Against the Gods: Acension

Mo Su inhaled deeply, his chest rising with slow, deliberate control as he pushed down the burning pulse of frustration that surged through his ancient veins. Despite having lived for millions of years, having reigned over the Abyss with unmatched composure and strength, his heart had never been tested quite like this—not by enemy, not by time, but by the unbearable existence of Yun Che.

He understood now—clearly. Yun Che was trying to provoke him.

Every word, every gesture, every calculated act of defiance was not just arrogance, it was deliberate. Yun Che was digging into his nerves, chipping at the pillars of his patience, trying to pull him into a fury he had long since mastered.

But… why?

Mo Su's thoughts darkened, spiraling deeper. If you truly know my plan, if you understand the reason I've allowed all of this to unfold—then play along. Play your part so this can be done, so we can move beyond this farce and return to what truly matters.

Fine. You want to be the Emperor of the God Realm? So be it. Take your throne, rule your shattered heavens—I couldn't care less. Give me what I need, and I will disappear from your path like a ghost forgotten by time.

But this…

This constant provocation.

Don't push me, Yun Che.

Just because you've reached the Realm of True God with your own hands, just because you wield the strength of an Ancient True God in the flesh… so what?! You think you're untouchable?

I haven't even begun to use that yet.

And I don't want to. So don't force me.

Curses, fierce and venomous, rolled through Mo Su's divine mind, swirling like stormwinds against the iron walls of his restraint. His teeth clenched. His fists trembled at his sides. Then, with a cold exhale, he shook it all away. 

"It's called the Ninety-Nine Heaven Piercing Swords."

In the end, Mo Su chose to speak, his voice calm... or at least he tries to, yet carrying the solemn weight of ancient memory as the golden swords shimmered above like stars preparing to fall.

"You should know… my father…"

His voice grew distant, almost hollow, as if the very mention of that name carried too much weight for even him.

"He was the Heaven Punishing Creation God."

The sky trembled faintly at those words—not because of reverence from others, but because even now, that name held power, held memory, held terror.

"His ultimate divine art," Mo Su continued, his gaze lifting ever so slightly toward the endless void above,

"was the Heavenly Law Tribulation Sword."

A technique so absolute that it did not merely slay—it judged, and once judgment fell, not even a True God could escape erasure.

"And when paired with the strongest sword in existence… the Heaven Punishing Ancestral Sword… that one attack could erase even Gods from existence."

Though his voice remained steady, there was something else behind it. A flicker of pain. A shadow of reverence. Mo Su's eyes, despite their divine stillness, shone with a trace of awe—undeniable, unhidden—at the father who once stood above all creation, a being whose very presence rewrote the laws of the world.

But then, he turned his gaze back to Yun Che, and the light dimmed.

"But I am not my father."

The words were simple, but within them carried the sorrow of an eternity of comparison.

"I am not a Creation God. I never was. No matter how far I reach, no matter how many barriers I break, I cannot step into that same realm."

There was no bitterness in his voice—only truth. The truth of a son who had stood beneath a shadow too vast to escape.

"But…" He lifted his hand, and the sea of swords above him hummed in unison, divine radiance reflecting in his golden eyes. As Mo Su look at his swords floating with what seem to be endless might he said out, "I did succeed in creating divine arts and profound techniques of my own."

"This Ninety-Nine Heaven Piercing Swords, derived from—"

"Sluuurp… ahhhh."

The sudden, cheerful slurping sound interrupted Mo Su's solemn explanation, cutting through the reverent silence like a dagger made of mockery. The voice that followed—Yun Che's, carefree and utterly pleased—rang out with such casual joy that Mo Su's eyes nearly popped from their sockets.

Right before him—before the gathered Gods, the High Priests, the Divine Regents—Yun Che had sat down on his sword… and brewed himself a cup of tea.

As Mo Su spoke of the origins of his divine technique, a technique capable of obliterating worlds, a technique so potent that even Chief Priest Big Rage would be placed in a life-or-death crisis should he face it directly—Yun Che had not even pretended to listen.

He had taken out a teacup, summoned water, steeped the leaves, and drank it.

With a slurp.

As though he were in his own courtyard. As though the throne of the Abyss, the Monarch himself, and the wrath of all the gathered powers were nothing more than background noise.

To Yun Che, it seemed… none of it mattered. He simply didn't care.

"You… YOU!!!"

