Lin Yu closes his eyes.
A tide of power surges through his veins—cold, silent, ancient. The air around him folds into stillness as he breaks through to Tier Nine of the Necromancer Extraordinary Path.
From his shadow, the Bone Pocket watch drifts upward, spinning slowly before his eyes. Its ticking stops. The bone gears melt into runes of death, and black mist spills from its core as the extraordinary heart inside begins to transform.
Energy from the Blood Lake floods into it—crimson threads winding together with his own life origin. The watch twists, reshapes, and becomes a white bone heart, pulsing faintly like something alive. Each beat sends shockwaves of necrotic power through the air.
Runes appear in a spiral around it, sinking one by one into the heart's surface until it glows with eerie divinity. A trace of divine light forms at its centre—cold, pale, eternal.
Then, for the first time, the Bone Heart returns to him.
It sinks into his chest, releasing its power. Death energy bursts outward, trying to consume him, to reshape him into a creature of undeath. But his body's vitality—refined through countless trials—rises like a storm and fights back.
Life and Death clash inside him. Every collision burns away weakness and hardens his body beyond its limits.
Time loses meaning. The war continues until his body trembles, shatters the invisible wall within—and the final pulse of power tears through him.
He has broken through to Tier Nine Body Refinement.
He exhales slowly, feeling the last shackle—harder than all the others combined—still bound deep within his flesh. Even so, his strength has reached a level where every heartbeat resounds like thunder in the abyss.
Death energy continues to press against him, relentless, but it can no longer win. As vitality pushes back, the two powers grind against each other, endlessly tempering his flesh.
When he opens his eyes, his gaze softens.
Across the lake, Amelie sits cross-legged above the crimson waters, her body glowing faintly as tendrils of curse energy flow into her. Around her shimmer black runes of decay and soul-binding—a cocoon of evolving power.
He smiles faintly, watching her silhouette framed by the blood mist. Then his eyes drift to the lake itself.
The Blood Lake's surface has dulled. Its once-vibrant energy now feels thin, fragile—like a dying star. Lin Yu senses deeper, his mind deducing the flow of energy.
There is enough remaining for him and Amelie to advance one more time—to reach Tier Nine in another Extraordinary Path each.
But no more than that.
The Blood Lake no longer holds the essence needed for the Demigod Stage.
He closes his eyes once more, calm and calculating.
He has already chosen the next steps—two paths that mirror his dominion: the Law of Soul and the Law of Curses.
His long-term goal remains clear: to advance to the Demigod Stage through the mastery and unification of Nine Laws.
If Laws are divided by depth, then the first three stages belong to the mortal realm—basic comprehension, shaping, and control. Stage Four marks the awakening of divinity, and once a Law reaches that level, its wielder can step into the Demigod Stage. The Fifth Stage transcends creation itself—where divinity evolves into authority, allowing ascension to the Fourth Stage of cultivation.
But Lin Yu knows the truth that few can see.
When a Law attains divinity, it gains independence. To merge multiple divine Laws afterwards becomes a near-impossible task. The higher their level, the greater the resistance between them.
So, before his Laws awaken their divinity, he will fuse them—forge a foundation vast enough to bear Nine at once.
Before arriving in this world, only his Shadow Law had reached Stage Four. The Shadow Clone he left behind had begun to comprehend the Laws of Light and Dark, the two eternal opposites that balanced his path. Meanwhile, his Life Clone's mastery of the Law of Life had reached the peak of Stage One, its progress steady as ever.
He doesn't know if time flows equally between the two worlds. But if it does, his Life Clone's comprehension by now should have caught up to the Shadow Clone, perhaps even begun weaving new Laws around the Law of Life.
And though they are fragments of himself, their thoughts, instincts, and pursuit of power mirror his own.
His reasoning is simple yet profound: combining Nine Laws at Stage Four can open the path to the Fifth Stage, the level beyond gods.
That doesn't mean he must take that route. With his Five Elemental Laws already touching the initial level of Stage Five, and his Thunder Law peaking within it, Lin Yu could easily ascend to the God Stage using a single perfected Law.
But he refuses.
Power alone is not enough.
He once sought to embody the Concept of Nether, to walk the path between life and nothingness, mirroring the Nine Nether Sect's perfected doctrine.
But this time—after fate shattered his existence and gave him another chance—he has chosen to create something new, something that belongs to him alone.
