The sky burns silver.
High above the ruined fortress, two titans collide—one wreathed in divine flame, the other a nightmare of black mist and rotting divinity. Their clash splits the clouds, tearing the firmament as light and shadow devour one another.
The figure blazing with silver flame meets the Demigod Weird in brutal close combat. Each strike shakes the heavens. Every impact sends shockwaves that ripple for miles, flattening forests and shattering mountainsides.
The Weird's elephant head howls, its mouth splitting wider than its body, releasing a torrent of corrosive darkness that corrodes the very air. The silver figure bursts through the torrent, leaving trails of shimmering fire that burn away the corruption.
They meet again—fist against claw—
silver flame and black decay twisting together like warring stars.
For a heartbeat, the light overwhelms the dark, and the Weird is driven back, crashing into the clouds with a roar that shakes the world. But even as its body falls, black blood sprays across the sky, each droplet birthing new abominations that shriek and dive toward the battlefield below.
The silver figure sweeps his arm, and a surge of pure energy erupts outward—
A cleansing storm that vaporises the spawn before they touch the earth.
Down below, the soldiers of the Silver Mountain Fortress stare upward in awe and disbelief.
"That pressure… It's not the commander…" one warlock whispers, eyes wide.
Another mutters, "Could it be… a god?"
The sky flashes again—
silver light arcs like a blade, and the Demigod Weird screams as part of its torso explodes into vapour.
But the monster doesn't fall. It reaches out with an arm of pure shadow, seizing the silver figure, dragging him through the dark and slamming him into the side of a mountain. The explosion that follows turns stone to dust.
For a long moment, nothing moves.
Then, the mountain cracks open—
and the silver figure rises again, half his body bleeding radiant light, his eyes burning brighter than ever.
He clenches his fist, voice low but thunderous.
"Let's end this."
The silver-flamed figure raises his hand, voice ringing through the sky.
"Domain—open!"
At once, the heavens flare. A silver domain blooms outward like a second dawn, swallowing the storm clouds. Space bends, light fractures, and the entire world seems to hold its breath beneath the radiance.
Sensing the threat, the Demigod Weird roars, its trunk splitting the air.
"Thunder—domain!"
A sea of black lightning erupts from its body, crashing against the silver expanse. The two domains collide—light and darkness, flame and thunder—and then vanish together, leaving only silence and the faint shimmer of distorted air.
High above the fortress walls, the onlookers can no longer see either of them.
The deputy commander, still frozen on the parapet, stares upward, awe and confusion mingling on his face.
"Who… who is helping us?" he mutters.
Beside him, Li Niyue narrows her eyes, her gaze following the fading trails of silver in the clouds. The aura is faint, but familiar—achingly familiar.
Then it strikes her like lightning.
"…Wenrui."
The deputy commander blinks, stunned.
"Wenrui? You mean—" He pauses as realisation dawns.
"—Zhang Wenrui?"
A Great Warlock nearby, overhearing, turns sharply.
"Zhang Wenrui—the criminal? The one wanted by the Great Warlock Association?" His voice drops lower. "If it's really him… will he seek revenge later?"
The words hang heavy in the air.
Li Niyue doesn't answer. Her eyes stay fixed on the sky, where two forces of godlike power battle beyond sight.
Inside, her heart twists. Years ago, she had learned the truth behind her first ancestor's plan—that Wenrui had been chosen, moulded, prepared to serve as the vessel for Kratos, the ancient God of War.
It was never malice, only strategy—the ancestor's desperate bid to protect the Great Zhou dynasty. Alone, even a God Stage cultivator couldn't defend all of humanity.
Two gods were necessary—one born of the dynasty, the other a foreign power bound to it through reincarnation.
But then, Jingxuan had changed everything.
His creation of the Divine Seal method had given the Li family, and every Demigod following the divine cultivation path, a chance to ascend.
A dynasty filled with gods needed no foreign protector. Wenrui's purpose had ended the moment Jingxuan shared that method.
And now, he returns—
fighting for them anyway.
The deputy commander exhales, gripping the wall.
"We should inform the rear. If that thing breaks through again, the fortress will fall."
Li Niyue nods absently, her mind elsewhere. Her gaze softens—not with love, but something quieter.
The affection she'd once held was a remnant from another life, another time. In this one, there was only respect—and guilt.
She watches the clouds boil above them.
Hours pass. The fortress trembles as thunder roars and silver light tears through the horizon. Then, suddenly—
silence.
A blinding flash cuts across the sky.
The lightning domain shatters like glass, raining shards of energy that fade into dust.
