Mountains and rivers reversed, the earth reshaped itself.
Withered vegetation sprouted flecks of green once more.
He, the mighty Lord of Ashes who wielded the authority over all endings, now toiled like a common laborer, painstakingly repairing the world he had thrown into chaos.
Every act of restoration felt like a trampling of his dignity.
And all the while, that calm yet scrutinizing gaze pierced him like countless needles to the heart.
Rage churned in his chest, yet it was stifled by a deeper, more primal fear.
To put it simply—he was seething but dared not speak.
At last, as the final fissure vanished, the entire Origin Realm was restored, as if the calamity had never occurred.
Except...
The metallic tang of blood still lingered in the air, a grim testament to the carnage that had unfolded.
The dead could not be brought back.
After all, the Lord of Ashes held no dominion over life and death.
To him, this was like advanced calculus—even if pushed to the brink, he remained powerless.
Silently, the Lord of Ashes withdrew his power, the aura of desolation receding with it.
His voice carried a cautious probe: "Are you... satisfied?"
Su Qi did not respond immediately, merely regarding him with those unreadable eyes.
Each second of silence was torment for the Lord of Ashes.
He dared not even fidget, afraid of provoking displeasure.
After what felt like an eternity, Su Qi finally gave a soft "Mm," a tacit approval.
The Lord of Ashes exhaled as if pardoned, the tension in his body easing slightly.
"Then... may I... take my leave?"
Su Qi glanced at him and uttered two dismissive words: "Get lost."
Light as they were, they lifted a weight of a thousand pounds from the Lord of Ashes' shoulders.
Without hesitation, he turned to tear through space and depart.
But then—
BOOM!
Deep within the Origin Realm, the grotesque city built from ashes and bones began to tremble violently without warning.
Black towers crumbled; skeletal walls fractured.
Countless embers surged skyward only to scatter back down like dying fireflies.
In mere breaths, the entire city collapsed into true ruin, vanishing into smoke and dust.
"No! My Lord!"
The masked figure who had stood dutifully behind the Lord of Ashes let out a piercing shriek, voice thick with disbelief.
"That—that was my city! Centuries of my labor!"
He pointed at the devastation, hands trembling.
The Lord of Ashes paused mid-departure, casting an indifferent glance at the ruins and his distraught subordinate.
His eyes held no pity—only ice.
"Annoying."
With a cold snort, he ignored the masked figure's wails, spatial ripples already coiling around him, eager to be gone.
The masked figure froze.
His Lord... cared nothing for it?
That city had been his life's work, an anchor painstakingly crafted to please the Lord of Ashes and facilitate his descent into this realm!
And just like that... it was gone?
He dared not vent his anger at the Lord of Ashes—not even a flicker of resentment could show.
As the Lord prepared to leave, the masked figure abandoned his grief and scrambled to salvage the half-formed altar he had been constructing.
But then—
A glacial divine sense, like an invisible shackle, clamped around his soul!
The masked figure stiffened, blood turning to ice in his veins.
Slowly, he lifted his head toward the Lord of Ashes, who stood at the threshold of the spatial rift.
The Lord's gaze pierced the void, pinning him in place.
"Do you... resent me?"
The question was calm, yet it carried the weight of an impending storm.
The masked figure's heart convulsed. Terror unlike anything he had ever known swallowed him whole.
"N-no! Never!" he stammered, voice cracking. "My loyalty to you is as unwavering as the sun and moon! How could I dare harbor resentment?"
The Lord of Ashes let out an ambiguous hum, the pressure of his divine sense intensifying.
"Oh? Your tone earlier suggested otherwise."
"Still lying?"
Each word was a hammer to the masked figure's psyche.
He knew—his Lord had decided to kill him.
All because of his fleeting attachment to that worthless city?
Sweat drenched his back. Beneath the mask, his face was bloodless.
He dropped to his knees, forehead slamming against the cold ground.
"Mercy, my Lord! Spare me!"
"I... I did feel a sliver of resentment—just a wisp!"
Under the threat of annihilation, honesty was his only hope. His voice quivered with tears.
"But it was snuffed out like a firefly before the moon! My devotion to you remains absolute!"
He prayed his confession and years of service might buy him mercy.
The Lord of Ashes listened in silence.
Only when the masked figure's forehead was raw from pounding the earth did he finally speak.
"Admitting it... is enough."
The sliver of hope in the masked figure's heart died instantly.
The Lord of Ashes continued, tone devoid of warmth:
"Resentment is a death sentence."
"I keep no disloyal shadows at my side."
"You have seen too much today. Thought too much."
"How could I... rest easy with you alive?"
With those words, an inexorable force of decay locked onto the masked figure.
"No! My Lord! I was wrong! I’ll never—!"
His desperate screams were cut short as his body withered, life draining like a receding tide.
"Why...?" he gasped, eyes brimming with confusion and defiance.
The Lord of Ashes offered no answer.
Perhaps he merely needed an outlet.
Or perhaps he refused to let a witness to his humiliation live.
The reason no longer mattered.
