It was all because of that Enlightenment Crystal.

Without it, Wang Chen would never have been able to elevate Doom Clock into its current form—Final Hour. And yet, that wasn't the end of its value. Ever since then, a few half-formed ideas had lingered in his mind, waiting for the right moment to be tested.

As the thought surfaced again, Wang Chen flicked his wrist.

A banner unfurled in his grasp, its surface rippling with faint, ethereal light. Ghostly silhouettes seemed to drift within the fabric itself, their whispers almost imperceptible.

The Thousand Soul Banner.

When he had first obtained it, he'd dismissed it as nothing more than a powerful Nascent Soul–grade treasure. Useful, yes—but ultimately limited. Only later, after feeding it thousand of resentment Ghost Souls, had its true nature revealed itself.

This was no ordinary artifact.

It was a Realm Gate—a key.

A treasure capable of granting access to the Upper Realm.

At the thought of that distant, exalted world, a strange expression flickered across Wang Chen's face. He would be lying—bold-faced lying—if he claimed he felt no temptation. The Upper Realm was where true cultivation began, where laws were clearer, inheritances deeper, and methods to defy mortality far more abundant.

There might even be answers there.

Ways to extend his lifespan.

That thought alone was enough to sharpen his gaze.

Despite Li Mei and Lin Huang breaking through to the Foundation Building Realm—far earlier than he had expected—his own lifespan had increased by only a single year.

One year.

Twenty years in total.

And now… nineteen remained.

Wang Chen's fingers rested against his chin as he sank into thought, the faint glow of the Soul Banner reflecting in his eyes. The increase had been insignificant on the surface, but it proved something crucial.

There was a connection.

Seen from another angle, the truth was even starker—his lifespan had effectively doubled. Perhaps when his disciples reached Golden Core, the change would occur again. Perhaps the gains would compound.

Hope existed.

It was thin, fragile, and cruelly slow—but it was there.

And as his thoughts continued to drift, his gaze lifted slightly, as if peering beyond the confines of the current world.

Toward the unseen threshold ahead.

Toward—

The Gates of Heaven.

A fragment of Wang Chen's soul detached from his consciousness and drifted forward, pressing itself against the Realm Gate like mist brushing ancient wood.

The instant contact was made, his expression stiffened.

A sharp, unfamiliar resistance surged through his mind—followed by a fleeting sense of vertigo. Then, without warning, everything went black.

When his vision returned, the world had changed.

Golden-white clouds stretched endlessly across the sky, rolling in slow, majestic currents. They parted and reformed like living beings, revealing towering minarets of pristine jade that pierced straight through the firmament. Each spire radiated a solemn divinity, as if they were ancient pillars holding the heavens in place, preventing reality itself from collapsing.

Below them, oceans of qi drifted freely through the air—vast, liquid seas suspended in the sky. The qi was so dense it shimmered visibly, flowing like celestial tides. Merely gazing upon it caused Wang Chen's cultivation to stir, his foundation humming softly as if nourished by an unseen hand.

Just looking was enough to strengthen him.

Wang Chen sucked in a breath of cold air.

There was no mistaking it.

This was the Upper Realm.

He had been discreetly observing this place for quite some time now, never daring to leave even the faintest trace of presence behind. There was no room for doubt—those jade minarets, that overwhelming purity of qi, that oppressive serenity—it all confirmed the truth beyond argument.

Once, long ago, curiosity had almost driven him forward.

And that single moment had branded itself into his soul forever.

From within the golden clouds, a colossal serpent emerged—its body stretching tens of kilometers across the sky. Each scale reflected divine light, and the pressure radiating from its mere existence crushed the surrounding space. Wang Chen's soul fragment nearly shattered on the spot. His vision blurred. His consciousness trembled violently as if on the verge of collapse.

Blood almost burst from his mouth.

Then—

A jade-like hand descended from the heavens.

Slender. Perfect. Casual.

Two fingers pinched the serpent's massive body as if grasping a thread of silk.

In the blink of an eye, the creature was compressed, its roar cut short, its vast form reduced into a blood-red pill that vanished silently into the clouds.

No struggle.

No resistance.

At that moment, Wang Chen could have sworn his heart stopped beating altogether.

For one horrifying instant, he was certain he had been noticed—that his soul fragment would be erased without even the dignity of being acknowledged.

But nothing happened.

The clouds closed.

The heavens remained indifferent.

From that day onward, Wang Chen never dared venture deeper. He retreated immediately, restricting himself to observing only the most superficial layers of this realm—studying patterns, fluctuations, and distant structures, always careful, always restrained.

