Boom.
A surge of power erupted from the obsidian artifact, flooding the chamber with an ominous glow. The air warped, thick with an ancient energy that did not belong to this world.
The Sang Family cultivators shrank back, their eyes wide with terror. Some clutched their heads, blood leaking from their noses as the sheer presence of the artifact's power invaded their minds.
But Vincent?
He stood unmoved, crimson eyes reflecting the swirling energy as if it were beneath his notice.
Lucien clicked his tongue. "This thing… It's alive."
A deep hum resonated from the artifact, the very chamber trembling under its influence. And then—
A voice.
"You... are unworthy."
The words did not echo in the air; they burned into the minds of those present, a decree of rejection.
Vincent's expression remained unreadable. Unworthy?
For the first time in an eternity, something had dared to question his authority.
He reached out—
And grasped the artifact.
The moment his fingers made contact, the chamber exploded in a torrent of darkness.
The Sang cultivators screamed as an unseen force crushed them against the ground. Even Lucien, despite his immense strength, staggered under the oppressive weight.
But Vincent?
He remained untouched.
Then—
The black clouds stirred.
A flicker of red lightning danced through the air, swirling around Vincent as if bowing in recognition.
Sang Zhao's breathing turned ragged. "What… is he…?"
His question was never answered.
Because at that moment—
Vincent unsealed 1% of his power.
The world responded violently.
The air itself collapsed inward, as if the chamber could not contain him. The ground fractured, jagged lines spreading outward like cracks in reality.
And the sky above Beijing… turned black.
Clouds—thick, red, and writhing—swirled in the heavens, stretching across the city like an omen of destruction.
Thunder rumbled, but there was no lightning. Only darkness.
And below, in the depths of the Sang Family's underground sanctum—
Sang Zhao knelt against his will.
His bones screamed, his cultivation meant nothing—he was being forced into submission.
A True God-tier cultivator was being reduced to a mere insect before a being who had surpassed Omni God itself.
Vincent gazed down at him. His red eyes, now burning with power beyond comprehension, locked onto the Grand Elder's trembling form.
"Do you understand now?" Vincent's voice was a whisper, yet it drowned out the chaos around them.
The Grand Elder's lips trembled. He wanted to speak. He wanted to beg.
But his throat had already forgotten how to form words.
Vincent exhaled slowly.
And in that moment—he decided.
The entire Sang Tower shook.
The streets of Beijing felt it.
And then—
The Grand Elder's body vanished.
No explosion. No scream. No resistance.
Just erasure.
Where Sang Zhao once knelt, there was nothing. Not even dust. As if he had never existed at all.
The Sang Family cultivators froze, horror paralyzing their limbs.
Lucien adjusted his gloves. "Well," he muttered, exhaling slowly. "That's that."
But Vincent wasn't looking at the aftermath. His eyes remained fixed on the artifact in his hand.
For in the moment he killed the Grand Elder, something within the obsidian frame shifted.
And for the first time in an eternity—
Something looked back at him.