At some point, the world went blank. The ghost-blue bridge and the river drifting with wailing souls were gone. Only a golden gate, rainbow notes, and chains forged from red lightning ruled the space.

Numb dread pooled in Bartley’s chest. Was he already dead—like those figures on the phantoms—nothing but bone, fallen into the River of Forgetting, and this the soul’s resting ground?

He touched his left hand, all bone. He checked his right, still flesh and blood. The fear eased; that thought died. He looked again at the golden door, and a reckless idea rose.

“Could this… be the end?”

He swallowed. Around the gate, not only did countless red iron chains bind it, a scarlet shell cloaked it like a frozen dawn.

He lingered in that eerie place for a long time, unable to find a way out. The only thing that looked like an exit was that shut golden door. Everywhere else, hope was a blank slate.

Time stretched thin. Bartley changed poses a dozen times. Boredom pricked him; he shouted at the golden door, “Hello? Anyone? Anything alive?”

“Ugh, am I brain-dead? Who’d be here?”

As he mocked himself, black mist seeped from the crack of the golden door within the scarlet barrier. In the void, the red chains shuddered. Clang, clang…

The mist gathered, knitting itself into a human shape.

“Oh, after so many years, finally a living one. Brother, you really trudged to get here…” The man of mist had short black hair like Ouyang’s, but looked painfully ordinary, the kind you lose at a glance in a crowd.

“Brother, what’s with you? Don’t be so stiff. Treat this like home. Oh, right—seeing a living soul gets me excited. Forgot introductions. My name… what do I call myself? Eh, names are just tags. Call me Shadow. And you?”

Shadow’s warmth was so intense it made Bartley flinch.

“Bartley.”

“Oh, Brother Bartley. Lemme tell you, we used to rule the star-sea, unmatched in the void. Back then the Divine Realm was our backyard, and the Abyss—bottomless—was a public restroom. Hah, in those days we were hailed as Lords of Three Thousand Worlds…”

Shadow launched into an endless speech. His “glorious deeds” poured on for ages, yet not a single story repeated. A talent. That guy who called himself Shadow was a talent, pure and chaotic.

“So here’s the thing, brother—help me punch a hole in this barrier. Let me out, and follow my lead. You’ll eat well and live better.”

Punch a hole?

Bartley was blank at first. Then he noticed Shadow, like the golden door, was trapped within the scarlet barrier.

He didn’t know what Shadow was, but danger burned off the man like winter sun on ice—biting, absolute. It seared Bartley’s soul. He had never felt such peril.

Could he refuse? He wanted to run—value life, keep clear of danger—but he had no exit. No clue how to leave this place that screamed risk.

“I’ll… try.” Bartley lowered his head and set his hands to the scarlet barrier. A minute passed—no response. Two minutes—still nothing.

“What… rank are you?” Shadow squinted, his grin all teeth, no warmth.

Bartley kept his head down. “Lower… god…”

Bang, bang, bang. Shadow went feral, pounding the barrier. “You weak scrap! What use are you? Which idiot sent you here? You’re not even qualified as fuel! Seriously—are your elites all dead? Couldn’t they send someone with heft? I don’t need the barrier broken, just a crack—one tiny hole! But you? What can a weakling like you do? A waste of cosmic resources, that’s what…”

Shadow rattled on, sparks of fury and words flying. Bartley’s mind shorted out. Living as a waste of resources? He was a god, for heaven’s sake.

He dared not argue. The man’s aura was crushing.

“You know what? Gods like you are the worst where I’m from. Can’t even forge a celestial body. No jobs after graduation. Tag along on assignments with high-rank gods, and those clowns build nonsense. Suns pop every other day. A planet gets grazed by a pebble and shatters. Tell them to clean stars from a galaxy—they all slack off, and treat black holes like landfills, tossing everything in. Tumors, cosmic tumors—that’s what gods like you are where we come from. High civilizations complain to us nonstop. Which tumor blasted their satellite today? Which brat stole their moon yesterday?”

Shock. Bartley’s mind reeled. What kind of world bred Shadow? Brats stealing moons? Making suns? Under the Supreme Law, what lay beyond that door?

Cold sweat slicked Bartley’s brow. Shadow’s words left him stunned.

“Mm-hmm. Brother, how about I teach you an ancient secret art? You’ll be a seal-breaker in no time. Ninety-nine percent of seals in star-space will be like air. Come on, don’t be shy. Once you learn it, just scratch a crack in the barrier.”

Time blurred. Shadow slumped inside the barrier, giving off a smell of giving up.

“Dense! How can anyone be this dense? This is elementary-level stuff. You, living tens of thousands of years, can’t learn it? Ah!!!”

Bartley bowed his head, shame heavy. To him, it was abyss-deep—under the Supreme Law, the most profound thing he’d ever seen.

“No. I waited this long for a living soul. I… won’t give up.” Shadow sprang up. “Brother, come on, let’s revisit the problem…”

More time spilled. Shadow looked ready to kill himself. “I’ve lost all will to live. First time meeting someone this low on IQ. Turns out mine is sky-high…”

He only howled for a breath. Then he kept teaching, never letting go.

Finally—crack. Bartley panted, drenched in sweat. The scarlet barrier split. Black mist seeped through. The red chains went wild, jarring the air. The scarlet barrier flared, healed, and even looked stronger than before. It didn’t matter. Shadow had already slipped out, a ribbon of night.

“Ahahahaha!”

Mad laughter rang across the void.

“Sir, those Demon Kings—can you release them? I can’t find where they’re sealed.”

Shadow nodded at Bartley, flicked his hand, and glass shattered in the air. Space broke in plates, and beyond it, countless cells floated like dull stars.

“Demon Kings? Must be those guys.” Shadow muttered, then flicked again. A few cells turned to particles and vanished. “Alright, shorty. I like you. Work hard. I’m taking a stroll and sniffing out intel.”

He didn’t take a road. He kicked a hole in space and walked through.

In the Sealed Land, the black lake roiled. Oval stones trembled; the dark surface boiled. Wutong slipped past Sword Demon and Cataclysm’s strikes and saw the lake writhe.

“Fall back. Stay and you’ll get dragged in.” The yellowing Oil Paper Umbrella warned, dry as autumn leaves. Wutong didn’t look back. He ran, clean and decisive. Cataclysm, cloaked in black, froze, stunned Wutong would just bail.

While Sword Demon and Cataclysm stood dumb, black mist rose from the stone at the lake’s heart. Overhead, red clouds packed tight, and red lightning flickered like demon eyes.

Even those two dullards felt it—bad news. They bolted. Too late. A red bolt slammed into Cataclysm, and Sword Demon, shoulder to shoulder, got scorched too.

Red lightning kept brewing. But after that one hit, it ignored them. To those bolts, the black mist in the lake was the only target. Trash like those two barely merited a glance.

The black mist knit into a man. Shadow tilted his head to the sky, and a storm of red lightning crashed down. From the ground, red chains erupted and shackled him.

“Wait—what is this?”

He’d just gotten out, and this hit him in the face.

Red lightning poured, carving the Sealed Land’s sky to void. The chains hauled hard, dragging him toward a black hole yawning open. “Hold on… I haven’t announced my return yet…”

Shadow vanished into the black hole. It sealed shut. Red clouds and lightning faded. The torn sky healed.

In the endless Abyss, Demon Lord Safix stared into the distance. “I figured it’d end like this.”