Two years passed in the blink of an eye. The vast emptiness of outer space had long since ceased to be a silent void—it was now a graveyard. Shattered stars floated like broken glass, drifting between the corpses of gods and immortals. Divine blood shimmered like rivers of light, dying out before it could reach the void. The clang of weapons and the thunder of spells reverberated endlessly across the battlefield, making even the firmament tremble.
The war had dragged on for two relentless years. Neither side had gained the upper hand. Though countless immortals and high gods had already fallen, the lines of defense remained intact. The armies of the heavenly realm bled heavily, yet they held, refusing to allow the otherworldly invaders a single breach. The war had reached a stalemate, but a deadly one—every moment was another wound cut into the six realms.
Far away, in a fortress carved into the void, the ancestral gods of the invaders gathered in a vast war hall. The air was heavy with killing intent and suppressed fear.
On the throne at the center sat Elliot, eyes closed, his expression unreadable. He looked as though nothing in this war could stir his heart, but every god present knew the truth: his silence was more terrifying than his wrath.
At his question, Lan Yu, clad in white armor still stained with divine blood, stepped forward and bowed low.
"Your Majesty… I have indeed failed. The enemy's commander is far more cunning and ruthless than we expected. Our armies cannot break their frontlines. At most, I can negotiate a temporary truce, just enough time to regroup and gather our elites before launching a decisive strike."
Silence followed. None dared to breathe. Elliot's face did not change, but the very void around him seemed to grow heavier, darker.
Finally, his voice cut through the silence, calm yet merciless:
"You have two years. No more, no less. If by then the commander's head is not brought before me… bring me your own."
Lan Yu trembled. Sweat gathered under her helm. She clenched her fists, forcing her voice steady.
"I will do my best."
The other ancestral gods exchanged glances but dared not speak. Elliot's decree was final.
—
At the same time, in the encampment of the heavenly realm, the atmosphere was no lighter. A grand meeting was in session. The heavenly emperor sat at the head, but all eyes were drawn—unwillingly—to the silent figure in the shadows: Taiyi, eyes closed, as though the war did not concern him.
"Lord Bo," the heavenly emperor asked, "what news from the front lines?"
Lord Bo stepped forward, scrolls in hand. His face was grave.
"The losses are heavy, but the fortress line still stands. However, the latest reports state that the enemy has grown impatient. Their commander presses harder with each assault. Deputy Commander Su Ya has requested reinforcements."
The tent fell silent. All waited for the emperor's order. But instead of answering, the emperor's gaze shifted to the unmoving figure with closed eyes.
Finally, Taiyi's voice broke the silence—calm, cold, utterly indifferent:
"No reinforcements. Tell her that if she cannot hold the line, she knows the old rule. Cut off her head. And if she cannot even do that… then let her beg for mercy with the head of the enemy commander."
The words dropped like thunder. Gasps echoed. Even the gods of the fire realm flinched. One of them, unable to bear it, stepped forward.
"Your Majesty… that commander… she is your daughter, Tie Ling."
For the first time, Taiyi opened his eyes. His gaze was glacial, a void that swallowed all warmth.
"So?"
The fire realm god froze, his mouth snapping shut. He dared not speak another word.
The truth was simple. Taiyi had not abandoned his emotionless dao. He had merely concealed it, suppressing it to live as a husband and father. But now, in this war, he could not allow even a shred of hesitation. His dao of emotionlessness surged once more, burying every trace of tenderness. To lead meant to sacrifice, even if it meant sacrificing his daughter.
Without another word, Taiyi rose and vanished from the tent.
—
An endless void stretched before him, chaotic and collapsing. Only two forces held this place together: his and Elliot's. Here, no one else could enter.
Taiyi appeared first, his robes stirring with divine energy. Moments later, Elliot entered, his calm smile unchanged.
"Please," Taiyi said, gesturing to the center of the void.
A great chessboard floated between them. The pieces were not carved stone or jade—they were soldiers, generals, entire armies. Each move reverberated across the battlefield outside. Each sacrifice on the board was mirrored by rivers of blood in the war.
The two sat across from one another, their hands calm, their gazes locked. On the board, countless pawns had already fallen, yet the game remained in balance.
Neither spoke. Neither showed anger nor despair. But with every move, thousands lived or died.
The game of gods had only just begun.
As Elliot lifted a knight-shaped piece and set it down, far away in the void, an entire legion of heavenly soldiers was torn apart by black fire. Their screams echoed briefly before silence claimed them.
Taiyi responded with a flick of his sleeve, shifting a rook forward. Instantly, Tie Ling's forces surged, their formation tightening. Spears of light pierced through the enemy's advance, cutting down swathes of invaders.
But Taiyi's face did not change. To him, they were just pieces. To Elliot, they were the same.
"Your daughter fights with fire," Elliot remarked casually, as though they were discussing the weather. "But fire burns out quickly."
Taiyi did not reply. He set another piece, unleashing a tide of divine beasts that shattered an advancing flank. His expression remained calm, but deep inside his dao, the sealed emotions screamed to be released.
Outside, Tie Ling stood at the frontlines, drenched in blood, her aura blazing. She did not know her every move was being decided on a chessboard by her father and his greatest enemy. She only knew she had to win.
In the void, Elliot leaned back. "Tell me, Taiyi… when this game ends, will you choose the world—or your daughter?"
For the first time, Taiyi looked up, his eyes cold as ice.
"I do not choose," he said. "I erase."
His hand fell. The board trembled. The war surged toward its peak.