Wu spent the night meditating on the plateau. The Fallen Boundary whispered to him—not words, but impressions, fragments of pre-Dao energy, unstable yet potent.
"This is where the world's blind spots converge," he murmured. "All the power that Heaven forgot… it's here."
He realized the scope of the opportunity. He could cultivate here in ways no other being in Honghuang could. He could remain unseen, unrecorded, untouchable—if he moved carefully.
The morning light revealed the extent of the Fallen Boundary. Beyond the plateau, distorted landscapes stretched endlessly—floating rocks, reversed waterfalls, rivers that flowed in loops, impossible angles of space.
He could feel the pull of an ancient energy, a fragment of the Dao itself, broken yet still alive. He could sense the pulse of Heaven trying to correct it, trying to erase what did not belong.
Wu clenched his fists. "If Heaven wants to erase me… then I will ensure they regret it."
From the distance, faint traces of movement caught his attention. Several cultivators, likely scouts sent by the Saint she had commanded.
He smiled. "Good… they'll provide the perfect test."
The Fallen Boundary was not just a place to survive—it was a playground. Every distorted fragment, every chaotic energy spike, every anomaly could become a step, a lesson, a weapon.
Wu's gray eyes gleamed with intent. He was not here to play by the rules. He was here to bend the world itself—without Heaven knowing, without Saints interfering, without systems controlling him.
For the first time since his reincarnation, he felt alive.
And dangerous.