Stupid fool…"
A faint voice echoed softly through the endless darkness.
The speaker slowly lifted his gaze toward the boundless void above him. The emptiness stretched endlessly, vast and silent, as if it had existed long before the birth of heaven and earth.
Looking into that endless void, he suddenly felt a strange thought arise within his mind.
Even after countless years of cultivation…
Even after witnessing the rise and fall of countless generations…
A true cultivator had never truly grasped the depth of this boundless existence.
The man narrowed his eyes slightly.
"What… is a true cultivator?"
His voice was calm, yet it carried a faint trace of curiosity, as if the question had followed him for a very long time.
After a moment of silence, he answered his own question.
"A true cultivator… is someone who understands the Way of Heaven."
Someone who walks the path of cultivation not for glory, not for power, but to seek the truth hidden behind heaven itself.
Someone who would continue searching for that truth through countless ages…
Even if their existence was never meant to be born.
Even if their life was something the heavens themselves rejected.
Deep inside a massive cave, cold winds slowly drifted through the darkness.
Suddenly, something unusual could be seen.
An enormous mountain of ice stood silently within the cave, its surface glowing faintly with a pale blue light.
Frozen deep within the center of the icy mountain…
A human figure could be seen.
The body was perfectly preserved inside the ice, as if time itself had stopped around it.
For a long moment, nothing happened.
Then suddenly—
The frozen figure's lips moved slightly.
A faint whisper escaped from within the ice.
"I… have succeeded."
Renewal silently watched the battle from afar. A faint smile rested on his face as he calmly held the sharp tusk in his hand. His eyes were quiet, yet deep within them a strange light flickered.
Suddenly, the bodies of the Four Heavenly Fiends trembled violently.
Their forms shook in the air as if an unseen force had suddenly seized control of them.
Then—
A brilliant red light burst out from Mingyin's body.
The light was blinding. It spread outward like a burning flame, illuminating the surrounding battlefield with a deep crimson glow.
Mingyin's body suddenly began to shrink.
Little by little, his form grew smaller and smaller, as though something was draining him from within.
His flesh, bones, and aura gradually collapsed inward until his entire body transformed into nothing but a small sphere of red light floating in the air.
At that moment, the Four Heavenly Fiends suddenly appeared high above the ground.
But they did not remain there long.
One after another, their bodies fell from the sky.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
Each of them crashed heavily into the ground, sending dust and debris into the air.
Renewal staggered.
His body swayed as if he had suddenly lost his balance. He reached up and grabbed his head tightly, his fingers pressing against his temples.
His vision became blurry.
The world around him spun slightly.
"Damn it…"
Renewal gritted his teeth.
"It seems I forgot a few steps while controlling this form."
His voice carried a hint of annoyance.
Inside his mind, his thoughts continued to flow.
Of course… after three million years of slumber, and only now awakening again, it was natural that his body would not immediately obey him perfectly.
Even someone like him needed time to adjust.
Renewal slowly lifted his head.
The faint smile that had once rested on his face slowly disappeared.
His eyes gradually turned cold.
Anyone who looked into those eyes now would feel a deep chill in their spine.
For a moment, he remained silent.
Then he quietly spoke to himself.
"What else can I do… but fail again?"
His voice was calm.
Almost indifferent.
"If I fail, then I will simply fail again."
He let out a quiet laugh.
"I will keep failing… until I win in the end."
A strange light flickered in his eyes.
"Failure itself is part of victory."
"We humans do not truly fail."
"We only keep moving forward… even if most of what we do begins with failure."
A cold smile slowly appeared on his face.
"Heh…"
Renewal gently tightened his grip on the tusk in his hand.
"Time to get back to work."
Mingyin froze, his eyes locked on the sphere floating before him.
It wasn't just a sphere. It was a manifestation of ultimate power, radiating an aura so heavy it pressed against his chest and made it hard to breathe.
The Ying Yang Sphere.
He could feel it—the energy vibrating in the air around him, resonating deep within his soul. His heartbeat accelerated, but not with excitement alone. There was also a strange, creeping fear, the kind that comes when facing something far beyond one's comprehension.
