Chapter 1327: The Ultimate Fraud?

Qinglong had clearly reached out his hand, yet he still hadn’t activated any “conviction.”

The target… was actually the *tree*?

This tree was indeed rare, as it didn’t originate from “Paradise.”

It came from an apple brought in from the outside.

After eating the apple, someone casually tossed the core into the soil. From both a botanical perspective and the rules of “Paradise,” it shouldn’t have sprouted at all.

Yet it grew into a sapling—even bearing misshapen fruit.

Though destroying such a rare tree was a pity, who would waste their dwindling “conviction” to protect an inanimate object in a life-or-death moment?

So, under the gazes of several onlookers, Qinglong remained motionless, watching as Qiao Jiajin moved beside the tree and delivered a horizontal chop.

“Tian Xing Jian,” infused with Qiao Jiajin’s formidable combat skills, turned his hand into an axe, cleanly slicing the tree in half at its midpoint.

With a follow-up palm strike against the trunk, the tree swayed briefly before toppling in one direction.

The tree wasn’t particularly large, nor was it small—its collapse made even less noise than the impact of a few “Tian Xing Jian” punches.

Qiao Jiajin exhaled deeply and surveyed the surroundings. He had entertained bold theories about what might happen once this tree was felled.

Perhaps the tree was Qinglong’s cherished possession, and its fall would break him.

Maybe the tree was a vital weakness—destroying it would wound him.

Or perhaps Qinglong’s true form was hidden within the tree, meaning its death would be his.

Yet none of these speculations came to pass.

Nothing happened at all.

Qinglong remained expressionless, the room deathly silent. The only difference was that the tree was now on the ground.

So… what exactly was this supposed “trump card”?

Qinglong stared coldly at Qiao Jiajin before breaking into a deranged grin after a few seconds. “Can’t kill me… so you take it out on a tree?”

Hearing this, Qiao Jiajin felt like he’d been played.

This “trump card”—something he’d held onto as a last resort for survival—might have been a joke from the very beginning.

If possible… he truly hoped he’d misunderstood.

Even if it had the slightest effect…

Even if Qinglong felt a flicker of sorrow for the tree, he could’ve convinced himself the “trump card” had worked in some small way.

At least then he could’ve sworn he hadn’t been deceived.

Yet… why was this happening?

He *had* been fooled. Qinglong didn’t care about the tree at all.

It was just an ordinary tree, no different from those in the real world.

Ordinary leaves, ordinary bark, ordinary roots.

Even the cross-section of the trunk didn’t reveal the pitch-black hue of Xuanwu’s body—just the pale yellow, mundane wood.

By every measure, it was the most unremarkable tree imaginable.

Zhang Shan and Chu Tianqiu exchanged glances, unsure what Qiao Jiajin’s “trump card” even was.

Had it not yet begun… or had it already failed?

“Tattoo kid…” Zhang Shan called uncertainly. “What now…?”

“Seems we’ll have to rely on ourselves,” Qiao Jiajin replied with a bitter smile. “Big guy, I once promised to show you the vast beauty of the world. But today might be our last glimpse.”

“Oh?” Zhang Shan chuckled. “No worries. The ‘mountains’ are here, the ‘sky’ is here. Let’s make do with this.”

The three knew there was no retreat left. The outcome was now hurtling toward its inevitable conclusion.

“Pathetic…” Qinglong muttered, his head lowered as if bearing the weight of the storm clouds. “Your death throes are especially laughable…”

While Qinglong spoke, Chu Tianqiu stole a glance at Tianlong’s direction. The celestial figure was beginning to frown—he was awakening.

Was there still one final chance to reach him?

But at that thought, a flicker of despair crossed Chu Tianqiu’s eyes.

Even if he touched Tianlong, it would only mark a new beginning. Tianlong’s dreamscape would surely be more horrifying than the “Land of Finality.” What then?

Would Qi Xia really be waiting for him there?

Every sign now pointed to the opposite.

Just what was Qi Xia…?

Keeping one eye on Qinglong, Chu Tianqiu edged toward Tianlong. He had no idea what Qi Xia was plotting, but he knew he had to try—just once.

This room offered no escape. They’d die either by Qinglong’s hand or Tianlong’s.

If the end was certain, why not take the chance?

Seizing a moment of Qinglong’s distraction, Chu Tianqiu gathered strength in his legs and lunged toward Tianlong.

Qinglong sensed the danger and tried to halt Chu Tianqiu with “Soul Snatcher,” but his divine technique faltered once more. Enraged, he shot forward in pursuit.

Zhang Shan and Qiao Jiajin, lying in wait, sprang at Qinglong from behind.

The three forces collided midair, striking each other before scattering in different directions upon landing.

Qinglong, comparatively unharmed, landed beside the fallen tree and watched as the other three tumbled to the ground.

“Why struggle…?” Qinglong mused, rolling his neck. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just wait for the ‘Divine Thunder’ to strike…?”

Chu Tianqiu coughed up a mouthful of blood but forced himself upright. With “Tian Xing Jian,” such wounds weren’t fatal. He had to push further.

If he didn’t reach Tianlong… how could he face himself with a clear conscience?

This path hadn’t suddenly grown difficult—it had *always* been this hard.

“Chu Tianqiu, you disappoint me,” Qinglong sneered. “I thought you, too, were a prime candidate for ‘godhood.’ Yet here you are, floored like a dog. Why prioritize the lives of mere mortals?”

As he spoke, the storm clouds above darkened into a menacing violet-red, threaded with countless searing bolts of lightning. On the brink of madness, Qinglong unleashed the most devastating “Divine Thunder” yet.

“Now… do you see the gap between mortals and me?” Qinglong advanced through the storm, every step radiating divine wrath. “Mortals cannot judge me… and yet you thought venting on a common fruit tree would help? How absurd.”

With a scornful glance at the fallen tree, Qinglong locked eyes with Qiao Jiajin and laughed. “This ‘trump card’ you boasted about… turns out to be—”

Wait.

Hold on.

Qinglong’s voice cut off abruptly.

His expression twisted into something strange.

A fleeting moment ago, he’d glimpsed something—something that *seemed* plausible but, upon reflection, should’ve been impossible.

What *was* that?

Slowly, his gaze returned to the tree. What had that passing image been, the one that sent a chill down his spine?

Wasn’t this just… the most ordinary tree?

Ordinary leaves, ordinary bark, ordinary roots.

So why did something feel… *wrong*?

He scrutinized the severed trunk in disbelief.

Seconds later, he froze, face blank with shock.

The anomaly lay in the tree’s cross-section.

A tree that should’ve been no older than seventy years…

…yet its rings numbered in the *hundreds*.