The Concept of Immortality.
A concept not borrowed, not inherited—but forged from his own obsession to defy death itself.
Yet this path demands more than comprehension—it demands discovery.
The Nether Concept had already been mapped, its required Laws clearly known.
But the Immortal Concept is an uncharted creation. To perfect it, he must test every Law he encounters, searching for traces of immortality hidden within their essence.
Only through countless fusions, countless failures, will he discern which ones form the eternal pattern he seeks.
With that clarity, Lin Yu stills his mind. The lake below responds—the blood thickens, pulsing faintly with cursed light.
He steps into its crimson depths, the surface parting like molten glass. His body sinks beneath, and the Blood Lake trembles around him.
There, within that silent abyss, Lin Yu begins cultivating his newest creation—
The Cursed Rune Warrior Extraordinary Path.
Cursed energy rises from the blood lake like smoke from a burning grave.
It coils around Lin Yu's body, whispering in forgotten tongues, before sinking into his flesh.
Runes take shape—jagged, twisting sigils of power that throb faintly with a dark red glow.
One after another, they burn themselves into his skin, their shapes neither fully alive nor dead.
When the ninth rune forms, the air trembles. The nine symbols pulse as though sensing one another's presence, resonating in an eerie rhythm that spreads across his body. The runes flare at once, radiating crimson light so thick it stains the lake around him.
The light converges above his head, spinning, fusing—until a cocoon of blood and curse energy forms. It beats like a living organ, breathing corruption and hunger into the air.
The cocoon quivers, tightening, then bursts apart in a shattering pulse.
From within emerges a grotesque crimson heart, slick and irregular, its veins crawling like serpents, its arteries pulsing with black-red energy.
Around it, twisted runes shimmer faintly—symbols that erode the mind, gnawing at sanity itself.
Lin Yu gazes at it, calm and unflinching. He does not call it back into his body.
The heart floats beside him, thudding softly like a companion to his own heartbeat.
He simply continues cultivating, weaving the cursed runes deeper into his flesh, stabilising the new path.
Outside the mountain, the black mist creature that coils around the peaks stirs. Its colossal form tightens, the ground quivering beneath its unseen weight.
The strange presence that has kept it in check begins to fade—and the creature's excitement bleeds through the darkness. It hungers, sensing its prey within reach.
Far away, three figures hover above the treeline, their robes snapping in the wind.
The leader—an old man with a long grey beard—holds a wooden compass in one hand and a dragon-headed crutch in the other.
The compass's needle trembles, fixed toward the mountain's peak, pointing directly at the black mist creature.
Behind him, a beautiful woman floats gracefully, her gaze flicking between the compass and the distant shadow. Her tone is respectful but wary.
"Master, the soul well seems to be occupied by that… thing. What do you intend to do?"
Before the old man can speak, the third figure—a man with sharp eyes and the impatience of youth—steps forward.
"Master, even if that really is a soul well, we don't have the strength to claim it. We should sell the information to the Black Tower instead."
The old man doesn't answer at first. His eyes narrow, focusing on the distant black mist.
He is at the peak of the Mortal Extraordinary Stage, only a step away from forming his Tao Pill—but that step requires a soul well, rich with purified soul energy.
With that essence, he could refine the pill, give birth to a Soul Fetus in it, and break through to the Demigod Stage.
But the creature before him blocks his path—
And his time runs thin.
If he sells the information to the Black Tower, the soul well will be lost to him forever.
The wealth he gains would be meaningless; his body already bears the scent of decay, and at best, he has five years left to live.
His grip tightens on the crutch. Then, slowly, he waves his free hand.
A soft hum answers the gesture. From the forest below, mist coils upward—and an old cottage manifests from thin air, its door hanging slightly open, a flicker of candlelight glowing within.
The old man descends wordlessly, landing at the cottage door. He takes one last look toward the mountain, toward the faint pulse of the black mist—and enters the house.
Behind him, the two disciples exchange uneasy glances.
The woman sends a voice transmission to her junior. "What does Master intend to do?"
Without waiting for an answer, she descends slowly, robes trailing through the mist. From her space ring, she takes out several array plates, flicking her fingers to pour mana into each.
The plates hum to life, rising in arcs of light before settling around the cottage's perimeter.
As she works, her thoughts stir in quiet turmoil. Does Master truly mean to fight the weird creature to the death?