"This… this is real?" he whispered to himself, his voice trembling slightly.
The sphere's surface shimmered with alternating red and white light, the colors swirling like two rivers colliding in endless motion. Mingyin could almost see the countless lives, paths, and struggles embedded within its brilliance.
It was naturally the strongest Soul Core ever formed, and only the most extraordinary cultivators could ever hope to understand even a fraction of its power.
Mingyin swallowed hard. His mind raced.
Any peak master who saw this… would die of regret if they failed to obtain it.
Any sect that learned of its existence would wage war to possess it.
Yet now… it was right here. Within his grasp.
His hand slowly lifted, trembling slightly as it reached for the sphere. The air itself seemed to resist him, the pressure from the orb pressing against him, heavy as iron, yet delicate as silk.
And then—
His ears twitched.
A low, distant roar reverberated through the realm, growing louder and louder with every passing second. The ground trembled under his feet, and dust began to rise from the cave entrance.
Mingyin instinctively took a step back. His eyes darted toward the source of the sound.
BOOM!
The chamber shook violently. Rocks tumbled from the ceiling. The jade walls rattled. His crane flapped its wings frantically, squawking in alarm.
Mingyin's heart skipped a beat. His hand froze midair, mere inches from the sphere.
What… what is happening?
He turned slowly toward the chamber entrance. Outside, the air shimmered unnaturally. The sky above was twisting, as if reality itself were bending.
A massive ripple began to form, spreading outward like waves across a lake.
And inside that ripple…
A giant hand emerged, formed entirely of flowing, thick blood. Its surface rippled and twisted like molten liquid, and it moved as if alive.
The sight was so terrifying that even the dragons scattered across the realm stopped what they were doing and stared, mouths agape.
Some hatchlings tilted their heads, curious. "Hey… what is that?"
But the dragon leader's eyes darkened immediately. His instincts screamed danger. Every muscle in his body tensed.
Then, as suddenly as it appeared, the giant blood hand retracted into the ripple.
For a moment, the air was still, and the tension was suffocating.
And then—
A torrential downpour of blood exploded from the sky. It fell like a living storm, red rivers of liquid fury smashing into the ground with terrifying force.
One unlucky dragon was struck directly in the head.
CRACK!
His skull shattered instantly. Brain, flesh, and blood scattered across the earth.
The dragon army stared in disbelief, unable to comprehend the carnage.
"What the…?!" roared the dragon leader, his massive wings flaring as he shot into the sky.
He opened his mouth wide, a blinding light gathering inside his maw. Energy surged like a tidal wave.
Then—
A massive blast tore through the storm, slamming into the falling blood torrents.
But the torrent barely faltered. Where the beam cut through, the blood quickly reformed, flowing together again as if it were alive.
The dragon leader's expression twisted in fury.
He roared again and retreated, calling for his army to defend the realm. Dragons took to the air in droves, trying desperately to intercept the falling blood, but they were too few, and the torrents were too relentless.
Mingyin stepped back slowly, eyes fixed on the sphere. His mind raced.
If the dragon race falls… there will be nothing standing in my way.
But how can I survive this?
He swallowed hard. His chest rose and fell rapidly.
He took a slow, steadying breath and whispered, "I need to awaken… now."
Mingyin turned his gaze fully to the Ying Yang Sphere. His fingers hovered over it, trembling slightly, the tension in the air so thick it felt like it could be cut with a knife.
Mr. Spirit stood behind him, watching quietly. Her teeth clenched in anticipation, a strange smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
"Go on," she said softly. "Touch it, boy."
Mingyin froze for a heartbeat. Then he turned slowly toward her.
"I need to know… why didn't you warn me before?" he asked.
Mr. Spirit's eyes widened, and her body almost lurched. "This brat…!"
Before she could finish, the entire realm shook again. More dragons fell from the sky, many with their bodies pierced and shredded. Blood and screams filled the air.
Mingyin's heart pounded violently in his chest. For the first time, fear had fully reached him.
This… this is real. This is death itself.
