Lin Fan remained on his knees in the crater for a long time, the silence of the now-cleansed forbidden ground amplifying the roaring storm in his soul. The last vestiges of his pride, the ingrained belief in his own ordained supremacy, had been systematically dismantled and crushed before his eyes.
"He knew," Lin Fan whispered, his voice hoarse and broken. "He knew my destiny. He called it a script."
The wizened voice in his mind, which had been silent in shock, finally spoke with a gravity it had never used before. "Master, I have seen eons, witnessed the rise and fall of gods. But I have never sensed an existence like his. He does not defy the Heavenly Dao; he is entirely outside of its jurisdiction. He is a being for whom destiny is not a path, but a plaything."
"Then what do I do?" Lin Fan's voice was laced with a desperate, venomous resolve. "My revenge... how can I possibly achieve it? Tell me, old friend. Is there any power in the heavens or hells that can touch him?"
"Not as you are," the old soul stated bluntly. "To challenge him is to be an ant shaking a mountain. Any conventional path of cultivation, even with your fortune, would take millennia to even glimpse his shadow. You must seek a power that also operates outside the conventional laws of this realm. There is one such place I know of... the Sunken Mausoleum of the Asura."
Lin Fan's head snapped up. "The tomb of the heretical Asura Emperor? The legends say it's not in a fixed location but drifts through the chaotic void between realms. It is said to contain his legacy, the 'Asura's Heart,' a treasure that feeds on hatred and resentment."
"Precisely," the old soul confirmed, its voice somber. "It is a cursed item, a path of no return. Master, you must understand. The Asura's Heart will grant you immense power by feasting on your hatred, but it will also amplify it, twisting your soul until nothing but vengeance remains. You will lose yourself. It is a devil's bargain."
A terrifying, mirthless smile crept across Lin Fan's face, transforming his handsome features into a mask of grim determination. "Lose myself? I have already lost everything. My pride, my destiny, my future. What is a soul in comparison to the vengeance I will exact? If the heavens won't help me, then I will turn to the abyss." He rose to his feet, his aura fundamentally changed. The golden halo of the Child of Fortune above his head flickered violently, and a visible wisp of blood-red malevolence began to snake around it, corroding its pure light like a creeping poison.
Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, Ao Xian and his entourage were relaxing in a private pavilion atop the highest peak in the Azure Cloud Realm, a place called 'Heaven's Pinnacle.' The pavilion had been created moments before by Lian Xin. The newly hatched Netherworld Crow, full from eating a priceless spiritual fruit provided by Feng Wu, was sleeping soundly on her shoulder.
"Young Lord, the little protagonist is planning to seek the legacy of the Asura Emperor," Hu Mei'er reported, her voice laced with amusement as she monitored the lower realm's happenings. "He intends to use the power of hatred to fuel his revenge."
Ao Xian, who was admiring the sea of clouds below, turned with a bright smile. "The Asura Emperor? That old fellow who tried to fight my father a few million years ago? Father thought his cultivation art was distasteful and erased him. I can't believe his tomb ended up here."
Within Ao Xian's inner world, his parents' clones observed the projection. Mo Lisha, the Demonic Empress, laughed softly, a sound that could charm gods and devils alike.
"Oh, look, Tian," she said, gesturing with a galaxy-piece from their chess game. "The little toy is broken, and now it's trying to glue itself back together with demonic arts. How quaint."
Ao Tian, the Eternal Emperor, didn't look up from the board, but his voice was dismissive. "The Asura's path. A dead end. It consumes the host and offers only fleeting power before oblivion. A foolish choice, born of desperation."
"But it's a dramatic foolish choice!" Mo Lisha countered with a grin. "This is getting much more interesting than him just finding treasures. Xian'er is doing a wonderful job directing this play."
"Hmph. As long as he's enjoying himself," Ao Tian conceded. "That Asura was a minor annoyance. I crushed his entire legion of resentful ghosts with a single thought. His legacy is nothing but cosmic dust."
Hearing his parents' commentary, Ao Xian's smile widened.
