Outside the Endless Fog Sea, several figures burst forth, their robes billowing in the wind as they escaped the suffocating gloom of that cursed domain. One by one, they inhaled sharply—fresh, clean air flooding their lungs for the first time in what felt like eternity. The unbearable suppression of the Endless Fog Sea no longer clung to their bodies, but none could find solace.
Their faces were grim. Their hearts, heavier than steel. The task entrusted to them by their Lord… had failed.
The leading figure stepped forward, his expression ashen. With a trembling hand, he pulled out a jade communication talisman that pulsed faintly with divine light. As he poured his divine sense into it, a line of connection formed—on the other end, their Lord waited, silent and watchful.
Moments passed in agonizing stillness as the report was transmitted, word by word, failure by failure. The sky remained overcast, as if mourning with them. Then finally, a solemn response echoed through the talisman—words not loud, but absolute.
"I will take Wan Dao and return to the Pure Land. All of you… return to your Divine Kingdoms."
The order was clear, but what followed struck deeper.
"Shenxing, Shenyue… as seniors and the older generation, the task of informing the deaths of Yanye and Jiuzhi falls to you. Go to their respective Kingdoms. Let their people know… before you return to your own."
The Star and Moon Divine Regents stiffened. Despite their might and status, their knees bent almost instinctively. They lowered their heads to the ground, their voices solemn and unified.
"Yes, Lord Chief Priest!"
Their tones were respectful, but beneath them carried grief, shame, and a deep-seated reverence.
"Little Jianxi, take the injured Qingying and bring her back to Dreamweaver. I believe everyone is still waiting there..."
The voice of the Chief Priest was calm, yet heavy with the weight of decisions no one wished to make. His words lingered in the air like echoes across a broken battlefield.
Meng Jianxi lowered his head without hesitation, his heart filled with unspoken guilt as he turned toward the pale and unconscious figure in his arms.
"Yes, Lord Chief Priest!" he answered firmly, his knee striking the ground as a show of absolute obedience.
Just as silence threatened to return, a familiar voice broke through the stillness.
"What about me?"
High Priest Liu Xiao's words were casual, but behind his eyes, the fire of old blood and duty still burned. His question was not made in defiance, but in shared burden—as one friend to another, both standing atop the ashes of failed trust and crumbling kingdoms.
The Chief Priest's gaze lingered on him for a long breath. He began to speak, his voice a low rumble.
"...Go and inform Owl Butterfly of their Regent's betrayal... make them—"
But then he paused.
A flicker of memory passed through his mind. Yun Che's final words—calm, mocking, yet resolute—echoed like thunder behind his eyes. The bloodlust in his throat faded. The order shifted.
"Just give them a scare. That should be enough... then return to Pure Land."
Liu Xiao blinked in surprise, but offered no resistance. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he nodded, understanding his old friend's restraint.
"Got it..."
Without another word, profound auras surged one after another. Star-streaked light, dreamlike mist, and ancient flames spiraled upward as each of them tore through space, departing toward different corners of the realm.
They left with no triumph.
Only with silence… and the heaviness of what they must carry.
-----------
In the Dreamweaver Divine Kingdom, only a few short days had passed… and yet, everything had begun—only to fall apart just as quickly.
The kingdom still shimmered with remnants of celebration: delicate banners, celestial lanterns, and divine ornaments lined the great palaces and sacred halls. All had been prepared for the wedding and ascension ceremony of Yun Che and Hua Caili—a union meant to honor generations, to unify the future of the Divine Kingdom. But with the truth unveiled—that Yun Che was not Meng Jianyuan, and that his identity had been a carefully woven illusion—it all crumbled into ash.
Even now, as the Abyssal Monarch led the Gods themselves in pursuit of Yun Che, no one could say whether he lived or died… but in the end, did it even matter?
Upon a quiet hill, far from the chaos and crumbling dreams, a lone figure sat beside a gravestone. The wind carried the faint scent of old incense and crushed lotus petals. This hill had once been a place of laughter, where plans were made for the kingdom's future, where a father dreamed alongside his sons. But now, the wind seemed to slow in mourning, its gentle howl filled with sorrow—echoing the grief of the man who sat in silence.