He slowly moved toward the sphere, every step deliberate, every breath measured. The storm of blood raged around him, yet he felt… drawn to the sphere, as if it were the only thing keeping him alive in the face of this apocalypse.
The roar of the dragon leader tore across the valley like an earthquake. Mountains shook, clouds quivered, and the ground beneath Mingyin's feet seemed to tremble in fear. His massive wings beat violently against the crimson sky, each strike sending winds that rattled the surrounding peaks. Yet even his unmatched power could do nothing to stop the torrents of blood that poured from above, relentless and unstoppable.
The sky had turned an unnatural shade of red, darker than any sunset or fire. Clouds twisted like living entities, carrying with them rivers of blood that struck the earth with the force of falling mountains. The scent of iron, copper, and death filled the air, thick and choking.
Mingyin's heart raced. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to flee, to hide, to abandon everything. Yet he could not move. Not now. The Ying Yang Sphere floated ahead, a calm, radiant beacon in the storm of chaos. Its light shimmered like a distant star, whispering promises of survival and power.
Around him, dragons scattered in terror. Mothers spread their wings desperately, trying to shield their hatchlings beneath their massive bodies. Soldiers charged, teeth bared and claws extended, attempting to pierce the walls of blood that fell like living barriers.
CRASH!
A mother dragon's wings shattered as a torrent struck. Her scream, filled with anguish and defiance, echoed through the valley before being swallowed by the storm. Her hatchlings were flung violently, their small bodies tossed into the flood. Mingyin's stomach churned. His hands shook, fingers digging into his palms.
No… this can't be real…
Another dragon, fierce and massive, roared as it charged through the storm, flames spilling from its maw. The torrents twisted, flowing around it, reforming immediately, swallowing every attack. The dragon's roar turned to a scream of pain, then silence, as it was crushed beneath the flood.
The valley had become a living nightmare. Screams and roars echoed endlessly, bouncing off cliffs, magnified by the carnage below. Dragons fell from the sky like broken statues—some hitting jagged rocks, some torn apart midair, others swallowed entirely by the crimson torrent.
Even the dragon leader, colossal and fearsome, could do nothing. He opened his maw, releasing a blinding beam of energy that struck the torrents—but it had no effect. The storm reshaped instantly, mocking every attempt at defiance.
Mingyin staggered back, chest heaving, eyes wide, his mind screaming in horror. He had faced monsters, wars, and death—but nothing had prepared him for this. Bone-deep fear gripped him, shaking him to the core.
If this continues… the dragon race will be wiped out… and I… I will die if I hesitate…
A young hatchling flapped its tiny wings, trying desperately to escape the storm. Its eyes met Mingyin's for a fleeting instant, wide with fear, silently pleading for mercy.
Before he could react… SPLASH! The hatchling disappeared beneath the torrent.
Mingyin's legs shook. The ground was stained red, rivers of blood carving jagged paths through the valley. Dragons that had soared moments ago were now broken and lifeless, scattered across the landscape like discarded dolls.
Fear clawed at him, suffocating, unrelenting.
This… this is death itself…
He forced himself to look toward the Ying Yang Sphere. It floated calmly amid the chaos, radiating a soft, steady light. Its energy whispered to him, pulling at his soul, demanding he step forward.
His fingers trembled as they reached for the sphere. Every instinct screamed to flee, but he could not. He had to awaken.
If I hesitate… I will die here… I must survive…
Step by step, he advanced. Each movement deliberate. Every breath measured. Around him, dragons continued to fall, their screams echoing in the air like a chorus of despair. A mother dragon tried one last desperate strike, talons extended toward the torrents—but CRASH! She was obliterated instantly. Her hatchlings were lost before they could even flee.
Mingyin's chest heaved, vision blurred with tears of fear and helplessness. Yet still, he moved forward.
Finally, his fingers brushed the surface of the sphere. A shiver ran through him. The storm seemed to pause for a heartbeat, as if the world itself had stopped, watching, waiting.
