The flame that lit Jiaren's veins was not divine.
It was vengeance.
He drifted through the void with new weight in his limbs—three fragments burned into his body, each humming with stolen truth. Flame. Ice. Blood.
He was no longer just Jiaren of the Mortal Realm.
He was becoming something else. Something forbidden.
But before he could rise further, he had to go back.
Back to where his fall had begun.
---
The void shimmered like oil. He reached forward—and the darkness responded.
For a moment, his thoughts were sharp, focused. He could see the broken threads of reality. And through them, a passage opened.
A rift between worlds.
The moment he stepped through, he was no longer in the Between.
He stood in the ruins of a battlefield.
Charred earth. Cracked sky. A spiritual storm still whirling in the distance like a wound that hadn't healed.
This was the site of his ascension.
The platform where heaven had turned away.
And they had left it to rot.
---
A familiar voice cut through the silence.
> "I knew you'd crawl back."
Jiaren turned.
A man in silver robes stood at the edge of the ruins. Hair tied neatly. Eyes like glass.
Zhen Mu. Once Jiaren's senior brother. Now… one of the betrayers.
Jiaren's hand curled into a fist, the Flame rune pulsing.
> "You were the first to kneel when Master ordered my death," Jiaren said.
"Do you still kneel now?"
Zhen Mu's smile twisted.
> "You weren't worthy. The heavens agreed."
He stepped forward, drawing a curved blade glowing with wind qi.
> "I will end what heaven started."
---
They clashed instantly.
Wind against fire. Past against fury.
Zhen Mu was fast—blades of air slicing through the battlefield, lifting shattered stones into whirlwinds. But Jiaren was faster.
He burned.
Flame danced from his fingertips, curling like a living serpent. He ducked, rolled, struck.
Zhen Mu's robe caught fire. He snarled, spinning out of the flame, but Jiaren was already upon him.
Palm against chest.
Blood Law activated.
Zhen Mu gasped as his heart skipped a beat. Blood froze mid-pulse. Pain exploded behind his eyes.
Jiaren leaned close.
> "Let me show you what real rejection feels like."
He ripped the essence from Zhen Mu's core—not enough to kill. Just enough to break.
Zhen Mu crumpled, shaking, whimpering. His cultivation shattered like glass.
Jiaren stood over him, gaze cold.
> "I won't kill you," he said.
"Live knowing that I've taken your strength. Your future."
> "And soon—your Master's life."
---
He turned and walked deeper into the ruins.
Each step took him closer to the heart of his betrayal.
The Grand Altar of the Sky-Severing Sect still stood, its pillars cracked but proud. Vines crawled across divine carvings, nature reclaiming the divine.
And there—at the center—stood a woman.
Hair like stormclouds. Robes of blue and silver.
Meilan.
Jiaren froze.
She had not aged.
She had not left.
> "You returned," she whispered.
"I felt the void tremble. I hoped it wasn't you…"
He said nothing.
Because what could he say?
That he had failed ascension and become a law thief?
That the heavens wanted him erased?
She stepped forward.
> "I told them not to do it. I begged them, Jiaren."
> "You begged too late."
He looked at her, eyes glowing faintly with fragments of stolen truths.
> "You stood silent when the blade entered my back."
Her face twisted with pain.
> "I thought you would survive."
He laughed bitterly.
> "I did. Just not in the way you wanted."
---
A rumble broke the silence.
Above them, a crack opened in the sky.
A second Executor descended—this one different. Younger. Cloaked in moonlight. His blade was smaller, curved, more precise.
He didn't speak.
Just raised his hand.
And unleashed the Law of Silence.
Sound vanished.
Meilan screamed—but no voice came.
The trees wilted.
The ground sank.
Jiaren staggered—his mind reeling, every thought suddenly muted. His Laws stopped responding. His own heartbeats dulled.
This was new.
This was dangerous.
---
But Jiaren was no longer just a man.
He reached deep, past fear, past pain, past silence.
To the void within him.
The broken space where divine judgment could not reach.
And there, in the silence, his own voice roared:
> I am the unmade.
I am the wound the heavens left behind.
> And I will not be silenced.
---
His eyes snapped open.
He slammed both palms together—Ice and Blood Law surged.
The Executor moved too late.
A spike of crimson ice tore through the silence field, disrupting the Law itself.
Sound returned in a shattering scream.
Meilan collapsed, clutching her head.
The Executor fell back, shocked.
Jiaren didn't let him recover.
He blurred forward—struck once, twice, thrice.
Each blow burned with divine rejection.
The Executor screamed—not from pain—but from understanding.
> "You're not ascending…"
> "You're corrupting the Laws!"
Jiaren whispered in reply:
> "No."
> "I'm remaking them."
He struck one final time, and the Executor exploded into motes of broken light.
---
Silence again.
But this time… it was peace.
Jiaren turned.
Meilan lay still, breathing shallow.
He approached her. Hesitated.
> "You shouldn't have stayed."
> "I… wanted to believe," she whispered.
> "Then remember what belief costs."
He walked past her.
The sky above rumbled again—but this time, no enemy came.
Only silence.
And a promise:
The Sky-Severing Sect will fall.