Now I am the true sect leader of the Dual Cultivation Sect. This old man has long passed his prime. Yang Hao pouted, striking a pose as the sect leader, “If someone really wants to take revenge, how could it be his place to act? Of course it should be me, the young and vigorous one!”
“Besides…”
Now I am the leader of the Dan Ding Dual Cultivation Sect. This old guy has long since… Yang Hao pouted, striking a pose befitting a sect leader. “If revenge is really needed, why would it be his turn to act? Of course, it should be me, young and strong, who steps up.”
“Moreover…
“Moreover, if he could really solve the issue of the Divine Clan’s seal, why would you come to talk to me?” Yang Hao wasn’t stupid—he had already figured it out.
At this point, there was indeed no need for further nonsense. Yun Shang simply followed the Dragon Clan’s method, bundling his consciousness into a package and tossing it directly to Yang Hao.
Just as Yang Hao had suspected, the Divine Clan had long harbored a scheme—one that only Yang Hao could fulfill.
Back then, although the Divine Clan had been deceived into being sealed, the spell that sealed so many gods was undeniably created by the Creator. The sealing barrier, forged with ten divine artifacts, was perhaps the most inconceivable magic in the world. The more power poured into it, the more impossible it became to break.
Think about it: back then, all the Divine Clan—whether from the Light Faction or the Dark Faction—poured their full strength into the artifacts, believing they were sealing their enemies. Little did they know, both sides had been deceived, trapping themselves instead. Now, even if the remaining Divine Clan gathered again, they could never reopen the barrier.
Unless there was new power—new, even stronger power. A force that could surpass the combined might of all the Divine Clan back then was needed to break the seal and free the imprisoned gods.
Such a force seemed nonexistent in this world. After all, the Divine Clan was already the race with the highest innate talent, shaped by the Creator in the most perfect way. How could they be surpassed by anyone else?
But in truth, such power did exist—because it originated from the Creator himself. Perhaps billions of years ago, the Creator had foreseen the Divine Clan’s defeat and prepared accordingly.
The Creator buried all his power at the center of the universe.
This was a secret known only to the Divine Clan—or rather, only to the upper echelons of the Divine Clan. One could say that the entire lives of the upper Divine Clan were spent searching for the hidden location of that secret.
No one knew the extent of the Creator’s power, for this world—this universe—was his creation. Nor did anyone know where the secret was buried, for the universe was boundless, its edges yet unfound. How could anyone know where its center lay?
Regardless, all the Divine Clan believed that only the one who found that power could save the gods and free them from the seal.
“You think I’m that person? The savior?” Yang Hao pointed exaggeratedly at his own nose. Though he wished it were true, the odds seemed impossibly slim.
Yet the gazes of the great gods clearly said: “Yes, it’s you. Fate has chosen you.”
“Why?” Yang Hao sighed, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on him.
“Only the one chosen by the Creator can find that power,” Sa’an’s voice drifted down. “That person must endure the breath of Light three times and the breath of Darkness three times. That person’s body will bloom with the radiant flower of red nebula. That person must lead gods, lead humans, lead all of light and darkness, to become the master of this universe—the king of the cosmos.”
“The king of the cosmos?” Yang Hao barely dared to breathe. If those words were applied to Sa’an or Yun Shang, he might have believed them. But for himself? His palms grew sweaty, and he couldn’t find a single excuse to convince himself.
“Your task is simple,” Yun Shang said gravely. “You must endure the breath of Light and Darkness three times each, grow stronger until you reach the level of a mid-tier Divine Clan—what you call the Fei Xian realm—and then seek out the power left by the Creator. By then, no one will be your match. You won’t need to worry about enemies or the Divine Clan. You will be the master of this world, and all life will bow at your feet.”
Yang Hao swallowed hard. “Sounds… nice.”
“It’ll feel even nicer,” Kadis Long rumbled.
“Alright, it probably is pretty nice,” Yang Hao conceded, unable to think of any downsides. “The only problem is—how do you prove I’m the one chosen by the Creator? Even if I’ve endured one breath of Light and one of Darkness, it could just be a coincidence. There might be plenty of coincidental candidates…”
The great gods fell silent. They didn’t even glance at each other. Garuda and Titan sat with eyes closed, as if in deep meditation, detached and self-forgetful.
Yang Hao thought he’d struck a nerve. “You can’t prove it, can you? I’m just a lucky kid, a disciple of the Dual Cultivation Sect, with some vengeance to carry out for my master. The king of the cosmos, the Creator, your Divine Clan’s seal—none of that has anything to do with me.”
The air began to howl, as if hurricanes swirled around them, even whipping Yun Shang’s robes into a frenzy. Yang Hao’s words died in his throat, but he stubbornly repeated, “You have no proof! You can’t prove it!”
The wind grew fiercer, sharp as knives. Voices were lost in the roar, and Yang Hao’s head buzzed.
“You want proof? Then have your proof!”
A howl, a tear—a few swift gusts shredded Yang Hao’s outer robe, baring his upper body. Then, before him appeared a strange shadow—a mirror image of himself, identical in every way.
Creating a mirror image without a mirror was something only the Divine Clan could do.
But soon, Yang Hao forgot about the image altogether. Because he saw something—something shocking, astounding, beyond belief. It was on the mirrored body, and thus, on his own.
The proof the gods spoke of was undeniably there.
What Yang Hao saw was his own back, which should have been smooth and unmarked. Yet now, there was a pattern.
Like a flower stem, rising straight from his waist to the center point between his shoulders, where a fist-sized stamen bloomed.
The pattern was tinged orange-red, like fire, or a flower from a dream.
It took all of Yang Hao’s willpower not to reach out and touch the mirrored image. But whether he did or not, his eyes clearly saw it—this was no painted design. It was etched into his skin, slightly raised, not obscuring a single pore, flawless in its creation.
“The flower of red nebula has already sprouted on your body,” Sa’an’s voice was merciless. “This is the map to that power. You are the chosen one. There is no escape.”
“This flower… will bloom?” Yang Hao’s hands trembled as he reached for his own back.
“When it blooms, it will form a map of the nebula,” Yun Shang nodded. “Follow that map, and you will become the king of the cosmos! More importantly, Yang Hao, you already possess three of the ten divine artifacts—three weapons that sealed the Divine Clan. Isn’t that proof enough?”
“What three divine artifacts?” Yang Hao was baffled.
Yun Shang tossed three swords back to Yang Hao—the very ones he’d taken from the Ten Sword Sect.
“The Sword of Immortality, the Sword of Treasure, and the Sword of Gravity. Three of the ten divine artifacts that sealed the Divine Clan,” Yun Shang explained.
Yang Hao’s eyes widened. Only now did he understand why the Ten Sword Sect was called as such, why these swords were their heirlooms, why they fought so desperately to reclaim them.
After sealing the Divine Clan, to prevent their resurgence, the elders had entrusted the ten artifacts to ten cultivation families for safekeeping. These families became the Ten Sword Sect, and the artifacts their treasures.
It was laughable. Yang Hao found it laughable. He turned helplessly—Hunyuanzi had woken from his brief unconsciousness, seen the change in Yang Hao’s body, and heard the Divine Clan’s words. Even this thousand-year-old ghost found it absurd, though he couldn’t bring himself to laugh.
Whether here or in the entire Divine Realm, Yang Hao was likely the weakest. With combat power barely in the teens—not even a fraction of Hunyuanzi’s—and surrounded by five chief gods and thousands of mid-tier Divine Clan members, how could he be the one to seek “that power” and become the king of the cosmos?
Yang Hao decided the great gods must be out of their minds—and the universe along with them. Since there was no way out, he might as well stop worrying and start bargaining. “Since you want me to become the so-called king of the cosmos and break your seal, shouldn’t you offer me some benefits?”
“Benefits?” Yun Shang’s eyes widened, surprised at Yang Hao’s sudden shift. “Isn’t becoming the king of the cosmos benefit enough? What more do you want?”
“Not the same, not the same!” Yang Hao regained his usual opportunistic boldness. “As you said, becoming the king of the cosmos is my destiny—meaning it’s already mine. What’s it to you? Now you’re asking me to break the seal, so of course you should pay a little reward!”
At this point, there was indeed no need to waste more words. Yun Shang, straightforward now, simply condensed his consciousness into a single mass and hurled it directly toward Yang Hao, just as the Dragon Clan had done.
Now, I am the true leader of the Dan Ding Dual Cultivation Sect. This old guy has long since… Yang Hao pouted, striking the pose of a sect leader. “If revenge is really needed, why would it be his turn to act? Of course, it should be me, young and strong, who steps up!”
“Moreover…
“Moreover, if he could really solve the issue of the Divine Clan’s seal, why would you come to talk to me?” Yang Hao wasn’t stupid—he had already figured it out.
At this point, there was indeed no need for further nonsense. Yun Shang simply followed the Dragon Clan’s method, bundling his consciousness into a cluster and tossing it directly to Yang Hao.
Just as Yang Hao had anticipated, these Divine Clan members had long harbored a scheme—one that only Yang Hao could fulfill.
Back then, although the Divine Clan had been deceived into being sealed, the spell that sealed so many gods was undeniably created by the Creator. The sealing barrier forged with ten divine artifacts was perhaps the most inconceivable magic in the world. The more power poured into it, the more impossible it became to break.
Consider this: back then, all Divine Clan members, whether from the Light or Dark factions, poured their full power into the artifacts, believing they were sealing their opponents. Little did they know, both sides had been deceived, trapping themselves instead. Now, even if the remaining Divine Clan members gathered again, they could never reopen this barrier.
Unless… there was new power—power even stronger than before. A force surpassing the combined might of all Divine Clan members back then would be needed to break the seal and free the imprisoned gods.
In this world, such a thing seemed impossible. After all, the Divine Clan was already the race with the highest innate talent, a people shaped by the Creator in the most perfect way. How could they be surpassed by anyone else?