The sphere pulsed
under his touch. Warm, alive, and vast beyond comprehension. It whispered to him, faintly, yet unmistakably:
Awaken, Mingyin… claim your power… survive…
He closed his eyes, feeling its energy seep into him, warming his soul, strengthening his resolve. The screams,
Wo Shong Tin's hand was covered in deep gashes, his flesh torn and blood leaking freely. The cold wind whipped across his face, carrying the scent of iron and smoke. His hair and the tattered cloth of his tunic fluttered wildly, and his lungs burned with every breath. Yet even in this state, his eyes burned with determination.
Around him, the sky was alive with movement. Immortals, each radiating soul force, hovered above the clouds, eyes fixed on him. Their auras clashed, bright and dangerous, illuminating the battlefield with a chaotic glow.
"Hammering Justice Artifact!" one middle-aged immortal shouted, voice echoing like a bell of war.
A massive hammer of bronze steel materialized in the air, radiating sheer weight and destructive energy. It descended with unstoppable force toward Wo Shong Tin.
Without hesitation, he summoned his artifact. Sparks erupted as a gauntlet of steel and energy appeared around his left hand. He clenched it, feeling its power course through his veins.
The hammer crashed toward him with a deafening roar. Wo Shong Tin's muscles tensed. Soul force surged through his body, reinforcing his reflexes. With a sudden, explosive movement, he thrust his gauntlet forward.
BAM!
The hammer shattered into pieces, crushed by the overwhelming force of his attack. Fragments of bronze and energy flew apart in all directions. The middle-aged immortal froze, shock etched into his face.
"It… it seems… the artifact allows him to crush anything!" he muttered, disbelief heavy in his voice.
Another immortal appeared, this one following the Ice Path. He summoned his artifact: an ice sculpture made of countless small, razor-sharp leaves. He hurled it at Wo Shong Tin, the leaves spinning and growing in midair, forming a deadly storm of frost and steel.
Wo Shong Tin moved with precision, narrowly avoiding the first strike. Yet the leaves followed him, slicing through the air with a scream. He summoned another artifact—a swarm of metallic birds, each shimmering with energy—and sent them to intercept the ice leaves.
The clash was violent. Leaves tore through the birds, metal collided with ice, sparks flying in a dazzling, deadly display. Yet this was exactly what Wo Shong Tin had prepared for. Each strike, each collision, fed his power, sharpened his senses.
Soul force poured into his gauntlet. With a crushing blow, he destroyed the remaining ice leaves, the storm dissipating into shards of frozen mist.
His spine shuddered from the effort, but he did not falter. Below him, the valley stretched endlessly, dotted with other immortals, each testing their power, each measuring him as a threat.
He scanned the battlefield, heart pounding, breath ragged. There, in the distance, he noticed a lake within a valley, trees surrounding it like silent sentinels. Something about it drew his attention, a subtle energy that seemed almost untouched by the chaos surrounding it.
But before he could move, an immortal shouted, "Wo Shong Tin! You cannot escape! You must die for us to see another day!"
The crowd of immortals surged with energy, a wave of intent to kill rushing toward him. Soul force crackled in the air, visible as streaks of light, arcs of raw power colliding midair.
Wo Shong Tin felt the blood leak faster from his wounds. His vision blurred, every muscle screaming in pain. He staggered slightly, but the gauntlet pulsed in response to his resolve.
I cannot die… not now… not yet…
And then, from the distance, a massive structure appeared: a pagoda, radiating void energy that cut through the battlefield like a knife.
A voice echoed from within it: "Go, Future Overlord. Find Mingyin and bring him here. We will use him for our benefit."
The gates of the pagoda opened, revealing a towering figure: Future Overlord. At least six foot five, clad in golden sculpture armor, a purple garment draped around his waist, six horns rising from his forehead, and cracks running through his armor. His white hair flowed behind a mask that hid his face.
Wo Shong Tin froze. His mind screamed as the figure's presence radiated overwhelming authority and power.
"Oh no… no… no… he's going to…"
Future Overlord's gaze fell on him. Silent, unreadable, yet suffocating in its intensity.
This is it… Wo Shong Tin thought, blood and sweat dripping, wounds burning, yet he clenched his gauntlet tighter. The storm of immortals, the artifacts, the chaos—all of it faded slightly in the overwhelming presence of the one standing before him.
