In the deepest hall of the Sword Pavilion, the air was frozen. Lu Chen, a top-tier genius of the younger generation, was found collapsed in his meditation chamber. His skin was pale, and cold sweat soaked his martial robes. Inside his mind, a war was raging—not of Qi, but of time itself.
The "World Will" of the Azure Sky Continent, sensing its impending extinction, had sacrificed its primordial essence to send a "Temporal Echo" into the mind of its most promising child.
Lu Chen saw it all. He saw the year 2029. He saw a version of himself standing on a mountain of corpses, looking up at a sky that was no longer blue, but a swirling vortex of black and purple. He saw Fang Yuan—not as a man, but as a cosmic anomaly—standing at the center of the world, his very existence causing the tectonic plates to grind and shatter.
He felt the memories of his future self: the taste of iron as his heart was crushed, the sound of the continent snapping like a dry twig, and the horrifying realization that every martial art he had ever learned was as useless as a paper shield against a hurricane.
"The Rank 9 World Breaker..." Lu Chen gasped, his eyes snapping open in the present. They were bloodshot, filled with a primal terror that no nineteen-year-old should possess. "He isn't here to rule us. He is here to cook us."
In the vision, Lu Chen had discovered a singular truth: Fang Yuan's body was so dense that conventional attacks simply bounced off his skin. The only way to kill him was the "Law of the Smallest Point"—a suicidal technique that required condensing the life-force of millions into a single, microscopic needle of pure resentment to pierce Fang Yuan's "Planet-Pulverizer" core.
"I have three years," Lu Chen whispered, his voice cracking. "In three years, he will activate the Great Harvest Array. I must find the Heavenly Needle and unite the rival sects, or we are all just ingredients in his cauldron."
Far away, atop the floating peaks of the Sect of Ancient Void, Fang Yuan sat on his obsidian throne. The atmosphere here was so heavy that even light seemed to bend toward him. He was currently reviewing the "Seven-Cycle Marrow Refinement" progress of his new slaves.
Suddenly, a strange vibration rippled through his consciousness. It was a faint, golden thread of causality that had just been re-woven.
[System Alert: Temporal Interference Detected. High-Level Event: 'World-Will Desperation'. A localized 'Regressor' has been created. Target: Lu Chen of the Sword Pavilion. Accuracy of his future knowledge: 84%.]
Fang Yuan didn't frown. Instead, he leaned back, his Rank 9 presence causing the very air to hum with a low, predatory frequency. A thin, dark smile spread across his lips—a smile that promised only suffering.
"So, the world is fighting back?" Fang Yuan mused, his voice vibrating through the stone. "It has chosen a 'Hero' to provide hope. How thoughtful. Hope is a powerful catalyst; it makes the Qi much denser, more refined. If the people believe they can win, they will cultivate harder, struggle more, and produce a much higher quality of energy for my pill."
He tapped his finger on the armrest, each tap sounding like a funeral bell. "Let him gather the sects. Let him find his 'Needle'. I want him to believe he is the savior. I want his despair to be absolute when he realizes that even his 'future' was just a spice I allowed in my meal."