The Advent Of A God

"It's been half an hour now… how much longer do we have to wait for the event to restart? Where is Lord Lylias?"

The one who spoke was Yéfén. His tone was laced with impatience and concern, as no one had any clue about Lylias's whereabouts. He wondered what their mysterious lord could possibly be up to. Glancing toward Biáshí, he asked, "Lady Biáshí, perhaps you might have some idea?"

The six other patriarchs turned their attention to her as well, expecting an answer—after all, she had interacted with Lylias far more than any of them.

Biáshí took a deep breath and rose from her seat, adjusting her sleeves.

"I haven't the slightest idea where Lord Lylias might be," she replied. "Though, considering the last thing he said was something about going after an 'uninvited mouse,' it's possible he's pursuing someone who tried to spy on him."

Upon hearing that, Patriarch Bâo Wúxiàng scoffed. "Who would be foolish enough to pry on someone like him? Are they so eager to die?"

"There could be many," Biáshí said calmly. "Just last night, during our spar, he mentioned someone from the moon was watching him."

"The moon?" Patriarch Zhúfen Báíling repeated, his brow furrowing. "Who could observe him from the moon…?" Then, realization struck him. "The Moon Goddess—Chang'e?"

"It's a possibility," Biáshí replied, though her tone remained uncertain. "I myself find it difficult to believe, but nonetheless, he said he managed to block her gaze... at least for a while."

"To block the gaze of a goddess..." Enxéu said, eyes wide. "Is he truly a deity, and not just some high immortal?"

"But if that's true," Zhúfen interjected, "why would he be here in the mortal realm? The gods cannot manifest here for long without the permission of the Jade Emperor—unless they're dealing with demons, great calamities, and the like."

He shook his head slowly.

"And as far as records go, there is no god by the name of Lylias…"

"Then perhaps I can ease that particular problem of yours…"

A voice echoed from above—calm, melodic, and yet undeniably commanding. From the tone alone, everyone present instantly knew it belonged to a woman.

They all looked up.

Suspended in the air stood a woman with a faint, knowing smile. Her purple eyes scanned the gathering with quiet confidence, her gaze lingering on the figures below as though nothing could possibly surprise her. Her long violet hair flowed behind her in silky waves, with two thick locks curling forward over her shoulders like elegant side bangs. Her lips bore the color of ripe grapes, and her dress… was difficult to describe.

It flowed around her like living shadow—layered in deep violet silk, trimmed with delicate frills along the hem. The shoulders were bare, and the form-fitting fabric hugged her figure with just enough boldness to draw every gaze. A strange violet hat adorned with black feathers rested atop her head, adding to her odd mystique. In her left hand, she lazily fanned herself with an ornate, frilly purple fan.

But what truly unsettled those who could sense Qi wasn't her appearance—it was the aura she gave off.

Her Qi felt eerily similar to Lylias's, though its flow was slightly less refined. Yet in terms of pressure, in weight, it was something else entirely—heavier, more suffocating. Like a coiled storm held barely in check.

She slowly descended onto the stage.

And as her feet touched the ground, a silent wave of dread rolled through the plaza. It sank into the bones of all present—commoners and cultivators alike. Throats went dry. Breathing grew shallow.

They didn't know why, but every instinct whispered the same truth:

This woman… was far more dangerous than Lylias.

And unlike him, she looked like the type who wouldn't hesitate to slaughter everyone for something as minor as a wrong glance.

Biáshí stepped forward, her face composed but her gaze sharp. As the city lord, it was her duty to stand before threats—no matter how overwhelming—for the sake of her people.

"Forgive me for being so blunt and skipping formalities," she said, standing tall before the descending pressure. "But may I ask who you are, and why you've come here?"

The mysterious woman flicked her fan open with a soft snap and replied, "Who I am is none of your concern. I simply came to ease a few of your... what do you call them—ah, queries—regarding the mystery that is Lylias."

Biáshí's eyes narrowed. "Are you somehow connected to Lord Lylias?"

"Oh, very much so," the woman said with a playful lilt. Then her expression twisted slightly. "And let me be perfectly honest with you: that man is full of crap and nonsense. Paranoid to a fault. He'd sell all of you in a heartbeat if he thought it might bring him the slightest advantage."

"We're quite aware of that…" Biáshí replied, her tone dry. "He made that impression very clear during our first interaction—when he brought everything back yesterday." She inhaled deeply, then let the breath out slowly. "Still, do you happen to know where Lord Lylias is? We're growing rather uncertain about what to do, just waiting around here."

