The entryway Ao Xian had created in the chaotic void was a marvel of cosmic engineering. It was a stable, shimmering gateway of pure light, a tranquil harbor in an endless storm. As the day of the banquet arrived, the first of the guests emerged from the tumultuous void.
A single, impossibly sharp streak of silver light cut through the chaos and came to a halt before the gate. The light coalesced, reforming into the figure of Sect Master Jian Wushuang. He stood for a moment, his hand resting on the hilt of his divine sword, his jade-like face calm but his eyes sharp and analytical. He observed the gateway, sensing the absolute, unshakable laws that governed its existence. This was not a formation held together by spiritual energy; it was a piece of reality that had been fundamentally rewritten. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he stepped through.
He found himself standing at the edge of a colossal, floating island of polished, white jade. Before him, a grand flight of stairs led up to a pavilion of impossible grandeur, its roof a living constellation of captured light. The air was pure, clean, and filled with a spiritual energy so dense and refined that a single breath was more nourishing than a month of secluded cultivation in his own sect. Lining the stairs, standing at perfect, ten-foot intervals, were the celestial soldiers. They were perfectly still, their featureless faces betraying no emotion, yet their collective presence was a silent, crushing pressure.
Jian Wushuang, a peak Dao Tribulation master—the absolute pinnacle of the mortal path—felt his own formidable sword will being naturally suppressed, not by a hostile force, but by the sheer, overwhelming order of the domain. These were not guards; they were living embodiments of law.
At the top of the stairs, Long Jing stood waiting, her expression as placid and unreadable as a deep ocean. She gave a slight, respectful nod. "Sect Master Jian Wushuang. Welcome to the Myriad Realms Pavilion. The host awaits."
Jian Wushuang returned the bow, his pride as a supreme swordsman forcing him to remain composed. "This one is honored by the invitation," he said, his voice steady. He followed Long Jing up the stairs and into the grand hall, his eyes taking in every detail, his mind trying and failing to comprehend the level of power required to create such a place.
He was not the only one to arrive. A moment later, a shadow of pure demonic energy tore through the void, and a massive throne of bone and obsidian, carried by a dozen hulking demons, crashed to a halt before the gateway. The Demonic Emperor of the Ashen Devil Empire sat upon his throne, his obsidian-skinned face a mask of sullen arrogance.
For those who survive the Dao Tribulation, the mortal coil is shed and the Immortal Path begins. The first stage is the Earthly Immortal, a being who is a god in the lower realms but a mere novice in the heavens. Above them is the Heavenly Immortal, the first true stage of the upper realms, where one begins to truly refine their comprehension of universal laws. The Demonic Emperor was a late-stage Heavenly Immortal, a true powerhouse who had bathed in the blood of his enemies to forge his empire.
"So this is the place," he boomed, his voice a low growl. "Hmph. A bit gaudy for my tastes." He intended to make a grand, intimidating entrance, to show this mysterious host that he was not a man to be trifled with.
He and his retinue of demonic generals stepped through the gate. The moment they set foot on the jade island, the Demonic Emperor froze. The pure, orderly spiritual energy of the pavilion was anathema to his chaotic, demonic cultivation. It felt like he was breathing purified fire. The silent, unwavering gaze of the celestial soldiers made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. The casual, absolute authority of this place was a physical weight, pressing down on his arrogance and forcing it into submission. His demonic generals, all powerful Soul Formation experts, were pale and trembling, their demonic flames sputtering in the pure air.
Long Jing greeted him with the same, placid expression. "Demonic Emperor of the Ashen Devil Empire. Welcome. Your guards may wait outside. They will not be needed here."
The Emperor's face flushed with rage. To be asked to leave his retinue behind was a great insult. He was about to roar in defiance, but then he looked into Long Jing's eyes. He saw no threat, no challenge. He saw only a statement of fact, as immutable as the rising of the sun. He gritted his teeth, and for the first time in centuries, he backed down. "Wait outside," he snarled at his generals, before stomping up the stairs alone, his pride wounded, his arrogance replaced by a wary, grudging respect.
