The One Who Cannot Die — When Eternity Stood Still
The battlefield fell into a suffocating silence.
It was not the calm of peace, nor the quiet of exhaustion. It was the stillness that followed when something absolute entered the world—when all lesser wills instinctively bowed. From the torn sky above and the shattered, frozen ground below, the Ansha walked forward calmly, his footsteps unhurried, measured, as though the devastation surrounding him was nothing more than a passing breeze.
Each step carried weight.
The air trembled softly beneath his feet, rippling outward in barely visible waves. Cracks formed and sealed themselves again. The storm clouds above hesitated, lightning retreating as if unsure whether it was permitted to strike. Mi-An stood frozen where she was, blood staining her robes, her body aching from impact—yet her heart pounded not with fear, but with something far deeper. Awe. Recognition. Understanding.
As she watched him walk, a realization settled heavily in her chest. For the first time, she truly understood why he had once been revered above all beings. It was not cruelty. Not dominance. It was inevitability.
His presence alone bent the world.
"Qiong Qi. Nem."
The Ansha's voice was calm, even gentle, yet it echoed across the battlefield as though the heavens themselves had spoken. There was no anger in it—only quiet disappointment, as one might address children who had failed the same lesson twice.
"You have finally revealed yourselves."
Nem's expression twisted violently. His dark aura flickered, unstable for the first time. "You're… still alive?" he demanded, disbelief seeping into his voice despite his power.
The Ansha smiled faintly, the expression barely touching his eyes. "You know very well," he said evenly, "I cannot die."
Qiong Qi laughed then, a low, dangerous sound that rolled across the frozen ground like distant thunder. "Interesting," he said mockingly. "Then what will you do now, Ansha?"
"I spared you a thousand years ago," the Ansha replied. Above them, thunder rolled faintly, restrained yet present, as if listening. "I can still end you today."
"You still cling to selfish desire," Qiong Qi sneered, his eyes narrowing. "That is why he died back then."
"Our lord has no selfish desires!" WuBie roared suddenly, forcing himself upright despite his wounds. Ice shattered around his feet as he stood, blood dripping down his arm. His voice trembled—not with fear, but fury.
Mi-An, bleeding and battered, pushed herself to stand as well. Her knees shook, yet she did not fall. She stood beside WuBie, her gaze fixed on the Ansha's back, unwavering.
And then—
The moment shattered.
Qiong Qi stepped back with his left foot, the movement deliberate, precise. A massive formation flared to life beneath him, ancient symbols igniting in violent succession. The ground groaned under the sudden pressure as divine power gathered explosively around his body. In the next instant, he launched forward.
The clash was immediate.
The Ansha vanished from his original position and reappeared midair, evading effortlessly. He struck back with a single motion. Waves of energy collided in the sky, crashing again and again, tearing through clouds, splitting the land, shattering ice and stone in every direction. Each collision sent shockwaves racing outward, forcing the battlefield to groan under their weight.
Fifteen seconds passed.
It felt like eternity.
Then Nem moved.
From the deepest shadows, he acted with cold precision. His hand flicked forward, releasing a technique that carried no sound, no warning—only intent. The Hidden Soul Needle pierced the air and drove itself into WuBie's body.
The technique activated instantly.
WuBie screamed.
The sound was raw, agonizing, echoing across the battlefield as his internal organs began to decay from within. His divine power was forcibly siphoned away, ripped out violently, flowing toward Nem like a dark tide. WuBie's knees buckled as his body convulsed, frost and blood splattering the ground beneath him.
At the same moment—
The ice restraining Xiao Yan shattered.
Cracks raced across the frozen prison encasing him, spreading rapidly until it exploded outward in a violent burst. Fragments of ice scattered across the battlefield as Xiao Yan collapsed to one knee, gasping for breath, his godly aura flaring instinctively as sensation returned.
The silence was gone.
The battlefield had awakened again.
And this time, all eyes—gods, devils, immortals alike—were drawn toward the one who could not die.