Today was no different.

Once again, Wang Chen stood at the edge of the Elm Gate, his soul fragment hovering quietly, conducting another of his cautious patrols.

Just like every other time.

Or so he thought.

After observing the Upper Realm for a while longer, Wang Chen was just about to withdraw his soul fragment when a sudden fluctuation tore through the distant clouds.

Something was approaching.

Fast.

Too fast.

Wang Chen's pupils shrank to needle points. In that instant, every trace of calm vanished. Without hesitation, he suppressed his presence completely, pushing his concealment technique to its absolute limit. His soul fragment folded in on itself, aura collapsing inward like a star going dark.

Still—

It was too late.

A voice rang out, young and arrogant, yet carrying an authority that shook the void itself.

"Hehehehe… someone actually beat Bai Xeitian to the Golden Peaks of the Morning Glory Alchemical Sect…?"

The sound rolled outward like thunder. Space quivered. Even the golden-white clouds seemed to recoil, rippling violently as if struck by an invisible force.

In the distance, the clouds split apart.

A young man stepped forth.

He wore pristine green robes embroidered with faint alchemical runes that pulsed with inner light. His long hair was pure white, flowing freely behind him like divine flame, each strand glowing faintly as if infused with heavenly fire. His eyes—clear, jewel-like—burned with an intense brilliance, as though a sacred flame smoldered within his pupils.

The pressure he exuded wasn't explosive.

It was refined.

Controlled.

The kind of presence that spoke of unquestioned superiority.

His gaze swept across the area slowly, methodically, searching.

One breath passed.

Then another.

Wang Chen held absolutely still. Even his thoughts slowed, every instinct screaming at him not to move.

Finally, the young man's expression shifted.

A subtle chill crept into his eyes.

With a cold snort, his voice rang out again—this time sharp, edged with warning.

"What is the meaning of this, fellow Daoist?"

"When I have deigned to reveal myself, you still dare to hide?"

His gaze hardened, authority bleeding into every syllable.

"Do you not know that fighting is strictly prohibited within the domain of the Morning Glory Divine Alchemical Sect?"

"Anyone caught violating the rules will be immediately disqualified—"

"—and their alchemy flame will be confiscated on the spot."

The faint disturbance caused by Wang Chen's earlier concealment attempt was enough.

To Bai Xeitian, it was confirmation.

Someone was here.

And not just anyone.

Although his tone remained lofty and dismissive, Bai Xeitian's posture subtly tightened. His senses spread outward, alert and cautious. Anyone capable of concealing themselves from his divine sight—even briefly—was no ordinary cultivator.

Such a person…

Was a threat.

A future rival.

And in a place like the Golden Peaks, where opportunity and competition went hand in hand, rivals were meant to be remembered—or eliminated.

No matter how much Bai Xeitian provoked, mocked, or cursed, not a single figure emerged.

Wang Chen had no intention of revealing himself.

He wasn't stupid.

The moment he stepped out, he would die—cleanly, efficiently, without even the dignity of resistance.

The pressure emanating from Bai Xeitian's body was terrifyingly restrained, like an ocean compressed into a cup. It didn't rage or leak outward; it simply existed. Wang Chen was certain that if this man so much as glanced at a weaker cultivator, their soul would collapse on the spot.

An immortal of the Upper Realm.

Not a projection. Not a remnant. Not a sealed echo.

A real one.

For the first time since touching the Upper Realm through the Elm Gate, Wang Chen had encountered someone truly alive from above—and the experience sent a chill crawling up his spine.

From the instant Bai Xeitian appeared, Wang Chen's thoughts had begun racing, layering calculations atop calculations. Distance. Intent. Sect hierarchy. Alchemical standing. Escape probability.

But before he could even finish mapping possibilities, he realized he didn't need to.

Bai Xeitian's mouth was doing all the work for him.

Every arrogant word, every casually dropped rule, every threat disguised as etiquette—each sentence peeled back another layer of information.

Morning Glory.

Divine.

Alchemical Sect.

Those words etched themselves into Wang Chen's mind with perfect clarity.

A sect powerful enough to police immortals.

A place where even Bai Xeitian had to pretend rules mattered.

And then there was that word.

"Disqualified."

Wang Chen's eyes narrowed imperceptibly as the implication settled in.

Disqualified… from what, exactly?

The question echoed silently in his mind, heavy with anticipation.

If there was something worth being disqualified from—something that even an Upper-Realm immortal cared about—

Then whatever was happening at the Golden Peaks…

Was worth remembering.

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