And from the sundered heavens, a massive body plummets—
The Demigod Weird, broken, falling like a meteor.
It hits the ground far beyond the fortress walls, sending shockwaves through the land.
For a moment, no one dares breathe.
Then, the soldiers on the walls begin to shout.
At first a whisper—then a cry—then a roaring chorus that shakes the battlefield.
"We won!"
They don't know who fought. They don't know who survived.
But they know one thing—
A human triumphed.
Wenrui stands amid the dust and ruin, his chest rising and falling with slow, deliberate rhythm. He clenches his fist, and around it a field of silvery light expands—an unseen force that devours the lingering darkness in the air.
The corrupted miasma—the weird energy—funnels toward him. Within the field, it twists and burns, purified into spiritual energy, flowing into his body like a tide drawn to its master.
The earth trembles.
The Demigod Weird on the ground stirs weakly, sensing death looming over it. It struggles, massive limbs thrashing, but its energy is spent—it cannot rise.
Wenrui's eyes flash crimson. He raises his fist, energy condensing around it like the heart of a dying star.
But before he can strike, something shifts.
A pulse—cold, unnatural—rises from the ground at his feet. His shadow stretches, twisting in a way shadows shouldn't.
Then, from that shadow, a whip of darkness lashes out at his throat.
Wenrui reacts instantly, his fist slamming down in counterstrike. The two forces collide—light against dark—and a void opens where they meet.
A shadow well.
It twists space itself, and his counterattack is swallowed, vanishing into the darkness.
From the well, something begins to crawl out.
A figure—a humanoid mass of shifting shadow, eyes glowing violet from the void of its form. Its very presence seems to devour light.
A Demigod Weird of Shadow.
Wenrui grits his teeth, steadying his breath. He's not afraid—he's faced worse, bled deeper, and lived. He's just defeated a Demigod. Even drained, his body still hums with Kratos's residual power.
He's confident—until the air changes.
Leaves rustle. The desert wind turns green.
From the drifting dust, vines whip upward, weaving into a spiral, forming a tornado of growth and decay. Flowers bloom and wither in seconds. From its centre steps a woman-shaped figure made of leaves, thorns, and sap, her hair a waterfall of petals, her skin glimmering with chlorophyll light.
Another Demigod Weird, born of the Law of Nature's Corruption.
Her gaze sweeps the battlefield, landing on the wounded elephant-headed giant. Her voice drips with disdain.
"Waste."
She flicks her hand, and green luminescence spills from her fingers. The light falls upon the fallen Weird, its flesh knitting together, its body rising once more—slower, weaker, but alive.
Then her eyes fall upon Wenrui.
Something primal stirs inside her. Not instinct. Not a reason.
Hatred.
Her entire being screams to destroy him.
The sight of him—of a human refining weird energy—feels like blasphemy.
"Ajax," she says, her voice low and sharp as thorns, "do you feel it too? The urge to kill this… human?"
The Shadow Weird, Ajax, inclines his head. "Yes."
The elephant-headed Weird rumbles as its body reforms, voice guttural and heavy.
"The human… can purify our holy energy."
The words hang like a curse.
The two others freeze. Then, slowly, the hatred in their eyes deepens—becoming murder.
They all know the implications.
There are arrays, forbidden relics, and divine instruments that can cleanse weird energy—but they are rare, ancient, and inaccessible.
Yet here stands a human who can do it with his own cultivation, with a path that could spread to all of humanity.
If such a power spreads, their kind would have no refuge left in this world.
The plant woman snarls, her petals withering into blades.
"Kill him."
The three Demigod Weirds move as one.
Wenrui feels their killing intent crash against him like a tidal wave. His blood burns, his muscles scream—but he doesn't back down. He raises his stance, crimson and silver light flaring around him.
Then, a deep voice echoes inside his mind—ancient, commanding, edged with iron.
"If you cannot handle them… give me control."
Kratos.
Wenrui's jaw tightens. He doesn't answer. Not yet.
He would rather die as himself than live as a puppet.
The three Demigods close in—
—but before they strike, the sky splits open.
A new pressure descends—vast, holy, unmistakably human.
From the direction of the fortress, light erupts like a rising sun.
The air trembles. The Weirds hesitate, instincts flaring in warning.
A tremor ripples through the battlefield.
From the fortress, a blinding column of light erupts, piercing the clouds. The earth quakes beneath the weight of a new presence—
A human breaking through the Demigod cultivation stage.
The elephant-headed Demigod Weird turns, its single remaining eye narrowing as the Demigod aura consolidates into form. The corners of its mouth twist in a jagged sneer.
