The purple-gold pillar of Imperial Providence pierced the suffocating gloom of the Abyss of Despair, washing over Lu Chen's blood-streaked face. It did not originate from the sky above—the Heavens had long abandoned this wretched place. Instead, the blinding beacon of destiny bled horizontally from the sheer, vertical cliff face miles above him.
In the palm of his hand, the Luck-Binding Mirror trembled, its mercury-like surface rippling with a ravenous hunger.
Imperial Providence. The highest grade of Qi Yun known in the Great Azure Realm. A fortune so dense it could birth a dynasty or forge a Sword Sovereign. And it was just sitting there, waiting in the dark.
Lu Chen wiped the viscous black blood of the Nether-Gouger from his cheek. His newly forged Void Root thrummed in his Dantian, a hollow singularity demanding to be fed. He was currently at the third stage of Qi Refinement. It was nowhere near enough to claw his way out of the Abyss, let alone tear Fang Tianyou's head from his shoulders.
He walked to the base of the colossal cliff face. The rock was abyssal obsidian, smoothed by millennia of corrosive miasma and practically indestructible. To climb it bare-handed was suicide.
He needed a blade.
Closing his eyes, Lu Chen reached into the dark expanse of his Dantian. In his past life, his Innate Spirit Root had produced a brilliant, azure Sword Intent—sharp, righteous, and arrogant. Fang Tianyou had stolen that. What remained was the Void Root, born from the plundered luck of a dead beast and the absolute zero of Lu Chen's own despair.
If my destiny has been erased, then my sword shall be the eraser.
He channeled his World Essence through the Void Root, directing it to his right index and middle fingers.
There was no flash of light. No hum of vibrating spiritual energy. No pressure bearing down on the surrounding air. Instead, the ambient purple-gold light around his fingers simply... ceased to exist.
An inch-long blade of pure, absolute blackness extended from his fingertips. It did not reflect light; it consumed it. It was a tear in the fabric of reality.
Lu Chen pressed the Void Sword Intent against the indestructible abyssal obsidian.
Sshck.
There was no resistance. No spark of friction or grating noise of stone meeting steel. The rock simply vanished where the black blade touched it, leaving a perfectly smooth, hand-sized indentation.
Lu Chen's lips curled into a cold, predatory smile. A Sword Intent that left no spiritual signature. A blade that made no sound. It was the ultimate weapon for an era defined by scarcity and theft.
"Let's climb," he whispered to the silence.
He plunged his fingers into the rock, carving handholds with effortless precision, and began his ascent into the graveyard of gods.
***
Time lost all meaning in the Abyss. The higher Lu Chen climbed, the thicker the corrosive miasma became, stinging his eyes and burning his lungs. But the higher he went, the richer the harvest.
The Abyss of Despair was the dumping ground for the Great Azure Realm's failures. Pinned to the cliffs by ancient, rusted spears, or jutting out from shallow crevices, were the skeletal remains of countless 'Chosen Ones.' These were the geniuses who had lost the battle for the world's fading providence.
Most were completely drained, their bones crumbling to dust as Lu Chen passed. But through the Luck-Binding Mirror strapped to his forearm, Lu Chen saw the hidden truth.
About a thousand feet up, he encountered the skeleton of a woman wearing the rotted silk of a bygone era. Above her skull hovered a faint, flickering wisp of silver Qi Yun.
A remnant of a Heavenly Opportunity, Lu Chen realized. Even in death, her unfulfilled destiny clung to her bones.
Without hesitation, Lu Chen pressed his palm against her skull. "Your journey ended here. Mine is just beginning. Give it to me."
The mirror flared. The silver wisp of luck was violently torn from the skeleton. The moment the providence left her, the skeleton instantly turned to ash, its anchoring existence erased from the world's memory.
The silver luck flooded into Lu Chen's Dantian. His Void Root spun furiously, grinding the foreign destiny into pure, raw World Essence.
Crack!
His meridians expanded. Fourth Stage of Qi Refinement.
He didn't stop. He kept climbing.
Three thousand feet up. A massive, four-armed skeleton embedded in the rock. A golden aura of providence, thick as a thumb, lingered in its ribcage.
Plunder.
Fifth Stage of Qi Refinement.
Five thousand feet up. A cluster of seven skeletons, all wearing the faded crests of an ancient imperial guard, their collective luck pooling together like a dying sun.
Plunder.
Sixth Stage. Seventh Stage!
With every wisp of stolen luck, Lu Chen's physical body was reforged. The agonizing ache in his hollowed-out chest faded, replaced by explosive, coiled power. He was not cultivating by absorbing the world's natural energy—that was the path of fools in this Age of Fading Providence. He was cannibalizing the world's history.
Fang Tianyou, Lu Chen thought, his fingers silently annihilating another chunk of obsidian to pull himself higher. You stole my Innate Spirit Root because you believed you were entitled to the Heavens' favor. But the Heavens are dead. And I am the vulture picking at their bones.
Finally, his hand breached a wide, natural alcove carved into the cliff face.