Meng Kongchan, once a figure of unmatched dignity and power—his face proud, his presence radiant—now looked as if he had aged a decade in a matter of days. His once-straight back seemed to sag beneath invisible weight. The light in his eyes, once so steady and deep, was now dulled… not by defeat, but by heartbreak.
Just beyond the quiet hill, several figures stood in stillness, watching from a respectful distance. Their expressions were solemn, their hearts burdened with sorrow. None dared approach.
For since the moment Meng Kongchan sat before the gravestone, he had not moved. Not once. As if the world itself had lost all meaning to him.
Then, as if drawn by the same grief, another figure descended slowly from the sky. His landing was soundless, yet the weight he carried was heavier than mountains. With weary steps, he came to Meng Kongchan's side and sat down beside him.
Like a reflection in a fractured mirror, this man too looked far older than he had mere days ago. Time had not changed them—but heartbreak had.
They sat together in silence. Not a word passed between them.
The wind whispered through the grass.
The sun slid slowly westward, and the sky bled orange and red.
Then, as night fell and darkness veiled the world, two voices broke the stillness—tired, hoarse, and spoken in unison:
"I'm sorry."
A beat of silence.
Then again, at the same moment:
"You first."
Another long pause. Neither moved. Neither spoke again. Time seemed to stretch endlessly.
Above them, the stars emerged—bright and scattered across the night sky. But to the two men sitting in that hollow of grief, the stars were dim… distant… like memories that no longer held warmth.
Eventually, the stars faded into the mist of dawn, and the moon slipped away behind the horizon. The sky began to pale with the first light of day.
Still, they said nothing. Still, they sat side by side. Still, the silence remained. Until finally, one of them can no longer take it.
"SAY SOMETHING, YOU FUCKING—!"
The voice cracked mid-sentence, exploding with raw anguish, shattering the silence like a blade through glass. It wasn't anger. It wasn't blame.
It was pain—pure, unfiltered pain.
"BOOOOOOM!!!"
Before Hua Fuchen could even finish his words, his foot had already slammed violently into Meng Kongchan's side.
A thunderous explosion echoed across the silent hills as Meng Kongchan's body was launched high into the sky of the Dreamweaver Divine Kingdom. The artificial light of dawn had not yet broken the horizon—but Meng Kongchan had already ascended beyond it, a dark silhouette against the paling heavens.
And yet… even as he soared, he made no effort to resist. No protective aura, no defensive technique. He simply let himself be hurled through the air—limp, unresponsive—as if the strike hadn't mattered at all.
As if nothing did.
On the ground, Hua Fuchen's eyes widened—then narrowed. His teeth clenched, and the veins around his temples throbbed with fury.
"You bastard...!"
The aura of a Divine Limited Realm erupted around him like a tidal wave. The earth cracked beneath his feet. Space twisted and tore.
Without hesitation, he shot into the sky like a comet. In his hand, a gleaming divine sword took shape—etched with celestial light, thrumming with wrath and heartbreak. Before Meng Kongchan's body had even begun to fall, Hua Fuchen appeared before him in midair.
With a roar that carried years of pain and buried emotion, he slashed.
"WAKE UP!!"
The sword tore through the heavens, a brilliant arc of destruction. The sky screamed as the slash split clouds and shattered voids. Sword energy howled like a wrathful god, its brilliance swallowing the light of the rising sun.
The world shook.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The moment life and death brushed against him, a flicker of survival instinct surged through Meng Kongchan's body. The hair on his arms rose, and his murky, lifeless eyes suddenly lit up—alive again, if only for a heartbeat.
In that instant, power erupted from within him—dense, dreamlike, suffused with despair and fury—as he met Hua Fuchen's descending sword.
"BOOOOOOOMMMMM!!!"
Even so, he was a heartbeat too slow.