Yet, such power did exist—because it originated from the Creator himself. Perhaps billions of years ago, the Creator had foreseen the Divine Clan’s defeat and prepared accordingly.
The Creator buried all his power at the center of the universe.
This was a secret known only to the Divine Clan—or rather, only to the upper echelons of the Divine Clan. One could say that the entire lives of the upper Divine Clan were spent searching for the hiding place of this secret.
No one knew the extent of the Creator’s power, for this world—this universe—was his creation. No one knew where the secret was buried, for the universe was vast and boundless, its edges still undiscovered. How could anyone know where its center lay?
Yet, regardless, all Divine Clan members believed that only the one who found that power could save them all, freeing them from the seal completely.
“You think… I’m that person? The savior?” Yang Hao pointed exaggeratedly at his own nose. Though he wished it were true, the odds seemed impossibly slim.
But the gazes of those great gods clearly said: “Yes, it’s you. Fate has chosen you.”
“Why?” Yang Hao felt helpless, as if the weight of the entire world had been thrust upon him.
“Only the one chosen by the Creator can find that power,” Sa’an’s voice drifted down. “That person must endure three bursts of Light power and three bursts of Dark power. That person’s body will bloom with the radiant flowers of red nebula. That person must lead gods, lead humans, lead all darkness and light, to become the master of this universe—the King of the Cosmos.”
“King of the Cosmos?” Yang Hao could barely breathe. If such a title were applied to Sa’an or Yun Shang, he might have believed it. But for himself? His palms grew clammy with sweat, and he couldn’t find a single excuse to convince himself.
“Your task is simple,” Yun Shang said gravely. “You must endure three bursts of Light power and three bursts of Dark power, then grow stronger—strong enough to reach the level of a mid-tier Divine Clan member, what you call the ‘Flying Immortal’ realm. Finally, you must seek out the power left by the Creator. By then, no one will be your match. You need not fear enemies or the Divine Clan. You will be the master of this world, with all life bowing at your feet.”
Yang Hao swallowed hard. “Sounds… nice.”
“It’ll feel even nicer,” Kadisilong rumbled.
“Alright, it probably is pretty nice,” Yang Hao conceded, unable to think of any downsides. He nodded. “The only problem is—how do you prove I’m the one chosen by the Creator? Even if I’ve endured one burst of Light and one of Dark, it could just be coincidence. There might be plenty of coincidental candidates…”
The great gods fell silent. They didn’t even glance at each other. Garuda and Titan closed their eyes like meditating monks, detached and self-forgetful.
Yang Hao thought he’d struck a nerve. “You can’t prove it, can you? I’m just a kid with freakishly good luck, a disciple of the Dual Cultivation Sect, someone with a grudge to settle for my master. The King of the Cosmos, the Creator, your Divine Clan’s seal—none of that has anything to do with me.”
The air began to howl, as if hurricanes swirled around them, whipping Yun Shang’s robes violently. Yang Hao’s words caught in his throat, but he stubbornly repeated, “You have no proof! You can’t prove it!”
The wind grew fiercer, sharp as knives. Voices became inaudible, and Yang Hao’s head buzzed.
“You want proof? Here’s your proof!”
A shrieking, tearing sound—a few precise gusts of wind shredded Yang Hao’s outer clothes, leaving his upper body bare. Then, before him appeared a strange shadow—a mirror image of himself, identical in every way.
Creating a mirror image without a mirror was something only the Divine Clan could do.
But soon, Yang Hao forgot about the image altogether. Because he saw something—something astonishing, shocking, utterly beyond belief. It appeared on the mirrored body… and on his own.
The proof the gods spoke of was undeniably there.
On his back, where there should have been smooth skin, a pattern had emerged.
Like a flower stem, rising straight from his waist to the center point between his shoulders, where a fist-sized stamen bloomed.
The pattern was tinged orange-red, like fire or a dreamlike blossom.
It took all Yang Hao’s willpower not to reach out and touch the mirrored image. But whether he did or not, his eyes confirmed it—this wasn’t drawn on. It was etched into his skin, slightly raised, not obscuring a single pore, flawless in its creation.
“The Red Nebula Flower has already sprouted on your body,” Sa’an’s voice was merciless. “This is the map to that power. You are the chosen one. There’s no escape.”
“This flower… will bloom?” Yang Hao’s hand trembled as he reached for his back.
“When it blooms, it will form a nebula map,” Yun Shang nodded. “Follow it, and you will become the King of the Cosmos! More importantly, Yang Hao, you already possess three of the Ten Great Artifacts—three weapons that sealed the Divine Clan. Isn’t that proof enough?”
“What three great artifacts?” Yang Hao was baffled.
Yun Shang tossed three swords back to Yang Hao—the ones he’d taken from the Ten Swords Sect.
“The Sword of Immortality, the Sword of Treasures, and the Sword of Gravity. Three of the ten artifacts that sealed the Divine Clan,” Yun Shang said.
Yang Hao’s eyes widened. Only now did he understand why the Ten Swords Sect was called so, why these swords were their heirlooms, why they’d fought so fiercely to reclaim them.
After sealing the Divine Clan, to prevent their resurgence, the elders had entrusted the ten artifacts to ten cultivation families for safekeeping. These families became the Ten Swords Sect, and the artifacts their treasures.
It was laughable. Yang Hao found it absurd. He glanced back helplessly—Hunyuanzi had woken from his brief unconsciousness, seen the change in Yang Hao’s body, and heard the Divine Clan’s words. Even this thousand-year-old ghost found it ridiculous, though he couldn’t bring himself to laugh.
Here—or in the entire Divine Realm—Yang Hao was likely the weakest. With combat power barely reaching double digits, less than a fraction of Hunyuanzi’s, let alone the five Great Divine Beings or the thousands of mid-tier Divine Clan members outside.
And yet, the task of finding “that power,” of becoming the King of the Cosmos, fell to Yang Hao.
Yang Hao decided the great gods had lost their minds—and the universe along with them. Since there was no way out, he might as well stop worrying and start bargaining. “If you want me to become the so-called King of the Cosmos and break your seal, shouldn’t you offer some benefits?”
“Benefits?” Yun Shang’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected Yang Hao to switch gears so quickly. “Isn’t becoming the King of the Cosmos benefit enough? What more do you want?”
“Not the same, not the same!” Yang Hao regained his usual opportunistic bravado. “Like you said, becoming the King of the Cosmos is my destiny—meaning it’s mine by default, none of your business! But now, you’re asking me to break the seal. Of course, you should pay a little reward!”
I am now the leader of the Dan Ding Dual Cultivation Sect. This old guy has long since… Yang Hao pouted, striking a pose befitting a sect leader. “If it’s really about revenge, why would it be his turn to act? Of course, it should be me, young and strong, who steps up!”
“Moreover…
“Moreover, if he could really solve the issue of the Divine Clan’s seal, why would you come to talk to me?” Yang Hao wasn’t stupid—he had already figured it out.
At this point, there was truly no need for further nonsense. Yun Shang simply followed the Dragon Clan’s method, bundling his consciousness into a mass and directly tossing it to Yang Hao.
Just as Yang Hao had anticipated, these Divine Clan members had long harbored a scheme—one that only Yang Hao could fulfill.
Back then, although the Divine Clan had been deceived into being sealed, the sealing spell that trapped so many gods was undeniably created by the Creator. The sealing barrier, forged with ten divine artifacts, was perhaps the most inconceivable magic in the world. The more power poured into it, the more impossible it became to break.
Think about it—back then, all the Divine Clan, whether from the Light Faction or the Dark Faction, poured their full power into the artifacts, believing they were sealing their enemies. Little did they know, both sides had been deceived, trapping themselves instead. Now, even if the remaining Divine Clan members gathered again, they could never reopen this barrier.
Unless there was new power—a power even stronger than before. A force that could surpass the combined might of all the Divine Clan from back then was needed to break the seal and free the imprisoned gods.
In this world, such a thing seemed impossible. After all, the Divine Clan was already the race with the highest innate talent, a people shaped by the Creator in the most perfect way. How could they be surpassed by anyone else?
But in truth, such power did exist—because it originated from the Creator himself. Perhaps billions of years ago, the Creator had foreseen that the Divine Clan would be defeated by another force, so he made preparations in advance.
The Creator buried all his power at the center of the universe.
This was a secret known only to the Divine Clan—or rather, only to the upper echelons of the Divine Clan. One could say that the entire lives of the upper Divine Clan were spent searching for the hiding place of that secret.
No one knew the extent of the Creator’s power, for this world—this universe—was his creation. Nor did anyone know where the secret was buried, for the universe was vast and boundless, with no known boundaries. How could anyone determine where its center lay?
Regardless, all the Divine Clan believed that only the one who found that power could save all the gods and free them from the seal.
“You think… I’m that person? The savior?” Yang Hao pointed exaggeratedly at his own nose. Though he wished it were true, the possibility seemed far too slim.
Yet the gazes of the great gods clearly said: “Yes, it’s you. Fate has chosen you.”
“Why?” Yang Hao sighed helplessly, feeling as if the weight of the entire world had been thrust upon him.
“Only the one chosen by the Creator can find that power,” Sa’an’s voice drifted down. “That person must be bathed three times by the Light and three times by the Dark. That person’s body will bloom with the radiant flower of the red nebula. That person will lead gods, lead men, lead all darkness and light, to become the master of this universe—the king of the cosmos.”
“The king of the cosmos?” Yang Hao barely dared to breathe. If those words had been spoken about Sa’an or Yun Shang, he might have believed them. But applied to himself? His palms grew clammy with sweat, and he couldn’t find a single excuse to convince himself.
“Your task is simple,” Yun Shang said gravely. “You must endure three baptisms of Light and three of Dark, then grow stronger—strong enough to reach the level of a mid-tier Divine Clan, what you call the ‘Flying Immortal’ realm. Finally, you must find the power left behind by the Creator. By then, no one will be your match. You won’t need to worry about enemies or the Divine Clan. You will be the master of this world, and all life will bow at your feet.”
