The void stretched endlessly, silent as a tomb.
This was still the Ninth Star Ring.
But now, apart from Desolate, no other Venerable Gods remained.
Where the black pagoda, the behemoth, the paper figurine, and the Mother River once stood, only emptiness prevailed.
Sensing this, Xu Qing walked through the starry sky, through ti itself, stepping into the fractured gaps between dinsions.
Guided by the paper fragnt in his palm, he advanced step by step.
With each footfall, dawnlight blossod across countless worlds.
A killing intent, cold enough to freeze the cosmos, seeped into the fabric of spaceti in his wake, solidifying even the faintest ripples in space.
His gaze—calm yet containing the power to refine countless stars—pierced through layers of turbulent spaceti...
Until it locked onto an almost imperceptible coordinate, one nearly indistinguishable from the void itself.
"Found you."
Xu Qing’s eyes focused as he spoke softly.
There, in a mortal world,
within a town’s schoolhouse, piles of scrolls lay stacked.
And Xu Qing’s gaze, transcending spaceti, fixed upon the scroll at the very bottom.
This scroll was ancient, its material ordinary, utterly unremarkable—so perfectly blended into its surroundings that it seed nothing more than a mundane object.
Were it not for the fragnt in Xu Qing’s palm and his extraordinary Ordinance Law, he might never have detected its existence.
"You hid well, Droz."
Xu Qing’s voice was low, devoid of emotion. In one step, he shattered the barriers between worlds and descended into that very schoolhouse, standing before the scroll.
The mont he appeared, he acted without hesitation—his right hand shot forward, fingers splayed, grasping not at the physical scroll but at the very concept of the "realm" it embodied!
The instant his hand closed, a deafening roar erupted—like the tearing of the heavens’ womb—reverberating through the world.
The shockwave stunned all living beings, leaving them dazed.
And the scroll floated up, unfurling abruptly to reveal...
A painting.
A painting of an unbroken stretch of celestial palaces, their carved beams and painted rafters exuding immortal grandeur.
Jade towers and gem pavilions hovered above seas of clouds, bathed in radiant dawnlight and auspicious vapors. Cranes soared gracefully, and divine maidens danced with ethereal beauty.
A paradise of bliss.
Yet this paradise seed tarnished, shrouded in an inescapable deathly gray. .
Under its influence, all colors turned unnaturally dull, as if weathered by ti. The cranes’ eyes were hollow, the maidens’ movents stiff as marionettes—exuding an artificial, suffocating stillness.
The entire painted world seed steeped in a carefully concealed, bone-deep decay.
And at its center, atop the frozen sea of glorious clouds, sat an enormous figure.
A paper figurine.
Droz.
No longer a flat sheet, It now wore ornate imperial robes—equally lifeless—and a beaded crown, resembling a grotesquely inflated, ridiculous yet terrifying emperor.
Countless translucent threads of fate extended from every being, every tile, every wisp of cloud in the painting, densely connecting to It like feeding tendrils.
The mont Xu Qing’s gaze landed on It, the colossal paper figurine’s eyes snapped open.
Crimson light flashed in Its pupils as It stared back at Xu Qing through the painting.
"Xu Qing!"
Droz’s expression darkened, Its mind reeling.
It knew of Its karmic ties with Xu Qing, but according to Its omniscience, It never believed Xu Qing could find It.
Its concealnt was flawless—unless Desolate truly awakened, It was confident no one could detect It.
Even the paper fragnt in Xu Qing’s hand ant nothing;
all Its avatars had long been severed from Its main body at the karmic level.
"This shouldn’t be possible!"
Droz’s thoughts churned. What unsettled It most was Its current state.
This was the worst possible timing!
Given enough ti, It was certain It could restore Its Venerable God status. And with the mories of the Umbilical Cord of the Divine God, Its confidence in ascending through It had grown.
But... all Its plans were derailed the mont Xu Qing appeared.
"As I thought—your rank has fallen. You’re no longer a Venerable God."
As Droz’s expression shifted, Xu Qing stepped into the painting.
The instant he crossed the boundary, the false paradise trembled like a stagnant mirror struck by a boulder!
The deathly gray mbrane rippled violently, trying to expel him. The rigid divine maidens, cranes, and spirit beasts—like activated puppets—lunged at Xu Qing with grotesque smiles, filling the sky.
They weren’t physical entities but curses and resentnt manifesting as the painting’s rules. A single touch would corrode the soul and taint the origin.
Xu Qing’s face remained impassive. His Ordinance Law threads—black and white—spun around him, radiating outward in layers like apocalyptic tides.
Where they passed, the painted puppets tore apart like paper in a storm, disintegrating without even a scream.
The gray mbrane wailed a soul-piercing shriek, warping grotesquely under the monochro onslaught, its colors rapidly draining away!
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