Golden columns climbed into vaulted darkness, every inch of the main hall polished to a mirrored gleam. Colored flames guttered in bronze braziers, gilded beams throwing back broken shards of light.
The Grand Venerable stood at the hall’s center, robes still, chin lifted. Around him, the highest officers of Divine Punishment Hall lined up shoulder-to-shoulder, spines locked straight, eyes lowered.
Silence weighed on the air like an unseen hand, slowing each breath and flattening every heartbeat until tension shimmered as plainly as the gold leaf under their feet. A single point of brightness claimed the room.
In the exact middle of the floor, a circular array glowed silver, runes winding like rivers of quicksilver across carved stone. Every gaze locked on that light, pupils reflecting its shimmer as though the pattern itself had threaded hooks through their eyes.
The threaded runes belonged to no craft of Level Thirteen. Each tangled stroke breathed a chill, foreign wind—an open doorway that reached toward the distant Fourteenth Firmament. Today, the Grand Venerable wore no battle mail. A dark-gold robe draped his frame, the cloth whispering with every shallow breath. The pride that usually sharpened his stare had folded into a reverence bordering on humility.
Eight core Elders bent behind him, heads bowed so far their crests brushed the floor. Even their breathing came in clipped, rationed sips, as though fear itself counted every inhalation. A low hum roiled across the marble, soft at first, then swelling until it set teeth vibrating and lantern chains quivering.
Silver circuits flared brighter. Space rippled around the array, expanding rings shining like water after a stone’s drop. Inside those ripples, two blurred silhouettes surfaced. Lines of light tightened and flesh condensed until two clear human forms occupied the glowing disc.
The glare receded. A single man and a single woman remained, still haloed by the last drifting strands of silver. The man appeared around twenty-seven or twenty-eight. Sharp brows framed star-bright eyes, and his features carried the flawless calm of a sculpted idol.
He wore a silver-white robe with faint golden clouds curling along the cuffs and collar, while an ancient longsword hung silent at his waist. The blade rested in its scabbard, yet a keen sword intent leaked out, pricking skin and forcing every watcher a step straighter.
Most striking, a pale gold vertical mark sat squarely between his brows—the unmistakable crest of celestial royalty.
The woman seemed even younger, barely into her twenties. Beauty clung to her like perfume, her skin white as new snow under moonlight. A light-violet gauze dress wrapped her frame, with tiny star-stones glittering along the hem, scattering motes of color with every subtle movement. Silver hair poured to her waist, caught by a crescent-shaped jade pin that snared the hall’s torchlight.
She carried an unapproachable coolness, like a high full moon hanging beyond mortal reach. Power rolled off the pair—distinct, oppressive, and unmistakably Top Level High Immortal Realm Level Seven. More unsettling, that power felt purer than anything Level Thirteen cultivators could manage, as though their roots drilled far deeper than mortal reach.
The Grand Venerable hurried three steps forward and folded at the waist until his sleeves brushed polished stone. “Guardian Marshal of Divine Punishment Hall, thirty-seventh generation, welcomes the envoys of the Celestial Palace of the Fourteenth Firmament.”
Eight Elders echoed in perfect unison, “Welcome, envoys!” Their voices rang against the domed ceiling like striking bells.
Lucian’s indifferent gaze glided over the kneeling line. He offered a brief nod. “You must be the Grand Venerable… I am Lucian, and this is my Junior Disciple, Lyria. By our Master’s order, we come to temper ourselves and inspect the celestials’ branch halls.” The words were calm, yet each syllable dropped from a height, the way a lord flicks commands toward servants.
Lyria never spared the Grand Venerable a glance. She eyed the pillars and banners, a faint crease cutting her brow. “Level Thirteen’s aura really is thin. Even Divine Punishment Hall feels shabby. Senior Disciple, must we stay three months?”
Lucian answered without emotion, “Master commanded it. Three months will pass before we notice.”
Moisture beaded across the Grand Venerable’s forehead. He bowed again. “The hall has prepared its finest reception chambers for both envoys. Please allow us to escort you.”
“Unneeded…” Lucian flicked a hand, ending the offer before it could grow roots. His hand fell as he spoke. “First… speak of Level Thirteen’s troubles. The Celestial Palace hears a rebel named Jared Chance has slain five Venerables, stirring the realm. Are the rumors true?”
A knot tightened inside the Grand Venerable’s chest, yet he forced the words out. “Envoy, the matter is real. Jared wields a strange art, a gray force that suppresses celestial law… The five Venerables of the eastern region misjudged him and perished. However… I have issued a realm-wide hunt and gathered forces from every province. The traitor will be caught soon.”
“Soon?” The single question slipped out, soft but razor-edged.
Lyria let out a short, frosty laugh. “Grand Venerable, the Fourteenth Firmament already whispers that Level Thirteen’s Guardian Marshal cannot handle a mere Heavenly Immortal. You shame the celestials.”
Color drained from his face; sweat soaked his collar. “Forgive me, Envoy! Jared’s methods are bizarre, he—”
“Enough…” Lucian’s interruption sliced the air. His voice stayed level, yet the hall trembled. “For millennia, the celestials ruled Level Thirteen without such blunders. A Heavenly Immortal overturns the realm on your watch. That is dereliction.” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “Were it not for your stewardship of over five hundred years—merit in hardship—the Celestial Palace would already have punished you.”
The Grand Venerable’s knees buckled; only willpower kept him upright. “Thank you for your leniency, Envoy… I will devote every resource to capture Jared and restore celestial honor.”
Lyria issued a dismissive hum, her lips parting for another barb. Before words could form, urgent footsteps hammered toward the doors.
“Report!” A shout cracked the hush like splintering glass. A celestial guard stumbled through, his face white as chalk. “Grand Venerable! Urgent message from Epea!”
The Grand Venerable’s glare snapped like a whip. “Why the panic? Do you not see the envoys? Withdraw!”
“But…” The guard shivered, syllables snagging on his tongue. His hands shook so hard the jade slip clicked against his armor. “S-Something enormous has happened in Epea!”
Lucian lifted one brow. “Speak…”
The guard swallowed. “Beast-Quelling Hall has been breached. Beast-Quelling Venerable is dead. King Silverserpent and King Ironhawk have also fallen! Venerable Goldspear, Venerable Greenwood, and Venerable Redflame, dispatched as reinforcements… all three are likewise dead!”
“What?!” The exclamation rocked the chamber.
The Grand Venerable staggered three full steps backward. His shoulders slammed into a jade pillar before his trembling legs finally steadied. The eight Elders flinched as if a blade had swept across the hall. Color drained from their faces; their pupils quivered.
All around, robed figures sucked in sharp breaths, the collective hiss echoing off the jade pillars and hanging for a beat of stunned silence. Someone’s voice cracked through the hush, naming the loss in raw disbelief.
“Beast-Quelling Venerable, High Immortal Realm Level Seven—the guardian who had held Epea in his iron grasp for three hundred years!” The title rang against the vaulted ceiling like a funeral bell. “Venerable Goldspear, Venerable Greenwood, Venerable Blaze… each of them High Immortal Realm Level Seven!”
The list tumbled out, every name landing like a hammer blow and deepening the dread that already gnawed at the crowd. A trembling Elder choked on air.
“Five High Immortal Realm Level Sevens, backed by tens of thousands of the celestial army… and they’re all dead? All of them?” The question fractured in midair, more shriek than sentence, and no one dared answer.