Yang Hao swallowed hard. “Sounds… nice.”
“It’ll be even nicer in practice,” Kadis Long rumbled.
“Alright, I suppose it really is quite nice.” Yang Hao couldn’t think of any downsides and could only nod. “The only question is—how do you prove I’m the one chosen by the Creator? Even if I did undergo one baptism of Light and one of Dark, it could just be a coincidence. There might be plenty of coincidental candidates…”
The great gods fell silent. They didn’t even glance at each other. Garuda and Titan sat with their eyes closed, as if in deep meditation, detached and self-forgetful.
Yang Hao, however, thought he’d struck a nerve. “You can’t prove it, can you? It’s not me at all. I’m just a kid with freakishly good luck, a disciple of the Dual Cultivation Sect, someone with a bit of vengeance to settle for my master. The king of the cosmos? The Creator? Your Divine Clan’s seal? None of that has anything to do with me.”
The air began to howl, as if hurricanes were swirling around them, even causing Yun Shang’s robes to flutter wildly. Yang Hao’s words caught in his throat, but he stubbornly repeated, “You have no proof! You can’t prove it!”
The wind grew fiercer, sharp as knives. No voices could be heard now—Yang Hao’s head buzzed with noise.
“You want proof? Then have your proof!”
A roar, a tearing sound—a few swift gusts of wind shredded Yang Hao’s outer garments, leaving his upper body bare. Then, before him, a strange shadow appeared—a mirror image of himself, identical in every way. A reflection without a mirror—something only the Divine Clan could conjure.
But soon, Yang Hao forgot about the mirror image, for he saw something else—something that shocked him beyond words. It appeared on the mirrored body, and thus, on his own.
The proof the gods spoke of was undeniably there.
What Yang Hao saw was his own back, which should have been smooth and unmarked. Yet now, inexplicably, a pattern had appeared.
Like a flower stem, rising straight from his waist to the center point between his shoulders, where a fist-sized stamen bloomed.
The pattern was tinged with orange-red, like fire, or a flower from a dream.
It took all of Yang Hao’s willpower not to reach out and touch the mirrored image. But whether he did or not, his eyes clearly saw that this was no mere drawing—it was etched into his skin, slightly raised, not obscuring a single pore, flawless in its creation.
“The flower of the red nebula has already sprouted on your body,” Sa’an’s voice was merciless. “This is the map to that power. You are the chosen one. There is no escape.”
“This flower… will bloom?” Yang Hao’s hands trembled as he reached for his own back.
“When it blooms, it will form a map of the nebula,” Yun Shang nodded. “Follow that map, and you will become the king of the cosmos! More importantly, Yang Hao, you already possess three of the ten divine artifacts—three weapons that sealed the Divine Clan. Isn’t that proof enough?”
“Three divine artifacts?” Yang Hao was baffled.
Yun Shang tossed three swords back to Yang Hao—the three longswords he had taken from the Ten Sword Stream.
“The Sword of Immortality, the Sword of Treasure, and the Sword of Gravity—three of the ten divine artifacts that sealed the Divine Clan,” Yun Shang said.
Yang Hao’s eyes widened. Only now did he understand why the Ten Sword Stream was called as such, why these swords were their treasured heirlooms, why they had fought so desperately to reclaim them.
After sealing the Divine Clan, to prevent their resurgence, the elders of the council had entrusted the ten artifacts to ten cultivation families for safekeeping. These families became the Ten Sword Stream, and the ten artifacts became their sect’s most prized treasures.
It was laughable. Yang Hao found it laughable. He turned helplessly—Hunyuanzi had awoken from his brief unconsciousness and had also seen the changes in Yang Hao’s body. Hearing the Divine Clan’s words, even this thousand-year-old ghost found it absurd. He wanted to laugh but couldn’t.
Whether here or in the entire Divine Realm, the weakest was undoubtedly Yang Hao. With a combat power barely reaching double digits—not even a fraction of Hunyuanzi’s—let alone compared to the five great gods and thousands of mid-tier Divine Clan outside.
And yet, the one chosen to seek “that power,” to become the king of the cosmos, was Yang Hao.
Yang Hao felt that these great gods had lost their minds—that the universe itself had gone mad. Since things had come to this, he might as well stop worrying and start bargaining. “Since you want me to become this so-called king of the cosmos and break your seal, shouldn’t you offer me some benefits?”
“Benefits?” Yun Shang’s eyes widened, surprised at how quickly Yang Hao could switch gears. “Isn’t becoming the king of the cosmos benefit enough? What more do you want?”
“Not the same, not the same!” Yang Hao finally regained his usual opportunistic bravado. “Like you said, becoming the king of the cosmos is my destiny—meaning it’s already mine by right! What’s it to you? Now, you’re the ones asking me to break the seal, so of course you should pay a little something for my services!”
I am now the leader of the Dan Ding Dual Cultivation Sect. This old guy has long since… Yang Hao pouted, striking a pose befitting a sect leader. “If revenge is really needed, why would it be his turn to act? Of course, it should be me, young and strong, who steps up.”
“Moreover…
“Moreover, if he could really solve the issue of the Divine Clan’s seal, why would you come to talk to me?” Yang Hao wasn’t stupid—he had already figured it out.
At this point, there was indeed no need for further nonsense. Yun Shang simply followed the Dragon Clan’s method, bundling his consciousness into a mass and tossing it directly to Yang Hao.
Just as Yang Hao had anticipated, these Divine Clan members had long harbored a scheme—one that only Yang Hao could fulfill.
Back then, although the Divine Clan had been deceived into being sealed, the spell that sealed so many gods was undeniably created by the Creator. The sealing barrier, forged with ten divine artifacts, was perhaps the most inconceivable technique in the world. The more power poured into it, the more impossible it became to break.
Think about it: back then, all the Divine Clan—whether from the Light Faction or the Dark Faction—had poured their full power into the artifacts, believing they were sealing their enemies. Little did they know, both sides had been deceived, trapping themselves instead. Now, even if the remaining Divine Clan members pooled their dwindling numbers, they could never reopen the seal.
Unless there was new power—new, even stronger power. A force that could surpass the combined might of all the Divine Clan back then was needed to break the seal and free the imprisoned gods.
In this world, such a thing seemed impossible. After all, the Divine Clan was already the race with the highest innate talent, a people shaped by the Creator in the most perfect way. How could they be surpassed by anyone else?
But in reality, such power did exist—because it came from the Creator himself. Perhaps billions of years ago, the Creator had foreseen the Divine Clan’s defeat by another force, so he had prepared in advance.
The Creator had buried all his power at the center of the universe.
This was a secret known only to the Divine Clan—or rather, only to the upper echelons of the Divine Clan. One could say that the entire lives of the upper Divine Clan had been spent searching for the hidden location of that secret.
No one knew the extent of the Creator’s power, for this world, this universe, was his creation. Nor did anyone know where the secret was buried, for the universe was vast and boundless, with no known boundaries—how could anyone pinpoint its center?
Yet, no matter what, all the Divine Clan believed that only the one who found that power could save all the gods and free them from the seal.
“You think I’m that person? The savior?” Yang Hao pointed exaggeratedly at his own nose. Though he wished it were true, the odds seemed impossibly slim.
But the gazes of those great gods clearly said: “Yes, it’s you. Fate has chosen you.”
“Why?” Yang Hao sighed, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on him.
“Only the one chosen by the Creator can find that power,” Saan’s voice drifted down. “That person must endure the breath of Light three times and the breath of Darkness three times. That person’s body will bloom with the radiant flower of red nebulae. That person must lead gods, lead humans, lead all darkness and light, to become the master of this universe—the king of the cosmos.”
“The king of the cosmos?” Yang Hao barely dared to breathe. If those words had been applied to Saan or Yun Shang, he might have believed them. But for himself? His palms were slick with sweat, and he couldn’t find a single excuse to convince himself.
“Your task is simple,” Yun Shang said gravely. “You must endure the breath of Light and Darkness three times each, then grow stronger—strong enough to reach the level of a mid-tier Divine Clan, what you call the ‘Flying Immortal’ realm. Finally, you must seek out the power left by the Creator. By then, no one will be your match, so you need not fear your enemies or the Divine Clan. You will be the master of this world, with all life prostrate at your feet.”
Yang Hao swallowed. “Sounds… nice.”
“It’ll be even nicer in practice,” Kadis Long rumbled.
“Alright, it probably is pretty nice.” Yang Hao couldn’t think of any downsides, so he nodded. “The only question is—how do you prove I’m the one chosen by the Creator? Even if I’ve endured one breath of Light and one of Darkness, it might just be a coincidence. There could be plenty of coincidental candidates…”
The great gods fell silent. They didn’t even glance at each other. Garuda and Titan sat with their eyes closed, as if in deep meditation, detached and self-forgetful.
Yang Hao thought he’d struck a nerve. “You can’t prove it, can you? It’s not me at all. I’m just a kid with freakishly good luck, a disciple of the Dual Cultivation Sect, someone with a bit of vengeance to carry out for my master. The king of the cosmos, the Creator, your Divine Clan’s seal—none of that has anything to do with me.”
The air began to wail, as if hurricanes were swirling around them, even whipping Yun Shang’s robes into a frenzy. Yang Hao’s words died in his throat, but he stubbornly repeated, “You have no proof! You can’t prove it!”
The wind grew fiercer, sharp as knives. No voices could be heard now—Yang Hao’s head buzzed with noise.
“You want proof? Then have your proof!”
A howling, tearing sound—a few swift gusts of wind shredded Yang Hao’s outer robe, baring his upper body. Then, before him appeared a strange shadow—a mirror image of himself, identical in every way. A reflection conjured without a mirror—something only the Divine Clan could achieve.
