The descent into the revealed ruins of Scalegorge Waterscape was solemn and deliberate. The parted sea towered on either side like translucent ramparts, sunlight refracting through walls of suspended water that groaned faintly under the strain of Dan Heng's sustained control.
The exposed seabed stretched forward in a long corridor of fractured stone, ancient pathways, and collapsed pavilions encrusted with salt and time. At the forefront walked four figures whose presence alone bent the atmosphere around them — one Master and three Saints.
Jing Yuan's golden gaze remained relaxed yet alert, Fu Xuan's posture immaculate and unyielding, Dan Heng's horns glinting faintly as he maintained the divided ocean, and Sunny… pale, silent, carrying the Celestial Jade board beneath his arm as though it were both shield and burden.
They had not gone far when a familiar cackle echoed across the ruins, disembodied and lilting, reverberating strangely against the exposed stone and the liquid walls hemming them in.
"My, my, have you four come here for me? Should I be flattered that you would all be willing to face your deaths for me?"
The voice carried neither strain nor urgency. It flowed through the air like perfume over rot, sweet and contemptuous.
Jing Yuan chuckled lightly in response, the sound easy and unhurried.
"It is only proper for the General of the Luofu to greet an esteemed guest such as yourself, Lady Ravager. Or would this be your home? Apologies, but as a Heliobus, you could have been born on any of the Xianzhou warships, which disables me from properly greeting you."
The water trembled faintly as Dan Heng adjusted his control, but his expression did not change. Fu Xuan's eyes narrowed, calculations turning behind her composed façade. Sunny's fingers tightened imperceptibly around the Celestial Jade board.
Phantylia's unseen presence seemed to drift rather than stand, her voice reappearing from no discernible direction.
"Home? Guest? Such labels are amusing when spoken by mortals clinging to territory. I go where I please, General. Whether you consider this mine or yours hardly matters."
Her tone shifted slightly, becoming distant and almost bored.
"In any case, you have already lost."
The words did not rise to a shout, nor fall to a whisper. They simply existed, stated as a fact too obvious to require emphasis. Then the voice receded, dissolving into the echo of seawater suspended on either side.
Sunny felt his heart accelerate, each beat striking too loudly against his ribs. The fear that gripped him was not the familiar anticipation of combat against something stronger, nor the sharpened instinct that preceded violence. It was older and more invasive.
When Phantylia had once brushed against his mind, she had not merely attacked; she had entered, pried, and rummaged as though his consciousness were a drawer to be opened and overturned. The memory of it was visceral. Burning nerves. Distorted perception. The humiliation of being toyed with.
It had been like a violation carved directly into his thoughts.
His skin had gone cold. For a fleeting second, his vision threatened to blur — not from weakness, but from recollection. Yet beneath that fear churned something hotter, denser, and far more stable: hatred. Not impulsive rage, but an enduring desire for retaliation so complete that it bordered on obsession.
He wanted to break her. To unravel whatever semblance of form she possessed and reduce it to nothing. He wanted to hear that amused lilt fracture into something desperate.
He knew, logically, that it was impossible.
When he had played Celestial Jade with Qingque, her lazy commentary had concealed uncomfortable truth. Phantylia could not be killed by what they possessed. At best, they could wound her pride, disrupt her scheme, and force a retreat.
Heliobi were Denizens of Abundance, beings born from a Path itself. Their bodies were intangible manifestations of malignant vitality, and their souls were even more elusive. Soul-based attacks, which would cripple most entities, slid off them like water from polished stone.
To destroy one permanently required an Emanator proficient in an opposing Path, and not merely proficient but superior in Rank. Phantylia was no minor pest; she was a Supreme Titan. To commit such an asset against her would be strategic overkill, and the Luofu did not possess anyone capable of fulfilling those conditions.
Therefore, this was not a battle for annihilation.
It was a battle for survival.
Still, Sunny could not step back. He did not care that she would return. He did not care that victory would be temporary. If he could shatter her plans again and again, if he could reduce her ambitions to ashes repeatedly, then perhaps the cumulative frustration would become its own weapon. Perhaps despair could be cultivated even in something born of Abundance.
Jing Yuan turned slightly, his expression retaining its mild humor despite the gravity of their situation.
