Chapter 10
Cold struck first.
Not the cold of wind or water, but the emptiness between moments. Shenping felt his organs lag behind his bones, his thoughts stretching thin as time folded inward. When sensation returned, he staggered forward and nearly fell.
Stone met his palms.
They were no longer in the forest.
Ancient pillars rose around them, half-buried in mist, their surfaces carved with symbols older than spoken language. The sky above was dim and colorless, as if dawn and dusk had merged and frozen in place.
Sang Sang gasped softly. "Where are we?"
Mo Yuan lowered his wrist. The bell stopped swaying. "The Broken Epoch Foundation."
Shenping stood slowly, eyes scanning the surroundings. He felt it immediately—dense, ancient energy saturating the air. Not qi as he knew it, but something heavier, layered with forgotten intent.
"This place exists outside the main flow," Mo Yuan continued. "A refuge for those erased by history and feared by heaven."
As if responding to his words, figures emerged from the mist.
Men and women of varying ages, all dressed simply, all watching Shenping and Sang Sang with unreadable expressions. Their auras were restrained, but Shenping could feel the weight behind them.
These were not weak cultivators.
A young man with scarred hands stepped forward. His eyes locked onto Shenping. "Is that him?"
Mo Yuan nodded. "The time anomaly."
Murmurs rippled through the group.
"Impossible."
"He's too young."
"He's broken."
Shenping clenched his jaw but said nothing.
An old woman approached Sang Sang slowly, her gaze softening. "Child… your blood sings."
Sang Sang flinched. "I didn't ask for this."
The woman smiled sadly. "None of us did."
Mo Yuan turned to Shenping. "Your body is damaged. Not wounded—misaligned. If you continue fighting like this, you will die before the machines ever reach you."
Shenping met his eyes. "Then teach me."
Silence fell.
Mo Yuan studied him for a long moment, then shook his head. "I won't."
Sang Sang's head snapped up. "What?"
"You already cultivate," Mo Yuan said. "But your path is wrong. You force time to obey you. You tear it. That power will devour you."
"Then give me a better one," Shenping replied.
Mo Yuan stepped closer. "There is no better one. Only a more painful one."
He raised his hand and pressed two fingers against Shenping's chest.
The world shattered.
Shenping screamed as memories not his own flooded into him—cultivators erased from history, timelines collapsed, entire sects wiped out because they knew too much. He saw futures burning and pasts bleeding into each other.
At the center of it all was a single principle.
Time was not meant to be controlled.
It was meant to be paid.
Mo Yuan withdrew his hand. Shenping collapsed to one knee, gasping.
"This is Time Erasure Cultivation," Mo Yuan said quietly. "Every step forward removes something behind you. Memories. People. Possibilities."
Sang Sang grabbed Shenping's arm. "Stop. This will kill him."
Mo Yuan looked at her. "Everything will."
Shenping lifted his head, eyes burning despite the pain. "If I walk this path… can I kill them?"
Mo Yuan answered without hesitation. "Yes."
Shenping pushed himself upright. "Then teach me."
Mo Yuan studied him one last time.
Then he nodded.
"Training begins at dawn," he said. "If you survive the night."
The mist thickened.
Far away, beyond the Broken Epoch Foundation, something mechanical shifted its focus.
And the hunt adjusted.