But soon, Yang Hao forgot about the mirror image, for he saw something else—something shocking, astounding, beyond compare. It appeared on the mirrored body, and thus, on his own.
The proof the gods spoke of was undeniably there.
What Yang Hao saw was his own back, which should have been smooth and unmarked. Yet now, inexplicably, a pattern had appeared.
Like a flower stem, it rose straight from his waist to the midpoint between his shoulders, where a fist-sized stamen bloomed.
The pattern was tinged with orange-red, like fire, or a flower from a dream.
It took all Yang Hao’s willpower not to reach out and touch the mirrored image. But whether he did or not, his eyes clearly saw that this was no painted design—it was etched into his skin, slightly raised, not obscuring a single pore, flawless in its creation.
“The flower of red nebulae has already sprouted on your body,” Saan’s voice was merciless. “This is the map to that power. You are the chosen one. There is no escape.”
“This flower… will bloom?” Yang Hao’s hand trembled as he reached for his own back.
“When it blooms, it will form a map of the nebulae,” Yun Shang nodded. “Follow that map, and you will become the king of the cosmos! More importantly, Yang Hao, you already possess three of the ten divine artifacts—three weapons that sealed the Divine Clan. Isn’t that proof enough?”
“What three divine artifacts?” Yang Hao was baffled.
Yun Shang tossed three swords back to Yang Hao—the three longswords he’d taken from the Ten Swords Sect.
“The Sword of Immortality, the Sword of Treasures, and the Sword of Gravity—three of the ten divine artifacts that sealed the Divine Clan,” Yun Shang said.
Yang Hao’s eyes widened. Only now did he understand why the Ten Swords Sect was called the Ten Swords Sect, why these swords were their heirlooms, why they’d fought so desperately to reclaim them.
After sealing the Divine Clan, to prevent their resurgence, the elders had entrusted the ten divine artifacts to ten cultivation families for safekeeping. These families became the Ten Swords Sect, and the ten artifacts became their sect treasures.
It was laughable. Yang Hao found it laughable. He turned helplessly—Hunyuanzi had woken from his brief unconsciousness, seen the change in Yang Hao’s body, and heard the Divine Clan’s words. Even this thousand-year-old ghost found it absurd. He wanted to laugh but couldn’t.
Whether here or in the entire Divine Realm, Yang Hao was likely the weakest—barely a dozen levels of combat power, not even a fraction of Hunyuanzi’s strength, let alone the five great deities and thousands of mid-tier Divine Clan members outside.
And yet, the one chosen to seek “that power,” to become the king of the cosmos, was Yang Hao.
Yang Hao decided the great gods must be out of their minds—the universe itself must be out of its mind. Since there was no way out, he stopped worrying and started bargaining with Yun Shang and the others: “Since you want me to become the so-called king of the cosmos and break your seal, shouldn’t you give me some benefits?”
“Benefits?” Yun Shang’s eyes widened—he hadn’t expected Yang Hao to flip so quickly. “Isn’t becoming the king of the cosmos benefit enough? What more do you want?”
“Not the same, not the same!” Yang Hao regained his usual shameless haggling spirit. “Like you said, becoming the king of the cosmos is my destiny—meaning it’s already mine! What’s it to you? Now you’re asking me to break the seal, so of course you should pay a little reward!”
Now I am the leader of the Dan Ding Dual Cultivation Sect. This old guy has long since… Yang Hao pouted, striking a pose befitting a sect leader. “If revenge is really needed, why would it be his turn to act? Of course, it should be me, young and strong, who steps up.”
“Moreover…
“Moreover, if he could really solve the issue of the Divine Clan’s seal, why would you come to talk to me?” Yang Hao wasn’t stupid; he had already figured it out.
At this point, there was indeed no need for further nonsense. Yun Shang simply followed the Dragon Clan’s method, bundling his consciousness into a package and tossing it directly to Yang Hao.
Just as Yang Hao had suspected, the Divine Clan had been harboring a scheme all along—one that only Yang Hao could fulfill.
Back then, although the Divine Clan had been deceived into being sealed, the spell that sealed so many gods was undeniably created by the Creator. The sealing barrier, forged with ten divine artifacts, was perhaps the most inconceivable magic in the world. The more power poured into it, the more impossible it became to break.
Think about it: back then, all the Divine Clan—whether from the Light Faction or the Dark Faction—had poured their full strength into the artifacts, believing they were sealing their enemies. Little did they know, both sides had been deceived, trapping themselves instead. Now, even if the remaining Divine Clan members gathered again, they could never reopen the barrier.
Unless… there was new power. A new, even greater power. A force that could surpass the combined might of all the Divine Clan back then—only then could the seal be broken and the gods freed.
In this world, such a thing seemed impossible. After all, the Divine Clan was already the most gifted race, shaped by the Creator in the most perfect way. How could they be surpassed?
But in truth, such power did exist—because it came from the Creator himself. Perhaps billions of years ago, the Creator had foreseen the Divine Clan’s defeat and prepared accordingly.
The Creator had buried all his power at the center of the universe.
This was a secret known only to the Divine Clan—or rather, only to the higher-ranking gods. One could say that the entire lives of the upper echelon of the Divine Clan had been spent searching for that hidden secret.
No one knew the extent of the Creator’s power, for this world, this universe, was his creation. Nor did anyone know where the secret was buried, for the universe was boundless, its edges still undiscovered. How could anyone know where the center lay?
Yet, no matter what, all the Divine Clan believed that only the one who found that power could save them all, breaking the seal completely.
“You think… I’m that person? The savior?” Yang Hao pointed exaggeratedly at his own nose. Though he wished it were true, the odds seemed impossibly slim.
But the gazes of the great gods clearly said: “Yes, it’s you. Fate has chosen you.”
“Why?” Yang Hao sighed, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on him.
“Only the one chosen by the Creator can find that power,” Sa’an’s voice drifted down. “That person must endure three bursts of Light Power and three bursts of Dark Power. That person’s body will bloom with the radiant flowers of red nebula. That person must lead gods, lead humans, lead all darkness and light, to become the master of this universe—the King of the Cosmos.”
“King of the Cosmos?” Yang Hao could barely breathe. If those words had been applied to Sa’an or Yun Shang, he might have believed it. But for himself? His palms were slick with sweat, and he couldn’t find a single excuse to convince himself.
“Your task is simple,” Yun Shang said gravely. “You must endure three bursts of Light Power and three bursts of Dark Power, then grow stronger—strong enough to reach the level of a mid-tier god, what you call a ‘Flying Immortal.’ Finally, you must seek out the power left by the Creator. By then, no one will be your match. You won’t need to worry about enemies or the Divine Clan. You will be the master of this world, with all life kneeling at your feet.”
Yang Hao swallowed hard. “Sounds… nice.”
“It’ll feel even nicer,” Kadisilong rumbled.
“Alright, I suppose it really is nice.” Yang Hao couldn’t think of any downsides and nodded. “The only question is—how do you prove I’m the one chosen by the Creator? Even if I’ve endured one burst of Light and one of Dark, it might just be a coincidence. There could be plenty of coincidental candidates…”
The great gods fell silent. They didn’t even glance at each other. Garuda and Titan sat with their eyes closed, as if in deep meditation, utterly detached.
Yang Hao thought he’d struck a nerve. “You can’t prove it, can you? I’m just a lucky kid, a disciple of the Dual Cultivation Sect, someone with a grudge to settle for my master. The King of the Cosmos, the Creator, your Divine Clan’s seal—none of that has anything to do with me.”
The air began to howl, as if hurricanes swirled around them, whipping Yun Shang’s robes violently. Yang Hao’s words died in his throat, but he stubbornly repeated, “You have no proof! You can’t prove it!”
The wind grew fiercer, sharp as knives. Voices were drowned out, and Yang Hao’s head buzzed.
“You want proof? Here’s your proof!”
A roar, a tearing sound—a few swift gusts shredded Yang Hao’s outer robe, leaving his upper body bare. Then, before him appeared a strange shadow—a mirror image of himself, identical in every way.
Only the Divine Clan could conjure such a reflection without a mirror.
But soon, Yang Hao forgot about the image. Because he saw something—something shocking, unbelievable. It was on the mirrored body… and on his own.
The proof the gods spoke of was undeniably there.
On his back, where there should have been smooth skin, a pattern had appeared.
Like a stem rising straight from his waist, ending between his shoulders in a fist-sized stamen.
The design was tinged with orange-red, like fire, or a flower from a dream.
It took all Yang Hao’s willpower not to reach out and touch the mirrored image. But whether he did or not, his eyes confirmed it—this wasn’t drawn on. It was etched into his skin, slightly raised, not obscuring a single pore. Perfect.
“The Red Nebula Flower has sprouted on your body,” Sa’an’s voice was merciless. “This is the map to that power. You are the chosen one. There is no escape.”
“This flower… will bloom?” Yang Hao’s hand trembled as he reached for his back.
“When it blooms, it will form a nebula map,” Yun Shang nodded. “Follow it, and you will become the King of the Cosmos. More importantly, Yang Hao, you already possess three of the Ten Divine Artifacts—the very weapons used to seal the Divine Clan. Isn’t that proof enough?”
“Three divine artifacts?” Yang Hao was baffled.
Yun Shang tossed three swords back to him—the ones Yang Hao had taken from the Ten Sword Sect.
“The Sword of Immortality, the Sword of Treasures, and the Sword of Gravity. Three of the ten artifacts that sealed the Divine Clan,” Yun Shang said.
Yang Hao’s eyes widened. Now he understood why the Ten Sword Sect was called that, why these swords were their heirlooms, why they’d fought so fiercely to reclaim them.
After sealing the Divine Clan, the elders had distributed the ten artifacts to ten cultivation families to prevent the gods’ resurgence. Those families became the Ten Sword Sect, and the artifacts their treasures.
It was laughable. Yang Hao found it absurd. He glanced back—Hunyuanzi had woken from his brief unconsciousness, seen the change in Yang Hao’s body, and heard the gods’ words. The thousand-year-old ghost also found it ridiculous, but he couldn’t bring himself to laugh.