The idea chills her, yet when she imagines standing in his place—an old man at the end of his life, strength fading, time running dry—she knows the answer.
Yes. To fight to the death is madness... but it's also the only hope.
Her junior, still hovering above, looks down at the faint shimmer of the forming array, his voice uncertain.
"Senior Sister... does Master really plan to fight it?"
He feels the shift of energy below—the cottage already beginning to draw in the weird energy, refining it into pure spiritual essence for cultivation.
The woman doesn't look up. She continues placing the final plate, her voice steady but laced with sorrow.
"What choice does he have?"
Her junior clenches his fists. "He could sell the information to the Black Tower. They would pay a fortune for a soul well's coordinates."
Her hand pauses for a heartbeat, then resumes. "And what would Master do with that fortune? He has less than five years left to live. Not even the richest sect could sell him a quota to cultivate near a soul well."
The young man falls silent. His lips tighten, the weight of helpless understanding pressing on his chest.
The final plate locks into position. The air ripples once, then folds inward. A thick fog rises, veiling the area. When it clears, the cottage is gone—
replaced by a large black boulder that radiates faint spiritual pressure.
The woman steps forward, her form blurring, and vanishes into the illusion.
The man takes a deep breath, then follows a step behind. Inside, the air hums with refined energy, soft and dense like flowing light. He exhales in relief.
They walk in silence through the narrow hall, parting at the doors to their separate rooms, each sitting cross-legged in quiet meditation as their master's power stirs faintly through the walls.
—
Back in Ding Town, the air feels calmer but heavy with anticipation.
Inside a simple, elegant residence, Jingxuan sits beside Li Niyue in the living room. A gentle flame flickers in the lantern between them as he finishes explaining another cycle of the Immortal Body Refining Method.
He waits—calm, patient—for Zhang Wenrui's challenge day to arrive.
But as the evening sun bleeds across the windows, a subordinate enters and bows deeply.
"Lord, there is urgent news."
Jingxuan opens his eyes, and the man continues,
"Zhang Wenrui has been declared a criminal by the Royal Court... and by the Great Warlock Association."
The words fall like a stone.
Li Niyue shoots to her feet, her face paling.
"What are you saying? That can't be right—did you make a mistake?"
Her voice trembles between disbelief and fear.
Jingxuan raises his hand slightly, and the official decree flies from the subordinate's grasp, gliding through the air before landing in his palm. He unfolds it with a flick of his wrist.
Across the paper is a sketched portrait of Wenrui's face, inked in sharp, deliberate strokes. Beneath it, written in heavy red script:
"Capture alive—by order of the Royal Court and the Great Warlock Association."
Jingxuan's eyes linger on it for only a moment. Then, slowly, he turns his head.
Li Niyue is staring at him, eyes wide, filled with fragile hope that teeters on the edge of breaking.
He dashes it without hesitation.
"He's right," Jingxuan says calmly, handing her the paper.
The silence stretches as she takes it, her fingers trembling, her lips parted as if to speak.
Jingxuan rises.
"Looks like Wenrui won't be coming tomorrow to challenge me after all."
He walks past her, out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.
A few minutes later, he hears hurried steps behind him and a familiar voice calling out.
"Jingxuan, wait!"
He stops, turning slightly as Li Niyue rushes toward him, breath uneven, worry clear in her face. She halts just before him, the paper clutched tightly in her hand.
"Can you help him?" she asks, her voice tight, desperate.
Jingxuan studies her for a moment, his gaze calm, unreadable.
"There's no reason listed here," he says, tapping the paper, "but I can guess why the Court and the Association want him captured alive."
Li Niyue's expression falters; she doesn't need him to say it aloud. Her voice trembles.
"The Ancient Demon…?"
Jingxuan's tone is flat, almost indifferent.
"Yes. And the best outcome for Wenrui now is to be captured alive—otherwise, his body will be taken over completely."
Her shoulders slump. "You… you can't do anything?"
Jingxuan looks at her evenly.
"Your First Ancestor reached the God Stage and couldn't stop the awakening. How do you expect me to?"
Li Niyue lowers her head, the last trace of hope fading from her eyes.
"Don't get involved in this," Jingxuan says quietly. Then, without another glance, he turns and walks away.