This time, Mo Su's voice no longer trembled with suppressed wrath—it exploded with it. Whatever threads of composure, reason, and regal restraint he had clung to shattered in an instant.

He had intended—despite everything—to give Yun Che a path out. A chance to de-escalate, to meet at the edge of hostility and retreat with dignity.

But now—

Now, all of it had been trampled beneath Yun Che's sheer arrogance, his complete disregard, his mockery.

What was left in Mo Su's chest was no longer judgment.

It was fury. Cold. Vast. 

"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"

"BOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!"

In an instant, the Pure Land trembled as Mo Su's full aura was unleashed, no longer restrained, no longer tempered. The heavens shook, the earth cracked, and reality itself seemed to recoil beneath the sheer pressure erupting from the Abyssal Monarch's divine fury. All reason, all tolerance had been crushed under the weight of Yun Che's unbearable insolence, and now—Mo Su wanted nothing more than to beat the living hell out of the man before him.

With a single thought, space rumbled like a collapsing world.

"BOOOOOOMMMMM!!!!"

The sky split as Ninety-Nine Heaven Piercing Swords tore through the void, each blade glowing with divine authority and apocalyptic intent. In a fraction of an instant, they crossed the distance, forming a rain of destruction that descended upon Yun Che like a storm forged by the will of gods.

"Heh."

Yun Che only smiled.

He had been waiting for this—waiting for Mo Su to finally act without restraint.

And just as the swords approached, a flash of abyssal light surged from beneath his feet as the legendary Heaven Smithing Devil Emperor Sword disappeared from below and materialized within his hand. At that very moment, his aura exploded—the aura of a True God, but one that pulsed with such terrifying density that it stood shoulder to shoulder with Mo Su's own.

And then—he swung.

"BOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!"

A deafening explosion shook all of existence.

RUMBLEEEEEEE!!!!

The impact was cataclysmic. The Ninety-Nine Swords, which carried the might to tear through realms and gods alike, were met head-on by a single swing from Yun Che—and stopped.

Yet just as Yun Che's stopped the blades—the Ninety-Nine Heaven Piercing Swords suddenly vanished.

In the blink of an eye, their overwhelming pressure disappeared, and the vast expanse of the sky fell eerily silent.

But it wasn't over.

"Zsskkk—!"

The chilling sound of a blade rending through flesh echoed out, crisp and undeniable.

A sharp glint flashed past Yun Che's side. His eyes narrowed, and for the briefest instant, the vast, divine perception that stretched from him like a net across space—was severed.

The swords had not disappeared.

They had merely shifted.

From every angle—above, below, behind, from the very edges of perception—they pierced through the void once more, surrounding Yun Che like a swarm of divine judgment. Each blade moved not like a weapon, but like a sentient executioner—silent, intelligent, lethal.

To Yun Che, it felt as if even the fabric of space and time around him had been torn, twisted, and weaponized. His divine sense—so vast it once mapped the world in a thought—was being shredded.

"This divine technique that I created… is not something you can block so easily."

Mo Su's voice echoed, cold and unrelenting, resounding through the air and Yun Che's mind alike.

"Each sword holds a will of its own. They tear space. They pierce perception. No matter how fast you are, no matter how vast your divine sense may be—

You won't see it coming."

And then, as the swords encircled once more, tightening in the air like coiling dragons, Mo Su's voice resounded inside Yun Che's soul—calm, but absolute.

"Submit, Yun Che… and I will spare your life."

As Mo Su's voice echoed through Yun Che's soul like a divine command, the sky around them became a storm of silver light—one blade after another, moving with terrifying precision and intelligence, began to land their marks.

Slash!

Crack!

From every angle—above, behind, within even the smallest folds of torn space—the Ninety-Nine Heaven Piercing Swords pierced through Yun Che's defenses. Despite his monstrous power and divine reflexes, many of the blades still found their mark. His robe was torn in multiple places, fine trails of cuts slashing across his limbs, shoulders, back—each strike more accurate and merciless than the last.

And yet… something was wrong. There was no blood. Not even a drop.

For every wound that appeared—it vanished just as fast, the flesh knitting itself back together in the span of a single breath, as if time itself dared not let him bleed.

Mo Su's eyes narrowed sharply. For all his fury, for all the pressure he had unleashed upon Yun Che, a realization now bloomed in his divine perception. His gaze focused, narrowing through layers of divine energy, until he saw it—faint, barely visible beneath the veil of black robes.

