"Is it finally happening?"
The voice was steady, but the old master's eyes betrayed the slightest ripple. For centuries, he had guided Taiyi, witnessed his rise and fall, his despair and rebirth. He knew this day would come—the day Taiyi would stand before the cliff once more.
Taiyi turned, the stormlight dancing across his sharp features. His lips curved into the faintest smile. "Old man, you remember. I told you, the next time I came here, it would mean the wheel of fate had begun to turn again."
The master folded his hands behind his back. The violent winds around them tugged at his robes, yet he stood as unmoving as a mountain. "And are you going to do something extreme again?"
"I don't know if it counts as madness." Taiyi's eyes gleamed, blue and fathomless, as if reflecting the thunder sea above. "But yes, it is risky. Not life-threatening, but at worst…" He let the words hang before finishing with a faint chuckle. "…I'll lose my cultivation. And even my Dao."
The master's gaze deepened. To ordinary cultivators, such words would be enough to inspire terror. But this was Taiyi. Each time he made a reckless decision, he somehow walked away stronger. The old man exhaled slowly. "You've always prepared a path of survival, even when the world thought you cornered."
Taiyi smiled at that. He looked out at the cliff, where lightning endlessly split the void, painting the sky in silver scars.
"What of those old fogies?" he asked suddenly.
"They are willing to support your cause," his master said. "When the day of battle comes, they claim they will fight with everything, even their lives."
Taiyi let out a low laugh, tinged with contempt. "They lie. The older one gets, the more one clings to life. Their words are wind. But even cowards have their uses. If they stand in the same current, then when the tide rises, they'll be dragged along whether they wish it or not. That's enough."
His master's lips curved faintly, but he said nothing. He had long stopped trying to persuade Taiyi otherwise.
Taiyi stepped forward. The storm greeted him with a roar. His body shimmered, shifting as horns extended like carved jade, his frame lengthened, muscles rippling with divine power. Silver-blue scales unfurled across his body, each inscribed with faint Dao runes that flickered beneath the lightning. His aura thickened, pressing down on the cliff like an ocean tide.
Then his wings spread—vast, iridescent, cutting through the storm like blades of heaven. The sheer weight of his presence warped the air, and even the thunder seemed to hesitate before striking.
Only in this form could he bear what was coming.
The first bolt of retribution fell without warning. It tore through the clouds with a scream and slammed into his back. Sparks erupted, the platform cracked, and for an instant the storm drowned everything.
Taiyi merely uncorked a wine gourd, took a sip, and closed his eyes. His breathing slowed, his aura stilled. To anyone watching, he might have seemed to be sleeping peacefully amidst the cataclysm.
The old master's heart tightened, though his face revealed nothing. This boy… no, this man. Even when defying heaven itself, he sits as if sipping tea at dawn. Truly, he has long surpassed what mortals can comprehend.
The old man sighed, then faded into the storm, leaving Taiyi alone.
---
Far away, in a vast hall draped in shadow.
The air was heavy with incense and killing intent. Ten elders stood in two rows, their robes embroidered with ancient symbols, their faces grave. At the center, elevated above them, sat a man in golden robes. His face was hidden by a mask, but his aura pressed down on everyone like a mountain. Each breath the elders took was forced, shallow, as though they dared not disturb the silence.
"Has it been confirmed?" The man's voice echoed like iron striking stone.
"Yes, Lord Elliot," an elder in silver robes said quickly, his forehead slick with sweat. "He has entered that place once more. If we do not act, then the next time he emerges… he will have the strength to stand as our equal."
The words struck the room like thunder. Several elders shifted uncomfortably, their gazes flickering toward one another. To admit such a possibility aloud was almost sacrilege.
Behind the mask, Elliot's eyes narrowed. The silence deepened.
Then the heavens trembled.
A colossal eye appeared in the sky above the hall, vast and merciless, its golden gaze piercing through stone and soul alike. The elders collapsed to their knees, their voices trembling as they chanted in unison:
"We greet the Heavenly Will."
Elliot alone did not kneel. His chin tilted upward, his masked face meeting the eye without flinching.
"You failed," the voice thundered. It was ancient, cold, beyond emotion. "You allowed him to live. And now he has taken another step upon a forbidden path. His Dao is no longer yours to restrain. Do you understand what this means?"
The elders quaked, but Elliot's tone was calm, even disdainful. "Understand? I understand better than you think. You feared his brother once—Song Feng, the so-called greatest under heaven. But he was weak. A coward. Too afraid to cut away his emotions to pursue true power. Compared to him, Taiyi is different. He abandoned everything. He is a genius worthy of being my opponent."
The eye flared with golden light, burning with fury. "Do not forget our pact, Elliot. Betray it, and the punishment will be worse than before."
Elliot laughed softly, the sound sharp as a blade. "Threats? Have you forgotten the last time you tried? Do you think I fear your punishment? I have climbed here over mountains of corpses. I did not bow then, and I will not bow now."
The elders dared not breathe. The air thickened until their bones creaked under the pressure.
The eye quaked, power gathering as if to strike. "Taiyi must be stopped!"
Elliot's aura erupted, golden flames swirling, pressing even the elders' foreheads to the floor. His masked face tilted upward, and his voice rang with madness and certainty.
"No. Taiyi belongs to me. If he rises, it will be by my hand. If he falls, it will be under my shadow. Not yours."
The eye seethed, its light scorching the sky. But then, slowly, it dimmed.
"Do not test me, Elliot." The voice had softened, but its weight remained. Then, like mist under the sun, the eye dissolved into nothingness.
The hall fell into silence. The elders still trembled, afraid to lift their heads.
Elliot leaned back upon his throne. A low chuckle escaped him, growing louder until it filled the chamber.
"Taiyi… let us see whose path reaches the summit first."
The elders exchanged fearful glances. They knew—between Heaven's wrath, Elliot's obsession, and Taiyi's defiance—the heavens themselves would soon bleed.