Chapter 60
"Ling Xu," he called—not with a voice that came from his mouth—because in a place as silent as this, where space and time were still trying to remember their original forms, sound felt too coarse, too intrusive, too human—but through telepathy, through a vibration that touched Ling Xu's consciousness directly without passing through eardrums or auditory nerves. "Listen carefully. From this point on, the final cultivation session will be decided."
Ling Xu, upon hearing that, was not surprised.
He merely opened his third eye slightly wider, signaling that he heard, that he was ready, that whatever Huan Zheng would say next, he would accept without asking why, how, or when.
"The next realm to be reached by the gods—or by humans after the Harmony Conflict has ended—is the Realm of Humanity," Huan Zheng continued, and when the word "Humanity" emerged through his telepathic vibration, Ling Xu felt something strange in his chest.
Not pain, not warmth, but as if something were scratching from within, like the Cancer plague suddenly growing restless without reason.
"The Realm of Humanity is a cultivation level that was previously known as Realm of Singularity, Ling Xu. A realm that could once only be reached by the Highest Gods, by beings whose very names alone could make the universe tremble."
He paused for a moment, allowing his words to settle into Ling Xu's consciousness like stones dropped into a deep well, then continued with a vibration that suddenly grew heavier, deeper, more bitter.
"And Realm of Humanity replaced the Realm of Singularity precisely after the defeat of the gods in the Harmony Conflict. Because humanity won, Liu Xin. Because they became the Second Divine. Because they had the right to rename the highest realm after themselves—as if by changing its name, they could forget that it once belonged to the Gods they defeated, killed, violated, and beheaded one by one."
Ling Xu felt his chest tighten.
Not because of the Cancer plague—because that plague had already become a part of him—but because of a sudden surge of anger rising from a place he once thought empty, long burned away by the flames of vengeance he had watered every night with tears that never truly dried.
"So," he replied through telepathy, his inner voice trembling yet unbroken, like the string of a harp plucked too hard but still intact, "now a cultivator at the level of the Supreme Dao Dew—especially one from the gods, like me—must decide: whether to ascend to Realm of Humanity, leaving behind the civilization of the gods and rising to the domain of humankind? Or remain as Supreme Dao Dew, as the peak of a defeated realm, as a breathing corpse upon a throne that no longer has a kingdom?"
Huan Zheng did not answer immediately.
He merely smiled—a smile neither warm nor cold, but bitter, like someone swallowing a harsh remedy knowing there is no other cure.
"That is a choice you must make yourself, Ling Xu," he finally replied, his telepathic vibration turning softer, more careful, like a man explaining to someone he loves that not every path in the forest leads home—that sometimes, the brightest road takes you farther away.
"I cannot choose for you. I can only tell you what will happen if you decide to ascend."
Haaaah!
"Because the Realm of Humanity only replaces Realm of Singularity—born from the defeat of the gods and the rise of humankind as the Second Divine," Huan Zheng continued, his telepathic vibration becoming faster, more structured, like a lecturer teaching in a silent classroom where his only student was a bandaged girl with a strangely pulsating third eye on her forehead, "the trial to ascend to Realm of Humanity is exactly the same as that of the Realm of Singularity, Ling Xu. No difference. No change. Nothing has been modified by humanity to suit their newly elevated status as the Second Divine. The trial remains as it was—when the Gods still ruled, when the realm was still called Singularity Level, when humans had not yet dared to dream of standing at the same peak."
He raised his hand—the same hand that once was only used to yawn and scratch an itch that never existed—and in his palm, he began to form a pattern.
Not a pattern of light as usual, but a pattern of darkness, of absence, of the space between spaces, of the time between times, of meaning between meanings—a pattern depicting a cultivator standing at the peak of Dew, then deliberately, consciously, without coercion, collapsing everything they had built.
"A cultivator at the level of the Supreme Dao Dew, Ling Xu, must destroy everything they have built," Huan Zheng said, his telepathic vibration suddenly becoming extremely soft, extremely deep, like the voice of a priest reciting a dirge over an unclaimed grave, "starting from the Dao Dew they have just achieved with great effort—or with ease, depending on how much they have devoured—then dismantling their Falling Crystals one by one, tearing apart the Heavenly Longitude from the core of their cultivation, uprooting Singularity Star or Humanity Star that once served as their first foundation in this world. Everything must be destroyed, Liu Xin. Nothing may remain. Nothing may be hidden in the dark corners of consciousness to be used later. Nothing may be kept as a reserve in case this trial fails."
Huan Zheng did not give Ling Xu time to reflect on the weight of destroying everything he had built.
He immediately continued, his telepathic vibration turning lighter, more fluid, like a river flowing over smooth stones after the rain had ceased, as if explaining something simple that had long been wrapped in overly complex words by ancient sect elders.
"In short, Ling Xu, during the process of dismantling, everything you have achieved—from the Humanity Star you first received in that dark cave, to the Dao Dew you just attained by devouring an entire divine civilization in a single blink—will be destroyed and reduced into a raging current within your consciousness," he said, and when the phrase "raging current" emerged from his telepathic vibration, Ling Xu could feel it himself—a river within his mind, endlessly flowing, carrying everything he had ever known, everything he had ever felt, everything he had ever feared, spiraling it into a vortex beyond his control, even as he stood at the peak of Dew. "But that does not mean everything will truly be destroyed, Ling Xu. It is not like that. Do not misunderstand."
Ling Xu, hearing that, furrowed his brow—or at least tried to, though the bandages around his head made the movement feel strange, like using muscles long unused—and then asked through telepathy, his inner voice filled with confusion.
To be continued…