A Rank Nine Ascension cultivator stood at the centre of the ruined chamber.
Calm. Steady. Untouched by the flames she had unleashed.
The Phoenix Sword rested at her hip, its glow dimmed but not gone.
Yan didn't speak. She didn't need to.
Her gaze swept across the survivors, no challenge in her eyes, only quiet certainty.
None among them were her equal.
All who watched, felt it: awe, and a thread of fear.
Even with Ryu nearby, silent in his watchfulness, it was clear,
In this moment, she stood alone.
And for the first time since entering the palace, no one dared to move.
Everyone remained frozen.
The battle they'd just witnessed, no, survived, had left more than just scorch marks on the floor. It left awe. Fear. Reverence.
What they had seen wasn't just a cultivator unleashing power. It was a bloodline awakened. The will of a phoenix set loose. The roar of something ancient, divine.
Among the surviving realms, few truly remembered what the first had once held. But even in the higher planes, across sects and sovereign legacies, whispers endured. Whispers of dragons. Of phoenixes. Of beings who stood above the peak, able to match or even destroy those who touched Transcendence.
Now those whispers had taken form.
And she stood among them.
Ryu exhaled softly and slowly withdrew the compressed spatial domain he had layered over the room. The invisible barrier unravelled, time and space relaxing around them like a breath being released.
They had all felt it, that moment when the flames threatened to incinerate everything. The split-second where the heat should have consumed them. But it hadn't. Because space itself had bent.
Because Ryu had caught the fire with folded reality.
A few stared at him now, not with fear, but in silent understanding. He had saved them. Every last one of them.
Ryu broke the silence with a shrug. "Well," he said, glancing over at Yan, "at least now I know my spatial technique works when it matters."
He gave a half-smile. "Though I guess hiding how strong we are isn't an option anymore."
There were a few nervous chuckles. The tension in the air eased, just a little.
Akari was the first to actually speak. "Yan, that was… insane. You're Ascension Stage Nine? And, wait, Phoenix bloodline? Why didn't you say anything?"
Yan cast a sideways look at Ryu, then grinned.
"I did," she said casually. "I told you my name was Yan."
She turned to the group.
"I just never mentioned my family name."
The silence that followed was thick with disbelief.
And then came the reaction, gasps, wide eyes, the flicker of realization passing through every cultivator present.
"Phoenix…" someone whispered. "She's a true heir."
Ryu couldn't help but laugh quietly.
And still, the Phoenix Sword rested at her hip, its flame now slumbering.
The silence following Yan's victory hadn't even settled before the air shifted again.
A pulse. Deep and resonant.
Not fiery. Not spatial.
Metallic.
Warren's body trembled where he knelt near the obelisk. His Qi surged, not wild, but solid, measured. Golden veins of energy spread across his arms, laced with an earthen undertone. What had once been a subdued mixture of earth and metal now shimmered with lustre.
Transcendence-forged. Sovereign-aligned.
Ascension Stage Seven.
Eyes snapped to him.
Even Yan turned her head.
Warren stood slowly, unsteady at first, but growing firmer with each breath. His body no longer just radiated strength; it carried weight. His Qi didn't flicker; it rang.
"My Qi," he said, voice tight, stunned. "It's… changed. I can feel it in my bones. In my breath. It's not just metal anymore. It's alive."
Ryu stepped forward, calm and composed. "That's gold metal Qi," he said. "Refined. Tempered. It matches the sovereign who built this place."
He paused.
"And because of that… you're the only one who can claim what's left."
Warren's brow furrowed. "Will it change me?"
"It might," Ryu answered plainly. "Inheriting a sovereign's legacy isn't just about strength. Their will… their memories… sometimes their burdens, some of that might be passed on too."
Warren didn't hesitate. He exhaled once, steadying his thoughts, then nodded. "Then I'll carry it."
The others watched in solemn silence as he approached the golden chest. With every step he took, strands of Qi followed, coiling around his limbs like threads being drawn toward a loom.
He stopped in front of the chest.
The seal responded before he could touch it.
The tendrils of Warren's gold Qi stretched outward, curling into the intricate grooves along the surface of the chest. Runes lit up one by one, forming a glowing lattice of connection.
The seal broke with a quiet chime, soft but final.
The lid lifted.
Inside: a single weathered scroll wrapped in a thick red cord, and beside it, a square, silver-gold box etched in divine script.
Warren reached for the scroll first. Unwrapping it carefully, he unfurled the ancient parchment.
Symbols shimmered on its surface, glowing faintly in sync with his aura.
