Time resumed with a shudder. The winds screamed once more, abyssal fumes boiled upward, and the rainbow light around Haotian pulsed like a storm-tossed sun. Yet within him, only one thing remained—Gaia's words, etched into his very soul.
"Four years, Haotian. No more."
The warning struck him harder than any tribulation lightning, harder than any battle with gods or demons. It pressed upon his chest until he could barely breathe, crushing him with inevitability.
He raised his head to the skies. His rainbow-lit eyes widened, and from his throat tore a roar that shattered the heavens.
"FOUR YEARS?!"
The cry shook the Western Continent. Cracks ran across the land as if the world itself feared his fury. The abyssal chasm quaked, cliffs collapsing into themselves.
Haotian clenched his fists. His aura detonated outward as he struck into the void.
Fist of Ruin.The air collapsed under his blow, the entire Withering Abyss trembling as its jagged plains splintered like fragile glass.
Void Fang Rend.He slashed out with his bare hand, and the sky itself tore open, black seams spreading across the horizon.
Bloodlash Howl.His foot slammed down and he spun, releasing a roaring wave of scarlet chi that flattened miles of terrain, abyssal beasts crushed in its wake.
One after another, the Demon God Killing Martial Arts erupted from him—eighteen strikes that had once shredded his flesh and broken his bones. Now they flowed seamlessly, each technique a natural extension of his body, executed as if he had been born with them.
Space cracked. Reality shattered. The abyss itself was unmade beneath his fury.
Haotian roared again, voice raw with grief and defiance. Must he truly abandon them? His wives, who had stood beside him in battle and tenderness alike. His son, the hope of his bloodline. And the children yet to come, whose faces he could only imagine.
Was this the fate of ascension? To rise higher, only to walk farther away? To leave behind everything he had bled for, everyone he had cherished?
The rainbow glow flared, warping the horizon, his shadow stretching into the stars themselves. Alone above the wreckage of the shattered abyss, Haotian stood unyielding, his cry echoing against a silent heaven.
For the first time, the sovereign of the Five Continents felt the path before him not as triumph, but as exile.
The shattered abyss smoldered beneath him, vast tracts of land torn away by his bare-handed fury. Haotian's breathing steadied, his rainbow glow dimming until only faint ripples of color traced his form. Rage had bled out of him, leaving behind silence.
Gaia's warning still echoed like iron in his chest.Four years, Haotian. No more.
At first, the words had crushed him. But now, with his heartbeat steady, his mind turned toward calculation.
"If I am given four years," he murmured to himself, "then I will not need all four. With my cultivation, my techniques, my forging, and my arts, I can raise the sect's foundation far sooner. Two years… perhaps less. By then, they will no longer need me to stand over them."
His gaze darkened. "But even if I leave after two years… the world-ending event Gaia spoke of. Will it still come? Is it tied only to the time limit, or to my presence in battle?"
He thought of the planetary war Gaia revealed—the Eternal Dawn Immortal Sect locked against the Abyssal Netherworld Sect. His jaw clenched. If he fought on the battlefield of worlds, would that satisfy the condition? After all, he would be leaving the planet behind. Yet… Gaia's warning rang clear. Untold attention. World-wide destruction.
"If I reveal myself, if I unleash all that I am… perhaps even the Immortal Alliance will not be able to shield this world."
Silence pressed around him, broken only by the crackle of broken space knitting itself closed.
Haotian exhaled slowly, his decision hardening. "Then so be it. Four years. I will remain at the sect for two, give them every foundation, every art, every resource they will need to survive. Then I will wander the Five Continents, preparing them for the gates that will open. And when the fourth year comes…" His gaze turned toward the star-strewn sky. "…I will leave this planet."
Yet even as his resolve crystallized, another thought pierced him. A memory of Gaia's ladder. World God Realm.
The stage where one's Dao expanded into a complete inner world, rivers and mountains sustained within the cultivator's body. A place where life itself could be housed.
His eyes gleamed. "If I could reach that stage… then I could recreate this world within myself. I would never have to leave my family behind. They would live inside my Dao world, safe, eternal, untouchable."
The possibility burned within him, brighter than the rainbow light still dancing on his skin. A goal. A vow. A seed of defiance planted in the soil of destiny.
Haotian clenched his fists, his voice low but resolute. "Four years. That is the time you've given me, Gaia. I will use every breath of it. But I swear—this world will not lose me, not truly. If I must forge a world with my own Dao to keep them, then so be it."
The abyss lay destroyed beneath him, but above, the Emperor of the Five Continents lifted his gaze higher still—toward the stars that awaited.
The shattered abyss lay far behind. Haotian did not teleport—though it would have been effortless. Instead, he flew, cutting across clouds and continents, his rainbow glow subdued to a steady radiance. He needed the time. To breathe. To weigh Gaia's warning. To temper his heart before seeing them again.
