The Solitary Lotus Pavilion, midnight.
The night was thick with storm clouds, swallowing the moonlight. Beneath them, Feng Xieyun sat cross-legged on the stone platform of the Pavilion's lotus courtyard, his body radiating waves of cold spiritual energy. Every breath he took drew the mist around him, shaping it into the phantom outline of a dragon coiling through the air.
His mind replayed the scene of the Jia Clan procession scattering in fear. He had let them live. A warning, not a massacre. But already, he could feel the System whispering venom into his heart.
> [Mercy is weakness, Xieyun.]
[Blood is the only language the world understands.]
[Slaughter them, and I will grant you more strength.]
Feng Xieyun's fists clenched. "I don't need your gifts. I will carve my own strength."
The System hissed like serpents writhing in the dark before it fell silent again.
But Xieyun knew better. The silence was never true retreat. It was waiting, coiling like a predator, searching for the one moment when his rage would break his will.
---
The Jia Clan's Arrogance
At dawn, far across the continent, the Jia Clan's main estate stirred like a wasp's nest kicked open. News of Feng Xieyun's interruption had spread, and humiliation festered in their elders' hearts.
Inside the grand hall of black stone, Jia Hengtian—the Clan Patriarch—slammed his palm against the jade table, shattering it into shards.
"This boy dares humiliate my clan in the open road? He dares to threaten my banners with blood?" His voice shook the hall, making disciples bow in fear.
Beside him, Jia Wen, his nephew and chosen groom for Lian Zhe, knelt. His face was pale but twisted with hatred. "Uncle, allow me. I will drag Feng Xieyun's head before the Pavilion gates and show the continent his weakness!"
Hengtian's eyes narrowed. "No. Not yet. The Lian Clan watches us. The world watches us. We will crush him, but not like common thugs. We will do it during the marriage ceremony itself, before all eyes, when his defiance will mean nothing."
Murmurs rippled through the elders. Cold, ruthless satisfaction spread across their faces.
For them, it was not enough to kill Feng Xieyun. He had to be broken.
---
Lian Zhe's Silent Rebellion
Back in the Lian Clan, preparations continued. Silks of crimson were hung, music rehearsed, and wedding gifts catalogued. To outsiders, it was a display of power. To Lian Zhe, it was a coffin being nailed shut.
In her private chamber, she sat before the bronze mirror again. This time, her reflection blurred. For a moment, the veil of mortality slipped, and her true essence flickered. Behind her mortal eyes, the divine light of the Chaos Goddess flared—soft, sorrowful, unyielding.
Her hand lifted to her lips. Quietly, so no servant could hear, she whispered:
"Xieyun… do not yield. If you come for me, you will face heaven's fury. But if you do not… I will be lost."
The candlelight trembled, and the flame bent toward her, as if bowing.
---
The Ambush
That night, Feng Xieyun left the Pavilion. His steps carried him through the mist, past lotus ponds and quiet courtyards, until he reached the forest road.
He was not wandering aimlessly. His informants had whispered of Jia elites moving treasures under the cover of darkness, gifts meant to cement the alliance. A perfect chance.
The forest was hushed, save for the creak of wagon wheels and the faint glow of spirit jade lanterns. Jia cultivators in dark armor marched alongside the carriages, their auras sharp, their discipline tight. These were no mere guards. They were the elite Fang Division, assassins bred for war.
From the shadows, Feng Xieyun stepped forward. His black robe rippled with Qi, his eyes like cold stars piercing the night.
The leader barked, "Who goes there?"
Xieyun didn't answer. He simply raised his hand.
The world trembled.
A torrent of spiritual energy burst from his palm, striking the earth like a thunderclap. Soil cracked, trees splintered, and two Jia elites were hurled into the air, blood spraying from their mouths.
"Enemy attack!" someone shouted.
Blades of Qi lit the forest, clashing like lightning. The Fang Division charged.
Feng Xieyun moved like a phantom, weaving through their strikes. His palm crushed ribs, his fingers shattered throats, his strikes left trails of blood across the night.
The System's voice returned, louder than ever.
> [Yes! More! Kill them all, Xieyun! Their blood is your ascension!]
His heart pounded. For a moment, he felt the thrill of it—the raw, unrestrained dominance. The Fang Division, feared across the continent, fell like stalks of grass before him.
But then—he stopped.
His palm hovered an inch from the last man's chest, trembling.
"No," he whispered, forcing his hand down. "This power is mine, not yours."
The survivor collapsed in terror, scrambling into the darkness.
Feng Xieyun stood in the ruin of the ambush—trees broken, earth split, corpses strewn across the ground. His breathing was steady, but his eyes burned with fury.
---
The Vision of the Immortal Plane
The blood had barely cooled when the world around him shifted.
The forest dissolved into light. He found himself standing on a vast platform of jade, floating in an endless sky of golden clouds. Towers of white stone pierced the heavens, their peaks vanishing into eternity.
The air was suffused with power so dense it pressed against his skin, making him shudder.
"The… Immortal Plane…" he breathed.
From the distance, he saw silhouettes—beings with wings of fire, swords that sang with laws of creation, eyes that pierced through reality itself. Their presence was suffocating, divine.
And among them, high above, a throne of obsidian stood. Upon it, a shadow shifted. Its voice was the sound of galaxies collapsing.
> "Come, broken soul. Struggle all you wish. In the end, you will serve me."
Xieyun staggered, clutching his head. His vision blurred as agony ripped through his soul.
But then—another voice answered. Softer, but resolute.
> "Do not listen. I am here, always."
A hand, delicate and warm, brushed across his cheek. For an instant, he saw her—Lian Zhe, but not as the mortal bride. Her hair flowed like rivers of starlight, her eyes burned with chaos and creation.
The Chaos Goddess. His wife.
"Yu," she whispered. "Remember me."
The vision shattered.
---
The Omen
Feng Xieyun collapsed to one knee in the ruined forest, his chest heaving, sweat pouring down his back. The night returned, silent save for the rustle of leaves and the stink of blood.
But the mark was left upon him.
The Immortal Plane had revealed itself. The Unknown God had whispered. And the Chaos Goddess had reached for him.
Xieyun rose slowly, his eyes sharper, darker, filled with a determination that could crack heavens.
"Jia Clan. Lian Clan. System. Even gods…" His voice was quiet, yet carried through the night like a death knell. "None will stop me."
High above, thunder rolled across the continent though no storm had formed. Beasts in the wild trembled. Cultivators in their chambers jolted awake, sensing the shift.
Something had awakened.
The crimson omen had begun.