"A metal body technique," he whispered. "And… a skill rooted in Gold Qi. One that can evolve, grow, into the Transcendence Realm."
Ryu and Lira exchanged a glance.
Then came the box.
Warren lifted it with both hands. The moment his Qi made contact, it pulsed, once.
The box melted.
Not like wax, but like metal returning to its original form.
Liquid gold flowed over his hands, crawling like sentient flame. It wrapped around his palm, his wrist, his forearm, searing as it moved. The pain hit like a forge hammer.
"Ah, !" Warren dropped to one knee, clutching his arm, breath ragged. The golden metal burned into him, branding something deeper than skin.
Ryu's star flame mark pulsed on his hand.
So did Lira's.
Their marks responded, not in warning, but in recognition.
The inheritance was real.
Warren collapsed onto his side, groaning as he clutched his arm. The golden liquid burrowed beneath his skin and began to fade, but its presence remained.
Then… the mark formed.
Nine stars, glowing faintly, encircled a hexagonal core, the bottom elongated like a shield tip. The emblem etched itself onto the back of Warren's hand, slowly, deliberately.
It wasn't just a mark of power.
It was a sovereign's seal.
And then,
His mind fractured.
The vision struck Warren like a thunderclap, too vivid to be dream
The vision hit Warren like a tidal surge, blinding, deafening, undeniable.
He stood not as himself, but as an observer within a vast, timeless chamber. The space was neither stone nor sky, but something in between, a place where reality folded into itself. Light bent at impossible angles. Qi floated like constellations.
Nine thrones formed a perfect circle, each forged from a different elemental affinity, metal, flame, stone, wind, and more. Each pulsed with quiet authority.
And slowly, they gathered.
The Second Sovereign appeared first, his presence sharp, his aura like honed crystal.
Then came the Fourth.
Liryetta.
Her entrance twisted the atmosphere into elegance and judgment. Dressed in layered crystal and silver-threaded robes, she sat with one leg crossed and an arched brow already raised.
After her came the Fifth, calm, thunderous, and then the Seventh and Ninth. Their powers hummed like tectonic plates in harmony.
Next, the Third and Eighth appeared together, stepping from twin rifts like echoes of one another. Power coalesced. The circle began to close.
And at its centre, already seated, was the Sixth.
Aurelius.
Golden, immovable. His throne had no decoration, only weight. The air around him shimmered faintly, charged with refinement. The sovereign of the metal Dao. He sat still; his fingers laced atop his lap. Watching. Waiting.
And then space cracked.
The Void Emperor entered.
He didn't walk. He arrived. The edges of the chamber folded in on themselves, then unfurled as he stepped through a veil of sheer nothingness. His robes were dark as the stars between galaxies, trimmed with light. Reality distorted as he passed.
"Well," Liryetta said, voice smooth and sharp as glass, "we've gathered. How kind of us to wait for the late one again."
The Void Emperor smiled faintly; tone amused. "Time's a fickle concept in the void. But I'm here now. You have my gratitude."
Aurelius spoke next, his voice low and even. "We all know without you; this chamber doesn't exist. The rifts remain because you bind them. We may rule our realms, but you keep them connected."
The Fourth narrowed her eyes. "So, you're his new concubine now, Aurelius? I never took you for the affectionate type."
A few of the sovereigns chuckled. Even the Seventh allowed a smirk. But Aurelius remained silent, dignified, unshaken.
The chamber quieted.
And the discussion began.
The rift between the Tenth and the Seventh had grown unstable, hostile energies leaked through it like blood from a wound. The sovereigns debated strategies, histories, consequences. But in the end, the course was clear.
"It must be sealed," the Fifth said. "Before the corruption spreads."
All eyes turned to the Void Emperor.
He extended one hand. "Lend me your Qi."
One by one, the sovereigns raised their palms. Threads of their unique energy, some included wind, water, fire, metal, ice, lightning, unspooled into the chamber, swirling like a celestial spiral.
The Void Emperor absorbed it.
He didn't devour it, he wove it. Into lines. Into veins. Into a seal beyond comprehension.
And with a final pulse, the gates between realms Seven through Ten were severed.
Not destroyed.
Just sealed.
And yet…
They remained connected.
The Void Chamber stood between them all. A place where sovereigns could still gather. A bridge woven through space itself. It was a lattice of harmony, the threads of each realm interwoven across its heart.
Warren gasped.
Behind his eyes… the memory still burned.
The image of the nine seats.
The seal.
The words of Aurelius.
The presence of the Void Emperor.