Jin Yinji stands by the window and watches Kong Wuya walk away, his figure fading into the streets of Adran City until it disappears from her sight.
A voice sounds behind her, male, curious.
"Lord, why do you pay attention to that human?"
She turns and looks at her two companions.
Adam and Eve.
Once ordinary songbirds, now transformed by long exposure to her divine light into a rare species, Light Sound Birds, their feathers faintly luminous, their voices carrying traces of law.
She answers calmly.
"Because he has the chance of becoming a God."
The two birds stiffen.
Shock ripples through their minds.
They have followed her since her first reincarnation.
Now, in her eighth.
For over a thousand years, they have watched geniuses rise and fall, demons bloom and perish, prodigies burn bright and fade.
Never once has a mortal race come this close.
Not even innate demon beasts.
Not even heaven-favoured monsters.
Jin Yinji returns to her seat and folds her hands.
"I also need someone to protect me," she says quietly, "when I begin the ritual."
Memories surface.
When the God of Night attacks her, she is ready to die.
Because in that moment, she enlightens the final shape of her path.
A ritual meant to sever her connection with the world itself.
Once, the world grants her immense strength, near the pinnacle of existence, and an immortal lifespan.
But that blessing comes with chains.
She, and others like her, can never advance beyond a certain point.
Their cultivation, their will, their future, all restricted by the world's own balance.
To break free, she must cut that connection.
And so she conceives the Seven Mortal Light Ritual.
Light of Courage.
Light of Mercy.
Light of Love.
Light of Hope.
Light of Joy.
Light of Desire.
Light of Sacrifice.
She reincarnates again and again, living as a mortal each time, gathering one pure emotion per life, not as a god observing from above, but as a being who bleeds, loves, fears, and loses.
Now she stands in her eighth and final reincarnation.
All seven lights are complete.
The next step is irreversible.
She will forge a new divine body using these seven mortal lights, then merge it with her original divine body.
A body capable of severing the world's grip.
A body capable of stepping beyond the limit.
Toward True Godhood.
Eve hesitates, then speaks softly, "Lord… wouldn't it be safer if your brother, the God of Dawn, protected you during the ritual?"
Jin Yinji does not turn.
"We have not met for a thousand years," she replies calmly.
"Our priesthoods are compatible… and precisely because of that, betrayal is most likely."
Adam's feathers ruffle in shock.
"Lord… you think the God of Dawn would attack you?"
"I don't know," Jin Yinji says honestly.
"But I am not in a position to gamble."
When the ritual begins, she will enter her weakest state.
Her connection to the world will be severed.
Her divine authority was suppressed.
She will be unable to move as she forges her new divine body.
If, in that moment, her brother betrays her and seizes the divine body for himself, she will be helpless.
No resistance.
No escape.
She would be no stronger than a mortal.
Eve lowers her head.
"Then… Kong Wuya is even less trustworthy."
Jin Yinji exhales slowly.
"Which is why this is not the time to begin the ritual."
She stands.
"For now, Kong Wuya must grow," she continues.
"To protect me, he must at least possess strength comparable to my brother's."
With that, she leaves the pavilion, returns to her residence, and enters her cultivation room.
The doors close.
Silence settles.
She sits cross-legged and begins to cultivate.
For this purpose, she creates a special technique.
Seven Light, Refining the Mind.
This technique does not cultivate essence.
It does not gather energy.
It does not strengthen the body.
It refines only the spirit.
As long as she keeps her spirit concealed, no one can detect her cultivation.
To the world, she remains a mortal.
Yet internally, profound changes unfold.
The Seven Light Refining the Mind technique slowly merges the Seven Lights of Emotion within her consciousness.
Courage.
Mercy.
Love.
Hope.
Joy.
Desire.
Sacrifice.
As they merge, her sensitivity to the laws of the world sharpens dramatically.
In her spirit space, a form takes shape.
A bird.
Its feathers shine gold, radiant yet restrained.
It possesses three pairs of wings, vast and symmetrical, and a long, flowing tail, like a seventh wing trailing behind it.
With every slow flap of its wings, clarity increases.
Understanding deepens.
The golden feathers grow more solid, more real.
What was once symbolic becomes tangible.
When the feathers fully become real, she will move to the next stage.
Skin.
Muscles.
Bones.
Veins.
Organs.
Nerves.
Blood.
Down to the level of cells.
The divine body is not forged externally.
It is born directly from her spirit.
That is why she cannot release her spirit outward.
That is why she cannot display her true strength.
She continues her cultivation in absolute stillness.
—
Far away, in the throne room of the Night Dynasty, Nyxarin sits upon his throne.
