Afterwards, they slept—entwined in silence, breath steady, hearts still echoing.
Eventually, Cecillia rose. She leaned down and kissed Ren on the lips one final time, soft and lingering. Then she placed a hand over her belly, her aura pulsing with ancient power.
"I can't wait to meet you two," she whispered.
"Jenova and Ultima. My little actual immortal babies."
She smiled—radiant, resolute, terrifying.
Then the shadows stirred. Darkness folded around her like silk, drawn to her presence, obedient to her will.
And she vanished—returning to her godly realm.
Ren stirred, the warmth of Cecillia's presence still lingering on his skin.
But the silence was gone.
A thunderous commotion echoed through his cell—voices clashing, qi flaring, the air thick with ancestral pressure.
Then he heard it.
A voice—deep, ancient, unmistakable.
Ren's eyes snapped open.
He recognised it instantly.
The Ancestor of the Second Strongest Clan among the Ancients.
The Ancient Devil Clan.
"Let me through. I demand you release him—now. I won't ask again."
The air thickened with ancestral pressure.
"I don't need the Emperor's permission. I don't need the Empress's blessing. I come to release my forefather, Emperor Genesis, Creator of our three ancient clans."
His eyes burned with darkness—a void older than flame, deeper than chaos.
"If you don't let me in… I will destroy this entire empire. Not for disrespect to me—but for the blasphemy against him."
The sky trembled, and the ground whispered warnings.
"And then, the countless mortals—foolish in their comfort, blind in their pride—will finally understand…"
He stepped forward, voice like a sealed decree.
"This empire is not mortal. It never was. It is more than they believe. And I am here to remind them."
The guards hesitated, caught between duty and dread.
Then, with a roar of celestial flame, the Emperor and Empress appeared—wreathed in the blazing majesty of the Ancient God race.
Their arrival stilled the winds.
They bowed, not in submission, but in recognition of something older.
"Ancestor," the Empress said, her voice steady but strained,
"Please, calm yourself. What is this about?"
The Ancestor's gaze darkened, his voice rising like a storm.
"You're telling me… You fools don't even recognise The True Immortal?"
He stepped forward, and the flames around them dimmed.
"He is of the True Immortal race. The Emperor of all Gods. The Creator of all."
His voice cracked the sky.
"He forged the Three Clans—Fire, Darkness, and Chaos. He shaped the heavens with flame, veiled the truth in shadow, and unleashed the storm of destruction."
He pointed toward the sealed chamber.
"He is the beginning and the end. The one who created every single thing."
His voice dropped, cold and cutting.
"And you tell me you don't recognise that?"
He stepped closer, eyes burning with darkness—not rage, but ancestral truth.
"What did your parents teach you? They taught you better than this. They taught you to remember."
He turned toward the sealed chamber, voice lowering.
"Even I would've known…"
He gestured toward Ren's restrained form.
"Even in that plain-looking shape he's taken… I can see it in his eyes."
His voice deepened, reverent and sharp.
"That gaze holds the silence before creation. The weight of the first flame. The depth of darkness that veils truth. And the storm of chaos that tore the void into form."
He looked back at the Emperor and Empress.
"And you—born of Fire—can't see the one who lit it? Even Darkness recognises him. Even Chaos would tremble before him."
He stepped forward, voice cold and final.
" He is the True Immortal. The one who created all three clans. The beginning and the end."
The Ancestor's voice dropped, no longer thunderous—just cold.
"Now… Apologies?"
He stepped forward, the shadows around him curling like smoke.
"I don't care how you do it. But show your worship."
His gaze locked onto the Emperor and Empress.
"You disappoint me dearly."
He pointed toward Ren, still sealed, still silent.
His voice cracked, not with weakness, but with restrained grief.
"He would cry. He would weep."
He turned away, bitter.
"For God's sake… We men cannot cry. We can't afford to."
He looked back, eyes burning with darkness.
"Only children and women can afford to cry. That is the sad, bloody truth."
Then he stepped closer, voice low and final.
"And your ancestor—the founder of your Ancient God Clan—he would weep in shame for your disrespect to this man."
He gestured toward Ren.
"To this quiet figure. To this plain-looking form. To the one who created you."
Ren, in his plain-looking form, smiled innocently.
His pitch-black hair—thick, long, and loose—fell freely down his back, no pointed tail to mark him.
