The sky above the Azure Cloud Sect did not simply darken; it collapsed.
A Nascent Soul cultivator didn't just manipulate World Essence—they commanded it. Sect Master Fang's fury manifested as a colossal, translucent hand that blotted out the moon, descending upon the secondary peak with the weight of a falling meteor. The atmospheric pressure alone shattered the jade-tiled pavilions below, vaporizing ornamental ponds and flattening centuries-old spiritual pines.
At the epicenter of the impending destruction, Lu Chen's bones let out a terrifying, staccato series of cracks. Blood leaked from his eyes and ears. His Peak Foundation Establishment cultivation, while fearsome against his peers, was little more than a candle before a hurricane against a Nascent Soul realm master.
He woke up too fast, Lu Chen thought, his teeth gritted so hard he tasted copper. The demonic artifacts must have triggered a ward tied directly to his soul.
In his dantian, the Luck-Binding Mirror burned with scalding heat. Just moments ago, it had swallowed a massive, fractured chunk of Fang Tianyou's golden providence—the spoils of framing the 'Chosen One'. The mirror thrummed, saturated with pure, stolen destiny.
Lu Chen had a choice: die crushed beneath a mountain of World Essence, or burn every drop of that newly stolen luck to execute a desperate, uncharted Void Blink.
He chose the latter.
Consume! Lu Chen commanded his soul.
The Luck-Binding Mirror spun violently. The captured golden Qi Yun ignited, flooding Lu Chen's meridians with a paradoxical dark energy. But as the immense volume of raw, condensed providence burned, it didn't just alter Lu Chen's position—it violently disrupted the already fragile spiritual ley lines of the Great Azure Realm.
CRACK.
The sound was not physical. It was the horrific tearing of the world's fabric, a sound that resonated directly in the souls of every cultivator within a thousand miles.
Sect Master Fang's descending hand froze in mid-air, a mere fifty feet above Lu Chen's head. The Nascent Soul expert, hovering high above in his flowing robes, suddenly whipped his head upward, his eyes wide with unprecedented terror.
"The Heavens..." Sect Master Fang whispered, his voice trembling. "They are tearing."
High above the Azure Cloud Sect, the night sky split open like a festering wound. A rift of blinding, ethereal silver light tore through the clouds, stretching for miles. From the depths of the spatial tear, a primordial aura spilled out, heavy with the scent of ozone, rusted metal, and ancient blood.
The sheer gravitational pull of the rift shredded Sect Master Fang's ethereal hand like paper in a hurricane. Lu Chen gasped, falling to one knee as the crushing pressure vanished, replaced by a chaotic, howling wind that tugged at his clothes and hair.
He looked up, wiping the blood from his chin. Through the silver rift, he saw silhouettes. Colossal, broken mountains floating in a gray void. Rivers of liquid starlight. And swords. Millions of massive, decaying swords, driven into the earth like tombstones of a forgotten age.
"The Ancient Sword Tomb," a voice echoed across the peak. Imperial Inspector Yan, his gold-embroidered robes whipping violently in the wind, hovered beside Sect Master Fang. The Inspector held a Heavenly Fate Compass that was spinning so fast it was smoking. "The legends were true. The Great Celestial Sunder didn't destroy the primordial battleground... it buried it in the spatial folds!"
Sect Master Fang's eyes burned with sudden, ravenous greed, momentarily forgetting the chaos on the secondary peak. "The concentration of providence... the fluctuations from my son's fractured destiny tonight must have acted as a resonant key, shattering the spatial veil!"
Lu Chen lowered his head, a cold smile touching his lips. *No, you old fool. It was the Mirror burning your son's stolen luck that ripped the door open.*
The opening of the Ancient Sword Tomb was an event of catastrophic proportions in the Age of Fading Providence. It was a pocket dimension from an era before the world's spiritual energy had dried up. Inside lay the legacies of fallen deities, intact spiritual springs, and ancient Sword Intents that could birth an era-defining genius.