The battlefield had changed. The war, the struggle—it now centered on a single point: survival, obedience, and the power to awaken beyond the mortal plane.
Wo Shong Tin inhaled sharply, feeling every muscle, every artifact, every ounce of soul force ready to respond. He was surrounded, wounded, tested—but alive.
And in that moment, he understood one truth: the path to survival was not just strength—it was precision, focus, and the will to rise above chaos.
He was ready to fight… and the immortals around him would learn exactly why his name inspired both fear and respect.
Wo Shong Tin's hand was covered in deep wounds.
Flesh hung loosely, and blood leaked freely.
He flew through the air as cold wind whipped past his face, his hair fluttering wildly. A tattered ship's tunic flapped against his body.
He looked back in shock.
Many immortals were chasing him, their eyes cold and filled with murderous intent.
Suddenly, a middle-aged immortal soared above the clouds and shouted:
"Hammering Justice Artifact!"
The clouds split violently as a massive bronze hammer descended from the sky.
Wo Shong Tin summoned his own artifact, a gauntlet sparking with energy appearing in midair. He slid it onto his wounded left hand, feeling its power surge through him as he clenched his fist.
Stretching his hand forward, he shouted:
"Take this!"
The gauntlet glowed, releasing a tremendous force. The hammer in midair stopped abruptly as Wo Shong Tin poured his soul energy into it.
BAM!
The hammer shattered into pieces, crushed by sheer pressure.
"What?!"
The immortal in the sky froze in disbelief.
"It seems this artifact can crush anything!" he murmured.
Another immortal appeared, riding an ice path. He summoned his own artifact: an ice sculpture shaped like a delicate leaf.
He hurled it, pouring soul energy into it. The leaf grew taller and spun violently in the air.
BAM!
It shot downward toward Wo Shong Tin. He narrowly dodged, but the spinning leaf sliced across his chest, making him cry out in pain.
He summoned a metallic artifact, which erupted into a swarm of mechanical birds that flapped toward the ice leaf.
The spinning leaf shredded the metal birds in a zigzag motion, killing them all—but that was exactly what Wo Shong Tin needed.
Channeling his soul energy into his hand, he destroyed the leaf, reducing it to shards. His spine shuddered from the exertion as he continued flying downward.
Below, he saw countless immortals in pursuit.
Something unusual caught his eye—a lake nestled inside a valley, surrounded by dense trees.
He veered toward it.
One immortal, noticing this, nearly froze.
"Wo Shong Tin… you have no way out! You must die for us to live another day!" he muttered.
"Unfair…" Wo Shong Tin whispered.
"Coward! Come if you dare!" shouted another.
"Why are you running? Are you foolish?!"
The immortals erupted in rage, their frenzy turning chaotic.
Wo Shong Tin felt more blood leak from his wounds.
"I'm going to collapse…" he muttered.
Suddenly, a pagoda appeared in the distance.
A void resounded:
"Go, Future Overlord! Find Mingyin and bring him here. We will use him to our advantage."
The gate of the pagoda opened, and the crowd looked up in shock.
A massive figure emerged.
was Future Overlord.
The crowd froze.
"What… what is he doing here?!"
Future Overlord stood at least six foot five, clad in golden sculpted armor, a purple garment wrapped around his waist. Six horns crowned his forehead, and his armor bore cracks from past battles.
His face was hidden by a mask, and white hair flowed behind him.
He adjusted his mask.
no… no, no, no… he's going to ki… k… kill me!" Wo Shong Tin stammered, fear gripping him.
Future Overlord's gaze swept over the battlefield, cold and unyielding.
"What is happening?!"
The Woman of Peace spoke first, her voice trembling:
"Renewal said we must kill the one with the highest kill count… yet everyone believes Wo Shong Tin is the only one suitable for this task!"
"Fool!" someone shouted.
"Wo Shong Tin is the strongest among all of you!"
A lone immortal frowned in confusion.
"But if he's the strongest and has the highest kill count, shouldn't he be the primary target?"
