In the heart of the Lower Realms, where ash still drifted from the remnants of kingdoms burned into silence, Li Xuan sat alone in the obsidian hall beneath the Auction Palace. The hall, carved from karmic blackstone mined from the depths of shattered realms, pulsed with a deep hum—the rhythm of karma itself. Before him hovered a floating mirror of void essence, through which countless realms flickered like fireflies.
His control over the million supporting realms was no longer in question. Every general and elite answered his will without hesitation. They ruled not through fear, but through reverence—a reverence carefully manufactured and embedded by Li Xuan's manipulations. He had hidden eyes and voices in every court, every sect, every family. The Auction House had become the nexus of trade, destiny, and silent doom.
Yet it was not enough.
"To reach the next stage," Li Xuan murmured, eyes narrowing at the mirror, "I must chain karma itself."
The Voidheart Enlightenment Sutra—the forbidden mind technique—had brought him insight at a cost no mortal could bear. Its pain grew deeper than flesh or soul. With each meditation, it felt as if his existence unraveled and rewove itself across realities. Today, as he sank into another cycle, blood dripped silently from his eyes, his skin cracked like scorched paper, and his soul howled through the void.
But the enlightenment came.
He saw the patterns of karma weave through empires, through choices, through betrayals and births. He saw that power was not merely domination but orchestration. In one vision, he watched as a loyal general, Xu Han, contemplated rebellion—not from desire but karmic burden inherited from a long-dead ancestor. With a single thought, Li Xuan twisted the threads and sowed clarity into Xu Han's heart. The seed of disloyalty withered.
"The chains must be bound tighter," he whispered, rising from his meditation. His voice was hoarse, skin pale like jade under moonlight. "And the chains must be unseen."
In the days that followed, a silent reformation swept through the Lower Realms. Temples of karma rose in every realm, disguised as centers of worship and trade, but each a node in Li Xuan's unseen net. Through these, karmic influence could be subtly guided, corrupted, or purified—all by his hand. He had become the god behind the gods.
A message came through a black scroll—delivered by one of his Seven Generals.
"My Lord, the Ancients stir. A shadow moves beyond the veil of the Forbidden Realms."
Li Xuan's gaze turned toward the mirror again, and for the first time, a crack shimmered at its edge—a sign that his actions had reached into realms not meant for mortal ambition.
He smiled faintly.
"Let them stir. I have not yet begun my ascension."
With a wave, he summoned a hidden vault—a place not even his most trusted knew existed. Within was the Karma Flame Core, a relic said to burn the sins and merits of entire worlds. To absorb it would be to become a beacon of karmic gravity. But the pain—the madness that came with it—had driven every previous holder into oblivion.
Li Xuan touched the relic.
And screamed.
But he did not let go.