"It is a place of considerable danger for the inhabitants of this realm," Long Jing noted calmly. "The 'Asura's Heart' within it would indeed grant that Lin Fan a significant, albeit corrupting, boost in power."
"Oh, we can't have him getting all gloomy and powerful just yet," Ao Xian said with a theatrical sigh. "It ruins the fun. When you get too strong too quickly, you lose the sense of struggle that makes these stories interesting. The best protagonists are the ones who are constantly beaten down but keep getting back up with false hope." He tapped his finger on the jade table. "Besides, I remember my mother saying she found the Asura's battle art somewhat intriguing, if crude. She might like a souvenir."
He stood up and stretched lazily. "Let's go. Find the location of this 'Sunken Mausoleum.' It's always better to arrive before the main guest. We can set up a proper welcome." The maids smiled, and with another effortless step, they vanished from the mountaintop, leaving the pavilion to dissipate into motes of light, as if it had never been there at all.
The chaotic void was a storm of raw, untamed energies. Streams of spatial turbulence, temporal distortions, and primordial chaos qi clashed violently, creating a region where even the gods of lower realms would be instantly shredded. For Ao Xian and his maids, it was simply a place with a rather dramatic aesthetic.
"It should be drifting around here somewhere," Ao Xian mused, his eyes easily piercing through the chaos. "Ah, there it is."
He pointed towards a swirling vortex of resentful energy. Hidden within was a colossal structure that defied architectural norms—a mausoleum built from the bones of a fallen star god, etched with curses that writhed like living things. This was the Sunken Mausoleum of the Asura. Its very presence warped the void around it, pulling in the souls of the dead and the dying to fuel its baleful energies.
"What a dreary place," Lian Xin commented, her succubus nature finding the raw despair distasteful. "So much suffering, so little pleasure."
"Let's tidy up before our guest arrives," Ao Xian said cheerfully. With a single, casual step, he and his entourage passed through the mausoleum's formidable defensive arrays as if they were mist. The moment they entered, the entire tomb shuddered. The millions of vengeful spirits and undead guardians that roamed its halls froze, then prostrated themselves in an instinctual terror that overrode their very nature.
Ao Xian ignored them and walked directly towards the central chamber, where a pulsating, blood-red heart floated above a sarcophagus. This was the Asura's Heart, the legacy Lin Fan was desperately seeking.
Back in the celestial city within Ao Xian's inner world, the cosmic chess game continued. However, two new figures had appeared beside the board, observing the projection of the mausoleum.
One was an old man who looked ancient beyond measure, wrapped in simple gray robes. His eyes, however, contained the birth and death of stars. This was Ancestor Meng, the All-Seer, a being who had severed his own fate from the river of time to become an impartial observer of all destinies. He was one of Ao Tian's oldest friends.
"Tian, your boy is a menace to the very concept of causality," Ancestor Meng said, his voice a dry rustle like old parchment. He stroked his long, white beard. "I watch the threads of fate, and he simply walks in and snips them with garden shears. That Lin Fan's destiny line was a brilliant gold, destined for greatness. Now it's frayed and stained with demonic ink. It's fascinating."
"It keeps him from being bored," Ao Tian replied without looking up, his focus on the board. "Destiny is a guideline, Meng, not a cage. You, of all people, should know that."
The other figure was an ancient crone, her back hunched and her face a web of wrinkles. She leaned on a staff made of gnarled, soul-tormenting wood, and nine spectral wisps flickered around her head. This was Granny Jiu, the Soul-Ender, the progenitor of the Nine-Nether Devils and Mo Lisha's martial aunt from a bygone era.
She let out a cackle that sounded like grinding bones. "That little Asura's bauble? I remember when he forged it. He stole a sliver of the Netherworld's source and thought he'd created the ultimate weapon. It's a crude thing, only capable of amplifying what's already there." She looked at the projection with a doting smile. "Little Xian'er is right to take it away. A proper demonic heart should be cultivated from one's own ambition, not borrowed from a dead man's resentment."