Though he managed to shield his vital points, the force of the strike crashed into him like a divine mountain, and his figure was hurled downward—like a fallen star.
"BOOOOOOMMMMM!!!"
The land quaked as his body smashed into the ground. Shockwaves tore through the air. Buildings trembled, spires cracked, and divine towers groaned beneath the pressure.
RUMBLE!!!!!!!
The might of a Divine Limited Realm resounded across the Divine Kingdom, shaking the very bones of the land. But none dared to intervene.
This was not a battle of ego.
It was the clash of broken former gods.
Blood spewed from Meng Kongchan's mouth as he coughed violently. He struggled to rise, a trembling hand pressing into the shattered earth. Crimson streaked his lips, staining his robes.
"Cough… cough… PUCKKKH!!!"
His chest heaved with each breath, and as he looked skyward with bloodshot eyes, he roared:
"YOU DAMN OLD FUCK! ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?!"
From above, Hua Fuchen floated coldly, his sword still humming from the strike. His eyes narrowed with scorn—and something deeper beneath.
"So what?! Didn't you already fucking die inside?! Might as well be dead outside too!"
His voice cracked slightly, trembling beneath the rage.
Then came the words he didn't mean to say.
"Just because Yun Che isn't your son—"
He stopped. The words died in his throat. His sword lowered slightly as silence rushed back in.
Below, Meng Kongchan froze. His face paled.
Then—without a sound—his body rose again into the sky. His divine aura, once dormant, flared into brilliance. Dreamlike mists poured from him, swirling upward like a celestial storm.
Hua Fuchen blinked… and his eyes widened.
A vision appeared—not before his eyes, but deep in his heart.
He saw her.
She was alive.
He saw himself. Her. Their daughter.
Together. Laughing. Whole.
It was a dream so perfect it hurt. A vision so cruel it soothed. And as Hua Fuchen stood trapped in that illusion, tears welled faintly at the corner of his eyes.
In the vision, he closed his eyes with a peaceful smile.
And in reality, he whispered, barely audible above the breeze:
"...You've gone too far..."
"BOOOOOMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
"BOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!"
"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMM!!!"
The heavens roared. The land howled.
The skies above the Dreamweaver Divine Kingdom split apart as two titanic forces clashed again and again—each strike echoing with decades of regret, grief, and fury.
The battle surged with such violence that the realm itself threatened to collapse.
High above, divine elders appeared one after another, raising vast, multilayered barriers to shield the land below. Entire mountains trembled as the storm of power raged in the skies.
"BOOOOMMMM!!!"
And then—almost as if by fate—the two figures plummeted from the sky like falling stars.
Dust exploded upward as their broken bodies slammed into the earth. And strangely… they landed in the very same place where it had all begun—upon the flowered hill where once they sat in silence.
The once-pristine meadow was now scorched and cracked, petals scattered in the wind. The two men lay on their backs, bloodied, battered, chests rising and falling as they gasped for breath.
And then… silence returned.
"...."
"You first."
Once again, both men spoke at the same time.
And as if fate mocked them again, their auras surged instinctively—two wounded beasts reacting to each other.
BOOM—!!!
The hill shuddered as divine power rippled outward, lightly damaging what few flowers remained.
But then—finally—they both sighed.
Their auras dimmed.
Their breathing steadied.
And peace, however fragile, settled over them.
"Sorry."This time, Hua Fuchen's voice came first. His tone was hoarse, yet steady, as he looked toward the man who had once been closer than a brother.
"I'm sorry too… for what I did… for everything."Meng Kongchan's voice followed, softer. Genuine.
Their gazes met. No more anger. Only exhaustion… and understanding.
The silence returned, but it no longer suffocated as Hua Fuchen smile in his heart.
Then, slowly, Hua Fuchen pushed himself to sit up. His legs shook, but he moved forward, step by step, until he reached his old friend.
Meng Kongchan lay there, bruised and bloodied, eyes half-lidded, lips faintly curled with bitterness… but also a trace of something else.
Hua Fuchen extended a hand.