By the time the peaks of the Central Continent rose beneath him, a group of familiar auras streaked through the sky. His wives. Xiangyin. They had been searching, waiting. The moment they spotted him, they surged forward.
"Haotian!"
The cries overlapped. They collided into him, arms wrapping around shoulders, waist, and chest, their warmth pressing into him as though they feared he might vanish again.
None of them noticed at first. The subtle shift in his body, the faint halo rippling from him. Not until their cultivation stirred on its own, their cores pulling at the energy he radiated. Their eyes widened almost at the same time.
"Wait… this chi—"
"—it's not mortal…"
The realization struck, and then laughter spilled into the air.
"He's become an immortal treasure!" one teased, brushing her fingers over his arm. "Just standing near him is like training within a divine spring."
"If that's the case, we don't need any more pills or baths," another giggled, leaning against his chest. "We'll just cling to him forever and ascend together."
Some voices joined in the joke. Others turned sharp.
"Absolutely not! He's our immortal source. Sharing him is impossible!"
"Sharing is caring," another countered slyly. "Besides, with the Immortals coming, wouldn't it be wise to let everyone train around him?"
The air bristled with mock argument, sparks of jealousy and playfulness flickering between them.
Haotian raised a hand, his voice calm but firm. "Enough." His rainbow-lit eyes swept over them, silencing the laughter in an instant. "The threat of the Immortals has already been resolved. I will explain everything soon—but not here. I'll speak at the summit, where all may hear. For now… return with me."
Confusion rippled through them. Resolved? What could he mean? Their brows furrowed, but his tone left no room for protest. One by one, they nodded.
But though their lips stilled, their bodies did not.
As they flew together, every one of them tried to hold on to him. Arms hooked around his waist. Fingers looped behind his neck. One clung to his back like a shadow. Another wound her arms tight across his chest. And Shuyue, with her mischievous grin, wrapped herself around his thigh mid-flight.
"Shuyue!" Haotian growled, exasperation flashing across his face.
Before he could shake her off, she gasped, eyes wide, and shrieked. Everyone turned.
Then her lips curved into a wicked smile. "I think it got even better!"
Black lines rolled down Haotian's face.
The sky went quiet for a heartbeat. Then every one of them blushed, their gazes shifting downward, before slowly turning their eyes back to him.
Their lips parted. Smiles spread. And together, with a hunger that was equal parts playful and dangerous, they licked their lips.
Haotian's rainbow aura flickered violently, and for the first time since his Immortal breakthrough, he truly feared for his sanity.
The night sky over the Eternal Yin Orchid Sect glimmered faintly, Immortal runes still lingering like fireflies across the heavens. Within Haotian's private chambers, however, the world was far from calm.
His wives and Xiangyin had dragged him in as though unwilling to let him vanish again. Their disbelief quickly melted into heat, their shock at his transformed body overflowing into fierce passion.
Hours later, the chamber was quiet but for the rhythm of heavy breaths. The women lay strewn across him, their cheeks flushed, their auras radiant with a glow brighter than any session before. They were drenched in both exhaustion and satisfaction, their cores faintly trembling as if they had been bathed in divine light.
Xiangyin's soft laughter broke the silence first. "He really has become an immortal treasure… look at us. We're shining like stars."
A ripple of agreement passed through the others, though none had the strength to rise. Their gazes drifted to Haotian, whose rainbow aura still pulsed faintly, gentle now, like a heartbeat.
It was Yinxue who finally gathered her voice. "Haotian… earlier, you said the invasion threat was resolved. What did you mean?"
Lianhua stirred beside him, attempting to push herself upright, but Haotian placed a firm hand against her shoulder, guiding her back down onto his chest. His fingers brushed through her hair. "Rest. You don't need to carry the weight just yet."
But their eyes were fixed on him—all of them. Waiting. Demanding truth.
Haotian exhaled, closing his eyes for a breath. Then he spoke, his voice low, steady, but carrying the weight of thunder.
"I will tell you everything Gaia revealed to me."
The room stilled. Even their tired bodies straightened subtly, breaths held as his words began to flow.
From the moment time froze in the Withering Abyss, to the voice that spoke his name. From Gaia's acknowledgment that he had stepped through the threshold, to the revelation of the sect that would descend—the Eternal Dawn Immortal Sect.
Gasps rang out as he described the Alliance of Nine Celestial Sects, and the abyssal world they faced—the Abyssal Netherworld Sect. Their faces paled, their hands tightening around him.
He explained Gaia's mercy, her reshaping of destiny, the promise that the Five Continents would be accepted, not destroyed. Relief washed across their eyes, tears pricking at the edges.
But then he spoke of the condition. The silence in the chamber thickened instantly.
"Four years," he said quietly. "That is all the time Gaia has granted me here. After that, I must leave this world. Not just the sect. The planet itself."
