The Goddess's Move

No two leaves in the world are identical…

But that clearly wasn’t the case for what Xia Lun was seeing at the moment.

Let alone two identical leaves—in this forest, every single tree, every single leaf on every tree, was exactly the same, as if they were cheap products stamped from the same mold.

The trees were packed tightly together in rows, completely defying the laws of natural growth.

More than a forest, each tree here stood like a neatly arranged sequence of numbers, forming a sight that was rather magnificent—silent, rigid, and vast enough to take one’s breath away.

Order and infinity were among the defining traits of most spiritual realms—the library of Olifando was one such example. But at this moment, Xia Lun knew nothing of the spiritual realm, nor did he realize this was one; he merely took it for a dream. And in dreams, nothing that happened seemed all that strange.

“There’s nothing here…”

After circling the forest several times, Xia Lun reached this conclusion. Occasionally he’d encounter faint, drifting orbs of light, but those couldn’t be touched—whenever he got close, they’d wobble away. The place was empty, save for endless, wearisome repetition.

Come to think of it, why was he having a dream like this?

Had he been too tired lately, and needed a place like this to unwind? The scenery here was certainly breathtaking.

“Give it back…”

A faint voice, as fragile as a spider’s thread, suddenly rang out, drilling straight into Xia Lun’s mind.

He wasn’t panicked; instead, he felt a jolt of alertness, as if he’d finally found a thread of a clue.

Hovering in midair, his sharp gaze swept across the horribly uniform sea of trees, trying to locate the source of the voice. And yet, the voice seemed to have no direction—more as if it were seeping out of the very space surrounding him.

“Give it back…”

The voice came again, clearer this time, like a whisper right by his ear.

“Who’s there?” Xia Lun scanned his surroundings warily and barked in a low voice, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of the sword at his waist. His muscles tensed slightly, the battle-hardened instincts of a veteran stirring awake. Around him, only those silent, identical trees remained, still as death.

“Give me back… my eyes!”

“Crack—” A sharp, piercing shatter burst through the air, as if glazed glass had been smashed by a tremendous force.

The space before Xia Lun split apart, exposing a jagged void, and from it surged a dense, ink-black mist—so thick it seemed to swallow all light.

The black mist churned and rolled, and within it, a long, thick shadow—utterly inhuman in shape—loomed vaguely. What made his scalp crawl even more was that across the surface of that shadow, countless eyes of all shapes and sizes kept opening, closing, and rotating, their gazes darting chaotically before finally converging on Xia Lun.

Xia Lun stared blankly at the sinister deity that had suddenly appeared before him, unable to react for a moment.

But almost instinctively, his sword left its sheath.

Though he’d lived a peaceful life for a few years now, Xia Lun’s skill had not rusted.

Evil, chaos, madness, darkness… a torrent of negative auras crashed over him like a tangible tsunami, robbing him of breath for an instant. The mere presence before him sent chills racing down his spine. In that split second, Xia Lun had already marked it as an enemy.

“Holy Sword!”

The blade slid free with a crisp, resonant ring that echoed through the dead silence. The holy sword in Xia Lun’s hand erupted with a radiant brilliance like a miniature sun, arcing toward the deity with unstoppable force.

The black mist coating the deity’s form scattered at the light. The holy sword struck its body—and with a metallic clang, the blade could sink in no further.

Xia Lun finally got a clear look at what stood before him.

It was a cylindrical pillar about two meters long, its surface riddled with countless pits, cracks, and fissures—as if someone had left upon it an endless series of wounds that would never heal.

“Give it back! My Eye of Insight!” A flood of shrill, grating noise detonated directly inside Xia Lun’s skull, like billions of needles piercing through his brain, forcing a pained grunt from his throat as the veins on his temples bulged.

What was this thing talking about? Eye of Insight? Xia Lun had no clue whatsoever, but the other’s deranged intent was all too clear.

“I don’t know anything about your eye,” Xia Lun said, both hands gripping the holy sword tightly as the blade’s radiance swelled, elongating into a colossal blade over ten meters long. “But you don’t seem like you’ll let me off easily, are we?”

Then there was plainly only one path left for Xia Lun—and without a doubt, that path was war!

A terrifying pressure descended like an invisible mountain, and Xia Lun’s heart pounded wildly in his chest—not entirely from fear, but more from a long-missed, blood-boiling fighting spirit that surged at the sight of a formidable foe!

This feeling… he truly hadn’t felt it in ages.

Xia Lun’s figure vanished from his spot in an instant, using his speed advantage to circle around to the side of the cylindrical deity—only to immediately realize his mistake. This thing was covered in eyes; there was no blind spot at all! And with its cylindrical structure, front, back, left, and right were utterly indistinguishable.

But Xia Lun could no longer be bothered to overthink it. He knew the principle of channeling all his strength in one strike—there was no backing down now.

The colossal holy blade howled as it split the air, slashing down with ferocious force! Where the blade passed, space itself tore open like fragile cloth, leaving a long, pitch-black rift that exuded an aura of nothingness.

Even space had been rent apart—one could only imagine how devastating that blow was. Xia Lun had put his full power into it from the very first strike.

Yet the moment the holy sword touched the deity, it shattered inch by inch, dissolving into scattered motes of light that faded slowly into the air.

Xia Lun stared at the scene in disbelief, gazing at the enemy that had emerged completely unscathed.

“Truly… a pathetic existence.” The grating noise sneered, and Xia Lun felt as though his very mind were being torn apart.

“Die now—as long as you die, my eye will one day return in the future…”

One of the pupils on the Fictional Truth began to gather terrifying energy, and a beam of annihilating darkness shot toward Xia Lun like a blazing arrow.

The shadow of death was so real that Xia Lun felt his soul pinned and frozen by that darkness—not even a shred of a thought to dodge could form. He could only watch helplessly as the flood of destruction barreled toward him.

In the next second, his existence would be utterly erased.

“I see.”

A thoughtful murmur sounded softly behind Xia Lun. “So this was your aim?”

A gentle radiance enveloped him, and a pair of pure white wings folded around from behind, shielding him completely from harm.

The jet-black beam of destruction slammed hard against the white wings—yet couldn’t budge them in the slightest. After a moment, it slowly dissipated.

The Fictional Truth’s accumulated attack left not even a scratch on those wings.

Once the aftermath of the strike faded, the wings slowly unfurled.

Xia Lun turned back in shock, and saw a face that was almost a perfect likeness of his own wife’s.

“Goddess?”