Future Overlord cut her off mid-sentence, his voice like steel:
"You will leave Wo Shong Tin alone. I need him for personal matters. Find another target."
"But… we can't disobey Renewal's order!" another protested.
Future Overlord's eyes turned ice-cold.
"He is my ancestor. He will listen to me. Wo Shong Tin is too important to touch."
An old man roared in defiance:
"Foolish bastard! If you want Wo Shong Tin to survive, then we'll die instead!"
Wo Shong Tin felt a surge of relief… briefly.
"Nooo! I was so close to surviving!"
But then, Future Overlord's left-arm armor began to bulk unnaturally, moving as if alive. His arm pulled back, his armor strengthening with a terrifying hum.
"Foolish idiot," he boomed, "if you wish to die with me, face the wrath of my ancestor!"
In an instant, he lunged forward.
The Woman of Peace's eyes widened in terror.
Future Overlord moved too fast to follow.
He appeared beside the old man who had shouted. Before the man could even speak, Future Overlord's massive hand crushed his face. The skull shattered, and the brain was torn apart instantly.
Without pause, he summoned a twisting root from the ground, slicing the old man's head in half.
"Follow my orders, or die like him," he warned coldly.
A middle-aged man, blue-barred and wearing a thin fur cloak, leapt forward, shouting:
"Guys! We can take him! He's alone—who could stop us?!"
He froze as a torrent of blood erupted in the air.
Future Overlord raised his hand, and the man's head was sliced clean off.
The crowd fell silent.
The blood torrent rose, forming words in the air:
"This descendant of mine is my heir. You will obey him without question!"
The blood dissipated, leaving the immortals trembling.
Some tried to smile, fear barely hiding behind their expressions:
"Oh… Future Overlord, we didn't mean it!"
"Yes… we are sorry for what we've done!"
Future Overlord's cold gaze silenced them.
"Wo Shong Tin, come to my side. Don't take this personally. I do this only for my goals."
Wo Shong Tin didn't care that Future Overlord intended to use him—he was simply grateful to be alive.
As he approached, Future Overlord looked over the remaining crowd.
"Find another man with the highest kill count. Do not bring Wo Shong Tin into this mess. Do you understand?"
The crowd clenched their teeth and nodded in fear:
"Yes, sir.
Yes, sir.
Yes, sir."
After several minutes of bloodshed and battle, Future Overlord held the body of a young man.
This man was Hong—the twin battle had ended.
Future Overlord crushed him effortlessly as the remaining immortals fled toward the abyss.
Renewal looked up with a dark smile.
He was back in his human form, flanked by four Heavenly Fiends.
"Oh my descendant, how are you doing?" Renewal asked.
Future Overlord smiled.
"I am doing well."
Renewal tilted his chin, examining him.
"How did you know I was your ancestor?"
Future Overlord summoned another artifact—a small, peculiar token. He handed it to Renewal.
"This is a Blood Token. When I meet my family or grandparents, it signals my realm with golden light."
The token glowed, radiating brilliance.
Future Overlord explained,
"It can shine differently: green for my mother, blue for my father, red for my sibling… but if I meet the strongest ancestor, it shines gold."
As he spoke, a blue light formed in the air, signaling the presence of blood in the Immortal Continent.
"That blood allows my descendant to rank up… though I am still a little below Grade Stage Three."
Renewal's eyes widened in surprise.
"Oh… I didn't know this generation was so intelligent."
Future Overlord laughed softly.
"Yes, Father. Now, what do you need this boy for?"
tossed the boy's body to the ground, letting it roll slightly.
Renewal bent down and picked up the body with both hands.
"This body… will help awaken my descendants," he said, a dark gleam in his eyes.
Future Overlord nodded, his expression calm but commanding.
"The time has come. Prepare them. Strength must pass to the next generation."
Wo Shong Tin, still at his side, looked on in awe and relief. He didn't fully understand the ritual or the power at play, but he knew one thing clearly: he was alive because of Future
"So this is why your blood can signal realms," he murmured.
"The cleverness of this generation… it truly exceeds my expectations."
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