"It's my fault for bringing Yun Che to you," Hua Fuchen said quietly, his voice no longer sharp with anger but heavy with the weight of guilt that had been eating at him since the day it all began. His tone carried no excuses, only truth, and in that moment, it was clear that every word came from the deepest part of his heart.
Meng Kongchan, still catching his breath, shook his head slowly in quiet denial before reaching up and grasping Hua Fuchen's extended hand. His grip, though weakened by the battle, was firm enough to speak volumes. With a silent nod between them, Hua Fuchen pulled him to his feet—no ceremony, no pretense, only two men helping each other stand again after falling far too long.
"As a person with the highest level of soul power… and the strongest soul techniques across the realm… I allowed myself to fall for Jianyuan's illusion... for Yun Che's trick," Meng Kongchan spoke at last, his voice quiet, almost distant, as though the words hurt more to admit than the wounds on his body. "I was the cause of everything... I'm sorry."
A bitter smile curled at the corners of his lips, not out of mockery, but out of self-loathing and resignation—he, who had been revered for clarity and wisdom, had failed to see through the veil placed over his own heart.
They stood in silence then, side by side, as the first rays of the morning sun stretched across the ruined hill, casting warm light upon bloodied ground and cracked stone. The world, indifferent to their sorrow, continued on—flowers opened, light broke through drifting clouds, and the wind, soft and cool, swept gently around them, rustling their torn robes and brushing against their skin like a faint whisper of forgiveness. Slowly, the stains of blood that clung to them faded, cleansed not by water, but by the calm, cleansing waves of their divine auras—no longer flaring in rage, but quietly mending the damage left behind.
The silence stretched, not uncomfortable now, but thoughtful.
And then, after a long pause, Hua Fuchen asked, his voice low but steady:
"What now?"
Meng Kongchan didn't answer immediately. His eyes, still red around the edges, remained fixed on the horizon where the sun climbed higher, burning away the haze.
Finally, he spoke—slowly, deliberately, his voice carrying a quiet certainty.
"We'll wait… for everyone to return. I'm sure Yun Che won't be able to escape."
The finality in his tone was not rooted in hatred, nor vengeance—it was the voice of a man who had made peace with the truth, even if it shattered everything he once believed in.
"....."
Hua Fuchen said nothing in return. He only stood there, eyes on the rising light, wondering if any of them would truly walk away whole when it was all over.
"Then what about Little Caili?" Meng Kongchan asked, his voice softer now, not in doubt but in concern—genuine, paternal concern for the girl who had been like a daughter to them both.
Hua Fuchen remained silent for a moment, then answered with quiet determination, though the weight in his chest had not lightened.
"I'm sure it will take time… but she'll heal from this. Yun Che is no longer a son to me—he's an enemy. He'll be punished for what he did."
Hua Fuchen's brow furrowed slightly as he looked out toward the horizon, the wind catching his hair as it blew past the scorched hilltop.
"Knowing who Yun Che truly is… and what his goals are… I don't believe she'll ever love him again. She won't fall for his tricks a second time."
There was a pause.
Then a slightly forced laugh escaped his lips, bitter and sharp.
"In fact, with how much that bastard hurt her… she's probably already gone after his head!"
"...."
The silence that followed was no longer the silence of shared pain—it was heavier, awkward.
And finally, Hua Fuchen lowered his gaze.
"Sorry..."
"..."
The world had just begun to stir with morning life when suddenly—
RUMBLEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!
A deafening wave of divine pressure rushed across the sky like a thunderstorm descending upon the world. The very air trembled, and both Meng Kongchan and Hua Fuchen turned sharply, their eyes narrowing as their spiritual senses surged outward.
From the distant skies, a streak of radiant godly energy tore through the clouds, approaching at incredible speed.
Meng Kongchan's eyes sharpened, and he murmured, voice laced with a mix of surprise and uncertainty.
"Jianxi… is back."
Indeed, the aura was unmistakable—Meng Jianxi, his son, returning from the pursuit. But something was wrong.
Why was he alone?
