The void was silent.
Not the silence of peace, but the silence of a world holding its breath, waiting for the moment when reality would finally break.
Fang Yuan stood in the center of a shattered sky, his body half‑burnt, half‑reconstructed, his chest a gaping wound where his heart should have been. Around him, the remnants of the Heavenly Dao's divine punishment still crackled — golden chains of fate, silver threads of karma, and the black, endless void of the Destiny Gu's will, all trying to erase him from existence.
But Fang Yuan did not move.
He did not dodge.
He did not scream.
He only smiled.
In that wound, the Gu Cube pulsed — cold, ancient, eternal. It was not just a Gu; it was the core of eternal life, the foundation of a Dao that could exist beyond time, beyond fate, beyond the very concept of an ending.
And now, it was being forced into his chest, replacing his heart.
Pain exploded through his body — not just physical, but spiritual, conceptual. It was as if every law of existence was trying to reject him, to tear him apart, to erase him from all timelines, all worlds, all possibilities.
But Fang Yuan had died before.
He had lived after.
And he would die again.
And he would live again.
He had no fear.
Only will.
His right hand, still half‑flesh, half‑Gu, slowly rose and pressed against the Gu Cube, forcing it deeper into his chest. Blood and Gu essence dripped from his fingers, burning the air, turning it into a storm of crimson lightning.
The Heavenly Dao roared, sending waves of fate, karma, and divine punishment crashing toward him.
But Fang Yuan did not block.
He simply stood there, letting the waves hit him, letting them try to erase him.
And then, slowly, he began to rewrite them.
> "Fate is not a law. It is a chain."
> "Karma is not justice. It is a tool."
> "Heaven is not a god. It is just another opponent."
His Gu began to change.
The Gu of Rebellion twisted, becoming something deeper — the Gu of Conceptual Rebellion, capable of rewriting the very rules of existence.
The Gu of Madness evolved, no longer just driving others insane, but allowing him to think in ways that defied logic, time, and causality.
And the Gu Cube… the Gu Cube became the core of a new Dao — the Dao of Eternal Rebellion.
***
### The Heavenly Dao's Final Assault
The Heavenly Dao realized that it was no longer fighting a cultivator.
It was fighting a concept.
A Dao that could rewrite fate.
A being that could exist beyond time.
A demon who had already died once, lived again, and now stood outside the rules of life and death.
So it responded with everything it had.
It summoned the Gu of Heavenly Judgment, a legendary Gu that could erase a being from all timelines at once.
It unleashed the Gu of Karma Chains, which bound a cultivator's actions across lifetimes, forcing them to pay for every sin, every betrayal, every drop of blood spilled.
And it activated the Gu of Destiny's End, the ultimate weapon of the Destiny Gu, designed to erase any being that threatened the balance of fate.
The sky split open.
A golden spear of divine judgment, thick as a mountain, plunged toward Fang Yuan, capable of erasing him from all pasts, all presents, all futures at once.
At the same time, silver chains of karma wrapped around his limbs, trying to force him to relive every betrayal, every murder, every moment of ruthlessness, until his soul shattered under the weight of his own sins.
And from the void itself, the Gu of Destiny's End manifested — a black, endless blade that did not cut flesh, but cut existence, designed to erase him from the very fabric of reality.
Fang Yuan did not dodge.
He did not block.
He simply stood there, letting the spear pierce his chest, letting the chains bind his arms, letting the blade of destiny cut into his core.
And then, he began to rewrite them.
***
### Rewriting Judgment, Karma, and Destiny
The Gu of Conceptual Rebellion flared.
The golden spear of Heavenly Judgment did not vanish — instead, it twisted, turning its power inward. Now, it was not judging Fang Yuan, but judging the Heavenly Dao itself, exposing every lie, every hypocrisy, every act of cruelty it had ever committed in the name of "balance."
