The Whispering Star Realm returned to its serene rhythm. In the heart of The Murk, a young hero named Chen Fei awoke, the Trident of the Sea King humming gently in his hand, the warmth of his restored fortune a comforting presence in his soul. He was alone. The golem, the alchemist, and the memory of the white-haired demon were gone, leaving only the weight of the lessons he had learned. He took a deep breath, his eyes clear and resolute, and began his own story, a tale no longer bound by a pre-written script.
For Ao Xian, the play was over, the actors had taken their bows, and the stage was empty. His brief, amusing sojourn in the lower realms had run its course. While he often traveled physically between worlds, for this occasion, he decided a different approach was needed. Leaving the Whispering Star Realm, his consciousness, along with the projections of his maids, returned to the celestial city within his inner world. From this vantage point, he could both observe the countless lower realms and interact with the guests on vacation, all while planning his next grand move.
The atmosphere upon their return was subtly different. The lazy, vacation-like peace had been replaced by a new, more vibrant energy. The city, a construct woven from primordial essence and the conceptual laws of reality, seemed to hum with a higher level of activity.
As they walked towards the central palace, they passed a man enjoying the scenery. He was of middle age, with a stern, handsome face and a military bearing that even his casual, silken robes could not conceal. His eyes were like chips of obsidian, holding a deep, strategic light, and a single, elegant scar ran from his temple to his jaw, a mark not of defeat, but of a hard-won victory. This was General Ying, the commander of his father's Third Heavenly Legion, a being who had personally pacified rebellious star systems. He was on a rare, century-long leave.
"Young Lord," General Ying greeted, his bow precise and respectful, yet without a trace of subservience. "I trust your travels were... illuminating."
"They were a pleasant diversion, General," Ao Xian replied with a polite nod. "I trust your vacation is proving restful?"
"The quiet is a welcome change from the screams of dying gods," Ying said, his tone matter-of-fact. He glanced at a celestial mirror that was replaying the final moments of the battle in The Murk. "That Nether Empress's bloodline... a debased offshoot of the original. The true Empress was a formidable strategist. This little girl relied solely on brute force. A disappointing legacy." He had recognized the techniques instantly, a testament to the vast knowledge of the upper realms' powerhouses.
"My thoughts exactly," Ao Xian agreed. "The quality of protagonists in the lower realms has been declining lately."
Their conversation was interrupted as a projection appeared before them. It was the image of his father, Ao Tian, looking up from his cosmic chess game. His expression was calm, but his voice carried a new weight that resonated through the city.
"A message from the upper realms," Ao Tian stated. "The Nether-Tide is rising. A vibration in the very laws of reality has been detected. It is ahead of schedule."
The projection of Mo Lisha appeared beside him, a predatory gleam in her eyes. "How exciting. The old things sleeping in the abyss are beginning to stir. The children they left behind in the lower realms will be getting restless."
Ao Xian looked at the projections, his eyes, which had held only a placid amusement, now burned with a new, intense light. The vacation was over. A real game, a game played on a scale of countless realms, was about to begin. The random, disjointed stories of individual protagonists were nothing compared to this. This was a coordinated plot, a grand, multi-realm conspiracy.
"The 'Immortal Alliance' and the 'Abyssal Court'," General Ying said, his voice a low growl. "Ancient factions from the Era of Chaos, who went into hiding after their defeat. They have been planting seeds in the lower realms for eons, waiting for the Nether-Tide to rise and obscure the gaze of the heavens, giving them cover to reclaim their former, twisted glory."
"They will cause a great deal of trouble," Ao Xian mused, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across his face. "They will move in the shadows, using the lesser sects and realms as their pawns, manipulating events to achieve their goals. A grand, hidden scheme."
"Indeed, Young Lord," Ying confirmed, his military mind assessing the threat. "But do not be mistaken. Their schemes are merely the prelude. These are not petty villains who fight for territory. They fight to overturn the very order of the heavens. Their plans will culminate in war. Not just skirmishes, but full-scale invasions across realm-clusters. Worlds will burn, and their ultimate goal is to reignite the primordial war that nearly shattered the cosmos. Their strategies are deep, but their methods are brutal and absolute."
"Then I cannot simply be a spectator," Ao Xian declared, his decision made. "A scheme of this magnitude requires a worthy opponent. It requires a stage befitting its ambition." He turned to his maids, his eyes now gleaming with the light of a grand, new idea. "Hu Mei'er, I want invitations. Not simple slips of paper, but decrees of pure, undeniable will. They must be sent to the sect masters of the ten strongest righteous sects, the rulers of the ten most powerful demonic empires, and the hidden leaders of every ancient clan and forgotten bloodline across the thousand nearest realms."
"What will the invitations be for, Young Lord?" Hu Mei'er asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
"A banquet," Ao Xian announced, his voice resonating with a newfound power that made the very air of the city hum. "The 'Myriad Realms Banquet,' to be held here, in my city, in one month's time. We will discuss the... 'destiny' of the realms in this new, chaotic era."
"A bold move, Young Lord," General Ying noted, a flicker of admiration in his obsidian eyes. "You will force all the hidden players, all the schemers and the conspirators, to come out of the shadows and gather in one place. You are inviting the wolves directly into your home."
"Of course," Ao Xian said with a confident laugh. "It is so much easier to manage a conspiracy when all the conspirators are sitting at your dinner table. Let them scheme in the open where I can see them. Let them forge their pathetic alliances and reveal their pawns. As for the battles..." His smile widened. "A war needs funding, resources, and soldiers. By gathering all the leaders, I can control the flow of all three. I will not just counter their schemes; I will dictate the very terms of the coming war. My father would send his legions to crush them when they reveal themselves. That is a battle of strength. I prefer to win before the first sword is even drawn."
He turned his gaze towards the vast, sprawling city, a city that had, until now, been a quiet vacation spot. "Long Jing, assemble my Starlight Legion. They have been idle for too long. It is time they remembered their duties."
From the deepest, most ancient part of the celestial city, a dormant, terrifying power began to awaken. A legion of one million celestial soldiers, a force bound personally to Ao Xian, each one a being forged from the heart of a star, their armor gleaming with a light that could blind gods, began to stir from their eons-long slumber. They would not be an army of conquest. They would be the ushers, the waiters, and the security for the grandest, most dangerous banquet the multiverse had ever seen. Their mere presence would be a statement of power more profound than any threat.
The game had changed. Ao Xian was no longer a tourist looking for cheap entertainment. He was the host of a party for gods and monsters, and he was about to rewrite the destiny of a thousand realms. At his command, Hu Mei'er gracefully waved her hand. Thousands of invitations, each one a sliver of her master's undeniable will, transformed into streaks of golden light and shot out from the celestial city, crossing the boundaries of reality to find their targets—an unavoidable summons to the grandest, most dangerous stage in existence.