And then Meng Kongchan paused, his divine sense brushing against something faint—another aura, hidden beneath Jianxi's, faint and dim, like a candle nearly extinguished. Whoever it belonged to… they weren't dead, but barely conscious, their breath weak, their body still.
As the seconds ticked by, the figures grew clearer.
Descending from the sky, Meng Jianxi's form appeared, and in his arms was the limp, unconscious figure of—
"QINGYING!"
The name burst from both men's throats in unison, their voices cracking with shock and dread as they rushed forward in the same heartbeat, all thoughts of Yun Che, war, and vengeance swept away in an instant.
"What happened?!!"The two roared in unison, their voices booming like thunder across the hilltop as they rushed forward, their eyes fixed on the unconscious figure in Meng Jianxi's arms.
Meng Jianxi landed gently upon the scorched earth, his expression solemn as he respectfully bowed to his father and Hua Fuchen.
Without hesitation, and still catching his breath, he began to explain everything that had transpired—the pursuit, the confusion, and the moment they had found Hua Qingying collapsed from spiritual exhaustion, her aura nearly extinguished but thankfully still whole.
As his words unfolded, the two Divine Regents finally allowed their hearts to ease. They stepped closer, their divine senses brushing over her body. Although she was unconscious, her aura remained steady and calm. Her breathing was faint but even. Her soul, though weary, was intact.
She would wake soon.
And for a fleeting moment, relief washed over them both.
But then—
"Wait… where's Caili?!!"
Hua Fuchen's voice cut through the still air like a blade, sharp and trembling. His eyes darted around wildly, and his divine sense surged outward with violent force, piercing through the boundaries of the Dreamweaver Divine Kingdom and sweeping through the endless sky beyond. Even the ever-present Abyssal Dust, though thin in this place, offered no resistance to his probe.
But there was nothing.
No trace. No signal. Not even the faintest whisper of her aura.
His face, already worn from battle and grief, drained of color. His lips parted slightly, but no sound came out at first. When he turned to face Meng Jianxi, his eyes held a mixture of confusion, disbelief, and rising terror.
Meng Jianxi stiffened under the weight of that gaze.
Slowly, without raising his eyes, he bowed his head.
"Goddess Caili… she…"
Thump… thump… thump...
Hua Fuchen's heartbeat echoed in his ears, growing louder, heavier, more painful with each passing moment. His breathing became uneven, and his mind betrayed him, conjuring images he had never wished to see—his daughter as an infant, smiling in his arms; her tiny fingers wrapped around his; her youthful laughter as she grew; her face aglow in the white wedding dress, the pride in her eyes as she stood beside Yun Che...
His soul screamed before his voice ever did.
"No… no, no… NO!!!"His knees threatened to give way as divine dread tore through him, colder than any blade, deeper than any wound.
Then came the words that shattered whatever remained of his composure.
"She… went with Yun Che."
"...."
"...."
"..."
Silence stretched endlessly between them. Not the silence of uncertainty or hesitation—but the kind that suffocates, that grips the soul and crushes it beneath the weight of reality too cruel to accept.
Then—
Thud.
Followed by—
Bang!
The sound was sharp, sudden, and utterly heartbreaking.
Hua Fuchen's body gave out, knees crashing to the ground, and in the next instant, his forehead struck the scorched earth with brutal finality. Dust rose from the impact, mingling with the shattered remnants of petals that once adorned the peaceful hill.
His mind went completely blank.
The strength that had carried him through centuries of war, that had lifted kingdoms and shattered enemies, vanished as if it had never existed. The words he had spoken to Meng Kongchan just moments ago—words meant to soothe, to comfort, to assure—echoed now like a cruel mockery, every syllable twisting like a dagger in his chest.
"She's probably gone after his head already."
What a lie. What a pathetic, hollow lie. His daughter… the light of his life… had chosen to leave. With him. With Yun Che.
A final breath escaped his lips as his consciousness faded. His eyes fluttered closed, and for the first time in countless years, Hua Fuchen—Divine Regent, fell completely still.