FLASHBACK CONTINUED.
Hizler rested his chin on one palm. "Hmm, so where is this map you speak of?"
The Core Formation elder immediately reached into his spatial ring, retrieving a folded piece of parchment sealed with ancient runic wax. The map emanated a faint, undulating energy—old, yet undeniable. "Here, my lord," he said, holding it out with both trembling hands.
With a mere flick of Hizler's wrist, the map flew from the elder's grasp. The air rippled as if obeying his command. The parchment hovered before him, unfurling midair with a whisper that cut through the silence like a blade.
Light and shadow danced across the chamber as he examined the symbols etched on its surface. The formation lines, almost faded with time, pulsed faintly with something deeper—an echo of Law energy so fine it made even the Nascent Soul elders shift uncomfortably.
Then Hizler's eyes narrowed, his expression growing cold. "The dome's location…" he muttered under his breath, "—it's not within our territory." The elders leaned forward in confusion."It's in the heart of Poland," Hizler said, his tone low and grave. "Near the Chang‑an District."
The words sent a wave of murmurs through the chamber. "That territory belongs to the Poland Alliance," the third elder said. "Their spirit defense network covers even the skies. If we march our forces there, they'll sense us before we cross their borders." Hizler ran his thumb along the edge of the floating map. "Even if they allowed one of our Nascent Souls to cross under diplomacy, they would never permit investigation once the dome was known. The instant they learned of its existence, the Poland Alliance would claim it as their own… and we would lose the chance forever." His brow furrowed in deep thought. "If that happens, the only path left would be war—a full-scale one."
For a long moment, neither elder spoke. The air grew hot, the faint hum of molten energy under the floor echoing like a heartbeat. Finally, Hizler's lips curled into a thin smile. "But I will not allow that." He rose from the throne, the fiery aura surrounding him rising like a quiet inferno. "We'll start a war, yes—but not a full-scale one. A small, stretched-out engagement along the borders. Enough to distract their eyes and scatter their attention. While the alliance bleeds slowly, we will send our elite unit to Chang‑an to secure the dome." The hall resonated faintly with the echo of his command, the flames around the chamber flickering higher for a moment.
"This way," he continued, "we seize what we need without alerting their core forces. By the time they realize what we were truly after, the dome will already be ours."
The second elder leaned forward, eyes calculating. "But Leader," he said cautiously, "we still have no understanding of what lies within. The dome may contain anything—it could even hold remnants of Lord Wang Zhen's final works. We cannot afford a blind approach." A faint gleam crossed his gaze. "So, when we reach the dome..." the elder added with a slight bow, his tone turning cold, "I'll have my most trusted pawns make the sacrifice… and test the waters first."
The pawns, second elder spoke of was the Crimson Squad.
-----
Back to the Present.
Han Chen's eyes fluttered open to unfamiliar stillness. The air was heavy, unmoving. There was no battlefield, no gunfire, no screaming soldiers—only silence that pressed against his ears like water.
He lay on a cold, smooth floor. The faint chill seeped into his back before he slowly sat up, his hand instinctively reaching for a rifle that wasn't there. Nothing. No weapon. No armor. Not even the faint pulse of spiritual energy within his veins. He blinked, glancing around.
The room was pitch-black, yet he could see everything—the cracked stone walls, the faint texture of the floor, a single wooden door across from where he sat. There were no torches, no light sources, nothing that should have made vision possible. But he still saw.
"Law of Vision…" he murmured, his voice rough. "So it wasn't a dream."He looked down at himself. His uniform was gone. No armor, no badges, no sign of his former life as a rifleman of the 19th Regiment. In its place was a simple black robe—loose-fitted, tied at the waist with a thin cord. The fabric was worn but clean, the same style peasants and commoners wore in ancient times.
Han Chen ran a hand through his hair, exhaling quietly."So I'm a mortal again."He could feel it clearly—no qi circulation, no spiritual core, nothing beyond his flesh and blood, his body felt truly human. Weak. Vulnerable. He stood carefully, every movement echoing against the bare walls.
The room was small, unadorned, the faint scent of dust lingering in the air. One door. No windows. No sound from outside. His thoughts raced."Where is everyone? Cai, Lin, the Crimson Squad… did they end up somewhere else inside this dome?" He clenched his fist, frustration creeping into his chest. "Or did the Law of Games scatter us on purpose?" He approached the door and laid his hand against it.
Cold to the touch. No spiritual flow, no array marks. Just ordinary wood. He pushed once—It didn't move.
Han Chen frowned. "Locked?"
He backed a step, glancing around for something he could use. Nothing. The room offered no tools, not even a loose brick. He sat down against the wall again, his mind steadying as his survival instincts took over. "Alright, let's think… This is no illusion. I can feel hunger, breath, everything. The dome sealed our cultivation, reduced us to mortals. Which means… this is a start. Not a cell of punishment—but a test." His lips tightened slightly.
Han Chen leaned back against the wall, mind ticking through fragments of logic, instinct, and caution all at once. The eerie silence of the chamber only amplified the sound of his breathing.
Slowly, he closed his eyes and sank inward—into the center of his consciousness. Within his mindscape, the world was an ocean of darkness—still, endless, silent. Then, like a heartbeat, a faint pulse rippled through the void.