"I'll take care of him."
The Plant Weird and Shadow Weird exchange glances. Their expressions sharpen, wary—but not afraid.
A newly ascended Demigod, fresh from a breakthrough, still lacks control, stability, and true power. Even injured, the elephant-headed Weird could easily entangle him, while the two of them would finish what they started—
killing the silver figure.
The elephant-headed Weird strides toward the fortress, its colossal steps shaking the land. The other two circle Wenrui like predators, the air between them tense enough to crush bone.
Across the battlefield, despair spreads like a disease.
Human warlocks collapse to their knees, weeping, their hearts crushed beneath the oppressive might of three Demigod Weirds. The soldiers tremble, clutching their weapons that now feel as meaningless as sticks before gods.
And then—
The new Demigod's aura shifts.
It begins to rise.
Then rise again.
And again.
Not the erratic pulse of a recent ascension—but a controlled, measured surge, like a being remembering its own forgotten power.
The Shadow Weird's eyes widen. He feels the Laws themselves rebelling—the Law of Shadow trembling in his grasp, slipping away as though answering to another master.
Wenrui senses it too—a vast fluctuation, deeper than the sea, spreading through the fabric of the world. The Law of Shadow, the Law of Thunder, twisting under an unseen will.
"What… happened?" Wenrui mutters in his mind.
Kratos's voice resonates within him, calm and grimly certain.
"You will see someone attain godhood."
Wenrui's heart stops.
"How can someone from the mortal stage break through directly to the God Stage?"
Kratos chuckles, a sound like cracking stone.
"It is not breaking through…" he says.
"It is recovering."
Wenrui freezes. The realisation hits like lightning.
"…Jingxuan."
A hum of affirmation echoes through his mind.
And then—
The world changes.
The shadows around them surge upward, swallowing the light, rising into the heavens. They spread like ink through water, forming a colossal canopy over the sky.
The elephant-headed Weird falters mid-step, glancing upward as his control over the Law of Thunder starts to fracture. His tusks tremble. His massive body quivers under the weight of something vast and ancient.
The shadow canopy begins to spark—
not black lightning, but grey, threaded with the essence of annihilation and rebirth.
Then comes the pressure.
An overwhelming, divine force descends upon the battlefield. The Weirds freeze mid-motion, their bodies instinctively bending beneath it. Even the sky itself seems to kneel.
The humans—warlocks, soldiers, wounded—collapse fully, unable to breathe, tears streaming as the truth sinks into their bones.
A God walks this world again.
And above them, within the fortress, in a quiet cultivation room,
Jingxuan sits cross-legged, surrounded by the swirling fragments of creation.
The seven spiritual law fruits, now fused under the Concept of Immortality, spin before him—
transforming, merging, burning.
Each fruit becomes a star, each star a phantom—
the Law of Fire, Water, Wind, Earth, Positive, Negative, and the Elemental Unity, weaving together in the vastness of his spirit space.
Then, slowly, the balance shifts.
The four elemental laws—Fire's fierce will, Water's silent persistence, Wind's boundless freedom, and Earth's steady strength—begin to move, circling the Elemental Unity Law at the centre.
They spiral closer and closer until, one by one, they dissolve into it—
Four lights merging into one, their essence fusing into a single luminous orb of boundless potential.
The Elemental Unity thrums, pulsing with perfect balance—
but only for a breath.
Then, as if guided by unseen will, it splits—
cracking down the middle into two halves of equal brilliance.
One drifts toward the Law of Positive Energy,
melding into radiance, amplifying creation, light, and renewal.
The other flows into the Law of Negative Energy,
sinking into shadow, entropy, and death's embrace.
Within his spirit space, day and night are born.
The two final laws pulse against each other, their energies swelling until they cannot be contained.
Then—
They release everything.
A surge of force sweeps across his spirit space, shaking its foundation. The laws unravel into raw essence, and from the unravelling rise two vast phantoms—
one of white land, shining with rivers of light and radiant skies,
and the other of black land, vast and quiet, where stars flicker within the shadows.
The two phantoms drift toward each other—
and collide.
The impact doesn't destroy them. It refines them.
Light and darkness fold together, melting into a new terrain—
a single Order Land, where creation and destruction coexist in harmony.
From that fusion, something sacred is born.
Divine Power.
It flows downward like molten gold, piercing through the heart of his cultivation realm and entering the core of his being—
into the Immortal Concept Spiritual Heart pulsing quietly at his centre.
The divine power fuses with it.
The heart trembles.
It shifts from energy to matter, from concept to form.
Runes of law appear across its surface, spiralling patterns of immortality and order.