The source of the purple-gold pillar.
Lu Chen hauled himself over the ledge and stood up, his breath catching in his throat.
Chained to the back of the alcove by nine immense, black iron spikes was a skeleton unlike any other. Its bones were not white, but translucent, shimmering like flawless jade. Despite being dead for millennia, a terrifying pressure radiated from the marrow, threatening to crush Lu Chen's newly tempered organs.
But what held Lu Chen's gaze was the Qi Yun.
A torrent of purple-gold Imperial Providence cascaded from the skeleton's skull, so dense it looked like liquid metal. This wasn't just luck. This was the destiny of an emperor who had nearly mended the Great Celestial Sunder, only to be betrayed and cast down.
The Luck-Binding Mirror in Lu Chen's hand grew scorching hot. It vibrated violently, projecting a deep, primal craving into Lu Chen's mind.
He stepped forward, raising the mirror.
Bzzzt—!
The moment the mirror's invisible pull touched the purple-gold aura, a violent shockwave blasted Lu Chen backward. He skidded across the stone, coughing up a mouthful of blood. The providence was resisting. It was too proud, too heavy, to be consumed by a mere Qi Refinement insect.
"You're dead!" Lu Chen snarled, wiping his mouth. His eyes burned with a feral intensity. "Your era is over. Your kingdom is dust. You have no right to hoard this destiny!"
He lunged forward again, but this time, he didn't just rely on the mirror. He activated his Void Sword Intent.
His left hand held the mirror, projecting the extraction beam. His right hand became a blade of absolute, consuming blackness. As the purple-gold providence manifested a physical barrier of pure pressure to repel him, Lu Chen slashed upward.
The Void Sword Intent met the Imperial barrier.
Silence.
The absolute erasure of the Void Intent carved a microscopic fissure right through the defense of the dead emperor's luck. It was just enough.
Lu Chen thrust the Luck-Binding Mirror into the breach.
"PLUNDER!"
The cavern erupted in a blinding flash of purple and gold. A scream that transcended time echoed in Lu Chen's mind as the massive pillar of Imperial Providence was forcibly ripped from the jade skeleton.
The sheer volume of destiny crashing into Lu Chen's Dantian was akin to swallowing a sun. The Void Root spun so fast it began to crack, screaming under the pressure of the Imperial luck. Lu Chen fell to his knees, blood weeping from his eyes, nose, and ears. His skin tore open, revealing muscles that rapidly healed and tore again in a vicious cycle of destruction and rebirth.
Eighth Stage!
Ninth Stage!
Peak of Qi Refinement!
His cultivation bottleneck shattered like glass. The overwhelming luck didn't just boost his cultivation; it triggered a 'Heavenly Opportunity.'
As the final dregs of the purple-gold light vanished into the mirror, a sharp clink sounded on the stone floor.
The jade skeleton, entirely stripped of its stabilizing providence, rapidly decayed into coarse grey ash. Where the skeleton's heart had once been, a tarnished silver ring now lay in the dust. A spatial ring.
Lu Chen gasped for air, his body steaming with excess energy. He picked up the ring. He didn't even have time to inspect its contents before a sudden shift in the Abyss's atmosphere made him freeze.
With the purple-gold pillar suddenly extinguished, the eternal darkness of the Abyss rushed back in. But from far above, a new light was descending.
Lu Chen scrambled to the edge of the alcove, pressing his back against the cold stone, melding into the shadows.
Three streaks of azure light were spiraling down the chasm, cutting through the miasma. Flying swords. Foundation Establishment cultivators.
As they slowed their descent, hovering just a hundred feet from Lu Chen's alcove, their voices carried through the thin air.
"The anomaly vanished right around this elevation," a sharp, arrogant voice echoed.
Lu Chen's blood ran cold, then immediately burned hot. He recognized that uniform. The flowing white robes trimmed with blue clouds. The Azure Cloud Sect.
"Keep your eyes peeled," a second voice commanded. "Sect Master Fang was clear. The Imperial Providence pillar means a supreme artifact has awakened, or an ancient tomb has cracked open. If it's an artifact, secure it. If someone else found it first... kill them and take it."
"What about Lu Chen?" a third voice asked nervously. "Senior Brother Fang threw him down here just three days ago. What if the anomaly was—"
"Don't be an idiot," the first voice sneered. "His Spirit Root was ripped out. He was bleeding like a stuck pig. Even if the fall didn't turn him to paste, the Nether-Gougers have definitely shat out his bones by now. Focus on the anomaly."
In the darkness of the alcove, Lu Chen stood up. The massive surge of Imperial luck had fully stabilized, coiling in his veins like a sleeping dragon.
He raised his right hand. The pitch-black, light-consuming blade of the Void Sword Intent extended from his fingertips, perfectly silent, utterly invisible in the dark.
Three Azure Cloud Sect scouts. Three Foundation Establishment cultivators. Three walking, breathing reservoirs of stolen luck.
Lu Chen stepped off the ledge, falling silently into the abyss right above them.
Let the harvest begin.