Here, or in the entire divine realm, Yang Hao was likely the weakest. With a combat level in the teens—not even a fraction of Hunyuanzi’s—and surrounded by five major gods and thousands of mid-tier deities, he was an unlikely candidate.
Yet, the task of finding “that power,” of becoming the King of the Cosmos, fell to Yang Hao.
Yang Hao decided the gods must be out of their minds—and the universe too. Since there was no way out, he stopped worrying and started bargaining. “If you want me to become the King of the Cosmos and break your seal, shouldn’t you offer me some benefits?”
“Benefits?” Yun Shang’s eyes bulged. He hadn’t expected Yang Hao to switch gears so fast. “Isn’t becoming the King of the Cosmos benefit enough? What more do you want?”
“Not the same, not the same!” Yang Hao regained his usual opportunistic bravado. “Like you said, it’s my destiny—meaning it’s mine by default, none of your business! But now you’re asking me to break the seal. Of course, you should pay a little something!”
(Note: The translation continues the narrative faithfully while adapting cultural nuances and maintaining the original’s tone and style.)
I am now the true leader of the Dan Ding Dual Cultivation Sect. This old man has long since… Yang Hao pouted, striking a pose befitting a sect leader. “If revenge is needed, why should he be the one to act? Of course, it’s up to me, the young and strong, to take charge.”
“Moreover…”
“Moreover, if he could really solve the issue of the Divine Clan’s seal, why would you come to talk to me?” Yang Hao wasn’t foolish—he had already figured it out.
At this point, there was indeed no need for further nonsense. Yun Shang simply followed the Dragon Clan’s method, bundling his thoughts into a cluster and directly tossing them to Yang Hao.
Just as Yang Hao had anticipated, these Divine Clan members had long harbored a scheme—one that only Yang Hao could fulfill.
Back then, although the Divine Clan had been deceived into being sealed, the spell that sealed so many gods was undeniably created by the Creator. The sealing barrier, forged with ten divine artifacts, was perhaps the most inconceivable magic in the world. The greater the power infused into it, the more impossible it became to break.
Consider this: back then, all Divine Clan members—whether from the Light or Dark factions—poured their full strength into the artifacts, believing they were sealing their enemies. Little did they know, both sides had been deceived, trapping themselves instead. Now, even if the remaining Divine Clan members gathered their dwindling numbers, they could never reopen the barrier.
Unless… there was new power. A power even greater than before. A force surpassing the combined might of all the Divine Clan from that era would be required to break the seal and free the imprisoned gods.
In this world, such a power seemed nonexistent. After all, the Divine Clan was already the race with the highest innate potential—a people shaped by the Creator in the most perfect way. How could they possibly be surpassed?
Yet, such a power did exist. Because it originated from the Creator themselves. Perhaps billions of years ago, the Creator had foreseen the Divine Clan’s defeat and made preparations in advance.
The Creator buried all their power at the center of the universe.
This was a secret known only to the Divine Clan—or rather, only to the higher-ranking Divine Clan. One could say that the entire lives of the upper-tier Divine Clan were spent searching for the hidden location of that secret.
No one knew the extent of the Creator’s power, for this world—this universe—was their creation. Nor did anyone know where the secret was buried, for the universe was vast and boundless, with no known edges. How could anyone pinpoint its center?
Regardless, all Divine Clan members believed that only the one who found that power could save their kind, freeing them from the seal once and for all.
“You think… I’m that person? The savior?” Yang Hao pointed exaggeratedly at his own nose. Though he wished it were true, the odds seemed impossibly slim.
Yet the gazes of the great gods clearly said: “Yes, it’s you. Fate has chosen you.”
“Why?” Yang Hao felt helpless, as if the weight of the entire world had been thrust upon him.
“Only the one chosen by the Creator can find that power,” Sa’an’s voice drifted down. “That person must endure three blasts of Light energy and three blasts of Dark energy. Their body must bloom with the radiant flowers of red nebulae. They must lead gods, humans, and all beings of Light and Dark to become the ruler of this universe—the King of the Cosmos.”
“King of the Cosmos?” Yang Hao barely dared to breathe. If such a title were applied to Sa’an or Yun Shang, he might have believed it. But for himself? His palms grew slick with sweat, and he couldn’t find a single reason to convince himself it was true.
“Your task is simple,” Yun Shang said gravely. “You must endure three blasts of Light and three of Dark, grow stronger until you reach the level of a mid-tier Divine Clan—what you call the ‘Flying Immortal’ realm—and then seek out the power left by the Creator. By then, no one will be your match. You need not fear enemies or the Divine Clan, for you will be the master of this world. All life will kneel at your feet.”
Yang Hao swallowed hard. “Sounds… nice.”
“It’ll feel even nicer,” Kadisilong rumbled.
“Alright, it probably is pretty nice.” Yang Hao couldn’t think of any downsides and nodded reluctantly. “The only problem is—how do you prove I’m the one chosen by the Creator? Even if I did endure one blast of Light and one of Dark, it could just be coincidence. There might be plenty of coincidental candidates…”
The great gods fell silent. They didn’t even glance at each other. Garuda and Titan sat with eyes closed, as if in deep meditation, detached from the world.
Yang Hao thought he’d struck a nerve. “You can’t prove it, can you? Face it—I’m just a kid with freakishly good luck, a disciple of the Dual Cultivation Sect, someone with a grudge to settle for my master. The ‘King of the Cosmos,’ the Creator, your Divine Clan’s seal—none of that has anything to do with me.”
The air began to howl, as if hurricanes swirled around them, whipping Yun Shang’s robes violently. Yang Hao’s words caught in his throat, but he stubbornly repeated, “You have no proof! You can’t prove it!”
The wind grew fiercer, sharp as blades. Voices became inaudible, and Yang Hao’s head buzzed.
“You want proof? Then have your proof!”
With a shriek, the gales tore Yang Hao’s outer garments to shreds, leaving his upper body bare. Then, before him appeared a strange shadow—a mirror image of himself, identical in every way. A reflection conjured without a mirror—something only the Divine Clan could achieve.
But soon, Yang Hao forgot about the mirror image. Because he saw something else—something shocking, staggering, utterly unbelievable. It was on the mirrored body… and on his own.
The proof the gods spoke of was undeniably there.
What Yang Hao saw was his own back, which should have been smooth and unmarked. Yet now, there was a pattern—like a stem rising straight from his waist to the center of his shoulders, where a fist-sized flower bud bloomed.
The design was tinged orange-red, fiery yet dreamlike.
It took all of Yang Hao’s willpower not to reach out and touch the mirrored image. But whether he did or not, his eyes confirmed it: this wasn’t drawn on. It was etched into his skin, slightly raised, flawless in every detail, not obscuring a single pore.
“The Red Nebula Flower has sprouted on your body,” Sa’an’s voice was merciless. “This is the map to that power. You are the Chosen One. There is no escape.”
“This flower… will bloom?” Yang Hao’s hands trembled as he reached for his own back.
“When it blooms, it will form a map of the nebulae,” Yun Shang nodded. “Follow it, and you will become the King of the Cosmos! More importantly, Yang Hao, you already possess three of the ten divine artifacts—three weapons that sealed the Divine Clan. Isn’t that proof enough?”
“Three divine artifacts?” Yang Hao was baffled.
Yun Shang tossed three swords back to Yang Hao—the ones he’d taken from the Ten Sword Sect.
“The Sword of Immortality, the Sword of Treasures, and the Sword of Gravity. Three of the ten divine artifacts that sealed the Divine Clan,” Yun Shang explained.
Yang Hao’s eyes widened. Only now did he understand why the Ten Sword Sect was called as such, why these swords were their treasured heirlooms, why they’d fought so desperately to reclaim them.
After sealing the Divine Clan, the elders had distributed the ten artifacts among ten cultivation families to prevent the Divine Clan’s resurgence. These families became the Ten Sword Sect, and the artifacts their sacred relics.
It was laughable. Yang Hao found it absurd. He glanced back helplessly—Hunyuanzi had regained consciousness and witnessed the changes in Yang Hao’s body. Hearing the Divine Clan’s words, even this thousand-year-old ghost found it ridiculous, though he couldn’t bring himself to laugh.
Here—or in the entire Divine Realm—Yang Hao was likely the weakest. With combat power barely in the teens, not even a fraction of Hunyuanzi’s, let alone the five chief gods or thousands of mid-tier Divine Clan members outside.
Yet, the one destined to seek “that power” and become the King of the Cosmos… was Yang Hao.
Yang Hao decided the great gods must be out of their minds—the universe itself must be insane. Since there was no way out, he stopped worrying and began bargaining: “If you want me to become the ‘King of the Cosmos’ and break your seal, shouldn’t you offer some benefits?”
“Benefits?” Yun Shang’s eyes widened—Yang Hao’s mood swings were faster than flipping pages. “Isn’t becoming the King of the Cosmos benefit enough? What more do you want?”
“Not the same!” Yang Hao regained his usual opportunistic bravado. “Like you said, it’s my destiny to be the King of the Cosmos—meaning it’s mine by default, none of your business! Now you’re asking me to break the seal, so of course you should pay a little commission!”
Now I am the leader of the Dan Ding Dual Cultivation Sect. This old guy has long since… Yang Hao pouted, putting on the airs of a leader. “If revenge is really needed, why would it be his turn to act? Of course, it should be me, young and strong, who steps up.”
“Moreover…
“Moreover, if he could really solve the issue of the Divine Clan’s seal, why would you come to talk to me?” Yang Hao wasn’t stupid—he had already figured it out.
At this point, there was indeed no need for further nonsense. Yun Shang simply followed the Dragon Clan’s method, bundling his consciousness into a mass and tossing it directly to Yang Hao.