Mo Lisha placed a galaxy on the board, checkmating one of Ao Tian's star clusters. "Granny is right. It's a cheap shortcut. Xian'er is teaching the boy a valuable, if cruel, lesson: there are no shortcuts to true power."
"Hmph. He's teaching him to be a villain," Ao Tian grumbled, though a hint of pride was in his voice.
"And what's wrong with that?" Granny Jiu cackled again. "The most stable thrones are built on the bones of heroes. Let the boy play. It sharpens his instincts."
Inside the mausoleum's central chamber, Ao Xian looked at the pulsating Asura's Heart with mild interest.
"It's so... loud," he commented, referring to the psychic screams of hatred emanating from it. "Long Jing, quiet it down."
The dragon maid nodded. She didn't approach it. She simply unleashed a sliver of her true draconic aura. The immense, prideful will of a Primordial Dragon washed over the Asura's Heart. The heart, born from the resentment of a mere emperor, trembled violently and then fell silent, its malevolent light dimming to a dull, fearful glow. It was like a barking dog that had just come face to face with a star-devouring leviathan.
"Much better," Ao Xian said. "Now, for the welcome." He gestured to the grand, ominous chamber. "Let's redecorate. I'm thinking less 'tomb of eternal hatred' and more 'surprise party for a very special boy'."
"Alright, ladies, a change of plans," Ao Xian announced to the now-silent chamber. He gestured expansively at the grim, bone-carved walls and the sarcophagus that radiated an aura of endless malice. "This simply will not do. Our guest of honor is coming all this way, filled with hope for a dark, edgy power-up. It would be the height of rudeness to give him what he expects."
A mischievous glint danced in his eyes. "Lian Xin, you're in charge of ambiance. I want this place to feel less like a tomb and more like a celestial banquet hall. Get rid of the gloom, but keep it classy."
The Succubus Queen curtsied, a sultry smile playing on her lips. "As you command, Young Lord." She snapped her fingers. Instantly, the oppressive shadows in the chamber were banished, replaced by a soft, warm light emanating from glowing pearls that materialized on the ceiling. The chilling whispers of the damned were replaced by the faint, enchanting melody of a heavenly zither.
"Feng Wu," Ao Xian continued, "all this resentment is terrible for the complexion. Please purify this place. And see if you can't liven it up with some plants. Something cheerful."
The Divine Phoenix nodded. She gently breathed out, and a wave of pure, golden-white flame washed through the chamber. It was a fire that did not burn but cleansed. The writhing curses on the walls dissolved, the ancient bloodstains vanished, and the very stone of the mausoleum seemed to exhale a sigh of relief. Where her gaze fell, luminous, silver-leafed vines sprouted from the stone floor, quickly climbing the walls and blooming with flowers that pulsed with soft, ethereal light.
"Hu Mei'er, I want a grand entrance. And a centerpiece. Something that really says 'Welcome'."
The Celestial Fox giggled. "I have just the thing, Young Lord." She waved her hand, and the intimidating, skull-adorned entrance to the chamber was replaced by an elegant, shimmering illusion of a moon gate. In the center of the room, where the sarcophagus once stood, a grand illusion of a multi-tiered cake, decorated with phoenix feathers and dragon scales, now flickered. Atop it, in glowing script, were the words: "Congratulations on Your Fated Opportunity!"
"And Long Jing," Ao Xian said, turning to his final maid. "The staff here is so unruly."
The dragon maid understood immediately. She let out a low hum, a sound that resonated with the authority of creation itself. The millions of vengeful spirits and undead guardians throughout the mausoleum, still prostrate on the ground, received a new, absolute command. They rose in unison, their malevolent red eyes dimming to a placid blue. They began to move with purpose, lining the hallways like an honor guard, their ghostly forms straightened into postures of perfect servitude.
