Against the Gods: Acension

Seeing Yun Che draw his weapon without hesitation, Mo Su could only sigh inwardly—a deep, silent exhale that carried the weight of inevitability. His expression remained unreadable, yet the golden glow that slowly began to radiate from his body revealed everything his eyes did not. Divine light cascaded down from his form, not in violent bursts, but in a steady, majestic tide that made the very air around him feel sacred.

And then—without a word, without gesture or summoning—a sword appeared before him.

Unlike the colossal, domineering weapon held in Yun Che's grasp, the blade that formed in Mo Su's hand was slender, elegant, and impossibly refined. It was not forged for brute destruction, but for divine judgment. Its golden edge shimmered with a brilliance so pure it made the surrounding space tremble softly, and as Mo Su's fingers curled around its hilt, the blade began to hum—a sound not of steel, but of heavenly decree, as though the very laws of the Abyss acknowledged its master's will.

In his hand, it did not roar. It sang. A song of divine will. A sword not born of wrath… but of absolute dominion.

"Stay out of this."

Mo Su's voice rang out—calm, unquestionable, laced with a majesty that allowed no room for defiance. It rolled across the realm like divine thunder, and the moment it fell, every God present lowered their heads in unison.

"Yes, Your Majesty!"

Their voices echoed in perfect harmony, filled with reverence and obedience. One by one, the Gods withdrew, their figures vanishing from the battlefield like retreating stars. Yet, as they departed, each cast Yun Che a final look—some filled with awe, others with dread—but none dared interfere. They knew now… this battle belonged to no one else.

It would be a clash of rulers, a collision of absolute power.

The watchers—Ancient True Gods, True Gods and other specters, —held their breath. The weight of their anticipation freezing the very flow of time.

And then—

In a single, silent instant, both men vanished.

BOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!

The sound of impact was not merely loud—it was cataclysmic, a detonation of force so immense that it shattered the boundaries of hearing and sense. The skies split open as light and darkness collided in their purest forms. The heavens above the Pure Land were ripped asunder, and far below, the roots of the Abyss itself shook with primal terror.

"As expected of Big Brother… the chosen inheritor… no, something far beyond that."

In the heart of the storm where chaos reigned and reality bent beneath their clash, the golden form of Mo Su shimmered like a celestial sun, his slender sword pressing firmly against the titanic blade in Yun Che's grasp. Sparks of divine light burst from the collision, yet neither side yielded.

His voice was calm, but within it stirred the awe of one who now truly understood the depth of the power he faced—power that could no longer be measured by lineage or legacy alone.

"...And as expected of a man that even Senior Ni Xuan and Senior Jie Yuan praised… for your incomprehensible stubbornness."

Yun Che's voice was steady, unfazed, his eyes meeting Mo Su's with unwavering calm as the Heaven Smithing Devil Emperor Sword pulsed beneath his grip. Despite the weight pressing down upon it, despite the golden sword that sought to break it apart, his stance never faltered.

"....."

The moment stretched thin as both Yun Che and Mo Su pressed their blades harder against one another, divine sparks bursting where metal met metal, and the very space around them began to twist and shatter beneath the weight of their clashing auras. The oppressive sword intent that radiated from the two titans rippled outward like tidal waves of death, slicing through the air and rending the world of the Abyss itself—mountains cracked, valleys split, and the very heavens groaned as their presence carved scars into reality.

Then, without warning, both men pulled back—and in the next breath, they swung.

No profound arts. No divine techniques. Just raw, unfiltered power— Two supreme beings exchanging a single blow, forged not from spectacle but from pure mastery.

"BOOOOOOMMMMM!!!!"

The sound of their swords clashing tore across the Pure Land like a divine thunderclap, echoing endlessly across the sky. It wasn't merely heard—it was felt, deep within the souls of those watching. A storm of shockwaves burst from the collision, sweeping through the divine barriers and shaking even the distant continents.

The onlookers—Gods, Ancient True Gods, Divine Limited Realm cultivators—all tried desperately to follow the exchange, but it was hopeless. Even the eyes of True Gods could barely keep pace with the sheer speed and precision of the two. For those in the Divine Extinction and Divine Limited Realms, it was as though the two had vanished entirely—only the sound of their battle remained, a divine rhythm that sang of power far beyond their comprehension.