Just as Yang Hao had suspected, these Divine Clan members had long harbored a conspiracy, and this conspiracy could only be realized by Yang Hao.
Back then, although the Divine Clan had been deceived into being sealed, the spell that sealed so many gods was genuinely created by the Creator. The sealing barrier formed by ten artifacts was perhaps the most incredible technique in the world, and the more power poured into it, the more impossible it became to break.
Think about it—back then, all the Divine Clan, whether from the Light Faction or the Dark Faction, poured their full power into the artifacts, believing they were sealing the other side. Who would have thought that both sides were deceived and ended up trapping themselves? Now, even if the remaining Divine Clan members gathered again, they could never reopen this barrier.
Unless there was new power, even stronger power. There had to be a force capable of surpassing the combined might of all the Divine Clan back then to break the seal and free the imprisoned gods.
In this world, it seemed such a thing didn’t exist. After all, the Divine Clan was already the race with the highest innate talent, a people shaped by the Creator in the most perfect way. How could they be surpassed by others?
But in fact, such power did exist—because it originated from the Creator himself. Perhaps billions of years ago, the Creator had foreseen that the Divine Clan would be defeated by another force, so he made preparations in advance.
The Creator buried all his power at the center of the universe.
This was a secret known only to the Divine Clan, or even only to the higher-ranking Divine Clan. One could say that the entire lives of all higher-ranking Divine Clan members were spent searching for the hidden location of that secret.
No one knew how vast the Creator’s power was, because this world, this universe, was his creation. Nor did anyone know where the secret was buried, because the universe was boundless, with no known edges—how could anyone know where the center lay?
But regardless, all the Divine Clan believed that only the one who found that power could save all the gods and completely free them from the seal.
“You think I’m that person? The savior?” Yang Hao pointed exaggeratedly at his own nose. Though he wished it were true, the possibility seemed far too slim.
But the gazes of those great gods clearly said: “Yes, it’s you. Fate has chosen you.”
“Why?” Yang Hao felt helpless, as if the weight of the entire world had fallen upon him.
“Only the one chosen by the Creator can find that power,” Sa’an’s voice drifted down. “That person must be bathed three times by the Light and three times by the Darkness. That person’s body will bloom with the radiant red nebula flower. That person must lead gods, lead humans, lead all darkness and light, to become the master of this universe—the King of the Cosmos.”
“King of the Cosmos?” Yang Hao barely dared to breathe. If such a title were applied to Sa’an or Yun Shang, he might have believed it. But when it came to himself, his palms grew sweaty, and he couldn’t find a single excuse to convince himself.
“Your task is simple,” Yun Shang said gravely. “You must endure three baptisms of Light and three of Darkness, then grow stronger until you reach the level of a mid-tier Divine Clan member—what you call the ‘Flying Immortal’ realm. Finally, you must find the power left behind by the Creator. By then, no one will be your match, so you need not worry about enemies or the Divine Clan. You will be the master of this world, and all life will bow at your feet.”
Yang Hao swallowed hard. “Sounds… nice.”
“It’ll feel even nicer,” Kadisilong rumbled.
“Alright, it probably is pretty nice.” Yang Hao couldn’t think of any downsides, so he nodded. “The only problem is—how do you prove I’m the one chosen by the Creator? Even if I’ve endured one baptism of Light and one of Darkness, it might just be a coincidence. There could be plenty of coincidental candidates…”
The great gods fell silent. They didn’t even glance at each other. Garuda and Titan closed their eyes like meditating monks, detached and self-forgetting.
Yang Hao thought he had struck a nerve. “You can’t prove it, can you? I’m just a kid with freakishly good luck, a disciple of the Dual Cultivation Sect, someone who just wants to avenge his master. The King of the Cosmos, the Creator, your Divine Clan’s seal—none of that has anything to do with me.”
The air began to howl, as if hurricanes were swirling around them, even causing Yun Shang’s robe to flutter violently. Yang Hao swallowed his words in fright but stubbornly repeated, “You have no proof! You can’t prove it!”
The wind grew fiercer, sharp as knives, drowning out all sound. Yang Hao’s head buzzed.
“You want proof? Then here’s your proof!”
A roar, a tearing sound—a few swift wind blades shredded Yang Hao’s outer clothes, leaving his upper body bare. Then, he saw a strange shadow appear before him—a mirror image of himself, identical in every way.
Creating a mirror image without a mirror was something only the Divine Clan could do.
But soon, Yang Hao forgot about the mirror image, because he saw something else—something shocking, unbelievable. It appeared on the mirrored body and, he realized, on his own as well.
The proof the gods spoke of was undeniably there.
What Yang Hao saw was his own back, which should have been smooth and unmarked. Yet now, there was a pattern—like a flower stem rising straight from his waist to the center of his shoulders, where a fist-sized stamen bloomed.
The pattern was a faint orange-red, like fire or a dreamlike flower.
It took all of Yang Hao’s willpower not to reach out and touch the mirrored image. But whether he did or not, his eyes clearly saw that this was no painted design—it was etched into his skin, slightly raised, not obscuring a single pore, flawless in its creation.
“The red nebula flower has already sprouted on your body,” Sa’an’s voice was merciless. “This is the map to that power. You are the chosen one. There’s no escape.”
“This flower… will bloom?” Yang Hao’s hands trembled as he reached for his own back.
“When it blooms, it will form a nebula map. Follow it, and you will become the King of the Cosmos!” Yun Shang nodded. “Yang Hao, more importantly, you already possess three of the ten great artifacts—three weapons that sealed the Divine Clan. Isn’t that proof enough?”
“What three great artifacts?” Yang Hao was baffled.
Yun Shang tossed three swords back to Yang Hao—the three longswords he had taken from the Ten Swords Sect.
“The Sword of Immortality, the Sword of Treasures, and the Sword of Gravity—three of the ten great artifacts that sealed the Divine Clan,” Yun Shang said.
Yang Hao’s eyes widened. Only now did he understand why the Ten Swords Sect was called that, why these swords were their heirlooms, why they had fought so fiercely to reclaim them.
After sealing the Divine Clan, to prevent their resurgence, the leaders of the Elder Council had entrusted the ten artifacts to ten cultivation families for safekeeping. These families became the Ten Swords Sect, and the ten artifacts became their treasures.
It was laughable. Yang Hao found it laughable. He turned helplessly—Hunyuanzi had woken from his brief unconsciousness and also witnessed the change in Yang Hao’s body. Hearing the Divine Clan’s words, this thousand-year-old ghost also found it absurd, but he couldn’t bring himself to laugh.
Whether here or in the entire Divine Realm, the weakest was undoubtedly Yang Hao. With combat power barely in the teens—not even a fraction of Hunyuanzi’s—let alone compared to the five great deities and thousands of mid-tier Divine Clan members outside.
And yet, the one chosen to seek “that power,” to become the King of the Cosmos, was Yang Hao.
Yang Hao felt those great deities must have lost their minds—the universe itself must have lost its mind. Since things had come to this, he stopped worrying and instead began bargaining with Yun Shang and the others: “Since you want me to become the so-called King of the Cosmos and break your seal, shouldn’t you offer me some benefits?”
“Benefits?” Yun Shang’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected Yang Hao to flip so quickly. “Isn’t becoming the King of the Cosmos benefit enough? What more do you want?”
“Not the same, not the same!” Yang Hao finally regained his usual opportunistic bravado. “Like you said, becoming the King of the Cosmos is my destiny—meaning it’s mine by right. What’s it to you? Now you’re asking me to break the seal, so of course you should pay a little reward!”
He had hidden all his power at the very center of the universe.
I am now the leader of the Dan Ding Dual Cultivation Sect. This old guy has long since… Yang Hao pouted, putting on the airs of a leader. “If revenge is really needed, why would it be his turn to act? Of course, it’s up to me, the young and strong one.”
“Moreover…
“Moreover, if he could really solve the issue of the Divine Clan’s seal, why would you come to me to discuss it?” Yang Hao wasn’t stupid—he had already figured it out.
At this point, there was really no need for further nonsense. Yun Shang simply followed the Dragon Clan’s method, bundling his consciousness into a mass and tossing it directly to Yang Hao.
Just as Yang Hao had suspected, the Divine Clan had long harbored a scheme—one that only Yang Hao could fulfill.
Back then, although the Divine Clan had been deceived into being sealed, the spell that sealed so many gods was undeniably created by the Creator. The sealing barrier forged with ten divine artifacts was perhaps the most inconceivable technique in the world. The more power poured into it, the more impossible it became to break.
Think about it: back then, all the Divine Clan—whether from the Light Faction or the Dark Faction—had poured their full power into the artifacts, believing they were sealing their enemies. Who would have guessed that both sides had been deceived, trapping themselves instead? Now, even if the remaining Divine Clan gathered their dwindling numbers, they could never break the seal again.
Unless there was new power—power even stronger than before. There had to be a force capable of surpassing the combined might of all the Divine Clan from back then to break the seal and free the imprisoned gods.
In this world, such a thing seemed impossible. After all, the Divine Clan was already the race with the highest innate potential, molded by the Creator in the most perfect way. How could they be surpassed by anyone else?
But in reality, such power did exist—because it came from the Creator himself. Perhaps billions of years ago, the Creator had foreseen that the Divine Clan would be defeated by another force, so he had prepared in advance.
The Creator had buried all his power at the center of the universe.
This was a secret known only to the Divine Clan—or rather, only to the upper echelons of the Divine Clan. One could say that the entire lives of the upper Divine Clan were spent searching for the hidden location of that secret.
No one knew the extent of the Creator’s power, for this world—this universe—was his creation. No one knew where the secret was buried, for the universe was vast and boundless, with no known boundaries. How could anyone know where the center lay?
But regardless, all the Divine Clan believed that only the one who found that power could save all the gods and free them from the seal.
“You think I’m that person? The savior?” Yang Hao pointed exaggeratedly at his own nose. Though he wished it were true, the possibility seemed far too slim.
