Clarity descended with the force of a revelation. When Xan Li Fang regained consciousness, the splitting migraine and chaotic soul storms had evaporated, replaced by a terrifying, crystalline lucidity. He felt lighter, yet paradoxically possessed of infinite gravitational mass, as though his existence had acquired new density. Closing his eyes, he dove immediately into his Sea of Mind. "This..." Xan floated in his inner cosmos, awesome. The chaotic vortex of the Great Fusion had stabilized. In the absolute epicenter of his psyche, two colossal trees had germinated, twisting around one another like lovers or mortal enemies—one pitch black, the other blinding alabaster. Their branches interlocked to form a gigantic, majestic Door. "How did these manifest?" Xan pondered. "Was it the fusion of the Star and the Yin-Yang? They have synthesized a gateway... but to where?"
Xan stabilized his respiration. Before exploring the unknown, he needed to gauge his strength. Retrieving the Blood Crystal Tester stolen from the Lindao Academy, he examined it. "Standard activation requires blood, but to unlock the full diagnostic potential, a specific spell is mandatory," he muttered, realizing the stolen library lacked this incantation. "Divination suggests prayer to a deity may yield answers," he mused, glancing at the void. "But to which God? And how? I am a man of curiosity, not faith." Discarding the notion, he returned his focus to the massive Door. One valve was pure obsidian, the other pristine marble, both etched with intricate, glowing symbols. "This language... it is incredibly ancient," Xan whispered, narrowing his eyes. "Yet, it feels familiar." After minutes of scrutiny, realization struck. "Ah, the Ancient Alfiyoza script—a dead language from before the Shattering." Painstakingly translating the intent behind the runes, the massive door groaned. CREAAAK. The gate swung open, and Xan stepped through.
He emerged into an infinite White Void—floorless, ceilingless, composed solely of endless luminescence. In the center sat two colossal tables. On the left, amidst the blinding whiteness, a massive table of white stone hosted Black Shadows—figures of pure darkness seated on white chairs. On the right, a zone of absolute pitch-black darkness contained a black table surrounded by White Shadows—figures radiating pure light. Xan calculated quickly. "Twenty-four seats per table, plus two head thrones... fifty seats total, with the leaders absent." Without hesitation, Xan approached the White Void side and calmly occupied the empty head chair among the Black Shadows. Instantly, the silence shattered, replaced by the boisterous sounds of a banquet. "Cheers!" "To Victory!" The voices were heavy with eons of history. "The Great War has finally concluded today!" a shadow proclaimed, raising a phantom goblet. "Congratulations to all Deities on this victory!"
Xan's heart skipped a beat; he realized he was experiencing a memory—a recording of the banquet held by the Gods immediately following the primordial war that shattered the universe a billion years ago. "In today's battle, the greatest assistance was rendered by... the Seven New Gods... Let us toast them!" another shadow gestured. Xan frowned. Seven New Gods? Historical texts claimed the God Kings emerged from chaos or evolved from divine fish, yet here they were treated as subordinates. "Impossible..." Xan whispered involuntarily. The chatter died instantly as twenty-four pairs of eyes turned to him. "Your Highness?" a shadow asked, trembling with reverence. "What is the implication of your statement?" Xan froze, realizing they perceived him as their leader. "Ah, nothing," he waved dismissively, regaining composure. "My memory is hazy from battle... reiterate who assisted us, so I may reward them." "Of course, Your Highness," the shadow bowed. "The God of Evil, Judgment, Dao, Reincarnation, Destruction, and Creation... disciples of Archangel Amanidev."
Xan felt a chill. The rulers of the cosmos were mere disciples? If true, the beings at this table transcended the known "Divine" realm. "What is the status of the world?" Xan asked, steadying his voice. "Our world is peaceful and remains Whole," the shadow reported somberly. "However... on the Endless War Battlefield, ninety-nine percent of the Deities have perished. The only survivors are us, sitting at this table." Xan gripped the armrest. Ninety-nine percent dead? He didn't need to gauge the enemy. "And what of the opposition?" Xan asked coldly. "What is their status?" The shadow hesitated. "The situation on your younger brother's side is worse than ours. As far as I know, they have only twenty-five survivors left." Xan processed the staggering scale: two brothers, two tables, fifty survivors out of millions. Suddenly, a mechanical voice echoed: "...Now, we must depart... Three inquiries have been satisfied..." The vision began to fade. "Wait! When is the next convocation?" Xan shouted. "Whenever you command, Your Highness," the shadow faded. POP. The White Table vanished. Xan stood alone in the white void, gazing across to the Black Void where the White Shadows sat. "My 'Younger Brother's' side..." Xan whispered. Without hesitation, he walked across the void, entering the zone of absolute darkness to occupy the head chair of the Black Table and witness the other side of history.
Xan Li Fang traversed the void, stepping across the threshold into the domain of absolute darkness where the Black Table resided. However, unlike his previous ascension to the seat of authority, in this fragmented memory, he did not occupy the throne of the sovereign; rather, he settled into one of the twenty-four subordinate chairs. "I am not the apex predator in this narrative," Xan realized, his intellect sharpening to a razor's edge as he surveyed his surroundings. "Acquiring intelligence takes precedence over status; this is a singular, ephemeral opportunity that shall not manifest a second time." Around the stygian table, the White Shadows were engaged in a discourse that painted a reality diametrically opposed to the jubilant celebration across the void; their timbre was not one of triumphant victory, but of a successful, clandestine coup. "By the grace of the God of Fate, we have succeeded in extinguishing those deities," one White Shadow whispered, its voice vibrating with a palpable, exhausted relief. "Indeed," another replied, "yet, had the Omniscient God not succumbed to affection for a mortal... had he not harbored the desire to transmute into a human himself... perhaps this opportunity would never have crystallized."