The silver chains of karma did not break — instead, they unraveled, their logic shattered by the Gu of Madness. Cause and effect no longer applied. Sin and punishment no longer had meaning. The chains became meaningless threads, dissolving into nothing.
And the Gu of Destiny's End — the black blade that erased existence — was absorbed by the Gu Cube.
Not destroyed.
Not resisted.
Absorbed.
Fang Yuan's body burned, his soul fracturing, but he did not fall.
He only smiled.
> "You think you are the law of the world? Then let me show you what happens when the law is broken by the one who created his own rules."
He raised his hand, and the Gu Cube flared once more.
This time, the beam of Gu essence did not target the Heavenly Dao.
It targeted the very concept of "fate."
And in that moment, fate itself began to crack.
***
### The Cracking of Fate
The sky split not just in one place, but in a thousand.
Across the Gu World, across all heavens, across all timelines, fate began to fracture.
Sects that were destined to rise collapsed overnight.
Heroes who were destined to save the world died in meaningless accidents.
Demons who were destined to be destroyed became invincible.
The very idea of "destiny" — of a fixed path, of a predetermined future — began to unravel.
And in the center of it all, Fang Yuan stood, his chest still open, the Gu Cube pulsing like a second sun, cold and eternal.
The Heavenly Dao screamed.
The Destiny Gu howled.
The world trembled.
And Fang Yuan finally spoke, not in a flood of quotes, not in a long poem, but in one cold, final line:
> "There is no peace. There is no end. There is only the next move."
***
### The True Climax: The Breaking of the Heavenly Dao
The Heavenly Dao, realizing that it could not win, did the only thing it could.
It tried to collapse the entire Gu World, to erase everything — all sects, all cultivators, all Gu — just to erase Fang Yuan along with it.
The sky turned black.
The earth cracked.
The heavens began to fall.
Reality itself started to dissolve.
But Fang Yuan did not run.
He did not beg.
He simply raised his hand, and the Gu Cube flared one last time.
This time, the beam of Gu essence did not just target fate.
It targeted the Heavenly Dao itself.
And in that moment, the Heavenly Dao did not die.
It did not vanish.
It was rewritten.
It was no longer the law of the world.
It was no longer the judge of fate.
It became something else.
A tool.
A weapon.
A Gu that could be used, not to control, but to rebel.
Fang Yuan looked at the shattered heavens, at the collapsing worlds, at the infinite possibilities beyond.
He did not smile.
He did not laugh.
He simply thought, cold and clear:
> "There are no eternal enemies, only eternal benefits.
> There is no peace, only eternal struggle.
> There is no end, only the next move."
And then, only then, did he activate the Gu Cube not to destroy, not to rewrite, but to move.
To another world.
To another cycle.
To the next game.
***
### The Transfer: At the Peak of the Storm
The moment the Heavenly Dao was rewritten, the Gu World began to collapse completely.
Sects burned.
Heavens fell.
The very fabric of reality started to dissolve.
And in the center of the storm, Fang Yuan stood, his body half‑Gu, half‑essence, the Gu Cube beating in his chest like a second heart.
He did not look back.
He did not hesitate.
He simply raised his hand, and the Gu Cube flared.
Space itself twisted around him, reality tearing like rotten cloth.
For a moment, he existed in the space between worlds, where time had no meaning and existence was a fragile illusion.
But he did not fear it.
He had already walked this path once.
He had already broken fate once.
Now, he would do it again.
And again.
And again.
Until the game itself had no end.
When he finally stepped onto solid ground, the world around him was different.
The sky was a sickly green, the air thick with the stench of rotting Gu and decaying cultivation energy.
The mountains were jagged, twisted, as if they had been reshaped by some ancient, forgotten war.
And in the distance, the faint glow of a sect's protective barrier pulsed weakly, like the heartbeat of a dying beast.
Fang Yuan looked at this new world, this new meat grinder, and for the first time in a long time, he smiled.
Because he knew the truth.
The world was a meat grinder.
And he was the one who would always laugh last.
> "Let the next game begin."