As he leaves, a faint pulse of spiritual energy spreads from him—
a voice transmission, sent to the housekeeper, Meilin, and the head guard:
"Do not let Li Niyue leave the estate under any circumstance."
He steps into his retreat room, the heavy door closing behind him.
Crossing the quiet space, he sits down cross-legged. From his robe, he takes out a golden token engraved with a divine sigil. He studies it for a moment, then breaks it cleanly in half.
A surge of spatial energy envelops him.
The world folds, and in the blink of an eye, the stone walls of the retreat vanish—
replaced by a quiet tea chamber, warm light flickering across carved wooden screens.
Before him sits the Second Ancestor of the Li Family, serene and still.
Between them, a steaming teapot releases faint tendrils of fragrance that curl upward into the silence.
Jingxuan settles into the chair across from him.
Neither speaks at first. The air hums with the weight of things unsaid, the faint curl of tea steam drifting between them like a silent messenger.
Finally, the Second Ancestor of the Li Family, Li Tianji, breaks the stillness. His voice is low, controlled, but edged with curiosity.
"Jingxuan, you haven't called me for three years. If you've summoned me now, it must mean you've found a method to help me break through to the God Stage."
Jingxuan lifts his gaze. "I have," he says evenly, "but the question is—does your elder brother dare to cut himself off from the Divine Domain?"
The atmosphere sharpens. A weight presses down on him, a distant, oppressive awareness—an ancient will watching through the fabric of the Divine Domain. Jingxuan feels it instantly. He knows exactly whose gaze it is.
Li Tianji frowns, but his tone remains calm. He doesn't let anger surface, not when the foundation of the Li Family and the Great Zhou Dynasty itself is being questioned.
"Jingxuan," he says slowly, "you must understand how important the Divine Domain is. I doubt you'd say such a thing lightly."
Jingxuan's eyes shift toward the luminous horizon at the centre of the Divine Domain.
"Then," he says softly, "the First Ancestor should come hear this himself."
A pulse of divine light answers his words. The air folds—and from it, a man steps forth.
The First Ancestor, Li Tianxuan, appears, his presence vast and suffocating, like the pressure of a descending sky. Even within the Divine Domain, his aura ripples with divine power restrained beneath layers of control.
The moment Tianxuan's eyes fall on Jingxuan, the latter feels an instinctive surge of danger scream through every nerve in his body. But he remains still, calm, unshaken.
Li Tianxuan's voice is steady, carrying the weight of countless years.
"Tell me," he says, "how do you intend to help my brother—and the other demigods—reach the God Stage?"
Jingxuan lifts his palm. A sphere of golden light forms above it, pulsing faintly—a memory imprint containing his method.
"This," he says, "is the key."
He divides the sphere into two smaller globes and sends one to each of them. As the golden light merges into their foreheads, their consciousnesses enter the memory, witnessing the process as Jingxuan continues explaining.
"Form a Divine Seal," he says, "using all the divine laws woven into the Divine Domain itself. The First Ancestor must refine that seal—comprehend every law within it—and then form a new seal of his own. A personal Divine Seal that embodies his understanding. When the seal is complete, it will let you sever your link to the Divine Domain without losing your realm. The injury will be heavy, but temporary."
The idea was born from his inspiration—the Heaven Seal of the legendary Cover the Sky. In that world, the Heaven Seal carried the laws of existence itself; the Divine Seal, he realised, could serve the same purpose—a bridge and a key.
When the two ancestors finish absorbing the memory, light flickers in their eyes. Their faces brighten, relief and excitement replacing centuries of frustration.
A rare smile touches their lips. Together, they bow deeply.
"Thank you, Jingxuan," they say in unison. "You've shown us the way forward."
For generations, the Divine Domain had served as both a fortress and a prison—anchoring the Demigods while denying them ascension. Even Li Tianxuan, bound by the Domain's core, had been unable to advance beyond the God Stage's threshold.
Jingxuan accepts their gratitude with a faint nod.
"Once the First Ancestor cuts his link to the Divine Domain," he says, "it can be passed on—refined anew by the next successor."
He stands, bows faintly, and the illusion dissolves.
In the next breath, Jingxuan's consciousness returns to his retreat room.
He exhales, eyes half-open, and resumes meditation. Around him, faint golden and silver light flickers—the positive and negative laws of the four elements unfolding slowly before his spirit as he begins to comprehend them one by one.