"Hei'an." The Ancestor paused. Ren remained seated, his posture loose with quiet authority, eyes fully lidded, veiled in shadow. The cell around him pulsed with quiet power. Ancient God Qi curled through the air like drifting smoke—not summoned, not commanded, but drawn to him by nature, as rivers are drawn to the sea.
"I'm staying." His voice was calm, but the air shifted—as if the cell itself recognised its occupant.
"This place is beneficial to me. It's rich with heavy Ancient God Qi. Perfect for cultivation."
He exhaled slowly, and the Qi thickened, gathering around him like mist around a mountain.
"I appreciate what you said. But leave them be."
A pause. Not bitter. Not wounded. Just distant.
"It doesn't matter that they didn't recognise me."
Hei'an's gaze narrowed, but Ren didn't open his eyes.
"Why would they?" His voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of centuries.
"It's been so long since I was last here. They've only heard stories. Seen paintings. Portraits from the era when I was Emperor Genesis."
The name hung in the air like a forgotten decree.
"I had a different appearance then, too."
The Qi around him pulsed once—softly, like the breath of a sleeping dragon.
Hei'an said nothing. But the shadows around him thickened, as if the void itself leaned in to listen. Ren remained seated, eyes fully lidded, his presence quiet but absolute. And the cell, once a place of confinement, now felt like the eye of a gathering storm. A sanctum. A crucible. A place where legends slept—and waited to rise.
Hei'an bowed his head slightly, a gesture not of submission, but of recognition—the kind reserved for those who shaped eras.
"I understand, True Immortal." His voice was low, reverent. The shadows around him stilled.
"It is good to see you finally return to Mìngjiè Xiānlù."
The name echoed through the cell like a forgotten melody—the sacred path of the Underworld Immortals, where only those who had transcended mortality could tread without fear.
"The other two Ancestors will be arriving soon as well."
A pause. Then, softer:
"They've waited a long time."
The royal princess couldn't believe it. That man—plain-faced, quiet, unreadable—was the True Immortal? She had felt something about him before. A pressure. An intent so vast and refined it made her breath catch. It wasn't killing intent. It wasn't spiritual coercion. It was something else—a presence that bent the world around it. And it had been directed at her.
She remembered standing there, trying to trace its source, trying to ask him who he was—
But he vanished. Not walked away. Not flew. Vanished like teleportation. Or like he had never existed at all.
And then—she met him again. Not long after. Still plain-looking. Still quiet. But this time, he said something that pierced her pride more than any blade. He called her ugly.
Not her face. Not her form. But her personality. And that—that stung. The people worshipped her. Adored by her army. Praised in poems and immortalised in jade. No one had ever said that to her. No one had ever dared. And yet he had. Without raising his voice. Without blinking.
And now—he was the True Immortal. The one she had flirted with. Mocked. Dismissed. And the one who saw through her with a single glance.
Ren looked at her. And smiled. Not mockingly. Not cruelly. Innocently. Like he hadn't just called her ugly. Like he hadn't just vanished from existence and reappeared as myth incarnate.
Then, he turned to her younger brother. The boy blinked up at him, wide-eyed. Ren raised a hand and waved it casually, almost playfully. Her brother hesitated—then waved back, mirroring the gesture with childlike sincerity.
"It's nice to meet you, Forefather."
He said, voice soft with awe. The words hung in the air. Simple. Pure. Unaware of the storm swirling behind his sister's eyes.
She stood frozen. Her pride is still bleeding. Her thoughts tangled. Ren—the man who saw through her, who dismissed her grandeur with a single word—was now smiling at her brother like they were old friends. And somehow, that hurt more than the insult.
After nightfall, she returned. Drawn not by duty—but by something she couldn't name. Ren was still there. Reclined in the same posture, his body loose, his breath steady. His thick, pitch-black hair spilt across the stone floor, untied, unbothered, absorbing Qi like a divine conduit.
She paused at the threshold. The air around him had changed. It was heavier. Denser. Alive. She narrowed her eyes—then felt it. His cultivation had skyrocketed, already at early Step 300. Her heart sank. She was at peak Step 180—a proud achievement, until now.
Ren hadn't moved and hadn't summoned pills, talismans, or formations. He lay there, and the world fed him. At this rate, he would soon reach Step 500. And then—he would be a Demigod.
Not in title. Not in the ceremony. But in truth.
She stared at him, the man she once mocked, the man who called her ugly—and realised he was ascending without effort. And she—for all her worship, her army, her pride—was being left behind.
For the first time, she was willing to kneel to him. She hadn't even done that for her parents. Not for anyone.
"Please… take me as a disciple."
Ren opened his eyes and looked at her.
"Why the hell not? You're talented.
I initially didn't want to interact with you because you gave off a protagonist aura.
People like you tend to get jealous of me—it seems to be a natural occurrence.
However, I've only met two others who were hostile.
You were the third.
Looks like you're willing to change that."
She had no idea what a protagonist was, but she understood the rest of the sentence.
