The void rippled like liquid glass.
The eighteen figures still floated in the dark beyond the newborn world, their gazes locked upon it — a jewel glowing softly in endless black.
Greed had replaced curiosity.
Desire replaced wonder.
This world, rich and untamed, would be their battleground.
---
A voice of shadow spoke first — ancient, calm, commanding.
> "You all know the law of conquest."
One by one, the others nodded.
In the endless heavens, where countless civilizations rose and fell, every cultivator of higher worlds knew the Law of Subjugation:
To claim a new world, one must spread their Dao among its intelligent life.
When half of all sentient beings followed a cultivator's Dao, that world was conquered — its spiritual will shackled, its laws assimilated, its destiny rewritten.
If no Dao reached fifty percent, the world remained free — still bound to its own origin.
Even if thousands of Daos coexisted, as long as the world's original method persisted in at least one percent of its beings, the world endured.
Such was the balance the Void Heavens had decreed — a cosmic law preventing complete annihilation of creation.
The shadowy voice continued.
> "So be it. The world stands unclaimed. We may each descend our Dao as we wish — faith, artifact, soul mark, or natural law.
But none shall directly enter the world until the veil thins. Let your influence do the work."
No one objected.
Each of them had their own approach to conquest.
------
The first to act were those from the Faith Civilizations — divine beings whose Dao resonated through belief and worship.
A silver-haired goddess spread her hand. Countless shimmering holy relics emerged — crosses, staves, talismans, crowns. Each radiated sacred light.
> "I shall scatter my sacred echoes," she whispered.
"Whoever touches them shall feel devotion rise within their soul — and they shall become my priest."
The relics streaked downward like meteors, slipping past the world's outer veil, vanishing into forests, rivers, temples, and deep-sea trenches.
Another deity, his wings woven of flame, smirked.
> "Faith is too gentle. I prefer conversion by miracle."
He conjured radiant orbs — divine flames containing fragments of his Dao.
Wherever they fell, they would burn away doubt, seeding worship in the hearts of those who survived.
A golden-haired deity laughed.
> "Then let's begin."
He conjured a glowing scroll — a Dao Artifact woven from belief and compulsion.
> "Whoever reads this shall follow my Dao. They will believe, obey, and convert others in my name."
The scroll burned with sacred light, vanishing into the void as it descended toward the world below.
Others followed.
One cast down System Seeds, crystalline cores that would bond to the minds of mortals, creating invisible interfaces to guide their evolution.
Another scattered Dao Marks that would infect dreams.
Others shaped soul brands, songs of madness, and laws of order — each a different method to sow their Dao.
In mere moments, the void shone with rivers of falling light — eighteen directions, eighteen philosophies, eighteen paths.
Each being marked their claim through relics, whispers, systems, or laws.
------
The artifacts and systems pierced through the void's barrier — touching the uppermost layer of Arin's world.
And in that instant… the entire world shuddered.
Mountains resonated. Oceans rippled. The skies dimmed for a heartbeat — not from harm, but recognition.
Arin's consciousness stirred within the world's core.
He felt something foreign pierce through his law — subtle, elegant, and malicious.
His gaze turned skyward.
In that moment, the void itself responded.
An ancient whisper echoed through his mind — not words, but knowledge.
It was the Law of Conquest.
He saw visions of countless worlds being subjugated — of civilizations erased, of origins rewritten.
He understood the condition:
> "When half of your intelligent life follows another's Dao… your world shall be conquered."
The knowledge continued to pour in — the laws, the countermeasures, the balance.
> "If even one percent remain loyal to your origin, your world shall endure.
But if all turn away, you shall cease to exist."
Arin froze.
For the first time since his awakening, he felt threatened.
-----
His awareness expanded across his creation.
He saw the relics falling through clouds, vanishing into forests, sinking beneath seas from where they will influence beings in his world.
He saw threads of alien Dao brushing against the souls of mortals — unnoticed, irresistible.
He clenched his will. The void around him trembled.
> "So this is the game of the higher worlds…"
He now understood that his world — vast as it had grown — was but one among septillions, and the beings outside were cultivators far beyond anything he could imagine.
> "To them," he murmured, "my creation is nothing but a stepping stone."
His instincts screamed to erase every trace of foreign energy, yet the void whispered a warning:
> "You may defend… but not destroy.
You may nurture your origin… but not strike beyond your realm.
The Law of Balance binds all."
He could only fortify his world — not attack the intruders.
Arin exhaled slowly.
> "Then I will defend it my way."
------
Above, the eighteen beings felt nothing.
They smiled, believing their artifacts had entered unnoticed.
> "Now," said one, "we wait.
When belief takes root, this world will kneel."
----
The Conquest had begun.
But this time, the world would fight back.