Darkness swallowed Vincent and Lucien as they descended into the abyss. The remnants of the shattered elevator doors groaned above, their destruction a silent testament to the irrelevance of mortal barriers before true power.
Vincent didn't fall—he descended. Even in the void of the shaft, his presence remained absolute, as if gravity itself bowed to his will.
Lucien, dropping alongside him, adjusted his coat midair. "The artifact is stored four levels down. But if they're smart, they'll have—"
Boom.
The walls of the shaft trembled violently. A massive force surged from below, and in an instant, the entire space warped.
Vincent's gaze remained calm. "A spatial lock."
Lucien clicked his tongue. "Tch. Troublesome."
The darkness around them shifted unnaturally, expanding beyond what the human eye could perceive. What should have been a straightforward descent now stretched into an endless void, the Sang Family's defensive formation pulling them into a pocket dimension.
A futile attempt.
Vincent raised a single hand.
A ripple spread outward, and the very fabric of space shuddered in defiance. The artificial reality cracked as if the world itself rejected the illusion.
Crack. Crack. CRACK.
A moment later, the pocket dimension collapsed.
The illusion shattered, revealing the true underground structure—a vast chamber, its walls lined with intricate golden inscriptions. Dozens of Sang Family cultivators stood in formation, their expressions tense, weapons gleaming under the dim, eerie glow of the underground lighting.
At the center of the chamber, resting atop a crystalline pedestal, was the artifact.
A pulsating core of energy, encased in an obsidian frame, radiating power unlike anything seen in the modern world.
Vincent's eyes flickered with intrigue.
"Ah," he muttered, stepping forward. "So that's what they're so desperate to protect."
A voice rang out.
"HALT!"
A man stepped forward, his aura rippling outward like a tidal wave. He was old, but not frail—his figure stood tall, clad in ceremonial robes lined with deep crimson embroidery. His eyes glowed with restrained power, his presence enough to make lesser beings kneel.
Lucien whispered, "Grand Elder Sang Zhao."
One of the pillars of the Sang Family.
The old man's gaze locked onto Vincent, his expression unreadable. "You have no business here, Vasco."
Vincent didn't stop walking.
The pressure in the room intensified. The other cultivators gritted their teeth, their bodies struggling under the weight of their own leader's energy.
Yet Vincent?
He walked as if nothing existed in his path.
Sang Zhao's eyes narrowed. His hand rose into a stance, fingers curling into a complex seal. Energy surged, forming a massive golden sigil in the air above them, ancient runes glowing in defiance.
Lucien's eyes sharpened. "They're invoking a—"
Vincent sighed.
Then he raised his hand.
Boom.
Reality itself buckled.
The Grand Elder's formation—his carefully crafted spell, designed to suppress even high-level cultivators—collapsed instantly. The golden sigil fractured, its energy dissipating as if it had never existed.
The chamber fell into silence.
Sang Zhao stumbled backward, his breath hitching. Impossible.
His life's work, his most powerful sealing technique, had been dismissed with a gesture.
Vincent's voice was soft. "Your mistake was thinking I am something that can be sealed."
A low murmur rippled through the gathered Sang cultivators. Fear.
Vincent's foot touched the ground one more time.
Boom.
A pulse erupted outward.
The very air cracked. The walls shook. The cultivators collapsed to their knees, their bodies unable to withstand the sheer pressure radiating from him.
Vincent's red eyes glowed, locking onto the Grand Elder.
"You will move."
Sang Zhao's fingers twitched, attempting to weave another defensive technique—
But his body refused to obey.
The Sang Family's strongest Elder, a man who had dominated the cultivation world for decades, now struggled to breathe under Vincent's mere presence.
His knees bent.
Not by choice.
By force.
The moment his body touched the ground, a terrible realization struck him.
This was not kneeling out of weakness.
This was kneeling because the universe had decided it for him.
Vincent tilted his head slightly. "I don't repeat myself."
The Grand Elder shook violently, but in the end, he obeyed.
The others, too terrified to move, watched in silent horror.
Lucien smirked slightly. "Wise choice."
Vincent finally turned his attention to the artifact, his fingers stretching toward it.
A pulse rippled from within.
Something inside the obsidian frame stirred—a presence… ancient.
Something not of this world.
Vincent's fingers hovered inches away.
And then—
The chamber exploded in a blinding surge of power.