His eyes, pitch-black and quiet, held no fury, no pride—only stillness.
And in that stillness, the flames around the Emperor and Empress flickered.
Not from wind.
But from shame.
The Ancestor of the Ancient Devil Clan stepped forward, robes trailing like smoke from forgotten wars.
He bowed—not out of duty, but out of devotion that had been carved across aeons.
"True Immortal"
His voice was quiet, but it carried the gravity of collapsed stars.
"I apologise."
He glanced toward the Emperor and Empress, their silence now brittle.
"But please…"
He turned back to Ren, still sealed, still plain.
"Could you show your true form to those two?"
His tone sharpened.
"Just in case they don't believe my words."
Then, with a scoff that cracked the silence:
"Shameful little brats."
He straightened, eyes burning.
"You've existed for aeons… or more. Since before everything. Before the heavens were named. Before the clans were born. Before the first cultivator dared to reach for power."
He stepped back, reverent.
"Let them see. Let them kneel."
Two figures appeared.
Princess Lianhua, her robes faintly marked by the descent, and Prince Mingyu, quiet but unwavering.
They stepped into the chamber.
Ren sat in the centre. Still sealed. Still plain-looking.
His pitch-black hair fell loosely down his back.
His eyes, quiet and unreadable, lifted to meet theirs.
Lianhua's voice broke the silence.
"Father? Mother?"
She stepped forward, eyes wide.
"What's happening here?"
Mingyu followed, gaze flicking from Ren to the Ancestor.
"Grandpa Ancestor… Why are you here?"
The Emperor Spoke First
"Kneel," he said, voice sharp.
"Both of you. When you're in his presence—especially before our True Immortal."
He turned to Ren, seated and silent.
"What do you mean?" she snapped.
"Why should I?"
She gestured toward Ren.
"He's just peak Step 200. Not even close to Step 500. He's not a demigod—he's barely above mortal."
Her voice rose, pride flaring.
"I believe he's hiding something, yes… But not enough to kneel at his feet. I won't do it, Father."
For the first time, her mother's voice cracked like lightning.
"Do what your father says!"
She stepped forward, eyes blazing.
"That boy you arrested—he is our True Immortal in disguise, you foolish little girl!"
Her voice trembled with rage and shame.
"But again… So I will."
And she knelt.
The Ancestor of the Ancient Devil Clan turned to Lianhua.
"At least," he said slowly,
"You sensed something strange about him."
His gaze lingered.
"Looks like your daughter is not a complete disappointment."
Then he looked down at Prince Mingyu, just ten years old.
He smiled—softly, briefly.
"But it seems he senses something too."
His voice cooled.
"Not bad."
Then he turned to all four of them.
"But I am still disappointed. In all of you."
The Ancestor of the Ancient Devil Clan lowered his gaze, voice quiet but heavy.
"It's a good thing…"
He paused, then looked toward Ren.
"…that Emperor Genesis lover told me beforehand that he was here."
He exhaled slowly, the shadows around him dimming.
"Even I am ashamed of myself for not sensing his presence the first time."
He clenched his fist, not in anger, but in self-reproach.
"But then again…"
He looked up, eyes burning with clarity.
"I am only allowed to see what he allows me to see."
He turned to the Emperor and Empress.
"You think you're judging a boy at Step 200. You think you're seeing weakness. But you're not seeing him. You're seeing what he permits."
He stepped back, voice low and final.
"And that… is the difference between gods and children."
The Ancestor's gaze swept across the Emperor, the Empress, and their two children.
His voice was steady, but each word struck like a decree.
"From what I can tell… he's only just begun cultivating in this realm. Not to rise. Not to challenge. But to learn."
He stepped forward, eyes never leaving the Emperor's.
"He doesn't need cultivation to do as he pleases. Even at this stage, his presence alone bends the qi around him. You feel it, don't you? The silence that obeys him."
He turned to the Empress, then the children.
" The True Immortal is cultivating not out of need, but out of choice. He's doing this to gain even more power—not because he lacks it, but because he can."
A pause. A breath. A final glance toward Ren.
"You chase cultivation to survive. He cultivates to explore. You ascend to escape mortality. He descends to understand it."
Then, with a faint smile that held no warmth:
"Be careful how you measure him. You're only seeing what he allows you to see."