Ao Xian clapped his hands in delight. "Perfect! Now, let's put the main gift on display." He pointed to the now-tamed Asura's Heart. Lian Xin elegantly levitated it and placed it on an ornate, newly-materialized jade pedestal right in front of the illusory cake, where it pulsed with a gentle, harmless red light, looking less like a source of ultimate evil and more like a festive lantern.
Back in the celestial city, the onlookers were speechless.
Granny Jiu, the Soul-Ender, let out a series of wheezing cackles. "The boy... hah! The boy is a true devil! He understands that the greatest torment is not pain, but the utter annihilation of hope and dignity! That little Asura would be spinning in his grave if he had one left!"
Ancestor Meng, the All-Seer, shook his head, a bewildered smile on his face. "I have observed the flow of destiny for countless eons. I have seen heroes rise and fall. I have seen villains burn worlds. But I have never... ever... seen anyone weaponize interior design."
Mo Lisha beamed with maternal pride. "That's my son. Always so thoughtful towards his guests."
Ao Tian simply grunted, but the corner of his mouth twitched upwards. "He's wasting time."
Meanwhile, Lin Fan and his two companions were fighting their way through the chaotic void. For them, it was a living hell. Finding the mausoleum required not only Lin Fan's hateful resonance but also specialized help. To his side was Tie Niu, a burly, silent man from a body-refining sect whose raw physical power could shatter spatial distortions with his fists. Behind him was Old Man Chen, a wizened array master who frantically threw down formation flags to create temporary safe zones from the temporal currents. They were rogue cultivators Lin Fan had saved in the past, now bound to him by a life-debt.
"Brother Lin, we can't hold on much longer!" Old Man Chen shouted, his face pale as a formation shield shattered. "This accursed place is trying to erase us from existence!"
Tie Niu grunted, planting his feet and taking the brunt of a chaotic energy wave, his bronze skin cracking under the strain. He was a man of few words, but his loyalty was absolute.
"Just a little further," Lin Fan gritted his teeth, his eyes burning with a feverish obsession. He was their leader, the core of their small group. "The hatred... it's my guide. It will lead me to my salvation. It will lead me to our revenge!"
After what felt like an eternity of struggle, he saw it—a swirling vortex of pure evil, a wound in the fabric of reality. The Sunken Mausoleum. A wave of triumphant, savage joy washed over him. He had made it. He had led his brothers to the source of their new power.
He poured the last of his strength into a final push, pulling his exhausted companions with him as they broke through the outer barrier of resentful energy. The three of them stumbled onto the bone-chillingly cold floor of the entrance hall, collapsing in a heap. They took a moment to catch their breath, their hearts pounding with anticipation. This was it. The beginning of their comeback.
Steeling themselves for the horrors within, they helped each other to their feet and looked up. All three of them froze.
The hallway, which should have been filled with shambling monstrosities and shrieking specters, was clean, brightly lit, and lined with two perfectly still rows of undead guardians and spirits, who all seemed to be... bowing. At the far end of the hall, through an elegant moon gate, they could hear the faint sound of a zither and see the warm, inviting glow of a grand chamber.
For a long moment, the three men could only stare, their minds refusing to process the scene before them. The journey through the chaotic void had been a trial of fire and death, a testament to their will. They had expected a tomb of horrors, a place steeped in blood and resentment, guarded by legions of the damned. They had prepared for a desperate battle for a cursed treasure.
They had not prepared for a reception hall.
"What... what is this devilry?" Old Man Chen whispered, his voice trembling. As an array master, he could feel the terrifying power that had been used to so casually overwrite the mausoleum's original nature. The gentle zither music was more frightening to him than any demonic roar, and the warm light felt colder than any tomb's chill. "The foundational arrays of this place... they haven't been broken, they've been... pacified. Subjugated. This is impossible."
Tie Niu, the body refiner, simply grunted in confusion. He flexed his powerful hands, his instincts screaming that something was profoundly wrong. The bowing spirits didn't feel like a trap; they felt genuinely servile, their ancient malice completely erased. It was a violation of natural law.
