A hush of a space, where light and dark slid like oil on water, like the world before order. Su Qingquan took it in slowly, a lone lantern in fog.

Heir? What heir? The voice in his head still echoed, and his mouth stayed shut. Unease throbbed first, then thought followed.

“What are you?” He tested the waters, a pebble tossed into a black lake. Until he knew more, he wouldn’t stir the depths.

“Me? I am you. But you are not me.” The voice answered, flat as winter ice, no ripple of feeling.

“If so,” Su Qingquan blurted, grasping at the door in a storm, “let me out.”

“That’s impossible. No answer, no exit.”

Worry hit first, sharp as a blade; fear for Lin Mengqing bled into his veins. What about her? If danger found her… The thought clawed him raw. He would never forgive himself if she was hurt.

“As long as I answer?”

“Correct.”

“I’m—I’m your heir. Now let me out!”

Reason shattered like glass in a gale. He was afraid—afraid he’d be too late to reach that stubborn girl who always picked fights. Afraid she’d slip away.

“Blood verification… purity 99%… Power verification… below god-tier… auto-conversion mode.”

The voice rolled on, a drumbeat of strange terms he didn’t understand. Then his skull felt torn open, soul and body yanked apart like roots ripped from earth, as if he no longer existed in this world.

“The greater the pain, the purer the bloodline… the more terrifying the potential!”

A blood-red gleam flared through his sea of consciousness, like lightning in a scarlet storm, assembling a ruined hall in his mind.

“The Hall of Revelation hides in your sea of consciousness. Interesting. Perhaps you really can become me—no, become…”

Thought drained away. His body felt pierced by ten thousand blades, chewed by a million sawteeth. The words “Hall of Revelation” drifted by, thin as smoke, and he could only groan as the agony burned him hollow. At the edge of blackout, a great force emptied him, shaping a blood-red sphere in the mind-hall. It crashed toward the heart of his sea of consciousness like a meteor.

“Ah!”

He felt himself reduced to dust beneath a mountain, helpless as a mortal under the gaze of a god.

In a blur, his soul floated free of the world, adrift like a leaf in mist. From far away came the clang of battle, iron on thunder.

Who’s fighting…

Boom!

A thunderclap detonated by his ear. He jolted awake, sat up, and stared. A battlefield spread around him like a shattered chessboard. “Where is this…”

Boom! A golden spear slammed into the ground near him. The blast rolled him end over end like driftwood in a flood. “What the hell? Is someone trying to kill me?” He muttered from the dust, then squinted. Far off, a hundred figures clashed, sparks like fireflies.

“Looks like there’s a show.”

“God of Light! You faithless cur! You ambushed my Su Clan’s main city! You butchered a tide of my people, even my wife and child!”

He appeared again—armor smoke-stained, a knight’s sword slick with blood in his fist—shouting toward a figure wreathed in gold. The face was hidden, but twelve vast golden wings fanned behind him like a sunrise.

“Heh, Su Luoyang. Someone razed twelve of my Temples of Light. Did you think I wouldn’t know it was you?”

“Bird-brained bastard! You wiped out my whole household, and I’m supposed to leave your nest intact?”

The two unleashed their auras, twin storms. A blast ripped across the field, and all around them armies were already fighting tooth and claw.

Su Qingquan ducked behind a boulder, a rabbit hiding from the wildfire, afraid the shockwaves would strip his skin.

With my strength, no one will notice me. But where is this? Even at full force I can’t crush a pebble. From the looks of it… is this the spark that started the world war? Is that the ancestor? That’s insane…

“You guessed right. This is the Godslayer War, the opening of the world war.”

The voice slipped into his mind again like cold wind through a crack. “Who’s speaking!” He sprang up, heart pounding, eyes darting. Then he noticed the world had frozen—blades halted mid-swing, fire locked like glass—time itself holding its breath.

“You’ve seen this. Are you ready to bear my will?”

The voice didn’t answer his question, just rolled on like a bell note.

“If you can give me power greater than theirs,” he said, dry-mouthed, “I’ll take it.”

“…As you wish.”

The world shattered into shards, then whirled into a massive red sphere. It slammed into him like a falling star. Pain, fiercer than before, roared up and drowned him. Before his awareness vanished, he heard a cry split the heavens:

“Humanity will never kneel to gods! We swear to fight them to the end!”

Am I dead? …Well… at least it doesn’t hurt… That’s not so bad… But I’m forgetting something… Lin? …Lin…

“Mengqing!” No—Mengqing. I must not forget!

“Hey, wake up, Su Qingquan. I was wrong, okay? Wake up…”

Moist warmth touched his cheek. The crushed-stone ache in his head hadn’t faded, but he forced a shake, tried to rise.