"This… this is the battle… at the level of God!" A trembling voice broke the silence among the spectating crowd, filled with disbelief and awe.

"No! It's much more than God...!" Another followed, and then another, each voice echoing the same dread—different tones, same emotion—voicing the horror of what unfolded before them.

Though their eyes could barely catch the silhouettes of the combatants, though the two figures danced beyond the reach of even divine perception, the world itself bore witness in their place. With every clash of sword against sword, the sky above them shifted hues—gold, crimson, black—like a canvas torn and repainted by divine wrath.

"BOOOOMMMMM"

RUMBLEEEEEEEEEE!!!!

"BOOOMMMMMM!!!"

Space continued to rupture with sickening groans, folding and unraveling in places it should not. And worst of all… even the laws of heaven and earth themselves began to tremble, not in resistance, but in fear—as though their very fabric was being rewritten by the force of the battle.

And if they, despite being sheltered behind layer after layer of the strongest divine barriers ever constructed, could still feel such overwhelming force shaking their very souls… then just how much strength, how much divine effort, were the Ancient True Gods and True Gods expending just to keep the power from leaking out—just to keep this battle from annihilating the world itself?

"BOOOOOOMMMMM!!!!" Another deafening explosion rang out, a cataclysmic shockwave tearing through the heavens as the ground beneath the Pure Land trembled once again. The very air seemed to shatter, and for a brief moment, the entire Abyss felt as if it had tilted on its axis.

Far above, watching with wide, unblinking eyes, Hua Fuchen could no longer remain silent. His voice, low and reverent, slipped from his lips like a prayer.

"To think… in just a few short years… Yun Che has become a God… and reached such a level… that he can stand against His Majesty…"

His gaze didn't waver, his breath caught in awe, as he murmured those words not in envy… but in pure, unshakable astonishment.

"If only… Yun Che… was Meng Kongchan's son."

The words echoed softly in Hua Fuchen's heart, steeped in regret and sorrow. "But unfortunately, not only is he not… he is the Emperor of the Eternal Pure Land."

Their battle… was inevitable.

As he lifted his gaze once more to the heavens where the storm of divine might raged without end, Hua Fuchen could only cast a long, conflicted glance at Meng Kongchan. 

Among the crowd gathered below, many still bore vivid memories of the day Hua Caili was to wed Yun Che—the day when everything began to unravel. Though not all were privy to the full truth, those who were present that day, those who had listened carefully, had long begun to piece it together.

The Abyssal Monarch… wanted something from the Well of Samsara—something so badly that even his pride had bent before it.

And now, Yun Che had returned from that very place.

Given his brilliance, his cunning, and the unnatural aura he now carried, how could he not know what Mo Su desired? How could he have walked away from the Well of Samsara without taking that which the Monarch had yearned for?

He knew. He had it. And now… this battle, this earth-shattering war between two supreme beings, was less a clash of hatred and more a carefully choreographed political theater—a dance performed for the Gods and people of the Abyss. A necessary performance. A divine illusion.

And yet, despite knowing this, none dared to speak. Because in their hearts, they understood too well: this was what the people of the Abyss needed to see. A display of strength. A reckoning. A justification for what would follow.

So they watched… in silence.

While those thoughts ran through Hua Fuchen's mind, elsewhere, Hua Qingying's focus lay not on the heavens, nor on the war between rulers—but solely on one person: Hua Caili.

She stretched her divine sense again and again, scanning every corner of the battlefield, every crevice in the barriers, every fluctuation of profound energy. But no trace. No presence. Nothing.

Her heart tightened with each passing moment.

She wanted—needed—to leave this place, to go search for her. But then she remembered the Monarch's words, the instructions whispered before this day began, the preparations made in secret… and despite the storm raging in her chest, despite the fear clawing at her soul, she could only grit her teeth—and stay.

In the sky above, amid the storm that none of the gathered Gods could bear to gaze into, the two divine figures finally parted—each one drifting backward through the torn fabric of space, the swirling storm of chaos momentarily stilling around them. The entire world seemed to hold its breath as the two most supreme beings in the Abyss faced each other once more.

