Darkness embraced him still, yet it no longer felt oppressive. Li Tianming stood alone in the cavern's heart, the shattered altar before him and the burning glyph 逆 seared into his palm. The silence was no longer empty—it thrummed with power, the world around him shifting subtly, like clay softening under heat.
The violet-black thread he had absorbed had not only strengthened his Fate Furnace — it had awakened something else within him.
He could feel it: an imprint etched onto his soul, like a brand written in the ink of rebellion.
The Inverse Path.
Where the Fate Furnace devoured threads and refined power, the Inverse Path corrupted those threads — twisted them. Rewired destiny.
He clenched his fist.
Before, the Threadstealer Gu had merely stolen. Now, it rewrote.
A scavenger with no talent could become a genius overnight. A peerless prodigy could be dragged into mediocrity. Cultivation realms could be reversed. Bloodlines blurred. Fated death rewritten into survival.
He could make the impossible possible — and undo Heaven's decrees.
Yet, such power did not come without consequence. Even now, his chest ached. His fate threads — the ones anchoring his existence — had become distorted. Tainted. Every breath felt like defiance. Every heartbeat, a rebellion.
And Heaven, surely, would notice.
But fear had no place in his heart.
He raised his hand. The glyph on his palm pulsed, and in his mind's eye, the world split open.
Thousands of threads appeared—golden, crimson, silver, blue—spanning into infinity, intersecting all things. Some connected to distant stars. Others wrapped around corpses. Some trembled with life, others with madness.
He touched one.
Instantly, he saw a vision—a young boy kneeling before a sect elder, swearing an oath, a fate of loyalty and sacrifice. That thread stretched toward a brilliant future… until it was severed in betrayal.
Li Tianming withdrew. He had not just seen it.
He had felt it.
And now, he understood the cost of each decision.
Rewriting fate wasn't just taking power. It was tampering with karma. With memory. With the very narrative of existence.
A low rumble drew his attention. Stone scraped against stone as a stairwell unfurled from the shadows behind the altar. Ancient mechanisms creaked to life after centuries of silence.
The way forward had opened.
He descended cautiously, light from his Fate Furnace illuminating the carved walls. Murals lined the descent—warriors piercing stars, immortals falling from the heavens in chains, and at the end, a single figure walking alone, his back to the heavens, surrounded by broken fate threads.
The First Defier.
Li Tianming's heart stirred.
There had been another before him.
At the bottom, the air grew warm, almost soothing. He stepped into a wide underground chamber — and froze.
Dozens of stone thrones lined the walls, each occupied by a skeletal figure clad in ancient robes, many still holding cracked weapons, faded scrolls, or broken artifacts. At the center was a vast circular mirror, dark as obsidian, yet reflecting no image.
He approached slowly.
Etched beneath the mirror was an inscription:
"When fate lies, truth is born in inversion."
Suddenly, all the skulls turned to face him.
Not physically—but their presence flared. One by one, their residual soul wills flickered to life, surrounding him like a chorus of silence.
Then a voice—several voices in unison—echoed in his mind.
"You who walk the Inverse Path… what do you seek?"
Li Tianming stepped forward. His voice was calm, unshaken.
"I seek freedom. Power. The right to carve my destiny with my own hands."
The souls whispered.
"And will you take responsibility for the fates you break?"
"I will."
"And will you bear the burden of rewriting karma, knowing it may consume you?"
"Yes."
"Then take the Pact of Defiance."
The glyph on his palm blazed. Threads gathered from the chamber—those of the long-dead Defiers—converging into the mirror. It rippled.
His reflection appeared.
But it wasn't him.
It was Li Tianming—older, his eyes void of mercy, his back scarred with countless battles. His Fate Furnace burned with galaxies. And behind him were countless kneeling silhouettes—empires bowed under his will.
The mirror shattered.
And the knowledge of the Nine Inverse Rites poured into his soul.
Each rite was a heretical cultivation law:
First Rite: Invert the Root — Turn your weakest trait into your core strength.
Second Rite: Steal the Lineage — Absorb ancestral powers without a drop of their blood.
Third Rite: Shatter the Skywheel — Escape the cycle of Heaven's tribulations.
…and beyond.
His foundation was no longer of this world.
He rose from the chamber a different man. As he emerged from the grave's depths, dawn had broken across the horizon.
The storm had passed.
And yet, as Li Tianming stepped back into the world, he felt the weight of a thousand eyes upon him.
The sky was watching. Heaven had noticed.
But he smiled anyway.
"Let it watch."
"I'll show it what defiance truly means."