"Pity…"

Mo Huyan's voice softened, the word slipping from her lips almost against her will. For a fleeting instant, an unfamiliar emotion flickered through her otherwise icy eyes. It was faint, fragile, and gone almost as soon as it appeared.

"Upon seeing your pointless struggle," she continued calmly, "my heart melted slightly. My instinct… my conscience… was unwilling to watch someone stumble like a headless chicken when I already possessed the means to show the correct path."

Her tone was even, measured, yet each word carried the quiet authority of one who had once stood at the summit of all realms. The faint golden radiance surrounding her pupils dimmed, as though memories long sealed away were surfacing.

"Thief Supreme," she added after a pause. "He was one of my most loyal aides."

Her gaze drifted, unfocused, fixed on something far beyond the cave walls.

"Before his sudden disappearance, he entrusted that technique to me. He hoped that one day… someone might allow the newer generations to witness the glory of a powerful Dao once again."

She lifted her chin slightly. Her expression was unreadable now, stripped of its usual cold indifference. The oppressive aura that always clung to her presence had faded, replaced by a stillness that felt almost solemn.

Wang Chen studied her quietly, skepticism written plainly across his face.

"Pity, huh…" he murmured.

He shook his head without another word.

If it had been anyone else, he might have believed such an explanation. But this was Mo Huyan—the Nether Empress of old. One of the most cunning, ruthless, and terrifying existences recorded in the annals of cultivation history. A woman who had survived eras by trusting nothing but herself.

Still…

Whatever reason she claimed, one thing was undeniable.

She had helped him.

She did not have to. There was no obligation, no benefit that was immediately obvious. Yet she had given him a legacy that pointed directly toward the path he desperately needed.

That alone was enough to stir something in his heart, even as caution remained firmly rooted in his mind.

Of course, he was not naïve. It was entirely possible she was merely using him—using his growth as a stepping stone to escape this cursed dimension. Wang Chen understood that much.

But his current situation left him no luxury to dwell on motives.

If one day he truly became strong enough to grasp fate itself… perhaps he could help her leave this place.

On the surface, Wang Chen simply nodded slowly toward her, his expression solemn and restrained.

Mo Huyan did not respond.

Her gaze drifted upward, toward the hollow void above, as if Wang Chen no longer existed in her world at all.

Wang Chen didn't care.

Some answers were enough, even if they were incomplete.

The fact that he had obtained this technique meant he had already taken the first step toward his goal. The path was no longer shrouded in darkness. Now, all that remained was to study it—slowly, carefully—and determine just how far he could truly walk it without shattering himself in the process.

Despite its grandiose name, Legacy of the Thief Supreme, the inheritance contained only a single technique.

One technique.

Yet that single technique unfolded into three ascending tiers, each more terrifying than the last.

First Level: Stealing from Man.

Second Level: Stealing from Earth.

Final Level: Stealing from the Heavens Themselves.

Wang Chen's breathing grew slightly heavier as he absorbed the meaning behind each stage.

If the heavens refused to grant you sufficient talent, this technique allowed you to take it instead.

Not beg.

Not pray.

Not wait for destiny.

Steal it.

Of course, there were limits. Even the Thief Supreme could not pluck abstract absolutes like time or fate directly from the cosmos. Those things remained taboo, untouchable even to someone who had once stood above the nine realms.

But everything beneath that threshold?

Rare treasures.

Enlightenment.

Opportunities.

Cultivation tools.

Natural resources meant for heaven's chosen.

All fair game.

It was, in every conceivable sense, an obscenely overpowered technique.

Yet in Wang Chen's hands, it felt less like a blessing and more like placing a divine blade into the grip of a mortal—magnificent, sharp enough to cleave heaven itself… and just as capable of cutting its wielder to pieces.

He did not doubt Mo Huyan's words in the slightest.

In fact, he was certain of one thing.

If Li Mei had obtained this legacy, her cultivation would have erupted like a star going supernova. Bottlenecks would be trampled underfoot. Heavenly tribulations would become stepping stones. The heavens themselves would likely tremble at her footsteps.

Unable to find a Divine Phoenix Feather for an alchemical refinement?

Then simply steal one from the heavens.

That was the kind of logic this technique operated on.

Wang Chen let out a slow breath.

Of course…

There was no free lunch in this world.

And if something allowed you to steal from heaven itself, then the price would not be paid in spirit stones, lifespan, or blood.

It would be paid in something far more unforgiving.

Attention.

The moment he chose to walk this path, the heavens would eventually notice.

And when that happened, heaven would come to collect.

The legacy came with two absolute limitations.

The first was brutally simple.

Learning the technique demanded a terrifying price.

The second was even more unforgiving.

Mastering it required understanding laws that lay far beyond ordinary comprehension.

