The air was no longer transparent. It had become a thick, viscous gold, saturated with the pressurized Qi of the inverting Silo. Zhou and Yue Qin were struggling, their movements sluggish as they fought to breathe in an atmosphere that was rapidly becoming too "divine" for their refined structures.
But I? I began to move faster.
While they saw the leaking anchor as a catastrophe, I felt it like a long-lost heartbeat. I allowed the golden vapor to flood my lungs, the raw energy scouring my meridians like liquid fire.
"You're... you're not fighting the pressure," Yue Qin gasped, her silver pin flickering out as her containment field collapsed. "You're inviting it."
I didn't answer. I didn't have to.
The Memory: The Long Game
As I channeled the surging power, a memory surfaced—one I had buried even from my own subconscious. It wasn't from the Era of the Radiant Peak. It was from three years ago, in the back room of a dusty laundromat.
I hadn't just stumbled into the "Chairman" role. I had built it because I knew this day would come. I had deliberately chosen the location of Heavenly Brews. I had spent months "clumsily" damaging the pipes, ensuring the anchor point would have a specific, irreparable flaw.
I had lured the Archive. I had baited Yue Qin. I had even leaked enough "Level 5" energy to trigger the Dao's corporate sensors.
[Image showing a blueprint of the city where the "accidental" leaks form the shape of a massive, ancient 'Heaven-Binding' array]
I didn't want a "Reverse-Flow." I wanted a System Reset. And for that, I needed the Architect's keys and the Origin's authority present at the exact moment of the breach.
The Strike
"You thought I was the virus, Zhou?" I shouted, my voice now layered with the echoes of a thousand dead immortals. "I'm not the virus. I'm the Update."
I dropped the Fallen Leaf Blade. I didn't need a sword anymore. I spread my arms wide, letting the golden light of the city's leaking veins connect directly to my heart.
Zhou's eyes widened. For the first time, the "CEO of Heaven" looked truly afraid. "Chen Feng, stop! You'll crack the foundation! The mundane world cannot survive a direct infusion of this magnitude!"
"They won't have to survive it," I said, a cold, focused calm settling over me. "They're going to become it."
I reached out, my fingers interlocking with the invisible threads of the Dao that Zhou had been using to control the fight. Because I had spent years living as a barista, breathing smog and drinking instant tea, my soul had developed a "mundane" shell. I was the bridge.
"Yue Qin, thank you for the blueprints," I whispered. "Zhou, thank you for the power."
I initiated the move I had spent a century calculating: The Grand Autumn Harvest.
I didn't push the energy back into the Silos. I didn't let it explode. I began to pull. I pulled every bit of stored magic from the hidden reservoirs beneath the city, using my own body as the needle to stitch the ancient power into the modern steel.
The skyscraper we were standing on began to pulse. The glass didn't break; it turned into translucent jade. The steel beams didn't melt; they transformed into dragon-bone.
"What are you doing?" Yue Qin screamed, her plum coat tatting into feathers.
"I'm ending the Ebb," I said. "By making the mundane and the immortal one and the same. No more Silos. No more secret societies. Just the world, as it was meant to be."
I felt the pressure reach its absolute peak. My skin began to glow with a blinding brilliance. This was it. The move that would either rewrite the universe or erase me from history.
"Tang," I muttered to myself, thinking of my coworker. "I hope you like your coffee with a side of divinity."
I clenched my fists, and the world went white.