The words dropped like iron.
Xiangyin's hand shot to her lips, her eyes wide. Lianhua's tears welled instantly, her body trembling against him. Yinxue gasped aloud, clutching at his chest.
"You can't—" one began, but the words caught in her throat.
Haotian held them tighter, his arms folding around their bodies as if they were the only anchors left in existence. "I will not waste these years. I will raise the foundation of the Five Continents, so that even if I must leave… you will not fall. And I will find a way. Gaia spoke of the World God Realm. If I can reach it, I can create a world within myself. A world where you will always remain by my side."
His voice cracked faintly, but his eyes blazed with resolve. "I swear to you… I will not abandon you. Not truly. Not ever."
The women's tears flowed freely now, but so did their strength. They pressed against him, their hands gripping his arms, his chest, his face.
If the heavens themselves demanded exile, then so be it. But as long as he lived, Haotian would fight for a way to carry them with him—into eternity itself.
The great hall of the Eternal Yin Orchid Sect overflowed with light. Banners of every continent's strongest sects hung from the vaulted beams, their colors clashing and mingling like the tides of history. Hundreds of leaders filled the floor—sect masters, emperors, sovereign clan lords, and envoys who had risen to new heights in the last two months.
At the center dais stood Haotian. The Emperor of the Five Continents. His rainbow aura was suppressed, but none could mistake the weight pressing on their hearts as his gaze swept the hall.
"I have called you here," he began, voice steady, carrying to every corner without force, "because you must know what awaits us."
He spoke of the veil. Of the sect beyond it—the Eternal Dawn Immortal Sect. He revealed that they were not enemies, but a gate, a bridge into a vaster cosmos. And he warned of the demons, the Abyssal Netherworld Sect, who raged on another planet far beyond their skies.
The hall erupted in noise.
Some leaders stood, robes flaring. "How can this be true? Where is your evidence?"
Others shouted them down. "Are you blind? He raised the entire Five Continents in mere months! You think a man who gave us Sovereigns and Emperors by the thousands would deceive us now?"
Suspicion clashed against trust, voices rising in the vaulted chamber like thunder.
Haotian stood unmoving. When at last the noise reached a peak, he spoke again—only a few words, but they cut through the chaos like a blade.
"Those who believe, and those who do not—it makes no difference."
The voices stilled.
"The Eternal Dawn Immortal Sect will send their envoys. You may waste time preparing to resist them if you wish. But in the end, there will be no battle here. The true war lies elsewhere—against the demons who consume worlds."
His words hung heavy in the air, unquestionable in tone if not in proof.
Haotian did not argue further. He turned from the dais, his robes whispering across the stone, and strode out of the hall.
Behind him, the great sects whispered, protested, and speculated. But he paid them no mind.
The weight of their doubt was nothing to him. His path was already set, his time already dwindling.
The first of his battles had already been decided. He needed to compile what he had gained—the immortal skills, techniques, and arts now seared into his mind. Only then could he begin raising the foundation his people would need to survive beyond his four-year limit.
Seclusion settled like a veil over the Eternal Yin Orchid Sect. Within his private hall, Haotian sat cross-legged, a rainbow glow pulsing faintly from his body. Before him lay a mountain of blank jade slips, scrolls, and untouched tomes. By his will alone, golden words of memory and immortal script poured from his consciousness, etching themselves onto the waiting surfaces.
The process was relentless. Each night and day blurred into one another as he poured forth all that Gaia's library had seared into him.
He created categories to keep the tide from consuming itself:
Movement Techniques: lightning-quick steps, shadow-vanishing arts, cloud-soaring flows, river-shifting evasions. Weapon Arts: he favored the immortal sword and spear, but did not neglect broadswords, halberds, whips, bows, staves, even hidden weapons. Martial Arts: bare-handed techniques that harmonized body and Dao, foundations for all who could not wield blades. Alchemy: pill refining methods of the Immortal Ascension realm, from life-extending elixirs to spirit-recasting draughts. Formations: arrays that shielded sects, sealed mountains, and turned battlefields into traps. Forging: divine methods to create weapons and armor that resonated with the wielder's soul. Runes: scripts that bound essence to artifacts, channeling laws beyond mortal reach. Cultivation Methods: cycles of chi far deeper than Sovereign or Emperor, layered manuals to guide generations. Daos: flame, frost, lightning, space, time, and even the rarest of paths—dreams, illusions, causality, and death.
Scroll after scroll filled the floor. Jade slips stacked into walls. He worked without pause, his aura steady, his mind burning with clarity.
Yet not all moments of seclusion were silent.
His wives and Xiangyin often slipped inside. Sometimes they only watched, afraid to disturb the endless flow of script from his hand. Other times, a more mischievous one would press close, leaning against his shoulder, whispering in his ear until his restraint broke and the hall filled with laughter, moans, and the sounds of intimacy.
