"I thought it was strange when the garden turned crimson," said Princess Lianhua Tianchen.
"But now… the whole realm has."
Eventually, it faded. The colours drained back to normal when Ren stepped outside.
He was beside a woman—Talia, though not as she truly was.
Her hair was a deep, dark brunette. Her robes are no longer blood red, but void black.
A single hairpin held part of her thick, long hair in place. The rest fell freely, like shadow refusing to be bound.
"Hello," she said, voice soft but unyielding. "My name is Hei Lian. How lovely to see my husband's disciples gathered together."
Prince Mingyu Tianchen ran to his master, eyes sparkling.
"She's so pretty, Master! You're such a lucky man!"
Princess Lianhua Tianchen didn't speak. She blushed.
She knew.
She could tell what those two had been doing in there.
She heard it in the way Hei Lian had called Ren's name—with love that hadn't faded, only deepened.
And Ren… Ren had answered with the same.
"Aren't you a cute little boy?" Talia said, rubbing his cheeks.
The boy laughed, eyes bright.
"So you're Master's wife? Does that mean you'll be joining our journey too?"
Gao Yun and Mianmian exchanged a glance.
They had been with Ren the longest. They knew that any woman he called wife—especially one who appeared without warning—was no ordinary companion.
Her name, her appearance… it was likely neither was real.
Power clung to her like mist. Not the kind that shouted, but the kind that waited.
The gods of Heaven hadn't stopped watching Ren. They were always watching. He was someone you observed—someone you didn't test unless you were ready to die. And not just die. Lose everything. There were countless gods in Heaven. So many. And not all of them knew what Ren truly was. Not all of them understood what he was capable of.
"I'm sorry," said Talia, voice low but firm. "But no. I have to leave."
"Wait a minute…" Gao Yun stepped forward, eyes narrowing. "I've heard your name before—somewhere."
He turned to the master. "Your wife… she was one of the Countess's new gods, wasn't she? She appeared three years ago, not long after you did. Already a legend. In just three years. That's—" He shook his head. "That's incredible."
"I'm glad someone finally recognised my name," Talia said, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Yes, I am one of the Countess's gods. But my husband here…" She glanced at him, voice dipping into fond exasperation. "He likes to take his time with things. As you four know all too well."
"Well, it was lovely seeing you all," Talia said, her voice like dusk parting into starlight. "But I must return to Heaven now."
She paused, eyes lingering on each of them. "I hope to see you again—up there. After all, I trust my husband's teachings."
Talia vanished as if she had never been there—like mist retreating before dawn.
Mianmian leapt onto his shoulders, clinging with the ease of old instinct. She used to do that when she was still a squirrel. She could still shift back, but she was learning to live in her human form now—slowly, stubbornly.
"Come, all of you," Ren said, his voice steady. "We're nearly there. The mountain ahead—it's a residence I created long ago. Let's go."
After a hundred days, they finally arrived.
"Master Ren said we were nearly there," Mianmian grumbled, arms crossed as she perched on his shoulders. "It took a hundred days! You big liar."
Ren didn't even turn. "And yet," he said, "your cultivation has improved."
He gestured to the others. "All of ours have. Just walking—no flying, no shortcuts. We gathered resources, tempered our bodies, and refined our minds. The long road was the trial."
He glanced up at the mountain. "Stop complaining. It was worth it."
Upon their arrival, they found the mountain already occupied.
Cultivators moved through the courtyards and terraces, their robes marked with unfamiliar sigils. The air shimmered with quiet discipline—formations, wards, and the hum of cultivation techniques layered into the stone.
Ren narrowed his eyes. "Looks like it's become a sect's territory," he murmured. "Interesting."
"You've got to be joking, Master!" Mianmian groaned, sliding off his shoulders. "I thought we'd get a break—a nice retreat to rest and recover. Now it's a sect? Why didn't you say anything?"
Ren shrugged, unbothered. "I didn't check."
"You didn't check?"
"I don't like knowing everything," he said. "It ruins the experience of life. I only use foresight when I feel like it."