Under Su Qi's impassive gaze and the horrified stares of survivors, the masked figure and the dragon beneath him dissolved into ash, scattered by the wind until not a trace remained.
As if they had never existed.
With this done, the Lord of Ashes shot one last lingering look toward Su Qi—a flicker of testing intent in his eyes.
True, the Lord of Stars was not one for indiscriminate slaughter. A sincere kneel and apology often spared lives.
But this time... the kneeling had been cut short.
It felt... unfamiliar.
Was Su Qi weakened?
Was he hesitating to push further?
Or—was this all part of his scheme?
He wanted to see—if "he" were to lose his power, who would be the first to betray him?
In the end, countless thoughts condensed into a deep sense of wariness.
The stakes were too high to gamble.
He did not linger any longer.
The ominous ink-black hue in the sky gradually faded as he departed.
Thus, a crisis that could have annihilated the entire Origin Realm came to an end.
ing gift was a patch of barren land, and disciples were all picked up along the way. He spent fifty years diligently building three "ramshackle little sects," thinking he could finally live a carefree life relying on his disciples. But right at the fifty-year mark, he was suddenly swept away by a spatial rift and exiled to the Chaos Desolation, the Disorderly Ruins. There was no spiritual energy there, only slaughter. Relying on the cultivation feedback from his disciples, Gu Changyuan hacked his way through a sea of blood for eleven hundred years. When the system finally fished him back out, he discovered the ramshackle little sects he'd built back then had developed a rather... unusual style. Hold on... I vanished for a thousand years, so how did my ramshackle little sects become holy lands?!
ut it can buy an entire year of absolutely perfect training results! Su Yu stared at his empty wallet and decisively opened up various online loan platforms. “Borrow a thousand bucks! Recharge my vitality!” Boom! His vitality broke a hundred points, shattering the limits of the human body! “Borrow ten thousand bucks! Recharge my combat skills!” Boom! A basic punching technique so common it was everywhere instantly maxed out, revealing the ultimate assassination technique of Five Elements Unity—Inner Force! When a rich kid hired assassins for a midnight ambush, aiming to break both of his legs, they instead ran headfirst into a monster—a human-shaped tyrannosaur, brimming with dragon-like vitality. With just two fingers, Su Yu snapped a steel staff reinforced with alloy. Staring at the killer’s stash of stolen cash—a staggering quarter-million dollars—he showed a corporate-sincere smile: “Thanks for the pre-exam gift pack, Mr. Zhao! I’m gonna go re-invest this!” Three days later, at the National Martial Arts College Entrance Exam, while everyone else struggled just to reach the passing line, Su Yu threw a single punch—and more than a thousand vitality points literally detonated the entire arena!
ng to die together with you." Lin Xuan is dead, his body thrown into the river by his scumbag lover and her accomplice. She, the president of the Su Group, is decisive, ruthless, and ice-cold. For three days and three nights, she had his body fished out of the river, and without hesitation, she kissed the bloated corpse of Lin Xuan. She laid down beside him in a cold coffin, their fingers intertwined, a smile lingering on her lips as she closed her eyes. The noble and cold-hearted woman, only bending for one man—Lin Xuan. Lin Xuan, with his golden finger, is reborn and returns to the day of his wedding to the treacherous woman. Su Qiang comes to steal the bride. Lin Xuan's eyes light up, eager to pledge his loyalty on the spot, but instead, her kiss transfers a glass of drugged wine into his mouth, causing him to pass out... 【Male Protagonist with Single Female Lead】【Yandere Tycoon】【Action-Packed】【True vs. Fake Heir】
transmigrates into the world as the sect master of the Heavenly Yan Sect, which is on the verge of being wiped out. He binds a system that grants him cultivation power based on the number of disciples he has: for each disciple, he automatically gains a year's worth of cultivation every single day! Take one disciple: every day he gains 1 year of cultivation power. While others struggle through a year of bitter training, he gets the same just by sleeping through a single night. Take ten disciples: every day he gains 10 years of cultivation power. Foundation Establishment, Core Formation, Nascent Soul—he breezes through all bottlenecks without lifting a finger. Take one hundred disciples: every day he gains 100 years of cultivation power. Even a Soul Transformation Venerable before him can’t survive a single blow. Take ten thousand disciples: every day he gains 10,000 years of cultivation power! With a wave of his hand, he topples empires. With a single step, he crushes the sacred grounds of the universe. ... While others fight tooth and nail for secret techniques, Lin Yan casually hands out Nascent Soul-level cultivation manuals as beginner textbooks. While others strain to find talented recruits, Lin Yan opens his doors to anyone—so long as they’re human. In just three short years, the Heavenly Yan Sect went from a backwater sect made up of three crumbling huts to a sacred land that every cultivator under heaven would kill to enter. ... One day, otherworldly demon gods invade, with a million demon soldiers pressing down upon the realm. Lin Yan, yawning, rises from his lounge chair and glances at the system panel: [Current Disciples: 1.28 million] [Daily Cultivation Increase: 1.28 million years] He waves his hand casually, and the countless demon soldiers are reduced to ashes in an instant. “So noisy… interrupting my fishing.”