Those moments always began in secret. But secrets seldom lasted. When the others discovered what had happened, they would arrive one by one, their cheeks flushed with mock outrage, only to join in themselves. The library of immortality often became a battlefield of another kind—where Haotian's resolve was tested not by runes and scrolls, but by the endless devotion of those who refused to let him carry the weight of the cosmos without love.
And still, when silence returned, he worked. Books piled higher, scrolls layered deeper, immortal knowledge filling the chamber until it looked less like a hall and more like a divine archive.
This was the foundation. Not for himself alone—but for the Five Continents. For his son. For the children yet to come. For all who would step into eternity after he was gone.
A month passed in seclusion. The mountain of jade slips, scrolls, and books had grown into a towering archive that filled Haotian's private hall with the weight of eternity. The library of immortality was no longer an idea—it had become reality, a foundation for generations to come.
But news arrived that shook the sect even more deeply than the immortal scripts.
Yinxue was the first. Her hand clutched Haotian's as she whispered it, her cheeks flushed with a glow brighter than moonlight. Her aura pulsed differently now—softer, steadier, carrying a second rhythm within her body.
Not long after, Yueru followed. She too bore the same quiet radiance, her proud eyes softening as she pressed his hand to her stomach. "You've burdened me with more than cultivation this time," she teased, though her voice quivered with emotion.
The women gathered together, their laughter mixing with tears. Even Xiangyin, though not yet carrying, smiled warmly and teased the others about racing ahead.
For Haotian, the moment struck deeper than any battle. In the quiet of the chamber, his rainbow-lit eyes softened as he looked at them. His son already lived, the hope of his bloodline. And now—two more children, yet unborn, pulsed with life. The family he feared losing was growing stronger, rooting itself even deeper into the world he might one day have to leave.
He clenched his fists beneath the table, a silent vow searing into his heart. Four years. That's all the time Gaia has granted me. But I will carve eternity into that span. For them, for this family—I will find the path. Even if it means forging my own world to carry them with me.
The Eternal Yin Orchid Sect bustled with rumor and joy, disciples whispering of auspicious omens and blessings. They called it a sign that the heavens favored their Emperor, a mark that his bloodline itself carried immortal fortune.
Haotian said nothing. He simply sat among his wives that night, one arm around Yinxue, the other around Yueru, the others leaning close in warmth.
For a brief moment, the Emperor of the Five Continents let himself believe in peace.
The news spread like wildfire across the Five Continents.
In taverns and markets, cultivators spoke with wide eyes and hushed voices. "Yinxue of the Moon Lotus Pavilion is with child.""And Yueru, too." The words carried both awe and disbelief. In a world where cultivators pursued eternity, children born of such a bloodline were rarer than divine treasures.
Sect halls rang with debate. Some claimed it was a sign of the heavens, that the Emperor of the Five Continents was blessed beyond all measure. Others whispered that these unborn children would carry bloodlines to rival shrine dragons or immortal beasts. And still others feared it. "What kind of beings will they grow into? Will they unbalance the world before they even walk?"
In the Zhenlong household, Wukang's voice trembled with pride. "Our line will not only stand—it will ascend." Tianlan, though speechless, clenched his fists in silent determination, swearing to match whatever heights his cousins-to-be would someday reach.
The joy rippled outward, uniting some sects, stirring envy in others. But all agreed: the future of the world would be forever tied to the heirs of Haotian.
Inside the Eternal Yin Orchid Sect, celebration gave way to quiet wonder. Yinxue and Yueru glowed brighter by the day, their auras harmonizing with Haotian's presence, as though the unborn children already resonated with his Immortal chi. The wives doted on them endlessly, teasing, fussing, and arguing over who would become the most spoiled once born.
And then, as if the heavens themselves delighted in testing hearts, another revelation came.
Ziyue approached Haotian one evening, her steps hesitant, her cheeks aflame. She took his hand, placed it gently upon her abdomen, and whispered with a shy smile:
"…I, too."
For a breath, silence fell. Then the chamber erupted. Laughter, gasps, mock protests. Yinxue and Yueru pouted dramatically. "You couldn't even let us enjoy this moment alone?" they scolded through their smiles. The others swarmed Ziyue with embraces, her face buried in their affection.
Haotian stood in the center, surrounded by their glow. His chest swelled with emotion too deep for words. His family was growing faster than even he had imagined. His heirs—three now—were more than blessings. They were anchors. Proof that even if he must leave this world, part of him would remain rooted here.
But he knew, too, that each heartbeat of those unborn children tightened the weight of Gaia's condition. Four years. Then exile.
The Emperor of the Five Continents clenched his fists silently. If the heavens demanded he leave, then he would carve a heaven of his own for them to inherit.