The seventh floor of the Heavenly Book Pavilion was bathed in the suffocating light of the astrolabe. Golden threads of astral energy wove through the dusty air, forming a cage of divine calculation. At its center stood Inspector Zhao of the Imperial Bureau of Heaven, his silver-and-black robes billowing despite the lack of wind.
"A perfect void," Inspector Zhao murmured, his eyes reflecting the spinning gears of his device. "No past, no future. No Heavenly Providence whatsoever. You are the anomaly the heavens warned of."
Lu Chen stood motionless, his face half-hidden by the shadows of the ancient bookshelves. He didn't reach for his sword. Instead, deep within his dantian, the Luck-Binding Mirror flipped from its polished silver side to the pitch-black abyss of its Second Form.
Misfortune Transfer.
Lu Chen had recently harvested the dark, cursed providence from the ancient entity sealed beneath the Sword Graves. Now, he isolated a single drop of that pure, concentrated calamity. Through the mirror's invisible gaze, he latched onto Inspector Zhao's radiant, organized pillar of Qi Yun.
"Submit to the Bureau," Zhao commanded, stepping forward. "The Great Celestial Sunder cannot be left to—"
He didn't finish. Lu Chen forcefully injected the cursed luck directly into the core of Zhao's fate panel.
Instantly, the golden threads of the astrolabe violently changed trajectory. The flawless divine array sputtered. A spatial fissure, part of the library's dormant security formation, miscalculated its target. With a sound like tearing silk, the fissure ripped open directly beside Inspector Zhao, swallowing his left arm up to the elbow.
Zhao screamed, dropping the astrolabe. The device shattered on the floor, the cage of light instantly winking out.
"Enjoy your heavenly mandate," Lu Chen whispered.
Fusing with his Void Sword Intent, Lu Chen stepped backward, melting into the shadows of the pavilion just as the sect's alarm bells began to violently ring.
***
Dawn broke over the Azure Cloud Sect, painting the mist-shrouded peaks in hues of blood and gold. Today was the Outer Sect Competition, an annual crucible where thousands of outer disciples fought for the chance to enter the Inner Sect.
The grand arena was a colossal amphitheater carved from a single, flattened mountain peak. The roar of the crowd was deafening, a tide of human ambition crashing against the stone walls.
High above, in the VIP pavilion, Fang Tianyou lounged on a throne of carved jade. His aura was sickeningly radiant, a blinding sun of purloined providence that made ordinary disciples avert their eyes. Beside him sat Lin Mengyao, her eyes scanning the crowds with a nervous intensity.
Down in the chaotic sea of the outer sect staging area, Lu Chen stood perfectly still. To the world, he was 'Chen Lu', a mediocre disciple with hunched shoulders and a rusted iron practice sword.
But to Lu Chen, the arena was a buffet.
He activated the Luck-Binding Mirror. The world drained of color, replaced by the brilliant, shifting topography of Qi Yun. Most of the thousands of disciples had thin, wisp-like auras of pale yellow. But scattered among them were towering pillars of vibrant gold—the top ten seeded disciples.
Let the harvest begin, Lu Chen thought, a cold smile touching his lips.
"Arena Four!" an elder's voice boomed across the staging ground. "Chen Lu versus Gao Fei!"
Lu Chen shuffled onto the raised stone platform. His opponent, Gao Fei, was a mountain of muscle wielding a massive, broad-bladed heavy sword. Gao Fei was currently ranked eighth in the Outer Sect. Through the mirror, Lu Chen saw a thick golden carp swimming in the pillar of light above Gao Fei's head. The fate panel read:
[Name: Gao Fei]
[Recent Providence: Destined to win his first five matches flawlessly, impressing an Inner Sect Elder and receiving a profound earth-grade cultivation art.]
"You're the trash who sweeps the Sword Graves, aren't you?" Gao Fei sneered, resting his heavy sword on his shoulder. "Just jump off the stage, rat. I don't want to stain my blade with your mediocrity."
"P-please go easy on me, Senior Brother," Lu Chen stammered, raising his iron sword with trembling hands.
"Die!" Gao Fei roared. He leaped into the air, his heavy sword erupting with a thick, earthen-yellow Sword Intent. The Mountain Cleaver Art. It was a flawless execution, aimed to crush Lu Chen into paste.
Lu Chen didn't look at the blade. He looked at the flow of Gao Fei's Qi Yun.
Just as Gao Fei reached the apex of his jump, Lu Chen seemingly stumbled over his own feet. He fell forward, his rusted iron sword jutting out at an awkward, 'accidental' angle.
It wasn't an accident. It was the absolute pinnacle of Void Sword Intent, targeting the exact node where Gao Fei's worldly essence connected to his technique.
The rusted tip tapped lightly against Gao Fei's wrist right as he channeled his spiritual energy. The disruption was catastrophic. Gao Fei's Qi flow inverted. His arms spasmed wildly, and he lost his grip on the heavy sword.
The massive weapon plummeted, the pommel smashing directly into Gao Fei's own kneecap with a sickening crunch.
Gao Fei shrieked in agony, crashing onto the stone floor in a heap of tangled limbs. He rolled entirely off the platform, eliminated by his own momentum.
The arena went dead silent. Then, a smattering of confused laughter broke out.
"What just happened? Did Gao Fei just... drop his sword on himself?"
"That grave-sweeper is incredibly lucky! Gao Fei must have eaten something bad to suffer a Qi deviation mid-air!"
Lu Chen stood up, dusting off his robes while putting on a look of sheer bewilderment. But internally, the Luck-Binding Mirror was spinning furiously. Invisible to the naked eye, the golden carp of providence that had hovered over Gao Fei was violently ripped from the man's fate panel and inhaled into Lu Chen's dantian.