Yet the gazes of the great gods clearly said: “Yes, it’s you. Fate has chosen you.”
“Why?” Yang Hao felt helpless, as if the weight of the entire world had fallen on his shoulders.
“Only the one chosen by the Creator can find that power,” Sa’an’s voice drifted down. “That person must be struck three times by the power of Light and three times by the power of Darkness. That person’s body will bloom with the radiant flowers of red nebulae. That person must lead gods, lead humans, lead all of Light and Darkness, to become the master of this universe—the king of the cosmos.”
“The king of the cosmos?” Yang Hao barely dared to breathe. If those words had been applied to Sa’an or Yun Shang, he might have believed them. But when it came to himself, his palms grew sweaty, and he couldn’t find a single excuse to convince himself.
“Your task is simple,” Yun Shang said gravely. “You must endure three strikes of Light and three of Darkness, then grow stronger—strong enough to reach the level of a mid-tier Divine Clan, what you call the ‘Flying Immortal’ realm. Finally, you must find the power left behind by the Creator. By then, no one will be your match. You won’t need to worry about your enemies or the Divine Clan. You will be the master of this world, and all life will bow at your feet.”
Yang Hao swallowed hard. “Sounds… nice.”
“It’ll be even nicer in practice,” Kadisilong rumbled.
“Alright, I suppose it really is quite nice.” Yang Hao couldn’t think of any downsides, so he nodded. “The only problem is—how do you prove I’m the one chosen by the Creator? Even if I’ve endured one strike of Light and one of Darkness, that could just be coincidence. There might be plenty of coincidental candidates…”
The great gods fell silent. They didn’t even glance at each other. Garuda and Titan sat with their eyes closed, as if in deep meditation, utterly detached.
Yang Hao thought he’d hit the nail on the head. “You can’t prove it, can you? It’s nothing like that. I’m just a kid with ridiculously good luck, a disciple of the Dual Cultivation Sect, someone who just wants to avenge his master. The king of the cosmos, the Creator, your Divine Clan’s seal—none of that has anything to do with me.”
The air began to wail, as if hurricanes were swirling around them, even causing Yun Shang’s robes to flutter wildly. Yang Hao’s words caught in his throat, but he stubbornly repeated, “You have no proof! You can’t prove it!”
The wind grew fiercer, sharp as knives. No voices could be heard now—Yang Hao’s head buzzed with noise.
“You want proof? Then here’s your proof!”
A howling, tearing sound—a few swift gusts of wind shredded Yang Hao’s outer robe, leaving his upper body bare. Then, before him, a strange shadow appeared—a mirror image of himself, identical in every way.
Creating a mirror image without a mirror was something only the Divine Clan could do.
But soon, Yang Hao forgot about the mirror image entirely—because he saw something that shocked him beyond measure. It was on the mirrored body… and on his own.
The proof the gods spoke of was undeniably there.
What Yang Hao saw was his own back, which should have been smooth and unmarked. Yet now, inexplicably, a pattern had appeared.
It resembled a flower stem, rising straight from his waist to the center point between his shoulders, where a fist-sized bud bloomed.
The pattern was a faint orange-red, like fire or a dreamlike blossom.
It took all of Yang Hao’s willpower not to reach out and touch the mirrored image. But whether he did or not, his eyes clearly saw that this was no painted design—it was etched into his skin, slightly raised, not obscuring a single pore, flawless in its creation.
“The flower of the red nebula has already sprouted on your body,” Sa’an’s voice was merciless. “This is the map to that power. You are the chosen one. There is no escape.”
“This flower… will bloom?” Yang Hao’s hands trembled as he reached for his own back.
“When it blooms, it will form a map of the nebula,” Yun Shang nodded. “Follow that map, and you will become the king of the cosmos! More importantly, Yang Hao, you already possess three of the ten divine artifacts—three weapons that sealed the Divine Clan. Isn’t that proof enough?”
“Three divine artifacts?” Yang Hao was baffled.
Yun Shang tossed three swords back to Yang Hao—the ones he had taken from the Ten Sword Sect.
“The Sword of Immortality, the Sword of Treasures, and the Sword of Gravity—three of the ten divine artifacts that sealed the Divine Clan,” Yun Shang said.
Yang Hao’s eyes widened. Only now did he understand why the Ten Sword Sect was called the Ten Sword Sect, why these swords were their treasured heirlooms, why they had fought so desperately to reclaim them.
After sealing the Divine Clan, to prevent their resurgence, the leaders of the Elder Council had entrusted the ten divine artifacts to ten cultivation families for safekeeping. Those families became the Ten Sword Sect, and the ten artifacts became their sect’s most prized treasures.
It was laughable. Yang Hao found it laughable. He turned helplessly—Hunyuanzi had woken from his brief unconsciousness and had also seen the change in Yang Hao’s body. Hearing the Divine Clan’s words, even this thousand-year-old ghost found it absurd. He wanted to laugh but couldn’t.
Whether here or in the entire Divine Realm, Yang Hao was likely the weakest. With combat power barely in the teens—not even a fraction of Hunyuanzi’s—let alone compared to the five great gods or the thousands of mid-tier Divine Clan outside.
And yet, the one chosen to seek “that power,” to become the king of the cosmos, was Yang Hao.
Yang Hao felt that the great gods had lost their minds—that the universe itself had gone mad. Since things had come to this, he might as well stop worrying and start bargaining with Yun Shang and the others.
“If you want me to become this so-called king of the cosmos and break your seal, then you ought to give me some benefits.”
“Benefits?” Yun Shang’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected Yang Hao to flip so quickly. “Isn’t becoming the king of the cosmos benefit enough? What more do you want?”
“Not the same, not the same!” Yang Hao finally regained his usual opportunistic bravado. “Like you said, becoming the king of the cosmos is my destiny—meaning it’s mine by right. What’s it to you? Now you’re asking me to break the seal, so of course you should pay a little reward!”
No one knew how powerful the Creator truly was, since he was the one who created this world, this universe. No one knew where the hidden point was either, because the universe was so vast that no one had yet discovered its edge, let alone its center.
“I am now the leader of the Dan Ding Dual Cultivation Sect. This old guy has long since…” Yang Hao pouted, striking a pose befitting a sect leader. “If revenge is really needed, why would it be his turn to act? Of course, it should be me, young and strong, who steps up.”
“Moreover…”
“Moreover, if he could truly solve the issue of the Divine Clan’s seal, why would you come to talk to me?” Yang Hao wasn’t foolish—he had already figured it out.
At this point, there was indeed no need for further nonsense. Yun Shang simply followed the Dragon Clan’s method, bundling his consciousness into a cluster and tossing it directly to Yang Hao.
Just as Yang Hao had anticipated, the Divine Clan had long harbored a scheme—one that only Yang Hao could fulfill.
Back then, although the Divine Clan had been deceived into being sealed, the spell that sealed so many gods was undeniably created by the Creator. The sealing barrier, forged with ten divine artifacts, was perhaps the most inconceivable magic in the world. The more power poured into it, the more impossible it became to break.
Consider this: back then, all members of the Divine Clan, whether from the Light or Dark factions, poured their full strength into the artifacts, believing they were sealing their opponents. Little did they know, both sides had been deceived, trapping themselves instead. Now, even if the remaining Divine Clan members gathered their dwindling numbers, they could never break the seal again.
Unless… there was new power—greater, stronger power. A force that could surpass the combined might of all the Divine Clan from that era was needed to shatter the seal and free the imprisoned gods.
Such power seemed nonexistent in this world. After all, the Divine Clan was already the most gifted race, shaped by the Creator in the most perfect way. How could they be surpassed?
Yet, such power did exist—because it originated from the Creator Himself. Perhaps billions of years ago, the Creator had foreseen the Divine Clan’s defeat and prepared accordingly.
The Creator buried all His power at the center of the universe.
This was a secret known only to the Divine Clan—or rather, only to the higher-ranking Divine Clan. One could say that the entire lives of the higher Divine Clan were spent searching for the hidden location of this secret.
No one knew the extent of the Creator’s power, for He had created this world, this universe. Nor did anyone know where the secret was buried, for the universe was boundless, its edges still undiscovered. How could anyone pinpoint its center?
Regardless, all Divine Clan members believed that only the one who found that power could save them all, breaking the seal completely.
“You think… I’m that person? The savior?” Yang Hao pointed exaggeratedly at his own nose. Though he wished it were true, the odds seemed impossibly slim.
Yet the gazes of the great gods clearly said: “Yes, it’s you. Fate has chosen you.”
“Why?” Yang Hao sighed, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on him.
“Only the one chosen by the Creator can find that power,” Sa’an’s voice drifted down. “That person must endure three bursts of Light energy and three bursts of Dark energy. That person’s body will bloom with radiant red nebula flowers. That person will lead gods, humans, all of light and darkness, to become the master of this universe—its king.”
“The king of the universe?” Yang Hao barely dared to breathe. If such a title were applied to Sa’an or Yun Shang, he might have believed it. But for himself? His palms grew clammy with sweat, and he couldn’t find a single reason to convince himself.
“Your task is simple,” Yun Shang said gravely. “You must endure three bursts of Light and three of Dark energy, grow stronger until you reach the level of a mid-tier Divine Clan—what you call the ‘Flying Immortal’ realm. Then, you must find the power left by the Creator. By then, no one will be your match. You need not fear enemies or the Divine Clan. You will be the master of this world, with all life bowing at your feet.”
Yang Hao swallowed hard. “Sounds… nice.”
“It’ll feel even nicer,” Kadisilong rumbled.
“Alright, it probably is pretty nice.” Yang Hao couldn’t think of any downsides and nodded. “The only question is—how do you prove I’m the chosen one? Even if I’ve endured one burst of Light and one of Dark energy, it could just be coincidence. There might be plenty of coincidental candidates…”
The great gods fell silent. They didn’t even glance at each other. Garuda and Titan sat with eyes closed, as if in deep meditation, detached and serene.
