The Celestial Throne Hall was not built—it was summoned into being by the First Law, forged from the first tear shed by creation itself. The floor was a sea of seamless white obsidian, gleaming like frozen starlight. It reflected not one's face—but one's true nature. As Xian Ren stepped in, his reflection walked beside him—not the war-torn, blood-streaked god he had become, but a younger man... soft-eyed, smiling, holding a woman's hand.
He stepped again then his reflection vanished.
The walls spiraled upward—towers of carved moonstone, each etched with flowing celestial glyphs that drifted freely from the surface like particles of living scripture. These glyphs of law hummed faintly, rearranging themselves with every divine thought occurring in the room.
Above, there was no ceiling—only a vault of stars, not painted, but alive. Constellations floated in rhythm, held in place by the throne's gravitational will. And in the center—raised upon steps of time-frozen space—sat Tian Xu the King God.
He looked like a man carved from peace, yet radiating inevitability. His skin shimmered faintly with golden veins, pulsing like arteries of law. His eyes were void-black, each one containing reflections of countless worlds.
Around his body drifted twelve Divine Law Tablets—stone-slabs inscribed with the primordial commandments of the realm: No Defiance, No Desire, No Disorder. These tablets formed a shifting halo around him, glowing gently with the power to erase sin, soul, and memory.
He did not stand. He just merely looked down.
"So," he spoke. His voice was soft, but it did not echo. It simply arrived in your mind. "The Heavenbreaker finally kneels before the origin of Heaven."
Xian Ren stood still. His clothes were torn, the divine blood of three gods still wet upon his arms. His breathing was heavy, yet his gaze cut through the throne like a blade honed by fury.
"Where is Yue Ling'er's soul?" he asked quietly and flatly.
Tian Xu blinked slowly and said. "Gone."
The answer was too casual.
"Gone where?" Xian Ren asked.
Tian Xu leaned forward, resting one arm against the armrest carved from the bones of a realm beast.
"Her soul," he said, "was bartered... to a realm that needed her more than you did."
The words echoed 'Bartered'.
Xian Ren didn't move but the space around him began to tremble. The very concept of silence strained to contain his fury.
Tian Xu stood now, robes flowing down the steps like rivers of woven moonlight.
"Her soul bore the Eternal Spirit Constitution—a singular resonance aligned with dimensional stability. It is... a keystone."
He gestured upward. The constellations above shifted—revealing an image: a collapsing world where the skies bled into void, where oceans floated upward, where mountains cracked under dimensional entropy.
"That realm was dying," Tian Xu said. "Their plane's axis was unstable. Without a soul capable of harmonizing their dying leyline matrix, billions would vanish into oblivion."
He looked down again.
"You loved her. We used her."
"She is mine," Xian Ren said. His voice trembled—not with weakness, but with the pressure of barely contained annihilation.
"You defied ascension for love," Tian Xu replied. "But love does not rewrite the laws of creation."
"Then I will write my own law—with blood, if I must."
In an instant, the glyphs of law ignited.
The twelve floating tablets surged with power, and the throne hall warped into a battle domain—The Axis of Judgment.
The sky turned into parchment soaked in light, and every law—time, space, cause, and fate—was rewritten by the King God's will.
Tian Xu invoked his Law Command: "Divine Rewrite."
Reality twisted and the ground inverted. Words became swords. Memories turned to chains. Xian Ren found his own body resisting him—as if the laws of motion had betrayed him.
But then...
Xian Ren whispered. "Heavenbreaker Soul Domain."
A black lotus bloomed behind him—its petals unfolding across time itself and the throne hall shattered.
Space became fractal and stars fell. The laws began to fray, fold, and unravel.
This was a place where fate refused to flow. Where law had no dominion. Where truth was rewritten by will alone.
Xian Ren split his soul. Three forms emerged—one for each plane.
His Mental Projection floated above, wreathed in spirit light, clashing thought-for-thought with the Divine Tablets' pressure, rewriting logic in mid-air.
His Soul Projection fought below, chains of karmic flame wrapping Tian Xu's law threads, burning away imposed fates.
His Physical Body charged forward, sword in hand—Heaven-Splitting Blade now glowing with violet void-light.
Tian Xu summoned the Edict of Collapse.
A commandment older than time. The constellations above exploded—not metaphorically, but literally. Stars died, their light folding into singularities, their essence turned into cosmic spears.
The throne room became a graveyard of worlds.
Xian Ren's mantras cracked. Blood streamed from his soul-core. But he took one step forward then another.
He burned a million years of soul memory. The smell of his childhood. His first sword lesson. The first time Yue Ling'er held his hand. He gave it all for one moment of clarity.
One strike. "Void-Thread Annihilation Slash."
The move was forbidden in Heaven. To use it meant erasing the very threads that made existence possible.
His sword cut—not through flesh, not through soul, but through reality itself.
It sliced Tian Xu's law tablets then it sliced Tian Xu. The King God staggered, divine blood unraveling into starlight.
He fell to one knee and smiled.
"I lose," he whispered. "But you… lose more."
He pressed one finger to his own chest.
"Divine Mana Poison."
It surged into Xian Ren instantly—a black lightning of corruption that burrowed into his divine essence, not to kill, but to curse.
"You may chase her," Tian Xu said, voice fading. "But your essence will never be accepted in another realm again."
Then the King God crumbled—his throne turned to dust.
The Celestial Throne Hall burned. The stars flickered, the laws screamed and The divine order cracked down the spine of the heavens.
Xian Ren dropped his sword. He fell to his knees. His body shook—not from wounds, not from poison but from loss. He looked up. Where the throne had stood—only empty space remained.
Around him, the constellations wept flame. His voice came out like shattered glass. "I will find her..."
His fingers curled against the obsidian floor, blood smearing across moonstone.
"Even if my soul must cross oblivion itself."
To be continued…