A stillness hung over the Obsidian Citadel, a fortress now seated at the heart of the Lower Realms. Within its walls, Li Xuan sat in absolute silence atop a throne of black karma stones, his gaze deep enough to devour fate itself.
Before him knelt the Seven Generals and their forty-nine elite. Their heads were bowed, their postures disciplined, yet none dared to breathe too loudly. They had all felt it—the shift.
The Voidheart Enlightenment Sutra.
Ever since Li Xuan began cultivating it, he no longer bled like a man. Pain had become his essence, each moment a blade carving clarity into his soul. His comprehension of karma had accelerated beyond mortal bounds, but so had the darkness beneath his skin.
"Report," he said, voice cold enough to silence thunder.
General Yan stepped forward, eyes like polished iron. "Of the one million supporting realms, 870,000 are now under our full influence. The rest will collapse within three weeks. Resistance is... negligible."
Li Xuan nodded slowly.
"Begin the culling of the remaining realm lords. Quietly. Cleanly. Use karma incisions. I want no corpses—only silence."
They did not question him. They hadn't for months.
His power wasn't merely feared. It was sacred. What was once a rebellion of shadows was now a kingdom of silent devotion.
He turned to General Yue, the only one who dared look into his eyes when permitted. "And the Silent Auction?"
"The Silent Auction is underway. General Xue is in disguise handling the bids. As you ordered, we're selling low-tier fate stones and cursed artifacts. Several ancient sects have already taken the bait."
"Good," Li Xuan whispered. "Let them grow fat on their greed. When they bid for fortune, I'll sell them ruin."
He stood, and at once the throne room shifted—the karma stones groaned beneath his feet, as if awoken by their master. Black light curled from his robes, leaking out like spectral ink.
"I will enter seclusion for three days," Li Xuan said. "No one disturbs me unless the Heaven Tribunal itself descends."
The Voidheart Sutra had reached its next threshold.
That night, the Citadel trembled.
Li Xuan screamed—not in fear or weakness, but in a divine agony that reshaped his soul. His mind cracked open as rivers of karma flooded into him, each one laced with the memories, regrets, and deaths of the millions he had already conquered.
He bore it all.
And from it, he rose.
By dawn, when his form emerged from the chamber, the generals fell to one knee instinctively. Not from loyalty—but awe.
He wasn't human anymore.
Not truly.
"Prepare the next Auction," he said, a faint grin twisting his lips. "I will sell Enlightenment itself."