Wang Chen was certain of one thing.

Li Mei was not merely stabilizing herself at the Foundation Establishment Realm—she was rushing through it.

With her understanding of the world, her heaven-defying comprehension, and the vast accumulation from her previous life, it was only a matter of time before she reached the peak of Foundation Building… and overtook him.

For some masters, that would have been a source of pride.

For Wang Chen, it was unacceptable.

"Hmmm," he muttered softly, his eyes darkening. "My disciple could never be stronger than me… I won't let that happen. Ever."

And Li Mei wasn't the only problem.

Lin Huang's growth was even more alarming in its own way. Ever since Li Mei's breakthrough, it was as if something inside him had been ignited. He wasted no time on idle thoughts or meaningless distractions. When he wasn't guiding Zhao Yunfei, he was either circulating qi to temper his body or pushing himself to exhaustion through relentless training.

There was no slack. No hesitation.

Wang Chen could tell—very clearly—that Lin Huang's breakthrough to the Foundation Building Realm was no longer a question of if, but when.

And that "when" was approaching fast.

Both of his disciples were monsters.

True, undeniable monsters.

If Wang Chen allowed himself even a moment of complacency, he would be left behind without mercy.

That thought alone was enough to make his scalp tighten.

From that moment on, Wang Chen shut himself off completely. He paid no attention to what his disciples were doing, nor did he concern himself with the minor disturbances rippling through the city.

That did not mean he was ignorant.

On the contrary, he could feel it clearly—the demonic presence in the surroundings had multiplied severalfold, thickening with each passing day. Beneath that, an even heavier aura stirred deep within the city, vast and restrained, like a sleeping beast.

A big shot had arrived.

Most likely someone summoned by the noble families to protect their own necks.

Wang Chen didn't care.

Right now, none of that mattered.

What mattered was simple.

If he didn't move forward—quickly—his own disciples would leave him in the dust.

And that was something he absolutely refused to allow.

Wang Chen took a deep breath and slowly settled into a cross-legged position. As he did, the turbulent qi within his meridians gradually calmed, flowing in smooth, measured cycles that mirrored the steadying of his mind.

A crystalline white circle quietly formed beneath him.

At first, it was no larger than a halo of light, but in the span of a few breaths, it expanded outward, spreading across the entire meditation chamber. The moment it completed its expansion, the world outside was severed. Sound vanished. Air ceased to stir. Even the faint spiritual fluctuations that naturally permeated the dojo were cut off entirely.

This was absolute concealment.

Wang Chen's aura dissolved into nothingness. It did not fade or weaken—it simply ceased to exist. Even if someone were to stand directly before him at this moment, their eyes would slide past him unconsciously, unable to grasp his presence.

Only then did Wang Chen relax.

This was the perfect state for cultivation. No disturbances. No interference. No unexpected variables.

Once more, he turned his awareness inward.

His consciousness descended into the Garden of Eternity.

This time, he did not spare even a glance for the Heaven Rending Dynasty, nor did he observe the beasts or the remnants of humanity's struggles. His intent was firm, his focus razor-sharp. Yet even so, his gaze drifted unconsciously toward the very edge of the world.

There, drifting silently in the endless expanse, was a lone soul.

Compared to when he had last seen Ni Luo's spirit, it now appeared thinner, dimmer—its form eroded by time and solitude. Though the change was subtle, Wang Chen could sense it clearly. Without reincarnation, without anchoring laws, even a soul as resilient as Ni Luo's could not remain unchanged forever.

Wang Chen paused for only a moment.

Then he shook his head.

Now was not the time.

Even if he wanted to help, he lacked the means to do so. Lingering on it would only waste precious time—and time was something he could no longer afford.

The hesitation vanished.

The moment his resolve hardened, Wang Chen's eyes sharpened.

As if responding to his will, the void above the Garden of Eternity trembled. One by one, immense chains woven from pure law began to descend, their forms vast and indistinct, radiating a divine, starlike glow. They did not fall violently; instead, they emerged with solemn inevitability, anchoring themselves deep into the fabric of the world.

The instant they appeared, the Garden of Eternity changed.

Every living being felt it.

Mortals froze in place, hearts pounding for reasons they could not understand. Beasts lifted their heads instinctively. Cultivators—no matter how weak or strong—were struck by a sudden clarity, their minds entering an uncontrollable state of epiphany.