"Inspector Yan!" Sect Master Fang barked, his voice amplified by Qi. "The spatial rift is highly unstable. Anyone above the Golden Core realm who attempts to cross will collapse the entrance and be banished into the void. We must send the disciples!"
Inspector Yan frowned, his eyes scanning the chaotic peak below. "And what of the demonic artifacts found in your son's quarters? What of the sovereign theft?"
"A misunderstanding! A frame job by a hidden demonic cultivator!" Sect Master Fang countered smoothly, desperate to secure the tomb's wealth. "Let Tianyou enter the Tomb. If he is truly a heretic, the ancient guardian spirits will shred him. If he retrieves the Sovereign's Legacy, it proves his Heaven-blessed nature!"
Inspector Yan hesitated, then nodded slowly. The lure of the Ancient Sword Tomb was too great to delay with earthly politics.
Below, Lu Chen slipped into the shadows of a collapsed pavilion. He pulled out the Luck-Binding Mirror. The bronze surface was smooth, but within its reflection, the spatial rift above was not silver—it was a blinding, tempestuous ocean of pure, unadulterated gold.
The Ancient Sword Tomb didn't just hold physical treasures. It was a reservoir of ancient Qi Yun.
A race for providence, Lu Chen thought, his Void Sword Intent humming in his veins. They think they are sending their best to claim a legacy. I think... they are sending me a buffet.
***
Within an hour, the Azure Cloud Sect was mobilized. The central plaza was packed with hundreds of Elite Inner Sect disciples, all vibrating with a mix of terror and avarice. Above them, the rift pulsed like a dying heart, occasionally spitting out arcs of spatial lightning that scarred the mountainside.
At the forefront stood Fang Tianyou. He looked haggard. His usually immaculate white robes were slightly singed, and his eyes were bloodshot. Thanks to Lu Chen's sabotage, the golden halo of providence that normally crowned him was currently flickering, marred by dark, jagged cracks.
"Listen to me," Fang Tianyou hissed to the five elite enforcers standing behind him. "Forget the ancient swords. Forget the herbs. Our primary objective is to find the anomaly. The one who framed me. The one who possesses my original..." He stopped himself, glancing around nervously. "The one who humiliated me tonight. The tracker on my Spirit Root confirms he is masking his aura and joining this expedition."
From the back of the crowd, Lu Chen watched Fang Tianyou through the reflection of a stolen jade medallion. He had changed his robes to the standard issue gray of an outer-peak servant disciple who had 'lucked' into an inner sect token. He suppressed his cultivation down to the 5th Stage of Qi Refinement.
Suddenly, the crowd parted. A figure in pristine, moon-white silk walked toward the front. Ye Xiyue. The Saintess of the Fallen Moon Palace carried a crystalline sword that pulsed with a soft, ethereal light. Even amidst the chaos, her presence was like a cool breeze over a burning battlefield.
As she passed the gathered disciples, she didn't look at Fang Tianyou. Instead, her gaze swept over the back of the crowd. Her eyes—blessed with the Heart of the Sword—paused for a fraction of a second on Lu Chen.
She didn't see a lowly servant disciple. She saw a terrifying, hollow void shaped like a man.
She gave an imperceptible nod, a silent warning, before stepping toward the rift.
"The spatial tides are at their lowest!" an Elder screamed from the viewing platform. "Enter! Only those favored by the Heavens will survive the crossing!"
Like a dam breaking, the disciples surged forward.
Lu Chen moved with the flow, keeping his head down. As the vanguard reached the shimmering silver veil of the rift, screams erupted. Three disciples, their providence too weak to withstand the spatial pressure, were instantly liquefied. Their blood was absorbed by the rift, painting the silver veil a dull, rusty red.
The Ancient Sword Tomb demanded a toll. Without sufficient luck, the spatial blades guarding the threshold would reject the intruder.
