The world had perished.
No stars glittered above, no suns burned in the endless heavens, nor did any mortal realm dare to breathe within the nothingness. Silence was the only ruler, and emptiness the only domain.
Yet within that desolate void emerged the faintest ripple—an awakening.
A pair of eyes opened, ancient and unyielding, pupils flickering with colors that civilizations would have named countless divinities after. Entire histories of empires had once bent to bow to that gaze. To those who remembered him, he had been called myriad names: the Ender of Calamities, the World-Forging God, the Tyrant of Eternal Dao.
But to himself, he was simply—
Xianzhe Tianya.
He had already transcended everything. He had held the laws of time in his palm, silenced endless dimensions, and broken through shackles that Immortal Emperors had once declared eternal. At the peak of creation itself, there had been nothing left—no challenge, no breakthrough, only an eternal stagnation.
And so he had chosen oblivion.
Or so he thought.
Now, he existed again, drifting amidst the void like a lone sovereign waking from a dream. His soul, his body, his eternal authority—they were intact. Only the universe had been erased.
"…So I still remain," Xianzhe murmured, voice calm as still water, but in that sound thunderous laws reverberated. Mountains could be created or destroyed with such casual utterance, if mountains had still existed here.
For a brief moment he closed his eyes. He searched the omniscient perception that had once mapped galaxies at a thought. There was nothing. No world, no rival survivors, not even the resonance of existence.
Until a spark rang in his ears.
[Ding.]
Supreme Sect System has bound itself to Host.
The void vibrated with an alien sound, not from the Dao, not from the laws he ruled. It pierced directly into his consciousness. For the first time in countless epochs, Xianzhe paused with genuine surprise.
A ring of translucent light unfolded before him, lines of divine code drafting reality itself into view. It was neither illusion nor ordinary Heaven's Will. This was something higher, something external.
[Host identity verified: Sovereign of Ten Thousand Daos, Xianzhe Tianya.]
[Status: Eternally stagnant. Progression halted indefinitely.]
[Solution: Growth transferred to Sect Domination Path.]
[New Objective: Establish the Supreme Sect. Train disciples strong enough to surpass the Host.]
Xianzhe blinked once. Slowly, he chuckled—a deep, resonant laugh that scattered ripples of creation across the barren void.
"To think, even after breaking every chain, fate would toss me into another gamble."
In ancient times, he had guided armies, cultivated in seclusion for ten thousand years, battled gods, and absorbed universes. He had done all there was to do. But this… this was something new.
A sect?
He remembered once founding a minor sect in his youth. Inevitably, they had been slaughtered when rival cultivators found themselves threatened by his disciples' rise. He had taken vengeance, but the idea of "nurturing others" had long since died in the wake of betrayal and betrayal again.
And yet now, this system dared tell him the only way forward was to create the Supreme Sect, to train disciples who might even surpass himself?
"…Very well," he whispered, his voice carrying through horizons that no longer existed. "If that is what stands before me, I will build a sect so great the Heavens themselves would kneel."
The system responded, unfazed by his arrogance:
[Sect Creation Initiate.]
[Please designate Sect Name.]
His lips curled slightly. His titles had been countless, but a name for this faction? A name that would resound across eternity?
"Eternal Heaven Palace."
It felt fitting, lofty, untouchable. He would craft a sanctuary that ruled beyond worlds, not as a fragile sect but as a sovereign palace spanning dimensions.
[Acknowledged. 'Eternal Heaven Palace' has been established.]
[Generating Sect Realm…]
The void trembled. Space warped and unfolded like origami set aflame with primal essence. Structures rose—simple at first: a half-built plaza of ancient stone, a cracked hall that seemed more ruin than foundation. A barren stretch of land formed, no wider than a mortal city. Not nearly what a god's sect should be.
"Pathetic beginnings," Xianzhe mused. "But the Dao of creation teaches that foundations matter most. We will rebuild."
Still, his hand moved lazily through the air and streams of law followed. The broken tiles reformed into radiant emerald jade. The cracked pillars reassembled, transforming into obsidian-black columns embedded with golden runes that hummed with eternity.
The sect's entrance, once a fragile arch, expanded into a towering gate of clouds and lightning.
If he was to start once again, then even his ruins would be worthy of awe.
The system chimed again:
[Sect Realm stability secured. Disciples must be recruited.]
[First Recruitment Roll: Activated.]
A ripple of distortion split open in the air. From the depths of broken time, bodies coalesced. Human forms fell through like meteors, dropping unconscious onto the jade plaza.
As dust cleared, Xianzhe observed them—five individuals.
The first was a young man with trembling hands, his body thin, malnourished, weak enough that a mortal soldier could snap him in half. His eyes fluttered open, revealing fear and despair.
The second was a dusky-skinned woman, scars etched into her arms. Her qi was fractured, cultivation crippled, yet her clenched jaw showed unyielding pride.
The third: a child, no older than ten. Orphaned, soul scarred but dimly burning with destiny.
Fourth: a middle-aged scholar, robes tattered, no cultivation at all, but his eyes gleamed with frightening intellect.
And the fifth—an unconscious woman in white robes, aura sealed, but suppressed power swirled beneath her like a caged beast waiting to awaken.
They were all… trash. At least, by the measure of godhood. Ants, fleas, nothings.
But then again, ants could build hills that devoured continents, given enough time.
[New disciples detected. Assign Outer or Inner Sect roles?]
Xianzhe's smile widened faintly. "Let us test the gamble. Place them all as Outer Sect Disciples. Let them crawl and bleed for every step. If one among them reaches the peak, then they shall truly be worthy."
The system complied.
[Assignment complete.]
[Quest unlocked: Cultivate Disciples. Reward: Sect Upgrade, Resources from Void Treasury.]
Finally. Something stirred in his ancient heart. Not the thrill of conquest, for he had conquered everything. Not the hunger for more power, for he possessed all power. No—this was the faint spark of curiosity. What would happen if he poured his wisdom into these fragile beings? If flawed humans could be shaped into eternal dynasties?
Perhaps—just perhaps—disciples who surpassed even himself.
He turned to the unconscious disciples, and for the first time in ages spoke like a master:
"Rise, my disciples. From this moment on, your blood belongs to the Eternal Heaven Palace. Your victories will be my triumph. And your failures…" His gaze grew sharp, a god's promise. "…will be the crucible that makes you immortal."
Lightning flickered overhead, as if the very void had heard the decree.
The Supreme Sect System pulsed coldly in acknowledgment:
[The path of the Eternal Heaven Palace begins.]