The sky above the island remained serene—too serene.
Soft light danced on the surface of the ocean, magical beasts flew across the clouds with radiant wings, and spirit grass swayed gently in fields of silver-blue. It was a paradise of power and peace.
And yet—
Mo Tianzun stood at the cliff's edge, one hand lifted, palm glowing with golden-white spiritual light.
He was trying to open a portal.
Trying again.
And again.
But each time, the space before him rippled, then snapped shut like taut silk.
"Useless," he muttered, frowning deeply.
His hair—now completely white again, long and flowing—fluttered around his shoulders, glowing faintly with divine energy. The full force of his cultivation had returned, and yet something was missing.
No matter how much qi he infused, no matter what seals or incantations he used—the path to the mortal world was gone.
Cut off.
Blocked.
As if the Island themselves had locked the door.
"Why?" he whispered.
He stepped back from the edge, brows furrowed. Behind him, the magical beasts that once watched him with awe now kept a respectful distance. The aura of power that pulsed from his body was too vast.
Even the serpent that guarded the sacred cave had not returned.
Mo Tianzun turned his head toward the sea. "...Longxuan."
A name spoken softly. Carefully. With longing.
He missed him.
Even if he didn't say it aloud, even if he kept his back straight and his expression calm—the yearning remained. He had trained, meditated, tamed beasts, reconnected with his old powers.
But he was still alone.
He walked to the center of the island, to the sacred spring where he often meditated, and sat cross-legged. The water shimmered with yin and yang energy, calm and warm.
He closed his eyes and tried again.
Not to open a portal this time—but to sense.
To feel any trace of Longxuan, of the mortal world, of the people he'd left behind.
A flicker.
A faint string.
There—something.
A melody.
A sound as distant as the whisper of a zither across time.
His heart clenched.
He leaned forward. "Longxuan…?"
He reached with his spiritual sense—but the moment he pushed too hard, the tether snapped again, the connection gone.
Mo Tianzun gasped, blood blooming at the corner of his lips.
He pressed a hand to his chest.
His heart was beating too fast.
"I'm cut off," he said softly. "Not just trapped. Sealed."
Someone—or something—was interfering.
And it wasn't just divine will. It was intelligent.
A chill ran through him—not from fear, but from suspicion.
"…Liu Shengjie," he whispered.
The name slid from his lips like poison.
Suddenly, his body wavered again. The surge of power within him began to pulse too strongly—his veins lighting with white energy. His back arched as his own qi pushed against him like a wild wave.
Too much. Too fast.
It was his old cultivation—his real self—trying to take over a body not yet ready to hold it fully.
He forced himself to breathe, sweat dripping from his brow. The beasts around him stirred nervously.
He had to endure.
And he had to find a way back.
Even if the Heavens closed the doors.
Even if the Earth swallowed the keys.
He would carve a path.
Because somewhere in that realm—
Longxuan was calling him.
And he would answer.
No matter the cost.