Before the False God Incident.
Within the boundless void, Lin Xuan and Yue stood side by side, gazing down at the arena below.
Liu Xin's final strike landed.
The crowd froze.
Then—
"Master! Little Xin—Liu Xin won!" Yue cried out happily, her eyes shining as she clapped her hands. Her excitement was impossible to hide.
But before her joy could fully bloom, her expression stiffened.
"Eh…?"
Below them, Han Yuwei slowly straightened her body.
A pitch-black qi began to seep out from her pores, thick and filthy, twisting like living smoke. In an instant, the surrounding spiritual energy was contaminated, turning violent and chaotic.
The polluted qi surged upward—piercing the clouds, spiraling into the heavens.
High above the arena, the qi condensed and rotated, forming a massive vortex.
An eye.
Like the eye of a typhoon, cold and ominous, staring down upon the world.
Yue's smile vanished.
Her small hands clenched tightly as she looked up in shock.
"Master…?" she whispered.
Lin Xuan's eyes lit up with interest.
"Finally," he said calmly, his tone carrying a hint of amusement. "he's using that."
He folded his arms, a faint smile forming at the corner of his lips.
"I was almost bored to death."
Yue slowly turned to look at him. Her face paled as a familiar sense of dread rose in her chest.
"Master…" she asked nervously, "what kind of trouble are you planning this time?"
Lin Xuan paused.
Then he coughed lightly.
"Umm… well," he said casually, as if talking about the weather, "you could call it my farewell gift to him."
Yue's eyes flashed with a scolding glare as she snapped, "Master, what kind of gift is this? The sky darkens, the Qi is polluted—what are you planning?!"
Lin Xuan's lips curved into a faint, mischievous smile. "Yue… don't worry. I have a plan. This… will make Liu Xin famous."
Yue froze, utterly dumbfounded. What kind of gift is this? she thought, and what kind of "fame" could possibly come from this?
Lin Xuan waved his hand casually, and the air before them rippled like liquid. Slowly, a figure began to form—a body sculpted from pure spiritual energy. Male. Naked.
Lin Xuan's eyes narrowed slightly as he studied it. Hmm… quite handsome. Needs a bit of charisma… and an intimidating aura, he thought, as he infused the figure with a presence that would make even seasoned cultivators feel unease.
Then, as if summoned by shadows themselves, a black robe materialized over the figure. It billowed around him like darkness given shape, forming a mysterious, foreboding silhouette that seemed to drink in the surrounding light.
Lin Xuan tilted his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. To make this body the perfect mysterious antagonist…
From within his own robe, he pulled out a small item—a Ruinking—and carefully fitted it over the figure's face. Instantly, the figure became an enigma: shrouded, untouchable, impossible to read.
"Perfect," Lin Xuan murmured, satisfaction in his voice. "A mysterious antagonist, just as I envisioned."
Yue's jaw dropped. She blinked several times, unable to form words. The sky darkened slightly above them, and even the Qi in the training grounds seemed to stiffen in shock.
This… this is your idea of a gift? she thought, her mind reeling.
Then Lin Xuan said calmly, "It's time."
As his voice faded, his consciousness split like flowing water. A strand of his awareness extended outward, linking with the other body, sharing sight, thought, and perception—two bodies, one will, acting in perfect harmony.
The vessel stepped into the portal, its form swallowed by the void.
In the next instant, it reappeared beneath the heavens. Above it, the sky split like shattered glass, countless cracks tearing across the firmament.
From within one of those fractures, the figure emerged and began to descend. A dragon mask forged of overlapping black scales covered his face, each scale catching the broken light of the heavens as he lowered inch by inch. Polluted qi surged beneath his feet, carrying him until he came to a halt above the arena, hovering in silence as black robes billowed behind him.
The moment Lin Xuan appeared, a trembling voice echoed through the shattered heavens.
"W-Who are you?"
Lin Xuan followed the sound and looked over. His gaze landed on the one who had spoken—and his expression almost cracked.
Liu Xin
My protagonist.
His excitement surged, threatening to burst out on the spot, but Lin Xuan forcibly suppressed it. Calm down. You're doing this for his sake. Act the part.
He cleared his throat and was just about to say, "You may call me—"
…then paused.
Wait. What should I name this clone?
His thoughts raced. Heavenly Emperor? Overused. Dao Ancestor? Copyright risk. Supreme Being? Sounds like a brand.
Then inspiration struck.
He straightened his back, put on his most indifferent expression, and said solemnly,
"False God."
Divine but false
Lin Xuan's eyes glimmered with a mischievous light. "It's time I play the villain," he mused, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "After this little incident… Liu Xin will rise to fame."
...
Meanwhile, in the Zhao Family Manor, a disciple dashed through the grand corridors, his heart pounding. Bursting into the ancestral chamber, he shouted, "Ancestor! The arena… it's under attack by an unknown force!"
A calm, unhurried voice echoed through the chamber. "I know."
From the shadows, a figure emerged—an old man whose long, silver hair cascaded like a waterfall over a robe dyed in muted shades of jade and gray. His eyes, sharp yet serene, seemed to pierce through time itself. The sleeves of his flowing robe swayed gently as if moved by an unseen wind, and a faint aura of cultivation radiated from him, making even the bravest disciple instinctively bow in respect.
The disciple bowed deeply, his voice steady but urgent. "Ancestor Zhao, what are your orders?"
The old man's eyes gleamed with quiet authority as he replied, "Alert the family. Protect the Manor at all costs. As for me… I'm going."
"Understood!" the disciple responded, determination flashing across his face as he turned to carry out the command.
The disciple left in haste, footsteps echoing through the grand hall. Ancestor Zhao remained seated, his piercing gaze fixed on the distant horizon. "I'm close to ascending… but before that happens, I must personally deal with this matter," he thought, his mind calm yet resolute. A faint aura of suppressed power radiated from him, hinting at the terrifying strength that lay just beneath his composed exterior.