Amid the silence, where even the heavens dared not rumble, a voice finally broke through—calm, clear, and laced with an edge that pierced through the veil of battle like a blade.

"Enough with the warm-up."

It was Yun Che who spoke, his words carried not by force, but by certainty. And yet, despite the even tone, those words caused Mo Su's golden pupils to contract ever so slightly.

They struck him—not because of arrogance or provocation—but because of their precision.

"You've been holding back since the beginning," Yun Che continued, his eyes calm, unwavering, meeting the Monarch's gaze with the full weight of truth, "because you're afraid of hurting me."

A truth that had not been spoken aloud, but one that had lingered silently between every clash of their blades, in every moment Mo Su's sword stopped just short of tearing into flesh. A hesitation born not of doubt, but of memory.

"But surely by now," Yun Che said, his voice steady, eyes narrowing ever so slightly, "you've judged my battle strength clearly… haven't you?"

!!!!!

A wave of unspoken emotion flashed through the air. Even the chaotic winds seemed to recoil. Mo Su's expression didn't change, but in the deepest corner of his golden gaze… something stirred as Yun Che voice continue.

"But unfortunately," Yun Che began, his voice calm yet resolute, cutting through the storm like a divine blade, "I'll tell you this right now—I know what your plan is. I understand perfectly that all of this… everything you're doing… is to uphold your dignity as the Monarch of this world."

His words weren't mocking, nor dismissive—they were simply the truth, laid bare with the sharpness of a sword unsheathed.

"But..."

The cold edge in his tone sharpened as the wind howled around him, his black robes billowing like a sovereign descending from the void,

"I am the Emperor of the God Realm. Its one and only ruler. And when all of you enter that place…" His eyes darkened, glinting with a fierce, unwavering light, "I will still be its only Emperor."

"So while you uphold your dignity," Yun Che continued, his voice dipping lower, colder, "I—though I do not wish to trample it—will do exactly that."

There was no cruelty in his voice, only purpose. The kind of determination that did not waver before gods or heavens. And in that moment, the storm behind him began to churn anew, as if responding to the resolve that bled from his every word.

"Because when all is said and done…" His voice echoed like a judgment written into the stars, "only one can rule it all."

And with those final words, his eyes—once still and quiet—suddenly ignited, black as the endless abyss, burning with divine sovereignty that refused to bow to anything or anyone.

Mo Su remained suspended in the air, unmoving, his golden robes rippling faintly as Yun Che's declaration echoed in the void between them—a declaration not of pride, but of absolute will, the will of one who sought to reign supreme.

And then—

"Hahaha… hahahaha…"

A low, deep laugh slowly spilled from Mo Su's lips, at first quiet, almost inaudible beneath the storm, but then rising, louder, sharper, as he turned his gaze fully onto Yun Che. But this time… his eyes had changed. The look in them no longer held restrained patience or hidden calculation—it had shifted into something deeper, something colder.

Amusement. Disbelief. And the sharp glint of fury behind it.

To think, the very power that Yun Che now wielded, the very strength that allowed him to stand here and clash blades with the Monarch of the Abyss himself… had only reached this height because he, Mo Su, had allowed it. It was under his gaze, under his silence, under his will that Yun Che was permitted to grow, to ascend, to become what he is now.

And yet… he dares say this? That he would remain the only ruler once they stepped into the God Realm?

Hahahahaha!

This—this—was the funniest joke Mo Su had heard in countless eras. It was so absurd, so bold, so arrogant, that even the ancient heavens above them seemed to waver in disbelief.

Yes, it was true. He had hoped to end this quickly. Because in the end… the Abyss, the countless years of dominion, the endless struggle—it all existed for her.

For the one who was his everything. The one who had given meaning to his life.

But this moment—this moment where his dignity was so openly trampled upon, where Yun Che dared speak of ruling alone in the face of a Monarch—was a line that could not be crossed.

This... he would not allow.

Then, without warning, a terrifying golden light erupted from Mo Su's body, radiating with such overwhelming brilliance that the heavens themselves seemed to halt in awe. The light was not merely blinding—it was divine, searing into the soul. Countless weaker cultivators screamed and fell to their knees, clutching at their eyes as blood trickled from their sockets. Even those of higher cultivation couldn't help but squint and avert their gazes, their divine senses trembling under the oppressive illumination.