Inside the hall, Hu Mei'er, holding a guest list woven from threads of light, greeted him with a dazzling, mischievous smile. "Your Excellency, welcome. Your seat is this way." She led him to a table laid with exquisite fruits and wine. He sat, and then realized with a jolt of fury that the seat directly next to his was occupied by the Great Khan of the Beast Rider Tribes, a man whose favorite concubine he had once tried to steal, sparking a bloody, decade-long border war. The two rulers locked eyes, their expressions a mixture of hatred and disbelief, but in this place, they dared not even speak a hostile word.
More guests arrived. The Matriarch of the Nine Poisons School, a woman whose beauty was as famous as her deadly venoms, a mid-stage Heavenly Immortal, arrived on a cloud of toxic, purple mist. The mist dissipated instantly upon reaching the jade island, and she was forced to walk the rest of the way, her seductive smile looking somewhat strained. Hu Mei'er, with a cheerful grin, seated her directly across from her sworn enemy, Jian Wushuang. The swordsman's hand instinctively went to his hilt, his killing intent flaring for a split second before a single, silent glance from a nearby celestial soldier froze him in place. He realized with a chilling certainty that even with his divine sword at his side, he was as harmless as a newborn. The weapon was a comfort, but here, it was nothing more.
Lord Feng Mian, the newly ascended Earthly Immortal, arrived looking pale and terrified, his previous arrogance completely gone. He bowed so low to Long Jing that his head touched the ground, and he practically scurried to the most remote, unimportant table he could find, hoping to become invisible.
Finally, the most important guests made their entrance. A vortex of pure, silent darkness, twenty feet tall, opened in the center of the hall. It was the Void Sovereign of the Abyssal Court, its form a swirling mass of shadows that seemed to absorb the light and sound around it, exuding an aura of pure, chaotic nothingness. At the same time, a shimmering, illusory figure coalesced at the entrance. It was the Oracle of the Immortal Alliance, a woman in a featureless white mask, her presence feeling both ancient and ethereal. Both were powerful Heavenly Immortals, the hidden players behind the rising chaos.
The moment they had all been seated, Ao Xian made his entrance. He did not descend from the heavens or appear in a flash of light. He simply walked out from a side chamber, as if he were the host of a simple dinner party. He wore the same simple, elegant white robes, his smile warm and welcoming.
He paused, his gaze falling upon the swirling vortex of darkness that was the Void Sovereign. "Ah, the representative from the Abyssal Court," he said, his tone pleasant. "A pleasure to have you. However, your current form is... inconvenient. It is absorbing the light and making the other guests uncomfortable. And you will not fit in your chair."
Before the Void Sovereign could react, Ao Xian simply flicked his finger.
A single, soundless ripple of pure, golden light shot from his fingertip. It was not an attack; it was a command. The ripple touched the twenty-foot-tall vortex of darkness. The chaotic, swirling shadows instantly shattered, like a pane of black glass struck by a hammer. The vortex imploded with a silent scream that was felt in the soul of every being present.
From the dissipating shadows, a figure stumbled forward, collapsing to one knee. It was a man, shockingly handsome, with skin as pale as bleached bone and hair as black as the void. He was dressed in ornate, black armor, and his eyes were swirling pools of pure darkness, now wide with a terror he had never known. This was the true form of the Void Sovereign, a form he had not been forced to reveal in millennia.
The entire hall was frozen in a state of absolute, terrified silence. The Demonic Emperor, Jian Wushuang, the Matriarch of Poisons—all of these supreme experts stared, their minds unable to process what they had just seen. A being as powerful as the Void Sovereign had its form shattered with a casual flick of a finger.
Ao Xian's warm smile never wavered. "There," he said, as if he had just tidied up a minor mess. "Much better. Now you can enjoy the feast properly." He looked around the room, his gaze passing over each and every one of them, from the mighty Demonic Emperor to the now-kneeling Void Sovereign. "Esteemed guests, welcome to my home. I am your host, Ao Xian. I am so glad you could all make it. I trust your journey was pleasant. Please, eat, drink, and be at ease. We have much to discuss."