“Su Qingquan! You’re awake! Easy, slowly… ugh—”

His senses crawled back like dawn after a long night. That familiar voice, edged with tears, made his spirit snap taut. He hadn’t endured hell to listen to her sobs.

“Mengqing… don’t… don’t cry.” He fought to string words together, but his body lagged behind his mind like a lame horse.

“Mm, I’m not crying! Take it slow. Careful. I don’t know where we are. I just received an ancestor’s legacy, so I should be able to protect you…”

Lin Mengqing wiped her tears and let his head rest on her lap, soft as spring grass.

Ancestor’s legacy? Same as me? He wanted to sort it all out, but another wave of pain rose like a red tide and tore a groan from him. Lin Mengqing hurried to chant.

“He—Healing!”

White light began to kindle in her palm, then sputtered and died, leaving only a pale thread.

Damn it, damn it, why can’t I master something this simple? She bit her lip. Tears shimmered again. She hated that she was useless at a time like this—this time of all times.

“Don’t cry. I’m fine. Smash the jade pendant and call the elders… cough…” He wrestled the pain down, word by word. Even breathing stabbed like needles in his lungs. He lifted a hand, slow as lifting a mountain, to touch her cheek.

“Okay… okay!” She grabbed his raised hand with both of hers. With the other, she tore the pendant from his belt and smashed it on the ground.

One second. Two. She pressed his hand to her heart and prayed hard, wishing the elders would come flying and make him whole.

“Heh, good girl. Loyal to the bone. Hand Qingquan over. Let Uncle take a look.”

A familiar voice brushed her ear like smoke.

“Uncle Murong!” “You damn old man!”

They both cried out. Su Qingquan’s voice carried a spark of anger.

“Heh, kid, where are your manners? Let’s get out of this ghost of a place. Mengqing, hold on tight.”

Murong Tianjiao chuckled again, then drove a fist into the darkness ahead. Su Qingquan felt power roll off his father like a tidal wave, tens of thousands of times stronger than usual. That simple punch drew up gales of force.

Boom—

The darkness cracked open in a gaping hole. The rest shattered into panes like black glass. Murong Tianjiao swept the two children through without pause. He wasn’t arrogant enough to think he could tear the void at will.

“Fengxian, your good big brother is back. The kids are fine. Your daughter looks okay, but my nephew’s in real pain. You can go chew him out later.”

A white-haired man sat opposite Su Qinghe, scholarly aura like ink and bamboo. His first words were a curse. Su Qinghe smiled faintly, and he clamped his mouth shut.

“Qinghe-jie, I—look, I got overexcited. I watched Qingquan and Mengqing grow up together. They feel like my own kids. I got loud; you can forgive that, right—”

Before Lin Fengxian could finish, Su Qinghe flicked a sleeve and sent him flying out the room.

“Cultivated all these years and that temper hasn’t moved an inch. Honestly…”

“Lin Fengxian, get it together and check on your nephew!” “Tianjiao, you idiot, couldn’t you watch them better? Even if you’re not worried, I am. Get to it!”

“A pair of clowns,” Su Qinghe murmured, palm to brow.

Three days later — Enci Town, Su Clan’s Heavenly Pool

Su Qingquan leaned against a boulder like a weary pine in wind. Lin Mengqing sat beside him, eyes on the ripples crossing the pool like silk. He glared at the three men before him—hulking, each like a full-grown bear.

“Qingquan, calm down. This has nothing to do with your Uncle Fengxian, really.”

“Yeah, right. As if Lin Fengxian didn’t meddle.”

“You two… enough. The kids are watching. Qingquan, ask what you want to know.”

Su Qinghe stepped in and cut off their squabble, then smiled at her son.

Ever since he’d learned that his so-called refined Uncle Fengxian had nudged him into the depths of the clan’s Inheritance Hall, his head had pounded. There was no way his own elders weren’t in on it. Better to be straight, or he’d get played again.

“Ah, that? You two walked in on your own.”

“Mom, don’t lie. I checked every book before I dared bring Mengqing. I made sure nothing was wrong.”

“Well, that…”

He glared while she tittered, all fox-charm and dimples, and his anger kept leaking away. He sighed, helpless before that smile.

“Here’s the truth. You’re grown now. Time to accept your legacy.”

“Then why does my legacy feel like…”

“Hush… can’t. Be. Said.” Su Qinghe pressed a finger to his lips. Murong Tianjiao and Lin Fengxian’s faces changed; their auras surged, hard and sharp, weaving an invisible barrier around the pool.

Su Qingquan had seen those two like this before—decisive as blades, soaked in the iron scent of blood.

The word he’d almost spoken was god.