Amid that boundless light, Mo Su's hand released the slender sword he once held.

And as it rose into the air before him, something changed.

From one blade… came two. Then two became four. Four into eight… And they kept multiplying—splitting again and again like reflections in a mirror of divine origin.

Each sword hovered in formation, shining with celestial authority, their mere presence shredding through the very fabric of space, slashing at the void itself, even distorting the laws of perception. They did not hum… they screamed, a chorus of divine blades exuding sword intent so pure, so absolute, it felt as though each one carried the weight of a universe.

"H-Heaven Breaker Sword?!!!" A roar tore from Hua Fuchen's throat as he stared skyward, ignoring the pain that scorched his vision. Though he could hardly see now, his eyes flooded with tears and blood, he knew—he knew that aura.

There was no mistaking it.

That was the aura of their kingdom's supreme sword technique—the Heaven Breaker Sword—a divine technique passed down since the ancient age, born from the Abyss itself.

But before the words fully settled in the air—

"No..." A soft but firm voice cut through beside him.

"It's… much more than that." Hua Qingying, her eyes burning with clarity, her divine sense stretched to its limits, spoke without hesitation. Her gaze—still fixed to the blinding sky above—was filled not with awe, but with understanding.

She, the highest Sword Cultivator of the era, could see what others could not. Yes, the aura above shared the same essence as the Heaven Breaker Sword.

But the energy that poured from it now… was greater—immeasurably greater. It was vaster, deeper, purer, and far more terrifying, as though the technique they had cultivated all their lives was but a pale shadow of this light.

This was not merely the Heaven Breaker Sword. This… was the origin of it. 

"CRACK...!"

A sharp, splintering sound rang out—clear and foreboding—as a jagged fracture tore through one of the barriers encasing the battlefield.

!!!!!!

The sudden rupture sent shock through the hearts of all present, and instantly—

"Fortify the barriers! Use all of your strength!"

The booming voice of Chief Priest Big Rage resounded like divine thunder, and without hesitation, the surrounding Gods snapped into action, pouring their power into the fraying walls of protection. As his brows furrowed and sweat traced a rare line down his forehead, Big Rage couldn't help but mutter to himself through clenched teeth:

"My Lord… wasn't this supposed to be mere political theater…? Then why… why are you suddenly getting serious?!"

His voice trembled with unease, even as the worlds behind him—vast, divine, pulsing with ancient energy—manifested one after another. With his divine will, he began to stitch the crumbling formation back together, but the pressure bearing down from above was only growing heavier.

And amidst it all, a voice—soft and filled with gentle concern—whispered in Yun Che's mind.

"Are you sure about this, Yun Che?"

Even among the Ancient True Gods, worry had begun to bloom.

"Don't worry, Little Li Suo," Yun Che replied with a faint smirk as his eyes locked onto the countless golden blades arrayed in the sky before him. "This Emperor knows exactly what he's doing."

"..." The silence that followed carried with it an audible twitch from Li Suo.

Little... Li Suo…

The moment the words reached her, her expression visibly stiffened. As more and more of her power and memories returned, her true self slowly resurfacing, she couldn't help but feel a strange mix of amusement and frustration. That name—spoken so casually, so intimately—grated against the divine pride she once held.

She wanted to scold him. She really did.

But in the end, she said nothing.

Because she had already surrendered to that name—long ago. To the man who now stood with the power and aura of the Ancestral Goddess, the man who once healed her very soul… and who now carried the world on his shoulders.

"Then… be careful." Her voice, gentle and quiet, drifted into his consciousness before fading away like mist in the wind.

And then—

"Yun Che," Mo Su's voice rang out, deep and sonorous, echoing from above where ninety-nine brilliant golden swords hovered in formation.

Each one pulsed with a sword aura so intense it could pierce through the heavens, their collective presence forming a radiant wheel of divine judgment, all of them locked on Yun Che with chilling focus.

"Do you know what this technique is called?"

Without hesitation, Yun Che raised his head slightly, expression utterly unamused, voice as cold as winter.

"This Emperor couldn't care less."

"...…" For a full moment, Mo Su's divine momentum stuttered. The words lodged in his throat, frozen by Yun Che's immediate dismissal.