There was an ancient prophecy written in the blood-stained pages of the Ghost Codex
"When the royal blood of the Flower Realm is offered to the Ghost Lord, the curse of poverty shall fade, and the Ghost Realm shall prosper for eternity."
For centuries, it had been dismissed as legend.
But now, with the fall of Heaven and the capture of the Almighty Di K — god of the Flower Realm, the most beautiful among the heavens — that legend had become a dangerous truth.
The Ghost Emperor, drunk on the illusion of power, declared the sacrifice to be carried out on the next Lunar Eclipse — the holiest night in the Ghost Realm, when the moon itself bleeds crimson.
The sacred altar stood at the center of the dark palace.
Black flames burned in golden braziers, and the air trembled with chants of thousands of ghostly soldiers. The sky outside was heavy, the moon hidden behind storm clouds.
Di K was brought forth — bound tightly to the Heaven Rod, a divine relic that even gods could not shatter. Its silver chains glowed faintly with celestial power, cutting into his wrists like threads of fire.
Even in captivity, even stripped of power, Di K radiated an ethereal beauty that silenced the crowd. His silver hair fell over his blood-stained robes, and his eyes — once bright with mischief — now shimmered with quiet sorrow.
The other gods were dragged behind him, bound in the same cruel chains. They were forced to watch — helpless — as the most radiant among them was led toward his death.
Di Kun struggled violently against the Heaven Rod, his voice raw.
"Let him go! He is not yours to sacrifice!"
A ghost general sneered. "He belongs to the prophecy now."
The drums of the ceremony began to pound, deep and heavy. Each beat echoed like the countdown of fate. The sky grew darker as the moon began to turn red.
And in the midst of it all stood Sen Ruyon.
His heart was chaos. He was the crown prince of the Ghost Realm — heir to the very empire that now demanded this sacrifice and yet, everything inside him screamed in protest.
As the priests began their incantation, his crimson eyes locked onto Di K's. The god's lips curved into the faintest, broken smile.
"Is this how the Ghost Realm celebrates glory?" Di K whispered softly, his voice trembling but unyielding.
"By killing beauty for greed?"
The words struck like arrows.
Sen Ruyon's fingers tightened around his sword. The chants grew louder. The Emperor raised his hand to begin the ritual.
And in that moment, as the first drop of the crimson moon's light touched Di K's skin — Sen Ruyon moved.
The sky above the Ghost Realm churned with dark clouds as the lunar ritual reached its peak. The Heaven Rod glowed with blinding power, its divine chains binding Di K like a fragile flower caught in thorns. The chants of the ghost priests grew louder, echoing through the valley like a curse.
The Ghost Emperor raised his staff high, his cold laughter ringing across the hall. "At last, the prophecy will be fulfilled! The blood of the Flower Realm will feed the Ghost Lord, and our realm shall rise again!"
But before the final incantation could be spoken, a voice thundered across the temple.
"You piece of shit! Do you think you've won?!"
Every ghost soldier froze. The crowd turned and there stood Di Kun, his golden armor glinting beneath the blood-red moon. His eyes blazed with fury.
"You think this pathetic rod can hold us?" he snarled. With a single flick of his wrist, divine energy erupted from his palm. The sacred Heaven Rod, said to be unbreakable even by gods, shattered like glass.
The hall fell silent.
The Ghost Emperor stumbled back, disbelief in his eyes. "Impossible…"
Di Kun smirked, his voice dripping with confidence. "You underestimate the blood of Heaven." He turned his gaze toward his brother. "Di K, enough pretending. Let's end this farce."
At once, the air shimmered with divine light.
Di K, who moments ago had been hanging limply, suddenly opened his eyes. The faintness vanished; his smirk returned wicked and beautiful.
"Finally," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "I was getting tired of this act."
With a graceful leap, he broke free from the shattered chains and landed beside Di Kun. The ghost soldiers recoiled in shock.
Then Di K raised his hand to the storming sky. "Sister, we've kept your stage ready. Shall we begin?"
Thunder cracked across the heavens. The storm roared. And from the heart of the lightning descended Di Jun — alive, radiant, and furious.
She landed with the force of a comet, her divine aura scattering the ghost guards like dust. Her armor gleamed, untouched by flame or blood, her golden eyes blazing with power.
"Miss me?" she said coldly, raising her sword.
The Ghost Realm trembled. Every soul in the temple fell silent.
The dead goddess had returned.
And the war that Heaven thought was lost… had just begun anew.
The battle that shook the realms ended not in blood, but in revelation.
It turned out — every fall, every defeat, every tear shed by Heaven — had been nothing but a grand act, orchestrated flawlessly by the Di siblings. From the destruction of the Heaven Gate to the capture of the gods, every event was a piece of their divine strategy.
When the truth unfolded, the Ghost Realm realized too late — the gods had been playing them all along.
With Di Jun's return, the battlefield turned into a storm of divine fury. Ghost soldiers fell like shattered shadows, their cries echoing into the void. Lightning from Di Kun, divine fire from Di Jun, and the ethereal magic of Di K painted the dark sky with streaks of destruction.
By dawn, the Ghost Realm lay in ruins. Their armies were gone, their emperor defeated, and Heaven's hostages freed. The Di siblings returned to Heaven—victorious, but changed.
Among them, Di K walked in silence.
He had fought with grace and cruelty, his smile never faltering even in the bloodiest moment. Yet behind that calm, his eyes carried an ancient sorrow. Around his neck glimmered a small, delicate silver necklace—a charm his mother had given him before her death. He never took it off. Not even once.
It was said that even the gods had never seen Di K's true form. Not the Emperor, not his siblings, not even the divine records knew what he truly looked like. His beauty, his power, his real essence—everything was hidden beneath a veil of illusion.
Some whispered that the necklace was the seal of that form.
Others said it held his mother's soul.
But Di K never spoke of it.
All anyone knew… was that when the necklace glowed, the heavens themselves trembled.
That necklace was no ordinary relic—it pulsed with a faint warmth, as if alive. Every beat matched the rhythm of his heart, every shimmer whispered a name only he could hear.
Late that night, Di K walked to the Lotus Lake of Souls, where the reflection of the stars met the water like scattered pearls. He knelt and touched the surface, and the calm ripples answered with a woman's voice—soft, sorrowful, and tender.
"My child… you've grown so strong."
A luminous figure slowly rose from the water—a woman in flowing silver robes, her eyes like the dawn. It was his mother, the never forgotten goddess of the Flower Realm, who died century of year ago.
The necklace had not been just a keepsake it was her soul, bound in crystal light to protect her son. Every time Di K faced death, every time he shed a tear, it was her spirit that guarded him, the hidden power that even the heavens feared.
Di K's voice trembled. "Mother… all this time, you were with me?"
She smiled faintly. "Always. My light became your strength, my soul your shield."
Her final whisper brushed against his cheek like a blessing.
"Never forget, my child… love is the power even gods cannot destroy."