Those fortunate enough to be near the descending chains were overwhelmed.

Their thoughts sharpened. Bottlenecks loosened. Understanding surged like a tide breaking through a dam.

For that brief moment, talent no longer mattered.

Under the illumination of the Chains of Enlightenment, all beings stood equal before the Dao.

Ni Luo's son, now already standing with one foot half-step into the coffin, stared upward in a daze as the colossal chains tore through the clouds like descending divine dragons.

His aged pupils trembled.

"So… it was true," he murmured softly, relief seeping into his voice.

He remembered it clearly—his father mentioning something like this once, long ago, in an almost casual tone. Back then, Ni Yong had dismissed it entirely, believing it to be nothing more than a story his father fabricated so others would attribute his achievements to fortune rather than relentless toil.

After all, Ni Luo's talent had been terrifying.

Too terrifying.

So overwhelming that it left no room for explanation.

But now… now it made sense.

If there truly had been divine intervention, if the heavens themselves had once cast their gaze upon his father, then everything aligned. His impossible rise. His boundless comprehension. His defiance of extinction itself.

Ni Yong clenched his trembling hands.

In this new era—an era of Foundation Building, of condensed dantian and structured cultivation—he had long been left behind. Overshadowed. Surpassed by younger generations who advanced with terrifying speed. He could no longer walk the same path his father once dominated.

For years, doubt had gnawed at him.

At his bloodline.

At his worth.

At times, he had even wondered—was he truly Ni Luo's son?

How could he be so mediocre compared to such a monstrous existence?

But as those chains descended from the heavens, luminous and absolute, all those doubts were washed away like dust beneath a tidal wave.

It was not that he was untalented.

He simply was not chosen.

…

Wang Chen, naturally, was completely unaware of the storm his actions had unleashed within the Garden of Eternity.

And even if he had known, he would not have cared.

Before him, the void itself shuddered.

Everything he had ever comprehended—every insight he had carved into existence—rose and converged within that trembling space. The Three Turn Sword Slash. His understanding of the Sword Dao. The Doomclock. Chronoblade. Laws of time, steel, inevitability, and severance folded together like molten runes within a cosmic furnace.

From that convergence, massive Chains of Enlightenment were forged.

As they descended, the world below erupted into chaos.

Warriors collapsed to their knees as visions assaulted their minds. Cultivators screamed or laughed hysterically, caught between terror and revelation. For a fleeting instant, an enormous ancient clock phantom unfolded across the heavens, its rusted hands grinding inexorably forward.

Those who dared to meet its gaze felt life torn from their bodies.

Some aged decades in moments.

Some perished outright.

Yet fate was not entirely cruel.

Among the survivors, a handful of children felt something awaken deep within their souls—a faint but undeniable affinity toward time itself. Elsewhere, sword cultivators trembled as instinctive understanding etched itself into their bones.

In the years to come, several extraordinary sword masters would emerge.

But at this moment, none of that mattered.

The Chains of Enlightenment continued to descend, indifferent to screams or miracles alike, anchoring themselves into the fabric of the Garden of Eternity—silent witnesses to the birth of an era that would never again be ordinary.

..

Outside the Garden of Eternity, the Crystal of Enlightenment slowly dissolved.

Its radiant surface cracked apart into countless motes of pale light, melting away as if it had never truly existed. The moment it did, those particles surged inward, flooding Wang Chen's body and spiritual space alike.

His depleted spiritual energy recovered at a terrifying speed.

Before exhaustion could even take root, it was already gone—washed away as if it had never existed. His meridians hummed, his spiritual sea stabilized, and the faint strain tearing at his soul vanished completely.

Wang Chen let out a slow breath, his mind clearing.

Whether he noticed it immediately or not, a familiar mechanical chime echoed within his consciousness.

[Ding!]

[Your understanding of Doomclock has begun to improve.]

[Doomclock undergoing evolution…]

Wang Chen's pupils shrank.

"What?"

The flow of time around him seemed to slow—no, not slow. It felt as if something deeper had been disturbed.

The system's voice rang out once more, heavy and absolute.

[Ding!]

[Doomclock has evolved into a Transcendental-grade skill: Final Hour.]

[Click to view effects.]

Wang Chen froze.

A Transcendental-grade skill.

Even among divine abilities, that word carried weight. His heartbeat quickened—not with fear, but with a sharp, restrained anticipation.

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