"Lady Fu and I are wearing charms made by… an old friend of mine. They will protect against Phantylia's infiltration."
His gaze shifted toward Sunny and then to Dan Heng.
"As for you two, I am aware that there is something within our young Starkiller that she is avoidant of. And you, Dan Heng, can simply eject her by overwhelming your own nervous system if necessary. Whatever body she ends up incarnating in, we can at least be certain that she will not hijack any of ours."
Sunny grimaced faintly. The nickname had traveled farther than he preferred. He sincerely hoped Jing Yuan had never watched that ridiculous dramatization produced by overzealous subordinates. The idea of the General of the Luofu witnessing that absurd performance made his teeth ache.
They resumed walking, boots striking stone that had not felt open air in centuries. The ruins of Scalegorge Waterscape stretched around them in broken elegance. Pillars lay toppled, railings fractured, ancient walkways eroded by time and tide. The suspended sea on either side created a surreal corridor, schools of fish and drifting debris visible through the crystalline walls of water.
As they moved deeper, Sunny's attention was briefly captured by several pedestals arranged along a fractured platform. Upon each rested a luminous pearl, smooth and faintly iridescent, catching the refracted sunlight in subtle hues.
His steps slowed instinctively.
"Do not touch them."
Dan Heng said evenly without turning his head.
Sunny glanced at him.
"Wasn't planning to."
Dan Heng continued, his voice measured:
"They are shells. Formed by deceased Vidyadhara. In time, they will hatch. The new incarnation will rise from the sea and return to land."
Sunny studied the pearls with renewed interest. There was no sense of decay about them. No finality. They radiated dormancy rather than death.
For a brief moment, his thoughts drifted elsewhere. Shadow God had created the concept of death itself. The inevitability of cessation had once been an absolute law. How, then, had the Vidyadhara circumvented it? How had an entire race woven reincarnation into its biological reality?
The answer was simple and unsettling.
Shadow God was dead.
With his authority extinguished, death was no longer universal in its enforcement. Other systems could take root. Other principles could supersede it. The Vidyadhara had altered their reincarnation cycle deliberately, tampering with the natural order to preserve continuity. It was not inconceivable. If gods could define laws, their absence could unmake them.
Well, maybe not completely. People still died, after all.
Sunny exhaled slowly and resumed walking.
As they progressed, he became aware of movement beyond the periphery of sight. Within the suspended walls of water, shapes glided — long, serpentine silhouettes that curved and coiled with sinuous grace. They were faint, half-obscured by refracted light, but unmistakable in form.
Dragons.
Or something similar.
The imagery felt deliberate, as though the ocean itself retained memory of ancient sovereignty.
Ahead, the roots of the Ambrosial Arbor loomed, immense and intertwined, shaping themselves into the unmistakable silhouette of a dragon coiled around the heart of the waterscape. Its bark shimmered with unnatural vitality, veins of corrupted brilliance pulsing faintly beneath the surface. The structure was both tree and beast, growth and dominion intertwined.
The air grew heavier as they approached, saturated with the cloying undercurrent of Abundance. It was not the gentle renewal of spring, but the suffocating proliferation of unchecked life. Every crack in stone bore tendrils of creeping flora. Moss spread in unnatural thickness. Even the exposed ruins seemed to strain toward growth, as though compelled.
Dan Heng maintained the parted sea, though the strain showed now in the tension of his shoulders. The corridor extended all the way to the Arbor's base, granting them passage to the dragon-shaped roots that plunged into the seabed.
The four of them paused only briefly before stepping forward as one into the shadow cast by those colossal roots.
The moment they crossed that threshold, the atmosphere shifted.
The faint ambient light dimmed, filtered through layers of bark and twisted growth. The scent of salt was overtaken by something sweeter and more oppressive. The ground beneath their feet pulsed almost imperceptibly, as though the Arbor possessed a heartbeat.
Phantylia's presence pressed closer.
Unseen. Unbound. Amused.
Sunny adjusted his grip on the Celestial Jade board and allowed the fear in his chest to settle into something sharper and more focused. He could not kill her. He could not even truly wound her.
But he could interfere.
And sometimes, interference was enough to derail Destiny.