The sky was not blue.
It was a fractured dome of pale gold, layered with rotating runes, laws overlapping like chains forged from light. Each symbol pulsed with authority—judgment made manifest. This was the Heavenly Tribunal, a place where even immortals lowered their heads and demons were erased without trial.
Today, five figures stood beneath it.
They were shackled.
Not by chains of metal, but by Mandate Seals—brands of Heaven burned directly into existence. Each seal floated before their chests, carved with divine script that dictated guilt before any word could be spoken.
Below them stretched an endless sea of cultivators.
Sects. Clans. Monks. Immortals. Executioners.
Every gaze carried the same emotion.
Fear.
At the center of the five stood a man dressed in black robes so plain they seemed almost disrespectful to the grandeur of the Tribunal. His hair was unbound, his posture relaxed, as if he were merely observing the heavens rather than awaiting judgment.
His name was Wuji Mo.
The heavens trembled when his eyes lifted.
High above, the Heavenly Adjudicator spoke. Its voice did not come from a throat, but from the laws themselves.
"Existence designated Wuji Mo.Sin Classification: Unbounded Devil Source.Crime: Rejection of Dao Limit.Verdict: Erasure."
The word erasure echoed.
The cultivators below inhaled sharply. Even annihilation of soul was considered mercy. Erasure meant removal from karma, samsara, memory—absolute nonexistence.
Wuji Mo smiled.
Not a grin. Not mockery.
A quiet, almost curious smile.
"Erasure?" he asked calmly. "Is that what you call it now?"
The golden runes trembled.
To question Heaven within the Tribunal was itself a sin punishable by immediate execution. Yet the laws hesitated, as if uncertain how to respond.
Beside Wuji Mo, a man began to laugh.
The laughter was loud, unrestrained, almost joyful.
Hunluan Zi threw his head back, chains rattling as his shoulders shook. Blood still stained his face from earlier battles, yet his eyes were burning with manic delight.
"Erase us?" he laughed. "Didn't you try that already?"
The memory lingered.
A shattered lower heaven.Three collapsed sects.An entire karmic domain dissolved into static chaos.
The Heaven-Calamity of Chaos had left scars that still refused to heal.
The Adjudicator's voice sharpened.
"Hunluan Zi.Sin Classification: Heaven-Calamity of Chaos.Existence destabilizes order.Verdict: Eternal Suppression."
Hunluan Zi tilted his head, eyes gleaming.
"Suppress me again," he said softly. "I dare you."
A ripple of unease passed through the Tribunal.
To the right stood a third figure, silent as a shadow that had learned to breathe.
Kong Yin.
No aura leaked from him. No killing intent. No emotion.
His presence felt wrong—not ominous, but absent. Several cultivators realized, with growing horror, that their eyes slid off him if they did not consciously focus.
The Heavenly Records hovering above the Tribunal flickered.
Lines of text blurred. Names partially formed… then vanished.
"Error," the Adjudicator intoned."Existence record unstable."
For the first time, Heaven hesitated.
Kong Yin said nothing.
He did not need to.
To Wuji Mo's left stood a man with gentle eyes and a polite smile, dressed like a scholar rather than a criminal. His chains glowed brighter than the others, woven directly into the threads of fate surrounding him.
Ming Zhe.
He bowed slightly toward the heavens.
"Before you pass judgment," he said mildly, "you may want to check your Mandate Threads again."
The Tribunal shuddered.
Far above, the Mandate Observers stiffened as streams of prophetic light twisted violently, outcomes collapsing into contradiction.
"Fate deviation detected," one cried."Cause and effect no longer align!"
Ming Zhe's smile widened just a fraction.
"And yet," he said, "you still insist this trial was inevitable."
The heavens roared.
Golden lightning cracked downward, striking the platform and sending cultivators retreating in panic. Laws screamed as they were forced into alignment.
Finally, at the far end of the line stood the youngest.
Xue Luo.
His chains were soaked in blood—not his own. The ground beneath his feet was stained crimson, as if reality itself bled in his presence. His breathing was heavy, his eyes burning with unrestrained battle hunger.
The Heavenly Records trembled violently as his name was written.
"Xue Luo.Sin Classification: End of the Blood Samsara.Karma accumulation exceeds balance.Verdict: Immediate Execution."
Xue Luo laughed.
It was raw. Savage.
"Execution?" he snarled. "Good. I was getting bored."
The execution order activated.
Nine layers of Heaven descended at once.
Qing Tian purified.Jie Tian restrained.Li Tian enforced.Yuan Tian judged karma.Ming Tian locked fate.Wu Tian erased presence.Xing Tian prepared punishment.Dao Tian asserted absolute law.Tai Tian prepared reset.
The full machinery of Heaven moved.
Cultivators fell to their knees, unable to withstand the pressure.
Even immortals trembled.
Wuji Mo finally sighed.
"So this is how it ends," he murmured.
The Adjudicator's voice thundered.
"End acknowledged."
Wuji Mo raised his hand.
The Mandate Seal before his chest cracked.
Not shattered—rejected.
Golden light froze.
The heavens… stalled.
"I never asked for forgiveness," Wuji Mo said quietly. "And I never accepted your authority."
He stepped forward.
The Tribunal platform fractured.
Hunluan Zi roared with laughter as chaos surged outward, shattering restraints like glass. Ming Zhe's chains snapped as fate rewrote itself in real time. Xue Luo surged forward, blood aura erupting into a crimson storm.
Kong Yin vanished.
Not moved.
Vanished.
A Heavenly Executioner collapsed mid-air, its existence sliced cleanly out of reality.
Panic erupted.
"Contain them!""Seal the Dao!""Erase—erase—!"
Too late.
Wuji Mo looked up at the Nine Heavens, his gaze calm, almost pitying.
"Write this down if you can," he said.
Then he stepped into the sky—and the sky broke.
Golden laws cracked like porcelain. Mandate Threads snapped. Karma reversed. Fate folded in on itself.
For the first time since creation, the Heavenly Records burned.
As the five figures disappeared into the collapsing void, a final line attempted to etch itself into the ledger.
It failed.
Only a warning remained, carved into the fabric of Heaven itself:
From this day onward, the Nine Heavens shall know fear.