Lu Chen felt a surge of pure, refined spiritual energy flood his meridians. His Perfect Foundation solidified further. Down on the ground, Gao Fei clutched his knee, suddenly feeling a profound, hollow emptiness in his chest. His bright future had just been snuffed out.
"Winner... Chen Lu," the referee announced, sounding utterly baffled.
The next two hours were a masterclass in plundering.
Match Two. Lu Chen was pitted against a swift-sword user named Li Yan. As she unleashed a flurry of a hundred strikes, Lu Chen stepped back in feigned terror. Li Yan's heel caught perfectly on a single, loose cobblestone that Lu Chen had subtly dislodged with a sliver of Sword Intent. She pitched forward, knocking herself unconscious against the stone pillar of the ring. Lu Chen inhaled her golden mist.
Match Three. An opponent known for his explosive fire techniques prepared to engulf the entire stage. Lu Chen used the Mirror's Second Form to inject a microscopic sliver of misfortune into the man's nose. The opponent sneezed violently just as he compressed the fire Qi. The fireball detonated point-blank in his face, leaving him a charred, smoking heap. Lu Chen absorbed a massive cluster of destiny.
With every 'lucky' victory, the crowd grew more hysterical. They dubbed him the "Cursed Sweeper," believing his mere presence brought disastrous bad luck to his opponents.
But high in the VIP pavilion, Fang Tianyou wasn't laughing.
Fang leaned forward, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the armrests of his jade throne. His stolen Innate Spirit Root was throbbing painfully. It was a phantom resonance, a feeling he hadn't felt since he stood over the Abyss of Despair.
"That boy," Fang Tianyou muttered, his eyes narrowing to slits as he stared at the hunched figure of 'Chen Lu'. "His sword arts are terrible. His posture is full of openings. And yet... his opponents' Qi collapses entirely before they even touch him. It's not luck. It's an absolute void."
Lin Mengyao shifted uncomfortably beside him. "Tianyou? What is it? He's just a lucky rat."
"There are no lucky rats in the Age of Fading Providence," Fang replied coldly.
Before Fang could order his enforcers to apprehend the boy, the air temperature in the VIP pavilion plummeted. The space warped, and a man stepped out from the ether.
It was Inspector Zhao.
He looked haggard. His left arm was gone, cleanly severed, the stump sealed with cauterizing talismans. In his remaining hand, he held a massive, archaic disk—the Central Astrolabe of Heaven's Will, a treasure far superior to the one Lu Chen had destroyed in the library.
"Inspector Zhao!" Sect Master Fang, sitting nearby, stood up in alarm. "What happened to you?"
"Quiet," Zhao hissed, his eyes manic. "The anomaly is here. The Sovereign of the Void is hiding among your disciples. I have tracked the scent of his misfortune."
Fang Tianyou stood up, his golden aura flaring like a localized sun. "Are you certain?"
Zhao didn't answer. He slammed the Central Astrolabe onto the railing of the VIP pavilion and poured his remaining Qi into it.
Down in Arena Four, Lu Chen was waiting for his fourth match. The referee stepped up.
"Arena Four! Chen Lu versus Kuang Tian!"
A collective gasp echoed through the crowd. Kuang Tian was Rank 1 of the Outer Sect. He was an eight-foot-tall behemoth with skin like polished bronze, rumored to have the bloodline of an ancient war god. Through the Luck-Binding Mirror, Lu Chen saw an agonizingly bright pillar of blood-red and gold light radiating from Kuang Tian. It was a massive Heavenly Opportunity—Kuang Tian was destined to awaken his bloodline today.
Perfect, Lu Chen thought, stepping up to the ring. If I devour his bloodline providence, my Void Intent will evolve to the next stage.
Kuang Tian slammed his fists together, creating a shockwave that cracked the stone platform. "Your luck runs out here, sweeper!"
Lu Chen lowered his stance. The facade of the clumsy disciple melted away, replaced by the cold, calculating stillness of an apex predator. He prepared to unleash his true speed.
But suddenly, the sky above the arena turned pitch black.
The roar of the crowd died in their throats as a massive, blinding beam of white light erupted from the VIP pavilion. The light shot down from Inspector Zhao's Central Astrolabe, cutting through the darkness and striking Arena Four.
It did not illuminate Kuang Tian.
It locked perfectly, flawlessly, onto Lu Chen.
Lu Chen froze. The light felt like a million needles piercing his skin, an oppressive weight of Heavenly Will trying to crush the void within him.
"Found you!" Inspector Zhao's voice boomed across the entire Azure Cloud Sect, amplified by Qi. "The Sovereign of the Void!"
Up in the pavilion, Fang Tianyou stared down the beam of light. His eyes locked onto Lu Chen's face. Through the oppressive divine light, the illusion of 'Chen Lu' wavered, revealing the sharp, unyielding eyes of the man Fang thought he had killed.
Fang Tianyou's aura exploded, shattering his jade throne. Murderous intent flooded the arena, suffocating the outer disciples.
"Lu Chen!" Fang Tianyou roared, his voice trembling with a mix of fury and terror.
In the arena, bathed in the blinding light of the Heavens and staring down the collective wrath of the Azure Cloud Sect and the Imperial Bureau, Lu Chen didn't panic. He didn't run.
Slowly, he raised his rusted iron sword. He looked straight up the beam of light, past Kuang Tian, locking eyes with Fang Tianyou.
Lu Chen smiled.
"Let the harvest begin," he whispered.