Fang Tianyou stepped through flawlessly, his fractured but still massive providence acting as a shield. Ye Xiyue glided through, the void-like calm of her sword heart parting the spatial turbulence like water.
Then it was Lu Chen's turn.
He stepped into the silver light. Instantly, thousands of invisible, microscopic spatial blades descended upon him, sensing his true nature: a Sovereign of the Void, a being utterly bereft of native luck.
Deny me? Lu Chen sneered inwardly. I don't ask for permission.
He tapped the Luck-Binding Mirror. A thread of the golden providence he had stolen from Fang Tianyou earlier that night wrapped around his body. The spatial blades hit the stolen aura, recognized the "Heaven-Blessed" signature, and harmlessly dissolved.
Lu Chen crossed the threshold.
***
The transition was violent. One moment Lu Chen was surrounded by the roaring winds of the Azure Cloud peak, and the next, he was standing in a world of absolute, suffocating stillness.
The sky above was an endless expanse of bruised purple clouds, swirling sluggishly. The ground beneath his boots was gray ash. Sticking out of the ash, as far as the eye could see, were swords. Giant bronze broadswords the size of watchtowers. Sleek, rusted rapiers buried to their hilts. Massive slabs of jagged iron that radiated a sorrowful, ancient hum.
Lu Chen inhaled. The spiritual energy here was thick, heavy, and ancient. Just breathing it felt like swallowing liquid iron.
He checked his surroundings. The spatial drop had scattered the entrants. He was alone in a valley of colossal, broken blades.
Or so he thought.
Lu Chen drew his Luck-Binding Mirror. The surface rippled. To his right, about two miles away, a pillar of golden Qi Yun shot into the purple sky. To his left, another pillar, this one tinged with the red of martial slaughter.
So many Chosen Ones, Lu Chen thought, his heart beating a slow, predatory rhythm. The Imperial Bureau hoards them. The Sects protect them. But in here... in the graveyard of gods... there are no rules.
He began to walk toward the closest pillar of golden luck. He needed to push his Perfect Foundation to the Golden Core stage if he was ever going to survive a direct clash with Sect Master Fang on the outside.
But before he could take his tenth step, the gray ash beneath his feet began to vibrate.
A low, rhythmic thumping echoed through the valley.
Lu Chen stopped. He materialized a blade of pure Void Sword Intent in his right hand, the invisible sword distorting the air itself.
From behind a massive, rusted halberd sticking out of the earth, a figure stepped out.
It wasn't an ancient guardian spirit. It was Fang Tianyou.
The 'Chosen One' held a blood-red compass in his hand. The needle was spinning wildly before locking dead-center onto Lu Chen's chest.
Behind Fang Tianyou, ten Azure Cloud Enforcers stepped out from the shadows of the ancient weapons, drawing matching, high-tier spirit swords. They fanned out, forming a perfect heaven-sealing array that locked down the spatial coordinates of the valley.
Fang Tianyou looked at Lu Chen, his eyes burning with a manic, obsessive light. He didn't see the gray robes of a servant disciple. Through the resonance of his stolen Innate Spirit Root, he saw the truth.
"Did you really think," Fang Tianyou whispered, his voice echoing off the silent iron monuments, "that a little spatial turbulence would separate me from my own flesh and blood?"
Fang Tianyou crushed the blood-compass in his grip. The fragments dug into his palm, but he didn't seem to notice. He drew his blade, the stolen Spirit Root flaring with a blinding, agonizing golden light that sought to suppress Lu Chen's very existence.
"I don't care about the Sovereign's legacy anymore, Lu Chen," Fang Tianyou smiled, a wide, unhinged expression. "I am going to peel the void from your bones and feed you to these dead swords. Here. Now."
Lu Chen didn't step back. He slowly raised his left hand, the Luck-Binding Mirror hidden in his sleeve glowing with a hungry, abyssal dark.
"You brought me an appetizer, Fang," Lu Chen replied softly, his eyes flicking to the ten Enforcers. "How considerate."