There exists a place without name.
A place where nothing lives, nothing dies.
A place that is not void, nor darkness, nor silence—for even those concepts are too heavy, too real, too tainted with existence.
It is absolute nothingness, where all that is—soul, flesh, will, memory, cause, consequence—vanishes without echo.
To enter this place is not death, but worse: it is erasure. Death leaves traces, but here, not even traces remain.
And yet… within this barren expanse of negation, an anomaly persisted.
A fragile glow.
A lone figure.
It was Emma, the artifact sprite.
She bowed low, her ethereal body trembling like a candle flame in storm.
"Master," she whispered, voice trembling with reverence, "as you commanded, I have come."
The silence shattered.
A fracture split across the abyss, and from it emerged an aura so colossal that the nothingness convulsed.
The balance of erasure cracked apart.
The fabric of unreality screamed.
A presence descended. A being too vast, too supreme—its mere arrival warped the foundation of a place where foundations did not exist.
Emma lowered her gaze. Even under his protection, she felt her soul thinning, her existence trembling on the edge of unraveling.
"Master," she breathed, "you know well that I should not be able to stand here. Without your shelter, I would have been erased in an instant. Why… why summon me to such a place? Could you not meet me in the lower realms?"
The being's voice resounded. It was not speech, but decree—like the rhythm of an eternal law.
"You know the answer already. Even now, I chain myself, sealing most of my strength. Yet this abyss cannot endure me. Imagine then, if I descended into the lower realms—what would happen there?"
Emma's heart clenched. She did not dare imagine. His aura, even suppressed, shattered the void. If released, it would tear through the mortal realm like a flood through paper.
"Then…" she asked, hesitant, "why call me here?"
The existence's tone sharpened, cold and final:
"If you remained with Zhou Fang at this moment, you would have interfered with my design. That could not be allowed."
Emma stiffened, startled. "But master, you sent me to his side for protection! How could I… hinder your plan?"
The being's voice echoed, vast as fate:
"Because had you remained, Zhou Fang would have uncovered a secret of his own life too soon. And if he learned it now… the Proctor would awaken prematurely. That timing would shatter one part of my scheme."
Emma gasped. "The Proctor… you mean the soul projection hidden within his pendant?"
At that instant, her chest tightened. Through her link to Zhou Fang, she sensed his peril. His life thread hung by a hair, blood scattered, half-dead.
"Master!" Emma cried, desperation bleeding into her voice. "Zhou Fang is dying! If I cannot return, he will perish!"
A ripple of cold laughter stirred the abyss.
"Calm yourself. He will survive. That soul projection… do you not know? It once walked the path of the Divine Flame Stage. Even as a fragment, it is enough to erase those insects. Zhou Fang's death will not come today.
And remember this well—no one in all realms knows Zhou Fang better than I."
Emma trembled. She whispered, almost accusingly:
"Master, your power is boundless. If you wished, you could sweep away every obstacle in a single breath. Why weave plans within plans, when you could erase all resistance at once?"
The void fell silent. Then his voice came again—steady, unshakable, absolute:
"Yes. I could. None could stop me. Yet if I did so, he would be displeased."
Emma's breath halted. She dared not speak the name. That presence—the one her master always referred to obliquely, never directly. The one who, even for her master, was… something else.
She gathered courage. "But master, you are untouchable. Why care for this… person?"
The abyss vibrated with a sound like mocking reverence.
"Good question. Perhaps because he was the first to write all things into being. Perhaps because even I, who broke every shackle, still recognize his hand as the brush that once sketched the worlds.
Yes, I stand above heaven. But you—and all others—remain bound by his threads. I am not. That is the difference. So do not trouble yourself with him."
Emma fell silent. Her heart quivered.
Still, she forced out: "And what of the so-called gods in the Primordial Vast? Why do you tolerate their meddling? You, who are ruthless, who are not swayed by pity—why hold back for them?"
For a long while, nothing stirred. Then the voice came, sharp as blade and heavy as fate:
"There are reasons. Reasons I cannot yet strike them down.
But as for kindness… let me teach you something, Emma.
The ignorant always say: 'Never be kind to the wrong person, lest you regret it.'
What foolishness. Only the weak speak of regret.
Regret exists only when one's actions are chained to outcomes.
But I… am not chained. I act because it is my will.
When I show kindness, it is not because another deserves it.
Not because I seek reward.
Not because I expect gratitude.
It is mine. My choice. My authority.
You may betray me. You may exploit me. That is your nature.
But my kindness belongs to me. And I will not change my essence simply because the world fails to match my expectations.
Remember this well—
The world lies.
People scheme.
Parasites thrive.
But the will that acts without condition—
That will is supreme.
Hope is weakness.
Will is strength.
Outcome is a shackle.
But will… will is freedom."
His voice rose, each word crushing the void:
"Your betrayal may wound me, but it will never define me.
Your deception may cut deep, but it will never change me.
I am not ruled by you.
Not by heaven.
Not by fate.
My will alone is law.
This is not kindness.
This is supremacy."
The abyss quaked. Emma trembled in silence, unable to answer. His words seared themselves into her being, heavy with the weight of inevitability.
---
Far away, in the Star Universe, beneath the sealed mountains of the Lin family estate—
A woman cultivated. Her aura coiled like a dragon beneath the sea. She was the Mistress of the Lin family—the one who once saved Zhou Fang.
Her meditation shattered. Her eyes opened, sharp as lightning, heavy with wrath.
Her voice rang through the chamber:
"If those vermin bear no grudge against my son, why seek his life?
By whose command do they hunt him?
For him, they dared trespass upon Earth. For him, they would destroy an entire world. Why? Who gave the order?
They claim to be gods? Then tell me—me—what god demands my son's death?
Is he truly mighty? So what?
Even if he bends heaven and earth—
I will stand with my son.
For him, I will walk through blood and ruin.
So let the heavens rage. Let the gods howl.
I will not kneel.
For my son, I will become stronger. Stronger than any who dare touch him."
Her words were not mere anger, but an oath. A vow carved into the marrow of destiny itself.