The Immortal Realm did not explode.
It fractured.
Like glass struck not by force, but by truth.
The moment the Watcher's eye closed, something fundamental vanished.
Not power.
Not Dao.
Certainty.
Across boundless heavens and countless immortal domains, cultivators paused mid-cultivation, mid-battle, mid-breath—each feeling the same unbearable sensation:
> Heaven is no longer watching.
In the Azure Void Sect, a Supreme Elder coughed blood as the sect's ancestral formation flickered.
"That's impossible…" he muttered.
"This formation has been stable since the First Immortal Era!"
The formation cracked anyway.
Not violently.
Deliberately.
As if it had decided it no longer wished to exist.
In the Crimson Star Domain, three Immortal Kings simultaneously opened their eyes.
One laughed.
One wept.
One drew his blade.
"So it's finally begun," the swordsman said softly.
"The era where strength decides truth."
In the lower realms, mortals screamed as the skies bled aurora-like fractures. Destiny threads unraveled, no longer anchored to Heaven's decree. Children were born without fate marks. Prophecies erased themselves mid-recital.
Even karma hesitated.
At the center of it all, Feixue stood upon drifting snow, her expression unreadable.
Seraphis hovered beside her, surrounded by Heaven's wandering laws—no longer rigid commands, but unstable principles seeking purpose.
"It's happening faster than I thought," Seraphis whispered.
"They can feel it."
Feixue nodded.
"When Heaven ruled," she said,
"obedience delayed collapse. Now… truth accelerates it."
The First Betrayal
It began with the Celestial Concord.
Seven ancient sects.
Three Immortal Sovereigns.
An alliance sworn under Heaven's final authority.
Within a single breath, that oath dissolved.
The Sovereign of the Thousand Pillars Realm raised his hand.
"Kill the Concord Leader," he ordered calmly.
"Heaven's gone. We no longer need witnesses."
Blades flashed.
Blood fell.
The Immortal Realm's first civil war began without ceremony.
The Rise of Factions
Within days—mere moments on the cosmic scale—three dominant ideologies emerged.
The Heaven Loyalists
Those who believed order must be restored at any cost.
They gathered Heaven's remnants, attempting to reconstruct authority through artificial law matrices and enslaved Dao fragments.
Their creed was simple:
> Freedom is chaos. Heaven must return.
The Sovereign Ascendants
Immortals who saw opportunity.
Without Heaven suppressing destiny, they devoured bloodlines, realms, and Dao fragments to ascend rapidly—unchecked, merciless.
They did not want Heaven back.
They wanted to replace it.
The Unbound
The smallest—and most dangerous—group.
Cultivators who abandoned sects, oaths, and cultivation norms entirely. They cultivated raw intent, undefined paths, unstable Dao.
Many died.
Some became monsters.
A few… became legends.
Seraphis watched visions of war ripple across Heaven's remnants.
"This is my fault," she whispered.
"If I hadn't accepted the laws—"
Feixue interrupted gently.
"No," she said.
"This is the cost of choice."
The Shattered Thrones
One by one, ancient Immortal Thrones collapsed.
Not destroyed.
Vacated.
Rulers discovered that without Heaven validating them, their titles meant nothing.
Some clung desperately to illusion.
Others fell into madness.
A few knelt—to no one.
In the ruins of the Celestial Palace, the throne once occupied by the Immortal Emperor lay cracked in half.
No body.
No soul.
No record.
As if reality itself had decided he was no longer worth remembering.
Yet—
Deep beneath the ruins, something stirred.
The Dao Begins to Bleed
Feixue felt it first.
Then Seraphis.
Then the Immortal Realm itself.
The Dao—once smooth and cyclical—began to fray.
Sword Dao clashed with Time Dao.
Karma tangled with Death.
Space folded where it should not.
This was not corruption.
It was unfiltered evolution.
"If this continues," Seraphis said tightly,
"entire realms will collapse."
"Yes," Feixue replied.
"And others will ascend beyond what Heaven ever allowed."
She turned toward the horizon—toward countless burning domains.
"This is the crucible."
The Declaration
At last, Feixue moved.
She stepped forward.
Reality leaned in.
Her voice did not echo—but it was heard across realms, not through sound, but through recognition.
> "The Immortal Realm is no longer bound by Heaven," she said.
"No throne will rise in its place."
Cultivators froze.
> "Those who seek order—build it."
"Those who seek power—bear its cost."
"Those who seek freedom—accept uncertainty."
Snow fell.
> "I will not rule you."
A pause.
> "But I will not allow extinction."
Seraphis felt the weight of those words settle into the laws she carried.
A new axis formed.
Not command.
Limit.
Far beyond the Immortal Realm, in a place where Watchers slumbered, awareness deepened.
Variables multiplied.
Interest grew.
And in the chaos below, whispers spread—fearful, awed, desperate:
> "The Age of Heaven is over."
"The Age of Choice has begun."
But none yet understood the truth Feixue already saw:
This was not the end of an era.
It was the beginning of a far more dangerous one.