The Abyssal Sect was on the move.
The ruins of the Imperial Capital faded behind them, swallowed by a thick shroud of mist. The banners of the fallen empire had been reduced to ashes, their remains scattered into the howling wind. Murong Chen did not look back.
His past had been buried alongside Zhao Ren.
There was no throne worth ruling in a world this small.
And so, they marched toward the unknown.
The Abyssal Rift
For days, the Abyssal Sect moved across the fractured lands. Their destination lay beyond the Abyssal Rift, a sea of endless storms and roiling darkness, said to be a graveyard for empires that had dared to cross it.
Few had ever returned.
The sky above the Rift was twilight eternal, swirling with violet and black hues, as if the heavens themselves recoiled from the unnatural abyss below. Jagged waves crashed against each other in a violent war of their own, forming towering spirals of water that defied the laws of nature.
Murong Chen stood at the prow of their warship, his gaze piercing through the storm. Behind him, his strongest warriors waited in silence, their expressions grim.
"This sea devours the weak," said Bai Qingshan, the Grand Marshal of the Abyssal Sect. "Legends say it was formed by the corpses of fallen gods."
"Then let us see if those gods can stop me," Murong Chen replied, his voice cold.
The ship lurched as it entered the Abyssal Rift.
Whispers of the Deep
From the moment they crossed the Rift's threshold, the sea began to whisper.
At first, it was nothing but a faint murmur, a barely audible hum beneath the crashing waves. But soon, the voices grew louder, twisting into words—laughter, screams, pleas for salvation.
Bai Qingshan's grip on his sword tightened. "Patriarch, the men are hearing things."
Murong Chen closed his eyes, letting the whispers crawl into his mind.
What do you seek?
A voice, unlike the others, drifted through the storm. It was not mocking or terrified—it was ancient, curious.
Murong Chen opened his eyes. "I seek the peak of existence."
Then prove yourself.
The waves beneath them exploded.
The Abyssal Leviathan
From the depths of the Rift, something massive emerged.
A creature of pure nightmare.
Its black-scaled body stretched for miles, its form twisting between serpent and dragon, its eyes burning with violet flames. The Abyssal Leviathan, a guardian of the Rift, had awakened.
It did not roar. It simply existed, and its existence was terror itself.
A monstrous tide rose behind it, threatening to consume the entire fleet.
Murong Chen stepped forward.
A ruler does not beg for passage. A ruler takes it.
The Battle Against the Rift
"Formation!" Bai Qingshan's command rang out, and the Abyssal Sect's warships moved as one. Defensive arrays activated, shields of light forming a barrier between them and the incoming destruction.
But Murong Chen did not move.
Instead, he raised his hand.
[System Activation: Abyssal Devourer]
The energy of the Rift itself bent toward him, the Leviathan's flames dimming for a fraction of a second.
Murong Chen vanished from the ship.
And reappeared above the Leviathan's head.
With a single motion, he plunged his sword into its skull.
The Rift itself howled.
The sea fought back.
But Murong Chen did not yield.
The Path Forward
As the Leviathan's body collapsed into the sea, the Abyssal Rift grew silent.
The storm calmed. The whispers faded.
And in the distance, beyond the last veil of mist, a new world stretched before them.
A land untouched by the empire, a place where Murong Chen would carve his true throne.
A land where the heavens would kneel.
The Abyssal Sect had arrived.
And the true conquest was about to begin.