Xan absorbed every syllable, his mind racing to connect the disparate threads of history. The Omniscient God? Enamored with a human? "Let us propose a libation to those who facilitated today's victory, identifying them by nomenclature!" Xan leaned forward, eager to deconstruct the geopolitical landscape of this ancient era, for the timeline was undeniable: this was the immediate aftermath of the Hundred-Year War of Gods, the precarious moment preceding the fracture of the realms. "Today, we offer congratulations to seven individuals... The Disciples of the Archangel; raise your goblets!" Xan required no repetition of the names, for they mirrored those spoken at the White Table: Evil, Judgment, Dao, Reincarnation, Destruction, and Creation. "Six were previously enumerated," Xan analyzed, deducing the anomaly. "The seventh must be present among us." The architecture of the betrayal was becoming lucid, yet the identity of the 'Omniscient God' and the specific traitor remained obscured by the fog of eons, dragging Xan deeper into the labyrinthine secrets of the divine.
"Incidentally," a feminine voice resonated from the shadows, soft yet piercing as a needle, "your contribution to this machination was paramount, God of Fate; this toast is dedicated to you." The White Shadows elevated their vessels toward Xan. He froze, the realization striking with the force of a physical blow: I comprehend; in this phantasmagoria, I am inhabiting the role of the God of Fate. Turning his gaze to the figure occupying the head of the Black Table—the leader of this insurgent faction—he decided to pose a probing inquiry to unveil the entity's identity. "Your Highness," Xan articulated, his voice steady despite the internal turmoil. "Forgive my impertinence, but I received intelligence that the God of Light appropriated your elder brother's reincarnation; is this assertion factual?" At this interrogation, every ocular focus at the table snapped to the head seat. "Affirmative... regrettably, it is truth," the leader replied, his voice saturated with a complex, layered sorrow. "However, he is not my brother by consanguinity; he adopted me from among the mortals when I was but twelve winters old, rearing me as his own kin, yet we do not share the same blood."
BOOM. The revelation hit Xan like a thunderbolt. Prior to entering the illusion of the Ancient Ruins, he had deciphered the archaic manuscript upon the monolith: The Omniscient God will invariably return to his chamber... a son of a human being shall be him. "He originated from the mortal stock," Xan ruminated, his cardiac rhythm accelerating. "The profile matches with absolute precision." Pushing the memory forward, Xan inquired, "Then... shall you bestow upon us the promised recompense?" "Certainly," the leader replied with regal finality. "Each of you shall be gifted an Ancient God Weapon." POP. The instant the promise was verbalized, the Black Table and the White Shadows dissolved into ephemeral smoke, leaving Xan isolated in the void. He yearned to explore further, to delve into the white expanse, but a disembodied voice arrested his momentum. "If you desire the ultimate truth... seek it within your own heart."
As the cryptic words faded, Xan felt the world gyrate violently, and he forcibly extracted his consciousness from the memory realm. WHOOSH. In the epicenter of his Sea of Mind, the two colossal trees merged, twisting together in a botanical embrace to form a singular, complete arbor; the central door vanished into the ether, and seconds later, the tree itself dissipated, leaving his mental landscape pristine. Xan analyzed the data he had harvested. "The identity of the instigator is irrelevant," Xan concluded, frowning. "It is evident that the White Shadows at the Black Table initiated the conflict, yet the Black Shadows at the White Table... both factions toasted the identical six deities. Furthermore, the culmination of both conflicts did not precipitate the division of the world; there is a continuation of this narrative that I have missed." Unable to resolve the enigma with insufficient data, Xan opened his eyes in the physical world.
He immediately conducted a somatic inspection, and the results were shocking. A fundamental transmutation had occurred; the Twelve Essences and the Star were obliterated, replaced by two distinct Dantians. One was situated in his thorax, the other in his abdomen. Focusing his perception, he gasped. "This potency... the reservoir in my chest is Chaos Sword Qi; it feels infinite, a perpetual motion engine that instantly replenishes itself." Shifting his focus, he analyzed the second anomaly. "And the abdominal core... This is the Power of Order. I encountered this concept in the ancient texts; Order Qi is the exclusive province of a singular deity... The Omniscient God!" Scanning his physiology with meticulous care, he discovered a third deviation: in the center of his forehead, concealed beneath the dermis, a vertical eye had formed. "It is..." Xan whispered, sensing the terrifying vibrational frequency emanating from it. "The Power of Laws."
Suddenly, a wave of vertigo assailed him, and the reality surrounding him began to blur into incoherence. "Wait... this is the illusion," Xan realized with a start, acknowledging that he had been so engrossed in his apotheosis that he had neglected his environment. "I am losing my sense of self; if I do not depart immediately, my identity will be eroded into oblivion." He did not hesitate, retrieving the Heavenly Great Teleportation Spell—the ultimate escape scroll pilfered from the Lindao Academy. "Instant Teleportation!" He crushed the parchment. ZHOOM. Space twisted violently, tearing him away from the timeless domain of the Ancient Ruins as the gray mist, the floating islands, and the phantasms shattered in his wake. Xan Li Fang reappeared, anticipating the forest border of the Sky Lord Empire or the snowy plains of Lindao. However, as the luminous distortion faded, he found himself nowhere near civilization. He stood in the center of a dusty, dimly lit hall where the air was thick with the scent of stale incense and the weight of aeons. Massive stone pillars supported a crumbling roof, and strange, unrecognizable statues lined the walls like silent sentinels. "This is not the forest," Xan whispered, surveying the alien architecture. He had escaped the Illusion World, but the teleportation spell had deposited him in an unforeseen locus; he was standing in the heart of an ancient, forgotten temple.