“Central Heaven-Origin Sacred Continent… Grand Venerable…” The half-spoken phrase drifted into the air, soft yet weighted, as though the speaker feared the very syllables might crack open a wider secret. Jared’s gaze sharpened. Cold focus gathered behind his eyes, like a blade sliding free of its sheath, ready to cut through whatever lay ahead.
So, the Eastern Region Divine Punishment Hall is only the tip of the iceberg. That single thought settled, heavy and certain, inside his chest. Venerable Glacier’s rank fell short; the man’s reach never touched the deepest vaults of knowledge. Core secrets remained outside his grasp.
Jared swept the collapsing pocket of chaos with a last measuring look. Fractured space groaned. He flicked a sleeve, pulling pure divine power and scattered treasures into his ring before the realm tore apart. He closed his eyes. Light and shadow rippled over his skin. Bones popped, ligaments tightened, flesh reshaped. With every muted crack, the old face dissolved, replaced by another, colder mask.
Only a few breaths later, Venerable Glacier stood where Jared had been. The transformation ended in a hush, as though the world itself acknowledged the swap. A dark robe trimmed in blue draped the new figure. Snow-white hair glittered like ice crystal. High Immortal Realm Level Seven pressure seeped from him, and the contempt in his eyes rang true.
Jared rolled his neck, testing the borrowed shape. The higher status felt like a heavier mantle, yet it fit him perfectly.
“Since Glacier knows so little… Time to chat with the other venerables…”
The words came out in Glacier’s measured, arctic monotone. His gaze swung toward the memories of four halls: Venerable Redflame, Venerable Greenwood, Venerable Goldsteel, and Venerable Terrabold each occupied their own domain within the Eastern Region Divine Punishment Hall. Those four shared command with Glacier, yet rumor held they competed in quiet, never forming a single iron front. That rivalry opened the door for Jared to break them one at a time.
The plan was simple: wearing Glacier’s face, citing urgent deliberations, luring each venerable to a secluded spot or walking straight into their palaces, and repeating the method now perfected.
Jared smoothed the borrowed robe. The familiar chill of Glacier’s perpetual indifference slid over his features once more. One step carried him out of the soon-to-shatter chaos world.
Outside, inside Frigid Silence Hall, everything sat in its ordinary place, as if the earlier life-and-death struggle had never taken place. He did not linger. His stride angled toward the nearest target: Redflame Hall.
Venerable Redflame cultivated fire laws, quick-tempered and explosive. Of all the venerables, he clashed most fiercely with ice-ruled Glacier, which ironically made him the least likely to suspect Glacier’s approach. Common sense said Glacier, if plotting violence, would first rope in Greenwood or Terrabold, allies of milder temperament.
Before long, the scarlet gate of Redflame Hall came into view, its surface flowing like liquid fire. Two god-guards steeped in flame arts stood watch. They froze at Glacier’s arrival, then bowed in unison. “Greetings, Venerable Glacier!”
Without so much as a glance, Jared, wearing Glacier’s face, let a sheet of frost line his voice. “This venerable has urgent business with Redflame. Summon him…”
The tone carried Glacier’s trademark chill and absolute authority. The guards dared not delay. One wheeled around and sprinted inside to announce the visitor. Moments later, a thunderous, impatient roar rolled out of the hall.
“Glacier? You frozen relic! Why are you here? Spit it out! I’m busy refining a newly won Earthcore Flame Crystal!”
A giant of a man, nine feet tall, red hair blazing, robe the color of molten iron, strode forth. Venerable Redflame radiated waves of searing heat with every step. The heat distorted the air. His eyes, arrogant and bored, slid across Jared with open impatience.
Jared answered with a glacial mask and a faint crease between his brows, exactly how Glacier always signaled disgust at Redflame’s presence.
“Not here. Follow me.” The words were clipped. He turned at once, as if another second in Redflame’s furnace aura would contaminate him.
Redflame blinked, then barked, “Glacier! What game are you playing? Why can’t we talk here?!” Muttering or not, he still lengthened his stride to keep up. Curiosity tugged at him: why had the icebound rival sought him out so suddenly?
The pair, one cold front and one blazing storm, moved through corridor after corridor until they reached a rarely used Star-Gazing Platform deep inside the Divine Punishment Hall. Few visited this place. Barrier runes warded the perimeter, perfect for hushed discussion.
“Well? Speak!” Redflame’s patience burned thin. He snapped again, voice rough with flame-fed annoyance.
Jared’s eyes darkened. “Redflame, have you ever heard… of Primal Origin Breath?”
Redflame’s pupils shrank to pinpoints. Shock and sudden wariness wiped away the earlier disdain. “How do you know that term? The Grand Venerable forbade anyone from uttering it!”
A pulse flickered behind Venerable Redflame’s eyes: first shock, then frantic calculation. Jared caught the flicker and, in that instant, knew Glacier’s earlier claim had struck solid bedrock.
Keeping Glacier’s monotone, Jared let syllables fall like sleet. “I have traced signs of a leak of the Primal Origin Breath. The fate of the Eastern Region Divine Punishment Hall, and those above, hangs on it…”
He let the wording hang, half veiled, half dire, heavy enough to bend a mountain without naming the mountain. Color drained and flared across Redflame’s face. The phrase “those above” landed like molten ore on snow, hissing, forcing him backward a step.
He shot questions in rapid fire. “What signs? Where did you find them? Have you reported to the Grand Venerable?!”
Jared steadied himself inside the borrowed body. The fish was nibbling. He angled a shoulder, inviting Redflame closer, and whispered, “The clue lies…”
The moment Redflame leaned in, instinct overriding caution, breath brushing cold robes, the air bucked. Jared’s right hand, hidden behind his back, snapped forward. Two fingers together, Chaos Shatterfinger compressed into a single needle of gray chaotic force, darted for Redflame’s brow faster than a thought could form.
The strike had simmered since they left the hall; at arm’s length, it became inescapable. Redflame had nursed a general wariness, yet slaughter from Glacier’s hand still blindsided him. Worse, the attack held no hint of ice. It was a gray, annihilating power Glacier never displayed, reeking of erasure itself.
“You…” He flared protective divine fire and sprang backward.
But it was too late. The gray spike slid through the hastily risen flames like a hot knife through fat, landing dead-center between his brows.
Pop! A muffled crack split the silence. The retreating giant froze mid-step, every joint locking. His eyes bulged, horror etched deep. At his brow, a pinhead-sized gray mote spread like ink in water.
Yet Redflame was still a High Immortal Realm Level Seven master of fire, his life force dense and stubborn. One finger blow wrecked his soul but fell short of the instant obliteration that had ended others before.
“Argh!” Agony and fury fused into a roar. A tidal wave of flame erupted from him.