A soft, radiant glow.

Golden.

It pulsed not like profound energy, but like the essence of life itself, flowing through Yun Che's body in tandem with his breath.

"I see…" Mo Su muttered beneath his breath, the edge of battle briefly replaced by the edge of understanding.

His expression shifted, and a knowing smile slowly crept across his lips.

"No wonder you're so confident."

His voice no longer carried wrath—but recognition.

"The Great Way of the Buddha… Eighth Stage."

A technique that had long vanished from the realms of gods and mortals alike. A path of invincibility, one that cultivated the eternal body, forged by divine flame and endless cycles of life and death.

And yet, just as quickly as awe flickered in his eyes, it was replaced with gleaming pride—and something else.

"But unfortunately for you…" Mo Su's voice deepened, and a brilliant golden light flickered in his pupils.

"I'm the one who created that technique."

Then, just like his swords, Mo Su's figure vanished into the void—without a ripple, without a trace. And in the very instant that Yun Che was still occupied, desperately parrying the relentless rain of swords, a golden fist suddenly surged from beneath him, striking like a divine ambush from the underworld.

!!!!!!!!!!!

With horrifying accuracy, the fist—glowing with condensed divine might—slammed brutally upward into Yun Che's chin, catching him completely off guard in the moment of his sword defense.

"BOOOOOOMMMMM!!!!!!"

The sound shook the skies like a meteorite hurling upward in reverse—Yun Che's body shot high into the air, spinning violently as a sickening crack echoed through the air. A sharp snapping sound followed—his teeth had shattered, and his grip loosened as his sword slipped from his hand, spinning away into the void above.

"YES!!!!!!"

Across the battlefield, the watching Gods—those who could still maintain their clarity amidst the chaos—erupted with silent roars of triumph within their hearts. For a moment, it seemed as though Yun Che had finally been overwhelmed, finally crushed by the might of the ancient.

But Mo Su was far from finished.

With a deafening crack, space itself split apart like broken glass, and his golden figure streaked through the void like divine judgment descending. A radiant sword shimmered in his grip, and with flawless momentum, he stabbed forward—a strike so fast it left no shadow, piercing through the broken space and straight into Yun Che's ascending form.

ZSKKKKK!!!!

BOOOOMMMMMM!!!!

The sword didn't merely pierce Yun Che's divine protective aura—it ripped through it with unstoppable force, and in the very next instant, the energy embedded within the strike detonated, a devastating eruption of golden light bursting outward!

Yun Che's body was hurled back like a broken meteor, part of his torso torn open, a chunk of flesh and bone severed completely from the explosion! But it wasn't just his body that suffered—the blade had torn into his very soul, slicing through it as though it were nothing more than silk. Behind him, space shattered into fragments, like brittle glass struck by a celestial hammer. The shockwave that followed rippled outward, a cataclysmic burst of might that shook the heavens and tore through the earth.

BOOOMMMM!!!!!

Yun Che's body crashed into the cold, barren ground of the Pure Land, a thunderous impact shaking the entire realm. Dust and debris erupted around him like a burial storm, obscuring the crater as tremors rolled across the land. Even the lesser cultivators standing far away struggled to stay upright, their legs buckling as they tried desperately to stabilize themselves under the crushing pressure.

"He... he has to be dead, right?!" one of the Divine Extinction-level Pure Land Guards muttered in disbelief, eyes wide and filled with awe as they gazed at the devastated battlefield. This—this was their Monarch's power. The terrifying, absolute power of the Abyssal Sovereign himself.

"I knew it! Even if Yun Che is monstrous, how could he ever compete with His Majesty!" an Abyssal Knight exclaimed with fervent pride.

"Your Majesty's might is unmatched!" the knights roared in unison.

"Your Majesty's might is unmatched!" echoed the Pure Land Guards, their voices trembling with reverence.

Yet, as the cheers swelled among the weaker cultivators, those with true power—those whose senses pierced through illusion and dust—stared silently at Yun Che's unmoving body.

"He... can't really be dead, right?"

A single murmured doubt, quiet yet heavy, began to take root in their hearts.

With how monstrous Yun Che was, there was no way he would fall from a single strike! If he did, then his decision to come here alone would have been nothing short of idiotic. Well… it was idiotic to begin with—but surely, he must have some hidden card, right?!!!

And just as many of the Gods had begun to suspect—he did.

