Summoned to Silence
The clash of countless stars flickered and vanished like blinking embers as the sky above the Heavenfall Arena settled into a dead, silent void. There were no celestial patterns, no suns, no moons. Only nothingness—a cosmic canvas that swallowed light, intent, and law.
Six figures stood at equidistant points around a vast circular platform forged from materials that could not possibly exist: fragments of collapsed heavens, calcified Dao laws, soul-forged time, and dead stars. Each man radiated an aura so profound, the silence between them felt like a battlefield waiting to be drenched in karma.
Fang Yuan was the first to speak. Or rather, he smirked.
"So," he said, hands behind his back, eyes calmly analyzing the space. "This is new. Haven't eaten a Heaven's Will clone for breakfast before. But there's a first for everything."
Across from him, Chen Fan glanced around with narrowed eyes. His aura was more subdued, like a blade sheathed but impossibly sharp.
"We're in a sealed dimension. Time is bent. Karma… erased?" Chen murmured. "Impossible."
Han Jue, still seated cross-legged in the air as if nothing had changed, simply exhaled. His closed eyes didn't blink. But around him, specks of fate twisted into knots and unraveled. He was deep in a meditation far beyond Divine Realm, reading every variable.
"Not erased," Han Jue said calmly. "Nullified. Temporarily. This is a space outside Heavenly Dao. A place where even my curse cannot reach."
Zhuo Fan laughed under his breath. It wasn't the mocking kind. More the kind that suggested he'd already written five endings and was now choosing which one to let play out.
"Whoever did this," he said, raising an eyebrow at the platform itself, "knew what they were doing. A perfect stalemate. No one's Dao works. No one can ascend. No backdoors, no immortality escapes. Just good old blood and logic."
Yang Kai, ever the wanderer, had already walked the full perimeter of the arena. His senses stretched out, yet found only mirrored emptiness. When he returned, his brows were furrowed.
"No World Beads. No Space Force. Not even Divine Sense travels far. This place doesn't obey… anything."
Luo Zheng finally spoke, calm but curious.
"That means no one has an advantage," he said. His body was upright, perfect posture, eyes measuring, calculating. "We're all at base state. No cultivation. No artifacts. No hidden realms."
"Then it's a test of the mind," Chen Fan said, voice low. "A test of character."
"Or of insanity," Fang Yuan added, rolling his neck. "Which, in our case, might be the same thing."
A humming vibration began, so subtle it resonated within soul rather than ear.
A voice, genderless and without source, rippled into being. It was not sound. It was understanding.
"You have been summoned to the Heavenfall Arena."
"A neutral zone beyond all realms. All laws suspended. All karma undone. All fate paused."
"Only your will remains."
"This is not a battle for dominance. This is a battle for expression."
"Only one may shape the Reality Seed that lies at the center. Only one narrative will prevail."
"But...
"That does not mean others must perish."
"Begin."
The platform trembled as six radiant pathways etched themselves into the surface, each leading outward into darkness.
Each man saw something different.
Fang Yuan saw a field of gu insects larger than mountains, devouring each other endlessly. He laughed.
Zhuo Fan saw a chessboard of living, breathing pieces—every pawn screaming philosophy. He smirked.
Han Jue saw a sea of fate threads… frayed, but still twitching. His fingers moved.
Luo Zheng saw the Divine Dao itself, shattered like glass, waiting to be reforged.
Yang Kai saw the end of space—every realm, every heaven, compressed into a seed.
Chen Fan saw Earth. Just Earth. And his mother's grave.
None of them moved.
Not yet.
Then Fang Yuan began walking. Slow. Relaxed. Towards his path of gu.
Zhuo Fan followed. Not after him, but into his own path.
One by one, each man walked their path, but not without leaving words behind.
Fang Yuan, grinning: "Hope none of you are sentimental."
Chen Fan, murmuring: "I'll rewrite Heaven for the last time."
Han Jue, not opening his eyes: "Even without fate, I am the variable."
Zhuo Fan, chuckling: "Predictable chaos. My favorite."
Yang Kai, quietly: "Let's see how far the road bends."
Luo Zheng, firm: "Perfection is not in balance. It's in singularity."
The platform went silent. The void swallowed their paths.
But this was only the prelude.
Because the moment they took their steps, the arena began to watch.
And something else stirred.
Something that had never been defeated.
Something that waited for them to win—or lose—together.
And far beneath the arena's floor, a seed pulsed once, as if it heard.
The war had begun.