At the heart of that black sea floated an eye—a massive eye as dark as night, its sclera pitch black, but with a pupil that glowed faintly in deep amethyst hues. The Heavenly Eye.
It pulsed again, violet light spiraling from its core in hushed rhythm, like some ancient heart awakened from dormancy. Han Chen's thoughts calmed instantly. He knew that sensation. This thing—this entity—had been with him long before he crossed into this other-world.
It was the only remnant of his origin, a presence that defied all laws and systems. He focused, trying to feel the Laws pressing in on him—the seal formed from the fragment of a thread of the law of Restriction that had turned every cultivator here into a mortal.
It was still there, woven into the air, into space itself. But deep in his consciousness, the Heavenly Eye's purple glow refused to dim. Not even the binding of Laws could touch it. "The fragment of a thread of Restriction Law can't affect you either," he murmured under his breath.
Within the darkness of his mindscape, the Eye blinked once, releasing a faint shimmer that rippled into the void—and vanished. Han Chen exhaled slowly. "This Heavenly Eye… what is it?" he thought. "Even a fragment of a law thread can't suppress you. As if you exist outside their order."
His gaze turned inward again, calm and guarded. "And you can still open a portal—back to my original world. Even from within a sealed domain of Laws." He let that thought simmer for a long moment, whispering faintly to himself. "I should first understand what's going on inside this dome. If a life-threatening event happens… I can always escape." The Heavenly Eye pulsed once more in silent answer, as if acknowledging his decision.
The darkness faded, and Han Chen's vision returned to the quiet, stone-walled chamber.
-----
A low hum filled the still air, faint at first, then rising until it resonated through every grain of stone in the room.
Han Chen froze mid-thought. A voice echoed—not from the walls, not from a single point—but from everywhere. It filled the chamber, the dome, the land beneath, and the skies above. It wasn't merely heard—it existed, vibrating through everything alive.
"I am, Heavenly Law — Wang Zhen."
The sound carried no emotion, yet it held the weight of a god speaking through the bones of the world. "If you are hearing this, then I am long dead."
Han Chen's eyes narrowed faintly. "It's finally started."
"I once gave the map of this dome to my disciple," the voice continued, calm and ancient. "Perhaps you are my disciple… or perhaps a stranger who stumbled upon my work. It does not matter." Outside the room, across every chamber, every shattered battlefield, and deep into the great dome's golden walls, the same voice reverberated.
Every soldier, cultivator, and being—whether human or monster—heard it in perfect clarity. "I built this dome so that it would awaken when it sensed the presence of another Law nearby. Its appearance will bring only one thing—controversy."
The tone deepened, echoing through the very air. "I used the Law of Restriction to suppress the cultivation of anyone below Deity Transformation to the realm of mortals. But know this—those at Deity Transformation and Ascendent realms cannot enter. Should they attempt it, the dome will collapse and destroy itself instantly."
Han Chen frowned slightly. "Self-destructing defense… to prevent interference."
Wang Zhen's voice went on, composed yet carrying faint traces of hidden disdain. "Anyone beneath Deity Transformation may enter freely and compete for my inheritance. But I know the people of this continent and their greed. The Nascent Souls and higher will not risk themselves. They will send weaker cultivators—mere pawns—as cannon fodder. They will wait outside for the inheritance to emerge… And when it does, they will slaughter the inheritor and steal what he has earned."
Han Chen remained silent, eyes half-closed, listening. "As precaution against this, the inheritor who overcomes these grounds shall also inherit my Blessed Land. Within it lies sufficient resource to raise even a mortal to Deity Transformation in seven hundred and fifty years." The voice resonated a final time, quieter now, as if fading into eternity. "So, if anyone wishes to claim my life's work, they must enter the grounds themselves—abandon their cultivation, stand as mortals, and emerge victorious among thousands." The sound faded into stillness.
But outside, the silence did not last long.
OUTSIDE THE DOME.
The world erupted. Across the countries, high above the skies and deep within sect fortresses, the echo resounded like thunder carried by divine will. Every cultivator above Foundation Establishment felt it ripple through their divine sense.
In the Fire Alliance's capital, the Nascent Soul elders of Aldrof Hizler's court stood abruptly, faces pale. Messengers rushed into corridors. Bells rang across divisions—an emergency summit had already been declared.
Inside the halls of the Poland Alliance, panic and fervor collided. Reports poured in of the colossal dome shining above Chang‑an District. Their own Nascent Soul generals called for immediate council. "If that really is Lord Heavenly Law's inheritance, we cannot afford to wait!" one shouted.
Factions burned with tension. Armies prepared.
Beyond the human cities, deep in the uncharted wilds, beings older and darker than empires stirred from their slumber. Hidden monsters, demon beasts, and forgotten sect remnants emerged from hiding—drawn by the divine resonance. They gathered near the glowing dome, gazes locked on it from miles away, watching as light and law twisted in its surface like a breathing god.
Yet none dared step inside. For they understood exactly what the name 'Lord Heavenly Law — Wang Zhen' meant.
Even dead, his name alone could eclipse generations. And his will—still living in the form of this dome—had just rewritten the order of the continent.
-----TO BE CONTINUED-----