In the grand game between heaven and earth, every being had a role to play, no matter how insignificant it seemed. Even a pebble tossed into still water would send ripples across the surface of destiny, subtle yet unavoidable. Existence itself was a vast, interlocking script, and every life was a line written somewhere within it.
But in that instant, Wang Chen had erased Demon Lord Arkos's role entirely.
By consuming the demon's fate, he had not merely slain him. He had deleted his significance. The world, unable to reconcile an existence stripped of destiny, quietly corrected itself. Cause and effect folded inward, memories blurred, and reality rewrote its own margins to pretend that the demon had never been born at all.
Hiss—
A sharp chill ran down Wang Chen's spine as the full weight of that truth settled into his bones.
He hadn't used a divine technique.
He hadn't even used a forbidden art.
He had tampered with the structure of fate itself.