Ren introduced himself with little ceremony. He could have reclaimed the mountain with a word—but chose not to.
Why bother?
It was an opportunity: free cultivation resources, a chance to observe, and perhaps even uncover who had taken the place. He had assumed the ancient clans would ensure this mountain remained untouched. For it to be occupied now… it had to be one of them.
An ancient clan, no doubt.
Ren and the others were tested for their talent.
The results were precise.
The princess and the prince stood at the top—radiant, refined, their cultivation potential undeniable. Mianmian followed close behind, her instincts sharp even in human form.
Gao Yun and Ren… ranked lowest.
Even Gao Yun, with his scattered focus and unpredictable style, showed more raw talent than Ren.
Ren didn't flinch. He nodded, as if the results amused him more than they concerned him.
As we were introduced to the Black Dragon Sect, I found it fascinating.
Not many knew my real surname.
So I was known by another name—back when I first created this realm alongside the ancient clans.
Genesis Stormend.
Or as they once called me—Emperor Genesis, the True Immortal.
As we walked further through the sect's introduction, we saw that everyone was present.
Then the sect master arrived.
I smiled when I saw her—Gǔlóng Shu, twin sister of Gǔlóng Yáo, ancestor of the Ancient Dragon Clan.
To think I'd see her so soon.
Even though nothing controls my fate, I still comply. I found it interesting—how my life kept intertwining with old lovers from this world. Not all of them at once, thank the heavens. I wouldn't know how the person writing my story could keep up, let alone make it coherent.
Past, present, future—my life was never linear.
And yet, somehow, it still made sense.
To me, anyhow.
As I looked at her, my gaze drifted to her flat belly. She was pregnant—with my children, just like Gǔlóng Yáo, her twin sister. I remembered the first time I met her. I wasn't even interested at first. She was married, and I don't take women from other men unless I know the man is a complete bastard—abusive, unfaithful, or the kind who leaves his woman to suffer alone. I suppose that's something Emperor Shadow and I could agree on. We only take what was already abandoned. Even though Shadow and I are no longer whole, I still carry pieces of him. Traits. Instincts. I have to restrain them now. Back when I was still known as Genesis, I saw how scared she was. Wounded. Broken. She came to me for protection, not love. Her husband was cruel, and I was a shield. The first time we slept together, she let me have a child with her—not out of love, but out of spite—a final rebellion. But over time, something changed. We built a bond. Maybe even love. She was one of the few women who didn't hate me for leaving unannounced. I could tell—no ability needed. It was in her eyes. You can always tell a person by their eyes. You just have to know how to see.
And I left. To restrain myself. Maybe to be a better person. I guess I'm failing that spectacularly. Who knows? And honestly… deep down, I don't think I care that much. Why should I? It only gets in the way. All that matters is that I try. Most people don't even do that. Even then… I could tell she, like all the others, didn't cope well. And when I left, she unravelled. Just like the rest. Destroyed sects. Cities. Even realms. All of which I had to restore upon my return.
As I looked at her, she turned toward me. Her eyes were smiling. Clear as day—she knew I would come here. And more than that… she recognised me. Even in this new form. Shen Wuyin—the plain, forgettable face I wore to walk unnoticed. But she saw through it. Of course she did. It was clear Gǔlóng Yáo must have told her. Some of the descriptions. Enough to recognise me. But it wasn't just that. She knew me. Eyes don't lie.
I looked at the other four—my disciples. Gao Yun was on a call with his wife. She looked genuinely happy to see him. He smiled, then glanced at the princess and prince. Those two were practically glowing with what you'd call a protagonist's aura in a novel—drawing people in without effort. Princess Lianhua Tianchen was surrounded by men and fangirls, pulled in by her charm. Her little ten-year-old brother wasn't far behind—drawing attention from girls who called him cute and chubby. He was already gaining friends his age, laughing like he'd always belonged here. Then I looked at Mianmian. She was pouting. Her cheeks had gotten chubbier, and she turned away from me. Clear as day—she still wasn't happy. I mean, she didn't even walk. She'd been on my shoulder for a hundred days straight.