Against all reason, despite having parts of his body torn apart, Yun Che's battered figure began to stir. Slowly—painfully—he pushed himself up from the fractured ground, his form illuminated by a blinding golden radiance that grew more brilliant with every breath.

In the span of mere moments, his severed arm began to regenerate. Muscle and bone reformed with terrifying speed, the missing portions of his body rebuilt from pure divine energy, as if sculpted anew by the hands of heaven. Even the damage to his very soul—cleaved by the earlier attack—was being mended, the tear closing with a surge of golden light that shook even the most resolute cultivators to their core.

"?????"

High above, Mo Su's gaze darkened, his golden eyes narrowing as he stared at the impossible scene unfolding below.

Something was wrong.

He, the one who had personally created the Great Way of the Buddha, knew its every boundary—its every law and limitation. And what he was witnessing… was not within them.

The golden radiance flowing from Yun Che—it held the mark of the eighth stage of the Great Way of the Buddha. It should not—could not—have the power to regenerate such grievous wounds at this speed. Not the body. Not the soul.

And yet, Yun Che was standing again. Whole. Undaunted. Burning with light.

And... why... aren't you bleeding? With all those injuries...why am I not seeing a single drop of blood?! Still Mo Su cast aside his confusion. There would be time for answers later. Right now, action was all that mattered.

Before Yun Che could fully complete his healing—before he could even take another breath—Mo Su was already there.

Bursting forth from shattered space like divine retribution, his figure blazed like a comet of judgment. His speed defied thought, surpassing even light, and his presence—hotter than a thousand suns—fell upon Yun Che like an apocalypse set ablaze.

His fist, wreathed in radiant golden divine might, crashed down upon Yun Che, not as a strike, but as a decree—an Monarch's will to annihilate. T

Behind Mo Su, his ethereal worlds began to stir—manifesting into Laws, each one pulsing with unimaginable might. As those divine Laws harmonized, they gave birth to a power so terrible that the very air around him twisted and roared. All of it surged into his clenched golden fist, a force capable of obliterating anything in its path.

Heaven Punishment Rage God's Fist!

In that moment, Mo Su's entire body radiated the divine power of the Rage God. He had made his decision—to end this here and now. With no more hesitation, he unleashed his full strength—one hundred percent of his Laws, his Divine Physique, and every drop of divine might he could summon. All of it surged into that singular fist, now glowing with such terrifying brilliance it looked as if it could pierce through all creation.

"You better survive this, Yun Che!" was the last thought that crossed Mo Su's mind—just before an unfamiliar chill of dread abruptly crawled down his spine.

"Moon Star Restoration!"

The moment the golden fist closed in, crackling with divine fury, the Heaven Smithing Devil Emperor Sword suddenly appeared in Yun Che's hand—its emergence was so fast, even faster than Mo Su's own movement, that it seemed to defy time itself. Without a moment's pause, Yun Che swung the sword forward.

"BOOOOOOMMMM!!!!!"

The golden fist collided with the dark, transcendent blade.

And in that instant—everything stopped.

Mo Su's momentum, his power, his Laws… even his thoughts—all froze. In a sliver of time so brief it existed only between heartbeats, the Laws that had fueled his divine strike bent backward, recoiling violently. The full might of his Annihilation Fist, empowered by the Rage God, was rejected—repelled—and turned back against him!

"BOOOOOOMMMMMMM!!!!!"

"CRACK!!!!"

"UGHHHHHHHH!!!!"

Mo Su's body was hurled backward, his figure tossed like a shattered comet, blood spraying in long, gruesome arcs behind him. He soared across the sky, crashing violently into the fortified divine barriers.

"BOOOOOMMMM!!!!"

The impact triggered a colossal explosion, the force of which shook the very heavens. Ancient True Gods spat blood from their mouths, their bodies reeling from the force. Even the True Gods felt their vision blur as blood dripped from their lips.

Since they used their divine powers to create and sustain the barriers, any force that struck them would also send a ripple of impact back to their bodies. This was how terrifying the power of Mo Su attack is!

Thankfully, by a miracle of divine craftsmanship, the force was contained within the towering barriers, sparing those beyond from devastation.

"MY LORD!!!!!"

"YOUR MAJESTY!"

But no one paid heed to their own pain—not to their fractured bodies or burning souls. Every eye turned in horror toward the crimson-streaked figure, his golden light now smeared in blood, slowly sliding down the barrier wall like a lifeless puppet—his aura flickering, barely holding on.