"Come inside and absorb the Ancient God Qi," he said.
"It'll benefit you greatly—you carry the bloodline."
She stepped in without hesitation, sat near him, close enough to feel the pressure in the air shift. The Qi was thick. Heavy. Alive. It curled around her skin like smoke, sank into her bones like memory.
After a moment, she asked,
"That isn't your real appearance, is it?"
Ren didn't even blink.
"No."
"What should I call you?" she asked quietly.
"Should I still call you Shen Wuyin?"
Ren didn't even look at her.
"Call me whatever you like. I honestly don't care at the moment. Now shush—and absorb, please."
After half a day, she noticed it. Her cultivation had skyrocketed.
Why hadn't she cultivated here before? If she'd known, she would've reached higher realms long ago. The Ancient God Qi wasn't just potent—it was transformative.
She had already reached mid-Step 250. And it felt stable. Real. Like her foundation had been rewritten by something older than time.
She looked at Ren. He had reached the late stage, Step 499. He was about to break into the Demigod Realm.
She couldn't believe how fast he was improving. She used to think she was a genius. But now—she realised there's always someone better.
Too late for pride. But not too late to learn.
Still…was there anyone better than him?
He looked so lazy. That's how he acted. But everything he did—he did naturally like the world bent itself to his rhythm.
And when she looked closer, she saw it:
It must be sad to be the best. To have no equal.
She didn't mean to ask aloud. But the question slipped out.
"Is it sad?"
Ren didn't hesitate. Didn't look at her.
"Yes."
"How old are you?" she asked.
Ren didn't blink.
"One hundred thousand, five hundred and two."
She frowned.
"But… shouldn't you be older than that? The Three Ancestors have lived for aeons. Even longer. You're the one who created them, aren't you?"
Ren nodded.
"Yes, I should be."
He paused. Then added:
"I've lived far longer than that. But I went back to the time when I first became what I was, when I was eighteen. A teenager."
She stared at him. The air around him felt heavier now. Older.
Ren continued:
"After that… I conquered a place called Asia. Founded an empire. The Eternal Empire."
"So you reversed your age… and went back to the beginning? When you first became who you are?"
She shook her head, awe creeping into her voice.
"That's… amazing."
She hesitated, then asked:
"What was your reason for returning?"
Ren's gaze didn't waver.
"To conquer this realm for the Eternal Empire. To add its strength to ours."
She nodded slowly, the pieces falling into place.
"So you came here under another identity… to learn the ways of this realm. To use that knowledge against it. I see. Then you'll be asking the Three Ancestors to join you? And with them, the Three Ancient Clans will follow?"
Ren answered.
"Yes."
"So then… does that mean you'll be taking the Tianchen Empire?" asked Princess Lianhua Tianchen, her voice laced with something between challenge and resignation.
Ren's gaze didn't waver.
"If you're willing, of course. I know your parents. They'd give it to me—because the ancestor your clan follows… Both your parents are the most directly descended from him. And because I am the True Immortal—the one who created your ancestor."
He let the words settle like a decree.
"So what about you? Will you fight me for it?"
A pause.
"Don't worry. You won't lose your royal title if that's what you're worried about. If you join my empire, you can keep it. You could still become an Empress. Govern a land for us. It's higher than Queen, after all."
"I couldn't stop you even if I wanted to. You're the Forefather, I'd be shamed and seen as a traitor to go against you," said Princess Lianhua Tianchen.
Ren's gaze softened slightly, but his words remained firm.
"I wouldn't stop you. Why should I? Why do you care what people think of you? That makes you more interesting to me."
He exhaled slowly, the Ancient God Qi pulsing around him like a living tide.
"Sure, your personality isn't great. But so what? Change it if you want. Or don't. It's your choice."
His tone deepened, not cruel, but resolute—like a truth long buried finally unearthed.
"Every choice you've made has always been yours. Don't hand them off. Don't let others carry the weight that belongs to you. Take responsibility. Own your path. Never outsource your becoming."
The cell stilled.
Not in silence—but in reverence.
As if the world itself acknowledged the truth in his words.
The cell stilled.
Not in silence—
but in reverence.
As if the world itself acknowledged the truth in his words.
Princess Lianhua Tianchen said nothing.
She looked at him.
The man she had mocked.
Dismissed.
Flirted with.
Feared.
And now—
Respected.
She didn't know what she was becoming.
Only that she was no longer who she had been.
The Qi around her shifted again,
as if responding to her change.
It curled tighter,
more intimately,
like it had accepted her presence.
Ren closed his eyes once more.
His breath was steady.
His posture was unchanged.
But the air around him felt like prophecy.
She sat beside him,
not as a princess,
not as a warrior,
but as a disciple.
And somewhere deep within her,
the pride that once ruled her
began to dissolve—
not in shame,
but in transformation.
She didn't speak again.
Not for hours.
She simply absorbed.
Listened.
Learned.
And Ren—
the True Immortal,
the myth,
the man who had returned from eternity—
remained silent.
But the world around him
was already beginning to change.