But Xinxuan also had direct orders from the Xing Nation leader himself: reject the proposal outright, don't even open the letter, humiliate the Indians on the spot.
Mordan had pulled strings behind the scenes, ensuring the meeting could not be blocked entirely, but the leader still exerted heavy influence.
Xinxuan paced faster, torn between loyalty and curiosity.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of internal debate, he stopped in front of the table.
"I'll just open it," he muttered. "If it's nothing special, I'll reject it immediately and apologize to the leader later."
He picked up the letter.
It was plain—only his name and address written on the envelope, nothing flashy or official.
"So unprofessional," he shook his head with a small scoff.
Slowly, carefully, he broke the seal and unfolded the single page inside.
It was blank.
Just white paper.
He frowned, turning it over.
Then—
The moment the page fully opened, his mind stirred violently.
His body froze mid-motion.
His limbs went rigid, unresponsive.
He felt his consciousness—his very soul—being pulled upward, out of his physical form.
The paper in his hand began to glow with a soft, radiant golden light.
Xinxuan stood like a statue, eyes wide, unblinking, the glowing page held motionless before him.
***
Xinxuan slowly opened his eyes, blinking against the soft, diffused light that surrounded him.
He looked around in confusion, taking in the endless expanse of white clouds drifting lazily beneath an impossibly blue sky, with a warm sun hanging high above, bathing everything in gentle golden rays.
It looked peaceful—almost too peaceful, like a painting of heaven from one of the old religious texts he had once read.
He sat up straight, realizing he was sitting on nothing solid, yet he felt perfectly supported, as though the air itself cradled him.
Regret flooded his voice as he spoke aloud, the words trembling with sorrow.
"I shouldn't have opened that letter… Mother was right. She always warned me not to take strange things from strangers. My greed made me lose my life. Is Mom going to be okay? Will Dad be able to take care of himself without me? Will the Xing Nation look after my family now that I'm gone?"
The regret lingered for only a moment before it slowly twisted into something darker—anger.
His fists clenched at his sides.
"Why did India target me? Just because I created a breathing technique, they killed me… I will take my revenge—even if I become a ghost, I will make them pay…"
Just as more furious words rose to his lips, he noticed the surroundings beginning to change.
The clouds, once pure white and serene, flickered at the edges—first turning faint pink, then deepening to crimson, as though stained with blood.
The sky darkened in patches, thunder rumbling in the distance where there had been none before.
Lightning flashed silently across the horizon, then vanished.
The sun pulsed erratically, its light shifting from warm gold to harsh white, then dimming to a sickly orange.
The clouds writhed and twisted, forming fleeting, nightmarish shapes—clawed hands reaching out, distorted faces screaming without sound, monstrous silhouettes that dissolved the moment he focused on them.
Xinxuan's breathing quickened.
His overthinking mind kicked into full force, spiraling through every terrifying possibility.
"Why is this place changing? I thought heaven was beautiful, eternal… but can heaven change like this? Or… is this not heaven at all? Is this hell? But I didn't commit any crime—did I? Maybe opening the letter was a sin… maybe my greed damned me…"
The clouds darkened further, thunder growing louder, the shapes more violent.
His thoughts raced faster, feeding the chaos.
Just as the darkness threatened to swallow him completely, a voice cut through the storm—low, resonant, and clear, like the tolling of an ancient bell that vibrated in his very bones.
"You should stop now. Otherwise, you will turn your brain into meat paste."
The words were calm, almost gentle, yet they carried an undeniable authority that instantly silenced the roaring thunder and stilled the writhing clouds.
Xinxuan's frantic thoughts froze.
He looked around wildly, searching for the source of the voice.
The surroundings began to settle—crimson fading back to white, thunder receding into distant echoes, the sun returning to its steady golden warmth.
The chaos retreated, leaving only the peaceful expanse once more.
But Xinxuan's heart still pounded.
He was no longer alone.
And whoever—or whatever—had just spoken… was watching him.