Before him, the clan heads of the Giant Shark Clan and the Lightning Whale Clan kneel in silence.
Nyxarin speaks evenly, "Do you know about the misty island?"
Both clan heads nod at once.
"I want your two clans to patrol the underwater region around that island."
The clan head of the Giant Shark Clan rises immediately, fist to chest, voice loud with zeal.
"Do not worry, my lord. I will personally patrol the waters and kill anyone who dares to approach."
Nyxarin almost tells him to stop.
Then he pauses.
It might be better this way.
Let them attack indiscriminately.
Let the sea turn hostile.
If anyone powerful approaches the island, their reaction will expose them.
And more importantly, it may expose her.
Nyxarin wants to know the whereabouts of Isla, the Goddess of Day.
He has reincarnated twice already.
He does not believe that Isla has reincarnated even once.
A thousand years ago, when he attacked her, his goal was never to kill her.
Not because he does not want to.
But because at their level, killing one another is extraordinarily difficult.
And because she has a brother.
And he has a sister.
If the battle drags on, they will intervene.
So his plan is simple.
Injure Isla severely.
Cripple her.
Make her unable to interfere while he carries out his designs.
Yet something goes wrong.
He destroys her divine body far too quickly.
Too cleanly.
Too easily.
In that instant, Nyxarin feels something profoundly wrong.
Since then, certainty has settled in his heart.
Isla is also carrying out a plan.
And the more she hides, the more dangerous she becomes.
Nyxarin waves his hand.
The two clan heads bow deeply and retreat.
The throne room empties.
Nyxarin stands and leaves, descending deep beneath the palace.
He enters an underground chamber sealed by countless formations.
At the centre of the room, his divine body floats in the air, flawless, radiant, terrifyingly complete.
Nyxarin sits cross-legged on the floor beneath it and closes his eyes.
An array activates.
Light spreads beneath him.
His body rises, slowly, until it floats at the same height as his divine body.
Energy begins to flow.
From his mortal human body into the divine body.
Then back again.
A continuous cycle.
Circulation.
Fusion.
Rejection.
Refinement.
The divine body strengthens his soul.
The mortal body anchors his will.
With every cycle, the shackle of mortality weakens slightly.
This is not cultivation in the traditional sense.
This is preparation.
Preparation to abandon the mortal shell entirely.
Preparation to increase the probability of breaking into True Godhood.
------
God of Dawn, Issac, and Goddess of Evening, Nyra, sit facing each other with the divine pool suspended between them.
Behind Issac, the power of dawn unfolds and differentiates, splitting into the power of light, the power of justice, and the power of life.
Behind Nyra, the power of evening spreads outward and divides into the power of dark, the power of mystery, and the power of death.
Their powers do not clash.
They interweave.
Light brushes against dark, life brushes against death, justice overlaps with mystery, and the balanced currents flow steadily into the divine pool at their centre.
Within the pool, new runes appear continuously, forming for brief moments before dissolving and reforming into different configurations.
They are cultivating the divine pool itself, refining it toward a true divine pool.
This is their path toward True Godhood.
They are born with priesthoods that are incomplete, powerful, but insufficient to support a direct breakthrough.
So they walk a longer road.
They comprehend additional laws.
They forge a divine pool.
They seek to give birth to their own race through mastery of the Law of Life and the Law of Death.
They have not yet fully comprehended these two laws.
For now, they still rely on the human race to reproduce their people.
But they can feel it.
The distance is shrinking.
They are close.
They cultivate for several weeks without interruption, then pause to examine the changes within the divine pool and to supervise the state of the war.
After confirming nothing has gone beyond control, they return to the chamber.
Before resuming cultivation, Nyra opens her eyes and speaks.
"My brother has returned," she says. "Where is your sister?"
Issac exhales softly and shrugs.
"How would I know?" he replies. "The last time I saw her was before she was killed by your brother."
Nyra frowns slightly.
"You told me then that your sister said she would enter a closed retreat to strive for the True God realm," she says. "A thousand years have passed, and there is still no news of her."
Issac remains silent for a moment.
"She may have reincarnated and entered a closed retreat afterwards," he says finally. "At any moment, she could break through to the True God realm."
Silence falls between them.
The divine pool continues to pulse gently.
Nyra speaks again, her voice quiet but firm.
"Between my brother and your sister," she says, "I would rather your sister enter the True God realm."
Issac nods slowly.
"So would I," he answers. "But I want us to enter the True God realm before either of them."
They look at each other.
Resolve hardens.
Without another word, they close their eyes.
Their powers rise again.
The divine pool churns.
And the cultivation continues.