I slid the strange object back beneath the pillow and turned to leave—only to find Ren standing near the doorway, watching me. His gaze flicked toward the spot where I'd hidden it.
"So you found my old phone," he said quietly. "I looked at it just the other day. That photo… me, before I became a True Immortal. Sometimes I forget I was ever that fragile. Time folds in on itself. Decades collapse into minutes."
I walked past him. He stepped aside without a word. But something twisted in me—tight, sudden. I stopped, turned, and struck him across the face.
He didn't flinch. Just looked at me with those hollow eyes. Eyes that never gave anything away unless he chose to. His face was unreadable, indifferent. And yet behind that silence, I felt it—the weight of something vast and unreachable. Something he would never let me see.
He spoke again, voice low and steady. "Goodbye, Gǔlóng Yáo. I won't be staying in this residence anymore. I'm getting my own place—so I don't bother you with my presence."
He didn't wait for a response. Just turned toward the hallway, the stormlight catching the edge of his jaw, and walked away like he'd rehearsed it. Not dramatic. Not cruel. Just final.
I saw him say goodbye to my little sister. She watched him leave, eyes wide and wet, hands clenched at her sides like she didn't know whether to reach for him or let him go. He didn't linger. Just gave her a quiet nod and stepped into the storm.
I walked toward her—slow, careful. She didn't look at me.
"I didn't intend for him to leave because of me," I said.
She nodded, barely. "I know," she whispered. "But he left anyway." Then she turned and walked back to her room without looking back. The door closed behind her—quiet, final.
I looked outside. Ren's figure was already fading into the storm, his steps slow but sure. I watched him go.
I would've forgiven him—easily—if he'd just hugged me. I might be a proud ancient dragon, but my pride always dwindles when it comes to Ren. Always. I wear the act like armour, like ritual, like I'm supposed to make him earn it. But the truth is, I'd forgive him in a heartbeat if he just held me and said he loved me.
As I walked alone, the storm still clinging to my robes like memory, I found my new residence without effort. It was quiet. Untouched. The kind of place no one had dared claim—not because it was hidden, but because it felt like it already belonged to someone.
Three figures passed just as I reached the entrance.
Velanisse Historia.
Her fiancé, Yubai B.
Hanrui.
They didn't speak. Not yet. But their presence was deliberate—like they'd timed it so I would see them together.
Velanisse's flame-orange hair was tied high, her robes tailored to draw attention. She walked with the kind of poise that demanded admiration, even from those who hated her. Yunbai stayed close, posture rigid, eyes forward. He didn't glance at me. Not once. But Hanrui did.
She looked at me—not with fury, not with disdain. With calculation. Her ice-blue gaze swept over me like frost across stone. She didn't stop walking. But she didn't look away either.
Velanisse noticed. Her steps faltered. Just slightly. Enough to betray the tension.
I didn't speak. I didn't move. I just stood at the entrance to my new residence, watching them pass.
They didn't greet me.
They didn't challenge me.
They didn't acknowledge me.
But they didn't ignore me either.
They walked past like royalty passing a monument—pretending not to care, but unable to look away.
I stepped inside. The door closed behind me. Quiet. Final.
I looked at my residence.
It was exactly how I left it—the last place I created before I returned to Earth. The formations were intact. The air was still. The silence hadn't shifted. It was clean. Tidy. Maintained.
Someone had kept it that way.
Not a servant. Not a disciple. Someone who knew what this place meant. Someone who remembered.
Gǔlóng Shu? She would've done it out of devotion. Quiet, patient, waiting for me to notice.
Gǔlóng Yáo? She would've done it out of pride. Out of fury. Out of the need to prove that even in her absence, I was hers to prepare for.
I didn't know which one it was.
But I knew this:
They hadn't just preserved the residence.
They preserved the moment.
The memory.
Me.
I looked at my old phone from Earth and clicked on my photos. There were so many memories from the past—images of my family and my eight close friends. Three of those friends became my wives: Bai Phoenix, Talia Eternal Blood, and Mariko Uchiha.
Afterwards, I got back up, took a shower, and returned to my real appearance. I wrapped myself in a towel and examined my dragon tattoo, which mirrored Venya's; hers was on the right side, while mine was on the left.
I closed my eyes and decided to go to the heaven of this realm—Mìngjiè Xiānlù.
As I arrived, I didn't want to make a big deal out of it. I went to where my three wives were, and they all had surprised faces. They ran to me, hugged me, and kissed me. It hadn't been long since I last saw Talia, but I could tell she was happy to see me again so soon.
I looked at this place. "The place where those who reached the divine realm live, if they choose to."
It was a civilisation up here.
Gods. Cities. Towns. Sects. Empires.
Domains, sanctuaries, temples.
Each god had their own little realm.
That's where they resided.
"I didn't expect to see you here, husband," she said softly, "but it makes me happy nonetheless. I've missed you."
She leaned her head gently against my broad, quiet, and unmoving back. It was Bai who spoke.
I hugged her, as the other two had to leave, so it was just the two of us here alone, which was fine with me. I would catch up with Mariko later after spending time with Bai.
I looked towards her, and as I did, a flashback hit me. We attended Light Academy together and were close friends—more like people who shared a special connection that went beyond friendship. I kissed her, and she kissed me back.
She spoke, "It's only been three years since we last saw each other. That might not be long for us immortals, but I still missed you every day. After all, I'm not used to being away from you for so long. I've been by your side since the beginning."
I hugged her tighter, feeling the warmth of her phoenix fire against my skin. It wasn't just heat—it was memory, loyalty, the kind of flame that never asked for permission to burn.
We talked for a while. Quietly. Deliberately. Until the conversation turned.
She'd gained allies—clans from Heaven willing to join our side in the conquest of this realm. I had the ancient clans. She brought others. The rest of our circle did the same, whether from here or elsewhere.
We all changed our appearances.
We all learned cultivation.
Not to ascend. To infiltrate.
We studied this place.
Its secrets.
Its structure.
Its weaknesses.
We didn't just rely on our own powers—we used theirs against them.
And with our own gifts layered on top, we had the advantage.
More than enough to conquer this realm.
Truth is, we didn't need to do any of it.
We could've taken this place easily.
But why rush?
When there's more power to claim—
Even if you don't need it.
"I've made friends with Lady Xunahe," Bai said, her voice low but edged with amusement. "She's growing a little impatient waiting for you to ascend here in Heaven."
She paused, then added with a smirk, "She said she'll force you up here if she has to—just to make you her personal disciple."
I didn't respond right away. The idea of being claimed like that—by Xunahe of all people—wasn't unfamiliar. She never asked. She declared. And when she wanted something, she didn't wait.
Bai leaned into me slightly, the warmth of her phoenix fire still pulsing through her skin. "You should probably visit her soon," she murmured. "Before she decides dragging you here is more efficient than waiting.
"I've reached the Demigod Realm. It won't take long to reach the Divine Realm—she won't have to wait much longer."
I looked around.
"Still, I want to stay in this place for a while before we leave and conquer elsewhere."
I looked toward the distant realm—the next place we would take.
I created it.
A fairy tale world, set in the early medieval period.
Knights. Dragon Riders. Kings and queens. Emperors and empresses.
Kingdoms. Empires.
Magic, curses, blood-bound oaths.
It carried the texture of myth—something between Lord of the Rings, Game of Thrones, and the fractured legends of older worlds.
Elves with ancient knowledge.
Orcs bred for siege.
Dwarves who carved cities into mountains.
Goblins that whispered in the dark.
And many more—each race shaped by story, each land ruled by consequence.
It wasn't just a realm.
It was a stage.
And soon, it would be ours.