The realm shattered into shards of glasslike reality. Every collision between Wang Lin and his shadow-self birthed new universes—then crushed them in an instant.
BOOM!
Black and silver qi roared across the sky. The echoes of their Abduction Paths clashed, twisting space into ribbons. The reflection—his older, colder self—moved like lightning, his palm slicing through dimensions. Each strike carried the weight of uncountable stolen techniques.
Wang Lin's body screamed in pain. Every blow from his shadow mirrored a part of himself he had yet to master. The Shadow was not an enemy—it was his culmination, the part of him born from every drop of hatred, grief, and vengeance he had buried along his journey.
> "You think compassion makes you strong?" the Shadow sneered, eyes glowing crimson. "It makes you weak. The path of Abduction devours all. Even your mercy will be consumed."
Wang Lin's breath trembled. He was bleeding from his eyes, yet his gaze remained calm. "If mercy is weakness… then I'll bear it proudly."
The Shadow's expression froze.
Then—RUMBLE!
From Wang Lin's chest, a pulse of energy erupted—half black, half white. The two colors intertwined, spinning into a sigil that radiated both devouring and creation. The Abduction Path had evolved again—no longer just stealing, but refining balance itself.
The realm howled. The Shadow roared, summoning hundreds of spectral clones—each one an echo of an ancient cultivator Wang Lin had absorbed through fate's threads. They lunged, their divine arts filling the void.
Wang Lin closed his eyes.
He exhaled.
> "Abduction Path—Third Revelation: Silent Reversal."
In an instant, everything went still. The sound, the light, even time froze. The spectral cultivators dissolved into motes of qi, flowing back into him. The Shadow's movements slowed, his expression turning from rage to disbelief.
> "Impossible… You refined my existence?"
Wang Lin stepped forward slowly, blood dripping from his fingers. His voice was low, almost whispering.
> "You were never my enemy. You were my warning."
He reached out—and pressed his hand against the Shadow's chest.
A single tear rolled down his reflection's face before his body broke into black dust, merging into Wang Lin's soul. The realm quaked one last time, then began to fade into starlight.
Silence returned.
But deep within the fading void, a whisper reached his ears—one that made his entire body tense.
> "Well done, thief. You've surpassed yourself… but the one who created you still lives."
Wang Lin froze. That voice—smooth, ancient, and filled with mocking amusement—belonged to none other than Mo Xie himself.
The world collapsed.
And as Wang Lin opened his eyes again, he stood within a massive throne hall made of obsidian crystal. Floating above the throne was a single black lotus, burning with inverted flames. Upon it sat a figure—tall, shrouded in layers of darkness. His eyes glowed with the power to unmake worlds.
> "Welcome, Heaven's Thief," Mo Xie said, smiling faintly. "Let's see if you can steal from the gods themselves."