It is no longer a spiritual fruit—
But the prototype of a World Heart.
The World's Heart beats once.
And that heartbeat echoes outward—
through his spirit, through his soul, through every fibre of his body.
The feedback strikes him like thunder. His blood ignites, his bones resound, his flesh glows faintly as it begins to evolve.
The mortal shell that once confined him now stretches, reforges, transcends—
His body is turning into that of a Demigod.
Outside the fortress, the sky bows under divine pressure. Inside, Jingxuan's eyes remain closed, his breath steady.
He is aware—utterly aware—of the world beyond the walls.
Of Wenrui, of the three Demigod Weirds, of the chaos surging at the edge of life and death.
And in that stillness, his past life's comprehension resurfaces—
the memory of thunder splitting the void, of shadows swallowing heaven itself.
The Law of Shadow and the Law of Thunder, his greatest understandings of that life, awaken within him.
The knowledge drifts upward, a silvery current flowing into the World Heart, merging with the newly formed divine order.
The World Heart hums, transforming once more—
becoming denser, brighter, more intricate.
Its inner landscape shifts—mountains, oceans, storms, and lightning shadows begin to form within it, each moving under his will.
And in the depths of his soul, the pulse of creation steadies.
A miniature world now beats where his heart once was—
complete, balanced, eternal.
The Miniature Grade World Heart pulses once—and the heavens answer.
Then, as suddenly as it came, the divine pressure vanishes.
The suffocating weight lifts from the world; the sky clears, the shadow canopy dissolves, and the air turns still again. Yet that calm carries an unshakable dread—
the dread left behind when something beyond understanding passes by.
The Demigod Weirds exchange glances.
For the first time, fear flashes across their monstrous eyes. The oppressive instinct of prey before a predator grips their very souls. Without a word, they decide to flee.
But as they turn to move—
They cannot.
Their massive bodies refuse to obey. The muscles lock, the laws they command go still, the energy within them freezes. It is as if invisible chains have bound their essence itself.
They realise then: it isn't that they are too slow.
It's that the world itself no longer allows them to move.
In the distance, Wenrui rises slowly to his feet. The divine power's aftershock still hums in his bones. Kratos's voice echoes in his mind, calm and sharp as a blade,
"Look—above."
Wenrui lifts his gaze.
High above the sky, veiled in roiling mist, a figure floats—Jingxuan.
His form is half-shrouded in divine fog, faint silver light spilling from his body. The power around him bends the air, distorting the line between heaven and earth.
And then—
The Weirds kneel.
Every single one.
The countless lower-ranked Weirds scattered across the battlefield drop to their knees, their grotesque bodies pressed flat against the ground. Even their roars die into silence, replaced by trembling devotion.
The Demigod Elephant-Headed Weird fights to resist—but fails. Its colossal knees bend, its tusked head bows low until it nearly scrapes the earth.
When it finally speaks, its voice shakes the land.
"Lord."
The word echoes through the battlefield like a drumbeat of doom.
Jingxuan's eyes open, faintly visible through the mist—two silver stars gazing down upon the kneeling horde.
He raises his hand slightly.
Divine energy threads outward like living mist, weaving through the ranks of Weirds. The power is gentle in appearance but absolute in will—
It sinks into their bodies, flows into their cores, and stamps its mark upon them.
The Elephant-Headed Weird shudders but does not resist; its core is willingly claimed.
The other two—Shadow and Plant—are not so submissive.
They snarl, unleashing every ounce of their might. The sky splits as Shadow Law and Nature Law erupt, tearing the earth open. They twist, burn, and writhe in defiance as Jingxuan's power pierces into their cores.
Their energy storms rise—then falter.
Against a being who has stepped not into the beginning but into the late stage of Godhood, resistance is only a gesture of pride before annihilation.
The divine light seeps through their defences, marking their cores with the Seal of Immortality.
Their power turns still. Their resistance dies.
And at last, their trembling voices break the silence.
"...Master."
The word spreads from them to every Weird across the battlefield, echoing like a vow.
Jingxuan lowers his hand. The divine mist retracts.
All around, the Weirds—the very creatures that once drowned the world in horror—now kneel in perfect submission to the man standing above the sky.
The humans watch in stunned silence. No one speaks. No one dares.
And before any can even blink—
Jingxuan vanishes.
The divine fog dissipates with him, fading into thin air as though he were never there.
Only his will remains, lingering faintly—
And the Weirds, once enemies of mankind, now move with silent discipline under a single command.
Under the will of their new lord—
Jingxuan, the Immortal God of the Human Race.