The Imperial Capital was no more.
Smoke billowed from shattered spires, thick and suffocating, painting the sky with the last remnants of a fallen dynasty. The once-glistening jade palaces had crumbled, their golden rooftops buried beneath rubble and ash. Streets that had once bustled with merchants and nobles now lay empty, strewn with corpses and broken weapons. The empire had been reduced to a graveyard.
Murong Chen stood atop the ruins of the imperial palace, his gaze cold and distant as he looked over the capital he had crushed beneath his heel. The banners of Zhao Ren's dynasty were trampled in the dirt, torn and bloodstained. The empire he had spent years dreaming of destroying was gone.
And yet, he felt nothing.
The Hollow Throne
The wind carried the thick stench of death, mixing with the distant echoes of screams from those who still hid in the wreckage. In the streets below, the warriors of the Abyssal Sect moved like reapers, gathering whatever remained of the imperial treasures, securing the last remnants of resistance.
Murong Chen's body swayed slightly—he was injured, though his expression betrayed no pain. Deep wounds carved across his arms and chest, battle scars from his final confrontation with Zhao Ren. His black robes were torn, soaked in his own blood and that of countless enemies.
And yet, none of it mattered.
His grip on his sword tightened. Why? Why did he feel nothing?
This was supposed to be his greatest triumph.
The man who had taken everything from him—Emperor Zhao Ren, his greatest enemy—was dead. The empire that had cast him aside lay in ruin. His vengeance was complete.
And yet… there was no satisfaction.
[System Notice: Host's Psychological State is Unstable.]
A flicker of irritation crossed his expression.
He had spent years fighting, bleeding, killing, all for this moment. But now that it had arrived, his purpose had evaporated like mist beneath the morning sun.
Had all of this been for nothing?
The thought clawed at his mind, a whisper of doubt that threatened to consume him whole.
The Weight of Victory
Heavy footsteps echoed behind him.
"Patriarch."
Murong Chen turned. Bai Qingshan, the Grand Marshal of the Abyssal Sect, knelt before him, his armor still slick with blood. His expression was filled with reverence, but also unease.
"The capital is ours," Bai Qingshan reported. "The last remnants of resistance have been crushed. The imperial guards who surrendered are being executed. The civilians…" He hesitated. "Some still hide in the ruins."
Murong Chen said nothing.
"They are weak," Bai Qingshan continued. "Should we eradicate them?"
There was a time when Murong Chen would have answered without hesitation. A ruler could not afford mercy. But now, standing atop the corpse of an empire, he found himself hesitating.
What was the point?
The people of this land were nothing to him. He had no interest in ruling a dead empire.
He looked down upon the ruins once more. A woman, covered in ash and clutching a child, trembled beneath a collapsed wall, her eyes filled with pure terror as she looked up at him. As if she were staring at something beyond human.
Murong Chen exhaled slowly.
"Leave them." His voice was calm, emotionless. "They are nothing."
Bai Qingshan bowed. "Understood, Patriarch."
The Vanishing Shadows
A bitter wind swept across the ruined palace. Li Mei was gone.
He had searched for her before the battle had even ended, but she had disappeared without a trace. No final words, no confrontation—just silence.
And then there was the man behind Zhao Ren's rise.
The one who had truly orchestrated Murong Chen's downfall years ago. That man had escaped. He had slipped through the chaos, leaving behind nothing but an empire's corpse.
Murong Chen clenched his fist.
So, was this truly over?
No.
If he had learned anything in his years of war, it was that there was always another hand pulling the strings.
And now, he had no choice but to look beyond the battlefield.
The System's Call
The silence in his mind was broken by a low hum.
[New System Directive Unlocked: Transcendence Path Available.]
His lips parted slightly. Transcendence?
A flood of information poured into his mind.
The System was offering something new—something beyond mortal conquest, beyond ruling a mere empire.
[Abyssal Fate Detection: The higher realms have taken notice of your rise.]
[Abyssal Ascendancy Unlocked: The host now holds the power to shape the fate of entire lands. Proceeding down this path will sever earthly ties and open the doors to a far greater battlefield.]
A slow, dark chuckle rumbled in Murong Chen's throat.
So that was it.
His purpose was not gone. It was evolving.
He had sought revenge, and he had won. But now, he realized—mere revenge was beneath him.
He had wasted too much time chasing ghosts of the past.
The heavens had begun to take notice of him. If fate itself saw him as a threat, then he would burn fate to the ground.
He turned, his gaze sharp as a blade.
A New Path
The Abyssal Sect warriors knelt before him, waiting for his next command. Their eyes burned with devotion. To them, he was no longer just a man. He was something more.
Murong Chen's voice was calm, absolute.
"Prepare the Sect."
The warriors stiffened. "For what, Patriarch?"
He turned his gaze upward. Beyond the wreckage, beyond the ruined capital, beyond this world itself.
"We leave this land behind," he said.
The world had given him nothing but suffering. Now, he would take everything from it.
The Abyssal Sect would not simply rule this broken empire.
They would ascend beyond it.
Murong Chen's lips curled into a dark, knowing smile.
The Rise of the Abyssal Monarch
As the Abyssal Sect began preparations, the skies above the ruined capital darkened. A shift in the world had begun. The moment Murong Chen accepted the path of Transcendence, fate itself trembled.
Beyond the mortal realm, great beings turned their gaze toward him.
A warning.
A challenge.
Murong Chen stood at the threshold of something far greater than an empire.
And he was ready.
The Abyssal Sect marched toward the unknown.
For Murong Chen, this was only the beginning.