"Ah, about that…" the mysterious woman said, a sly smile tugging at her lips. "Why don't you see for yourselves?"

A sleek black mirror materialized in her hand. With a casual flick, she tossed it into the air. It spun once—twice—then stopped midair and expanded rapidly, transforming into a large screen of shifting black mist.

The image it displayed sent a murmur through the crowd.

There was Lylias, standing in front of a woman clad in torn pink robes, blood streaking her face and soaking into the fabric. In her arms, she cradled the corpse of a man in black—his body riddled with gaping holes.

"Where is this place? And who are those man and woman with Lord Lylias?" Biáshí asked, her voice uneasy as she stared at the screen.

"Oh, those two?" the woman replied, casting a casual glance upward. "They're siblings—both in the later stage of the Nascent Realm. Unfortunately for them, the brother was killed by Lylias in a rather... unpleasant manner. As for the sister—well, she's too dazed to even process what just happened."

She gave a cold smile before continuing, "As for the location—it's what used to be Death Grave Mountain. First, he scorched the entire range with fire, hoping to catch them off guard. But they survived. So now, as you can see, he's turned it into a frozen wasteland."

Even as she spoke, a throne of swirling violet mist began to form beside her, shaping itself from smoke and air as if summoned by her presence alone.

"What was the reason for this conflict?" Biáshí asked, still watching the grim scene unfold above.

"They spied on him…"

Then, with regal ease, she seated herself upon the throne.

....

"How long are you going to stay like that?" Lylias said coldly. "Are you planning to retaliate or not? Stop crying over that weakling of a brother… What a waste of time."

That was it.

Bíezí didn't care who—or what—the man before her was anymore. Her brother was dead, and she would not let the one responsible walk away unpunished.

She dropped her brother's lifeless body to the ground, slamming her palm into the frozen earth. In a surge of fury, dozens of spears formed from condensed Qi erupted upward, piercing the ice in a violent assault.

But in an instant, they vanished.

The cracks sealed. The earth returned to its pristine, frozen stillness.

"Such futile attempts," Lylias said. "Using the power of time, I simply undid what you just did."

Bíezí roared in frustration and launched herself into the sky. As she descended, about to deliver a kick, Lylias raised his hand. A focused beam of light—composed of pure protons—fired forth, striking her at the speed of light, far too fast to dodge. The resulting explosion hurled her into the barrier surrounding the battlefield, shattering it on impact.

"Well, there goes the barrier..." he muttered, watching her fall.

He raised his hand again. "[Magic Missile]."

Multiple beams, constructed of concentrated protons and infused with mana, launched toward her in rapid succession. But suddenly, the trajectory of the projectiles shifted—veering back toward him.

But the wheel of time turned.

Destiny rewrote itself.

The reflected attacks, once fated to strike him, were re-routed—now destined to return to Bíezí.

She didn't expect it. Not this twist in fate.

The beams struck her mid-air in rapid succession, each impact bursting with explosive force. Shockwaves tore through the air, shaking the remnants of the battlefield.

And it still wasn't over.

As Bíezí's battered body plummeted toward the ground, Lylias dashed forward with frightening speed. He intercepted her descent, driving a brutal kick into her spine.

Crack!

A resounding boom echoed as blood burst from her mouth, and her body was sent hurtling down. She slammed into the ground with a bone-breaking crash, unmoving

....

"That's so brutal… I didn't expect him to be a sadist. I knew he was uncaring and all, but still..." Biáshí said, her voice shaken. Around her, everyone—except the mysterious woman—wore sympathetic, even horrified, expressions as they watched how mercilessly Lylias had dispatched Bíezí.

"Oh, you haven't even seen the half of it. Last time, this du—" the mysterious woman suddenly cut herself off. "Never mind," she said, snapping her fingers.

In the blink of an eye, both Fengshí's corpse and Bíezí's barely breathing body vanished from the screen.

Lylias glanced around sharply, visibly suspicious.

"Did you do something?" Biáshí asked, turning to the woman.

"Sort of," she replied with a cryptic smile. "Anyway, time to go."

With that, the mysterious woman vanished from the stage along with her throne. The screen faded as well, its final image seared into their minds—Lylias, consumed by madness, as he flattened the entire landscape in a storm of unchecked fury.