Jiang Wang drew a foul breath and, with a single thought, summoned a legion of shadowy phantoms behind him. Purple-black auras coiled and spread like oil on water; the very herbs around him writhed and blackened beneath the corruption. The source was obvious — it flowed from him.
He walked upon darkness and wore chaos as armor. Chaotic divine energy braided with demonic power until a supreme, terrible law took form around his body. The spiritual plants that carpeted the treasure land shuddered and bent beneath that malign influence. Alarmed, Jiang Wang immediately withdrew his Chaos God–Demon Form, but the damage had already been done: the land's vital qi had been leeched away, most of its flora tainted.
Only one thing remained unspoiled — the towering Xuanyan Dao Tree behind him. Jiang Wang's eyes gleamed with a cruel calculus as he regarded its lofty trunk. This treasure alone was worth the risk. With a brutal heave, he uprooted it.
"System, can this tree survive inside System Space?" He already knew what failure would mean. If the tree withered, he would not leave it as a prize for Ye Fan.
[System: The System Space is currently in temporal stasis. The tree can be preserved.] The reply was clinical, indifferent.
Jiang Wang's lips curved. Without ceremony he slid the Xuanyan Dao Tree into the System Space, planning to transplant it later into his small immortal world.
A notification echoed inside him: [Congratulations — host successfully prevented Ye Fan from using the Mysterious Flame Dao Fruit to mend the Great Dao. Ten thousand Luck Points plundered. Reward: A glimpse into the future.]
"Huh? A glimpse into the future?" The words ignited a flame of curiosity in him. Such privileges were for Quasi-Emperors alone. He answered the instant the system asked.
"Spy."
The water-drop light curtain unfurled. Jiang Wang focused on its surface until the vision sharpened.
What he saw stopped him cold.
In the heart of a vast abyss lay a dark imperial coffin, swathed in oppressive currents of black air. A cold woman stood at its side, her back turned to him. The coffin's lid was closed — and within it, unmistakably, lay Jiang Wang himself.
The image struck him like a blow. He squinted, moving closer to the vision, but the woman turned. Her gaze swept across the scene and landed where he watched. That glance carried divine authority — so absolute that he could not bear to look again. The light curtain dissolved.
"It's… familiar." His chest tightened. The look in the woman's eyes roped something deep inside him: recognition, an eerie pull he could not name. He fought to steady himself. Futures could be many things, and he resolved to tuck this one away for later. For now, there was only one task: grow stronger.
The ruined land abround him confirmed his choice. He left the treasure ground without delay.
Jiang Wang reappeared where the waterfall spilled into the valley. He lingered in the shadows; Ye Fan was still over thirty miles away. He intended to watch — to see how, deprived of the Xuanyan Dao Fruit, Ye Fan would attempt to repair his Dao foundation. If Ye Fan revealed his next move, Jiang Wang could strike and harvest more luck.
When evening spread its long shadows, Ye Fan finally came into view at the mouth of the path. He stood before the waterfall and murmured, "Master Ming, can you see? Is this the place?"
The spirit of Xuanming Supreme rose from the soul-binding necklace at Ye Fan's throat and peered at the cascade. "It's been too long," he said after a moment, brows knitting. "I can't be certain. But—don't worry." With one palm, Xuanming pushed aside the torrent and exposed the stone gate behind it. His expression confirmed it. "This is the stone gate. The Xuanyan Dao Tree should be within."
Ye Fan's heart leapt. He stepped forward without hesitation and entered.
Hidden in the gloom, Jiang Wang watched and smiled inwardly. Not long after, Ye Fan emerged — his face clouded.
"Master Ming," Ye Fan said, cold and tight. "Is this the treasure land with the Xuanyan Dao Tree you spoke of?"
"Forget the Xuanyan Dao Tree," Xuanming snapped. "There aren't even decent precious medicines left."
Xuanming's tone was sharp; without the leash of the soul-binding necklace he might have spoken even harsher. He inhaled and explained: "The treasure land's scene was obviously intercepted. Someone dug up the Xuanyan Dao Tree — and from the traces left behind, it was the work of a demon cultivator."
Anger flared in Ye Fan. He had come to restore his Dao root; to encounter this theft now felt like salt in the wound.
"The soil is freshly turned," Xuanming continued. "Whoever took it left not long ago. If there had been any support from you, perhaps this could have been prevented."
Ye Fan's expression hardened. Before he could answer, Xuanming's tone dropped low.
"Someone's coming."
Space quivered. Three men stepped from a rift — middle-aged, implacable, each with the strength to enter the Dao Realm. Ye Fan, his bones dug out and his immortal structure damaged, broke into a cold sweat.
The trio's leader glanced over and his eyes killed with contempt. "We were tasked to slay the Jiang family's divine son," he said. "Where is he? This is just a useless whelp."
"Was the intel wrong?" one of the others asked.
"They said the Jiang heir would be coming this way," the leader said, scanning the place. "But we cannot see him."
Jiang Wang's chest tightened from his hiding place. They were looking for him. He sniffed contemptuously at the thought that Li Jingtian might send only three Dao-entry cultivators to deal with him — as if so few could threaten him.
Hiding in the shadow, Jiang Wang watched the newcomers focus on Ye Fan. The leader's gaze rested on the young man. "You," he said, voice slicing the air, "have you seen anyone pass here?"
Ye Fan's eyes blazed with ferocity, but he was outmatched. He forced his voice into a tone of meekness. "Seniors, I have seen no one. The Jiang heir must have left not long before I arrived."
He lied to save himself. In his mind churned the knowledge that the Xuanyan Dao Fruit had been taken by Jiang Wang and the demonic traces left behind belonged to the man he had been sheltering. If these strangers intended to avenge that bone-digging, then this—this might be their chance to strike at Jiang Wang.
And so a dangerous game began to fold around them: three Dao-entry hunters seeking a phantom, a wounded young man caught between forces, and Jiang Wang — watching, calculating — his future vision a ghost at the back of his mind.