saintly pressure.
At that exact moment, the space ten paces before him distorted, and a middle-aged man in imperial gold robes stepped out of the vacuum, his presence so heavy it turned the surrounding grass to ash.
This was the Emperor-Clone, his eyes cold and devoid of human mercy.
Shen Xuan did not stop; he accelerated the tempo, his fingers becoming a blur of motion as he played a melody of the End.
But as the Emperor-Clone took a single step forward, the atmospheric pressure reached a terminal point.
A sudden, violent snap echoed, not from the zither, but from the air itself. A string lashed back, and a thin, crimson line appeared across Shen Xuan's fingertip.
A single drop of his golden red blood fell onto the dark wood, and for the first time, the boy's eyes narrowed with a look of genuine, lethal interest.
"Ohh...a mere source clone?"