Just grasping the first level of the Thief Supreme's method—Stealing from Man—was said to be more difficult than comprehending a transcendental-grade law. Not refining it. Not perfecting it.

Just understanding it.

According to Mo Huyan, this technique had not been born in this world at all. It had descended from a realm unseen by mortal eyes—perhaps a fragment torn from the legendary World of Primordial Truth, a place spoken of only in half-forgotten myths and broken inscriptions.

Even with all his accumulated experience in mystic arts, Wang Chen could not even begin to imagine what such a realm truly represented.

And yet—

Nothing could stop him from trying.

Time flowed onward.

Years melted into decades.

Ten years passed in silence.

Then fifty.

Then, in what felt like a single breath, another hundred years slipped away.

Throughout that entire span, Mo Huyan did not move an inch.

She remained exactly where she was, standing within the frozen wasteland of the tower's first floor, her gaze never once leaving Wang Chen's meditating figure. At first, she watched with curiosity. Then with mild interest. Then with growing disbelief.

Her heart, which had long been as still as an ancient lake, began to ripple.

Because after nearly a century of utter stillness, she felt it.

A strange fluctuation rose from Wang Chen's body.

It was subtle—so faint that even most supreme beings would have missed it entirely—but to Mo Huyan, it struck like thunder.

Ancient.

Forbidden.

Heavy beyond measure.

Her pupils contracted sharply.

"This… this is the aura of Heaven's Authority…"

For the first time since her arrival, Mo Huyan's composure shattered.

Authority.

It was the final threshold beyond laws.

Once a cultivator mastered every known law, their next step was not another element, nor another concept—it was Authority, the supreme essence that ruled over the laws themselves.

Laws bent reality.

Authority dictated whether those laws were even allowed to exist.

And now…

That aura was beginning to stir within Wang Chen.

Mo Huyan stared at him in silence, her heart pounding for the first time in countless ages.

What kind of monster… was she watching awaken?

This realm was something even she had touched after years of relentless cultivation.

Authority.

It stood above laws the same way laws stood above mortals. If elemental laws bent reality, then Authority decided whether reality was allowed to bend at all. Just as every world possessed a Heavenly Will, Authority was the force that influenced that will—subtle, absolute, and terrifying beyond measure.

According to the most ancient scriptures, only those personally acknowledged by Heaven itself were capable of manifesting its marks. Even transcendent cultivators, beings who shattered mountains with a thought, could only graze the threshold.

To manifest Authority directly?

It was considered impossible.

Yet Wang Chen had done it.

Floating around his body were ten luminous runes—symbols in constant flux, their forms shifting endlessly, twisting and rearranging themselves like miniature suns forged from living law. Each rune pulsed with a quiet dominance that made space itself tremble and distort, as though the world were instinctively bowing before them.

Each rune contained a fragment of Heaven's Authority.

Mo Huyan's breath caught.

It had taken Wang Chen ten years just to inscribe the first rune. That alone would have been enough to shock any Supreme being into silence.

But now—

Ten runes revolved around him in a slow, stable orbit.

The implication was staggering.

The mere fact that Wang Chen had successfully inscribed even one rune meant he had crossed the first true threshold of the Thief Supreme's Legacy.

Stealing from Man.

Mo Huyan felt a chill run down her spine.

She knew the history of this technique better than anyone alive. Even the Thief Supreme himself—the madman who dared challenge the heavens—had taken centuries to reach this stage.

And yet this mortal…

He had achieved it in barely one-tenth the time.

The radiance surrounding Wang Chen intensified, divine light flooding the cave until shadows ceased to exist. The air grew heavy, saturated with an invisible pressure that made even Mo Huyan's instincts recoil.

Then—

Wang Chen's eyes slowly opened.

Excitement flickered within them, sharp and restrained, like a blade barely sheathed.

"No," he muttered softly, gaze sweeping over the ten runes. "With only ten runes of Heaven's Authority, it's still impossible."

He clenched his fist.

"I can't steal anything beyond mortals yet. To reach the next stage… I need at least one thread of Heaven's Essence."

Fate was a currency unlike any other.

It could not be seized by force.

It could not be plundered like treasure.

It resisted ownership itself.

If Wang Chen truly wished to steal fate, then even Heaven's Authority would not be enough.

His thoughts drifted deeper—past laws, past authority, into something spoken of only in fragmented legends.

A forbidden whisper echoed in his mind.

A form never written down.

A path erased from history.

The Fourth Form of the Thief Supreme's Legacy.

A technique so blasphemous that even Heaven refused to acknowledge it.

A name that existed only in myth:

"Stealing from.Hmmm."

And for the first time since she had entered this cursed place, Mo Huyan realized something unsettling.

This man…

might actually walk that path.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.