But Lin Fan knew. A cold dread, far deeper and more chilling than any fear he had felt in the void, washed over him, extinguishing the triumphant fire in his heart. There was only one person in all existence who would, or could, perpetrate such a monstrous, elaborate mockery. The casual, dismissive arrogance was as unique as a signature.
"It's him," Lin Fan breathed, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.
His companions looked at him, confused. "Him? Brother Lin, who are you talking about?" Tie Niu asked.
Lin Fan didn't answer. His face, already pale from exhaustion, became as white as a sheet. The hope that had driven him, the burning desire for a power to rival his foe, curdled into a sick, hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had not found a path to revenge. He had walked directly into the heart of his enemy's new game.
With leaden feet, he started walking down the hall. The undead guardians remained perfectly still, their placid blue eyes following his progress. The zither music grew clearer, more enchanting. He passed through the shimmering moon gate and stepped into the central chamber.
The sight that greeted him shattered the last remnants of his composure. The luminous flowers, the silver-leafed vines, the grand, illusory cake with its mocking inscription, and at the center of it all, the pulsating Asura's Heart, displayed on a jade pedestal like a piece of fine art.
And there, sitting at a jade table as if enjoying an afternoon tea, was Ao Xian. He was flanked by his four peerless maids, one of whom was idly stroking the head of the Netherworld Crow—his Netherworld Crow.
Ao Xian looked up, and a brilliant, welcoming smile spread across his face. It was the smile of a gracious host finally greeting his most anticipated guest.
"Lin Fan! You made it!" Ao Xian exclaimed, his voice filled with cheerful sincerity. "And you brought friends! Welcome, welcome! We were beginning to worry you'd gotten lost. Please, come in, don't be shy."
Old Man Chen and Tie Niu froze at the entrance, their senses screaming at them. The young man at the table looked harmless, but the four women beside him... they felt like four dormant universes, each one capable of erasing them with a single thought. They couldn't even muster the will to move.
Lin Fan, however, walked forward until he stood before the table, his body shaking with a mixture of rage and utter despair. He stared at Ao Xian, his eyes searching for any sign of malice, of trickery. He found only a placid, genuine amusement.
"You..." Lin Fan's voice was a choked whisper. "All of this... this is your doing."
"Of course!" Ao Xian said proudly, gesturing around the redecorated tomb. "I couldn't let my guest of honor arrive to such a dreary place. First impressions are so important, don't you think? I do hope you like what we've done with the place."
The sheer, unadulterated madness of it all finally broke through Lin Fan's control. "WHY?!" he roared, the sound echoing in the beautiful, tranquil chamber. "Why do you torment me?! What have I ever done to you to deserve this endless humiliation?!"
Ao Xian's smile softened into something that looked almost like pity. He stood up and walked over to the jade pedestal, patting the gently pulsing Asura's Heart.
"You still don't understand, do you?" he said softly. "You haven't done anything. That's the point. This was never about you offending me." He turned to face Lin Fan, his expression open and honest. "This is about me being entertained. And your journey, your hope, your burning desire for this dark power... it all culminates in this moment. The moment I give it to you."
He gestured to the Asura's Heart. "It's all yours. A party favor. Please, take your fated opportunity. I went to all this trouble to get it for you, after all."
Lin Fan stared at the Asura's Heart, then back at Ao Xian's smiling face. The air in the chamber, once filled with his own righteous fury, was now thick with a silence so profound it was suffocating. The offer hung between them, a gesture so impossibly generous and so deeply cruel that it defied all logic.
This was not a trap. A trap implied a chance of failure or success. This was a checkmate.
To refuse the heart was to admit defeat, to crawl away with nothing but the scars of his humiliation, his companions' sacrifices rendered meaningless. He would remain an ant, forever living in the shadow of this man's whim.
To accept it... to accept the very source of his hoped-for power from the hands of his tormentor... was to become a puppet. It was to acknowledge that his entire struggle, his desperate journey through the void, was nothing more than a choreographed dance leading to a prize that his enemy had already claimed, tamed, and was now offering him out of sheer, condescending boredom.
