Crackle!
Yun Lintian’s bones creaked.
His blood burned.
His soul trembled.
But his eyes never dimmed.
“No.”
A single word, spoken softly—yet it rippled through the infinite mirrors, cracking them.
“I am not any of those.”
He stood straight, the prismatic light in his eyes erupting into a supernova of defiance.
“I am Yun Lintian.”
And with that declaration—
The mirrors exploded.
Not into shards.
Into nothingness.
The infinite possibilities vanished, erased not by force, but by sheer irrelevance.
Lu Xingzhi recoiled, his eyes widening.
“You—!”
Yun Lintian was already before him, the Heaven Sunderer plunging toward his chest.
This time, Lu Xingzhi couldn’t dodge.
This time, he couldn’t block.
Because this strike carried no technique, no law, no authority.
Just Yun Lintian’s will.
And that was enough.
“This ends now.”
The blade pierced.
CRACK!
The Heaven Sunderer pierced through Lu Xingzhi’s chest with a sound like shattering glass.
Golden light erupted from the wound, not blood but primordial essence—the very fabric of a True God’s being unraveling.
For a brief moment, Lu Xingzhi stared at the blade embedded in his body, his golden eyes flickering with shock, fury, and… amusement.
Then—
“Hehe!”
He laughed.
Not a scream of pain, not a roar of defiance—just a deep, knowing chuckle, as if he had just realized something profoundly ironic.
“Not bad…” he wheezed, his voice already fading. “Not bad at all.”
His skeletal fingers gripped the Heaven Sunderer’s blade, not to pull it out, but to hold it in place, ensuring the wound wouldn’t close.
“You have the qualification… to challenge the God of Time.”
His body cracked, fissures spreading like spiderwebs across his form.
“But…” His grin widened, revealing teeth that were now splintering. “You’re still far from being a competent contender against Nian Shi… or the Chasm of Uncreation.”
Yun Lintian’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t speak.
Lu Xingzhi leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper.
“I’ve guarded this place for eons… watched countless so-called ‘chosen ones’ rise and fall.” His gaze burned into Yun Lintian’s. “But you… you’re the best candidate I’ve seen yet.”
A pause.
Then—
His tone shifted, the amusement vanishing, replaced by something cold and mocking.
“Tell me, little heir… do you want to know the truth?”
Yun Lintian yanked the Heaven Sunderer free, but Lu Xingzhi’s laughter only grew louder, more deranged.
“This was never a trial!” he roared, his body now dissolving into motes of golden light. “This was a trap! A snare laid just for you!”
His voice echoed, even as his form crumbled.
“The God of Time knew you would come! He waited for you!”
The last of his body vanished, but his final words lingered, slithering into Yun Lintian’s ears like poison.
“Welcome to your doom, Seed of Fate.”
Then—
Silence.
The domain collapsed, the void unraveling like a frayed tapestry. Reality snapped back, depositing Yun Lintian in the ruins of the Temporal Palace’s grand hall.
But before he could even process Lu Xingzhi’s words—
A wave of bloodlust crashed over him.
His head snapped up, his eyes locking onto the scene before him.
The hall was drenched in crimson.
A massive altar of pulsating flesh and bone dominated the center, its surface writhing with condensed slaughter-energy. Rivers of blood flowed upward, defying gravity as they fed the grotesque structure.
And beneath it—
Long Qingxuan, her body battered, her azure robes torn and stained with golden blood. She knelt on one knee, her World Ender Sword embedded in the ground, her breathing ragged.
Before her—
Meng Xuan, the Blood Tyrant, his form swollen with power, his Blood Judgment Spear raised high, poised to impale her.
“DIE!” he roared, the spear descending—
Yun Lintian’s vision turned red.
BOOM!
The air itself screamed as Yun Lintian moved.
Not a teleportation. Not a dash.
Reality bent, warping to bring him between Long Qingxuan and the spear before it could even finish its descent.
His hand snapped up—
And caught the Blood Judgment Spear mid-thrust, his fingers crushing the shaft like brittle wood.
CRACK!
The spear splintered, its malevolent energy erupting in a shockwave that sent Meng Xuan stumbling back, his eyes widening in disbelief.
“You—!”
Yun Lintian didn’t let him finish.
His other hand shot out, fingers closing around Meng Xuan’s throat.
“You.”
His voice was quiet.
Deadly.
“Are courting death.”
The moment Yun Lintian’s fingers closed around Meng Xuan’s throat, the Blood Tyrant’s golden eyes widened—not with fear, but with disbelief.
He had never been handled like this.
Not in ten thousand years of slaughter.
Not against gods, emperors, or even other True Gods.
Yet now—
“You—!”
CRUNCH!
Yun Lintian slammed him into the ground, the impact splitting the hall in half. The marble floor exploded upward in jagged shards, the shockwave sending the remaining cultivators tumbling backward.
Meng Xuan coughed blood, his ribs shattering from the force. But before he could even process the pain—
Yun Lintian’s fist descended.
BOOM!
The punch caved in Meng Xuan’s cheekbone, golden blood splattering across the ruins.
“I spared you once,” Yun Lintian said, his voice low, calm, and utterly terrifying. “Because you were beneath my notice.”
Another punch.
CRACK!
Meng Xuan’s nose collapsed, his face distorting under the force.
“But you dared touch her.”
Another.
SPLAT!
A tooth flew, embedding itself in a nearby pillar.
“You dared threaten her.”
Another.
CRUNCH!
Meng Xuan’s collarbone splintered, his body sinking deeper into the crater Yun Lintian was pounding into the earth.
The sound of each blow echoed through the hall—wet, brutal, and methodical.
The surviving cultivators—Jian Kun, Lan Huiqian, even the arrogant Jian Feng—paled, their faces drained of blood.
Jian Feng trembled, his fingers digging into his palms until they bled. “H-how…?”
Jian Kun, however, was not shocked by the violence.
He was staring at Yun Lintian’s uninjured body, his mind reeling.
“He fought Lu Xingzhi… and walked away unscathed…?”
That was impossible.
Even the Celestial Pavilion’s records spoke of Lu Xingzhi as an unstoppable force, a being who had ended entire dynasties with a glance.
Yet Yun Lintian had killed him.
And now—
He was pulverizing the Blood Tyrant with his bare hands.
Meng Xuan gurgled, his body twitching as Yun Lintian lifted him by the throat.
His face was unrecognizable—a mangled mess of golden blood and shattered bone.
“You… can’t… kill me…” he choked out, his voice barely human. “I am… the Blood Tyrant…!”
Yun Lintian’s eyes flashed.
“You’re nothing.”
He whipped Meng Xuan downward, slamming him into the ground again, this time directly in front of the pulsating blood altar.
The altar throbbed, its grotesque surface writhing as if sensing its master’s distress.
Yun Lintian glanced at it, then back at Meng Xuan.
“This is your trump card?” he asked, his voice icy.
Meng Xuan coughed, his lips twisting into a bloody grin.
“Even you… can’t destroy… the Blood Sacrifice Altar…”
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