"Brother Lin, don't!" Old Man Chen finally found his voice, a panicked squeak from the entrance. "It's a trick! A demonic art to enslave your soul!"
Tie Niu took a half-step forward, his massive frame trembling. "We can leave, Brother Lin. We can find another path."
Their loyalty was a small, flickering candle in the crushing darkness of Lin Fan's despair. He knew they were wrong. This wasn't a trick. It was worse. It was a statement of absolute, unassailable power.
"You are quiet," Ao Xian observed, his tone light and conversational. "Don't you like your gift? I had it cleaned up for you. The original was so... noisy. Full of the pathetic, screaming resentment of that Asura fellow. I had Long Jing teach it some manners. It's much more stable now. It will still feed on your hatred and grant you immense power, of course. But it won't drive you completely mad. At least, not right away." He winked. "Think of it as a starter kit for your villain arc."
Every word was a hammer blow against the crumbling foundations of Lin Fan's pride. He looked at the tamed heart, pulsing gently on its pedestal. It was his destiny, his fated opportunity, now presented to him like a well-behaved pet.
The wizened voice in his mind, the soul of the ancient expert, spoke for the first time since they arrived, its tone one of utter defeat. "Master... he is right. The heart's malice has been... disciplined. It is still a devil's bargain, but the devil is no longer the Asura Emperor. It is him."
A low, guttural laugh escaped Lin Fan's throat. It was a broken, terrible sound. He stopped shaking. The rage and despair in his eyes solidified into something cold, hard, and terrifyingly empty. "You win," he whispered, the words barely audible.
He walked past Ao Xian, ignoring him completely, and stood before the jade pedestal. He didn't hesitate. He plunged his hand into the center of the pulsating red light.
The moment his fingers touched the Asura's Heart, it erupted. The disciplined energy, recognizing a new, compatible host filled with a hatred it could feast upon, surged into his body. Lin Fan screamed, a raw, soul-tearing sound as the power of a fallen emperor flooded his meridians, shattering and remolding them. His golden halo of fortune, already tainted, was violently assaulted by a tidal wave of blood-red energy. The two forces clashed, intertwining, the sacred and the profane merging into a twisted, chaotic mockery of destiny.
His companions watched in horror as Lin Fan's body convulsed, his aura skyrocketing to terrifying heights while his presence became alien and monstrous.
Ao Xian simply took a step back and returned to his seat, sipping his tea as if watching a particularly engaging firework display. "A bit dramatic, but the effect is quite nice," he commented to his maids.
In the celestial city, Granny Jiu cackled with delight. "He took it! The boy has guts! He chose power over pride. A true demonic cultivator in the making!"
Ancestor Meng sighed, shaking his head. "The golden thread of his fate has been completely severed. From this moment on, his path is shrouded in a bloody mist that even I cannot see through. Your son has not just derailed a destiny, Tian. He has created an anomaly."
Ao Tian finally looked up from the chessboard, a flicker of genuine interest in his eyes. "Good," he said simply. "Predictable things are boring."
Back in the mausoleum, the storm of energy subsided. Lin Fan stood panting, his head bowed. When he looked up, his eyes were no longer those of a righteous protagonist. They were pure, glowing crimson, burning with a cold, focused hatred that was now his only truth. The power he now wielded was immense, far beyond anything he could have imagined. But it felt hollow. It felt like a gift.
"There now," Ao Xian said, clapping softly. "Wasn't that better than finding it all on your own? So much more efficient."
He stood up and waved a dismissive hand. "Well, this has been fun, but I'm afraid the party's over. The exit is that way. Do try to be a more entertaining rival next time, won't you? Now that you have the tools for the job."
With a final, cheerful smile, Ao Xian and his four maids vanished, taking the pavilion, the tea set, and the Netherworld Crow with them. The chamber instantly reverted to its former state—dark, cold, and filled with the oppressive aura of a tomb. The only light came from the terrifying crimson glow emanating from Lin Fan's eyes and the faint, residual pulse of the Asura's Heart, now beating within his chest.