Yang Hao thought he’d struck a nerve. “You can’t prove it, can you? I’m just a lucky kid, a disciple of the Dual Cultivation Sect, with some vengeance to carry out for my master. The king of the universe? The Creator? Your Divine Clan’s seal? None of that has anything to do with me.”
The air began to wail, as if hurricanes swirled around them, whipping Yun Shang’s robes violently. Yang Hao’s words caught in his throat, but he stubbornly repeated, “You have no proof! You can’t prove it!”
The wind grew fiercer, sharp as blades. Voices were drowned out, leaving only a ringing in Yang Hao’s ears.
“You want proof? Here’s your proof!”
A howling, tearing sound—a few precise slashes of wind shredded Yang Hao’s outer garments, leaving his upper body bare. Then, before him appeared a strange shadow—a mirror image of himself, identical in every way.
Creating a mirror image without a mirror was something only the Divine Clan could do.
But soon, Yang Hao forgot about the image. Because he saw something—something shocking, unbelievable. It was on the mirrored body… and on his own.
The proof the gods spoke of was undeniably there.
On his back, where there should have been smooth skin, now lay a pattern.
Like a stem rising straight from his waist, ending between his shoulders in a fist-sized stamen.
The pattern was a faint orange-red, like fire or a dreamlike flower.
It took all Yang Hao’s willpower not to reach out and touch the image. But whether he did or not, his eyes confirmed it—this wasn’t drawn on. It was etched into his skin, slightly raised, not obscuring a single pore. Perfect, flawless.
“The Red Nebula Flower has sprouted on your body,” Sa’an’s voice was merciless. “This is the map to that power. You are the chosen one. There’s no escape.”
“This flower… will bloom?” Yang Hao’s hands trembled as he reached for his back.
“When it blooms, it will form a nebula map,” Yun Shang nodded. “Follow it, and you will become the king of the universe. More importantly, Yang Hao, you already possess three of the ten divine artifacts—three weapons that sealed the Divine Clan. Isn’t that proof enough?”
“Three divine artifacts?” Yang Hao was baffled.
Yun Shang tossed three swords back to him—the ones Yang Hao had taken from the Ten Sword Sect.
“The Sword of Immortality, the Sword of Treasures, and the Sword of Gravity. Three of the ten artifacts that sealed the Divine Clan,” Yun Shang said.
Yang Hao’s eyes widened. Now he understood why the Ten Sword Sect was called that, why these swords were their heirlooms, why they fought so fiercely to reclaim them.
After sealing the Divine Clan, to prevent their resurgence, the elders had entrusted the ten artifacts to ten cultivation families—now known as the Ten Sword Sect. The artifacts became their most prized treasures.
It was laughable. Yang Hao found it absurd. He glanced back at Hunyuanzi, who had woken from his brief unconsciousness. The old ghost had seen the change in Yang Hao’s body and heard the Divine Clan’s words. He wanted to laugh but couldn’t.
Here—or in the entire Divine Realm—Yang Hao was likely the weakest. With a combat level barely in the teens, he was even weaker than Hunyuanzi’s shadow, let alone the five chief gods and thousands of mid-tier Divine Clan outside.
Yet, the one destined to find “that power,” to become the king of the universe… was Yang Hao.
Yang Hao decided the great gods must be out of their minds—and the universe along with them. Since there was no way out, he stopped worrying and started bargaining. “If you want me to become the so-called king of the universe and break your seal, shouldn’t you offer some benefits?”
“Benefits?” Yun Shang’s eyes widened. Yang Hao’s shift in attitude was faster than flipping a page. “Isn’t becoming the king of the universe benefit enough? What more do you want?”
“Not the same!” Yang Hao regained his usual opportunistic boldness. “Like you said, it’s my fate to be the king of the universe—meaning it’s already mine! What’s it to you? Now you’re asking me to break the seal, so of course you should pay a little reward!”
“You think I’m the one? The savior?” Yang Hao exaggeratedly pointed at his own nose. Although he wouldn’t mind being the hero, the possibility seemed far too slim.
I am now the leader of the Dan Ding Dual Cultivation Sect. This old guy has long since… Yang Hao pouted, striking a pose befitting a sect leader. “If revenge is really needed, why would it be his turn to act? Of course, it should be me, young and strong, who steps up.”
“Moreover…
“Moreover, if he could really solve the issue of the Divine Clan’s seal, why would you come to talk to me?” Yang Hao wasn’t stupid—he had already figured it out.
At this point, there was really no need for further nonsense. Yun Shang simply followed the Dragon Clan’s method, bundling his consciousness into a cluster and tossing it directly to Yang Hao.
Just as Yang Hao had anticipated, these Divine Clan members had long harbored a scheme—one that only Yang Hao could fulfill.
Back then, although the Divine Clan had been deceived into being sealed, the spell that sealed so many gods was undeniably created by the Creator. The sealing barrier, forged with ten divine artifacts, was perhaps the most inconceivable technique in the world. The more power poured into it, the more impossible it became to break.
Think about it: back then, all the Divine Clan—whether from the Light Faction or the Dark Faction—poured their full strength into the artifacts, believing they were sealing their enemies. Who would have guessed that both sides were deceived and ended up trapping themselves? Now, even if the remaining Divine Clan members gathered again, they could never reopen this barrier.
Unless there was new power—new, even stronger power. A force that could surpass the combined might of all the Divine Clan back then would be needed to break the seal and free the imprisoned gods.
In this world, such a thing seemed impossible. After all, the Divine Clan was already the race with the highest innate talent, the most perfectly crafted by the Creator. How could they be surpassed by anyone else?
But in fact, such power did exist—because it came from the Creator himself. Perhaps billions of years ago, the Creator had foreseen that the Divine Clan would be defeated by another force, so he prepared in advance.
The Creator buried all his power at the center of the universe.
This was a secret known only to the Divine Clan—or rather, only to the upper echelons of the Divine Clan. One could say that the entire lives of the upper Divine Clan were spent searching for the hidden location of that secret.
No one knew how vast the Creator’s power was, for he had created this world, this universe. Nor did anyone know where the secret was buried, for the universe was boundless, with no known edges—how could anyone pinpoint its center?
But regardless, all the Divine Clan believed that only the one who found that power could save all the gods and free them from the seal.
“You think I’m that person? The savior?” Yang Hao pointed exaggeratedly at his own nose. Though he wished it were true, the possibility seemed far too slim.
Yet the gazes of the great gods clearly said: “Yes, it’s you. Fate has chosen you.”
“Why?” Yang Hao sighed, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on him.
“Only the one chosen by the Creator can find that power,” Sa’an’s voice drifted down. “That person must be bathed three times by the Light Force and three times by the Dark Force. That person’s body will bloom with the radiant flowers of red nebulae. That person must lead gods, lead humans, lead all darkness and light, to become the master of this universe—the King of the Cosmos.”
“King of the Cosmos?” Yang Hao barely dared to breathe. If such a title were applied to Sa’an or Yun Shang, he might have believed it. But for himself? His palms were drenched in sweat, and he couldn’t find a single excuse to convince himself.
“Your task is simple,” Yun Shang said gravely. “You must endure three baptisms of Light Force and three of Dark Force, then grow stronger—strong enough to reach the level of a mid-tier Divine Clan, what you call the ‘Flying Immortal’ realm. Finally, you must find the power left by the Creator. By then, no one will be your match, so you need not worry about enemies or the Divine Clan. You will be the master of this world, with all life bowing at your feet.”
Yang Hao swallowed hard. “Sounds… nice.”
“It’ll be even nicer in practice,” Kadis Long rumbled.
“Alright, I suppose it really is quite nice.” Yang Hao couldn’t think of any downsides, so he nodded. “The only problem is—how do you prove I’m the one chosen by the Creator? Even if I’ve endured one baptism of Light and one of Dark, it might just be a coincidence. There could be plenty of coincidental candidates…”
The great gods fell silent. They didn’t even glance at each other. Garuda and Titan sat with their eyes closed, as if in deep meditation, detached and oblivious.
Yang Hao thought he’d struck a nerve. “You can’t prove it, can you? It’s just not true. I’m just a kid with crazy luck, a disciple of the Dual Cultivation Sect, someone who just wants to avenge his master. The King of the Cosmos, the Creator, your Divine Clan’s seal—none of that has anything to do with me.”
The air began to howl, as if hurricanes were swirling around them, even whipping Yun Shang’s robes violently. Yang Hao’s words caught in his throat, but he stubbornly repeated, “You have no proof! You can’t prove it!”
The wind grew fiercer, sharp as knives. No voices could be heard now—Yang Hao’s head buzzed with noise.
“You want proof? Then here’s your proof!”
A roar, a tearing sound—a few swift gusts shredded Yang Hao’s outer robe, leaving his upper body bare. Then, before him appeared a strange shadow—a mirror image of himself, identical in every way.
A mirror image conjured from thin air—something only the Divine Clan could do.
But soon, Yang Hao forgot about the mirror image, for he saw something else—something shocking, astounding, utterly unbelievable. It appeared on the mirrored body, and thus, on his own.
The proof the gods spoke of was undeniably there.
What Yang Hao saw was his own back, which should have been smooth and unmarked. Yet now, inexplicably, a pattern had appeared.
Like a flower stem, rising straight from his waist to the center point between his shoulders, where a fist-sized stamen bloomed.
The pattern was a faint orange-red, like fire, or a dreamlike blossom.
It took all of Yang Hao’s willpower not to reach out and touch the mirrored image. But whether he did or not, his eyes clearly saw that this was no painted design—it was etched into his skin, slightly raised, not obscuring a single pore, flawless in its creation.
“The flower of the red nebulae has already sprouted on your body,” Sa’an’s voice was merciless. “This is the map to that power. You are the chosen one—there is no escape.”
“This flower… will bloom?” Yang Hao’s hands trembled as he reached for his own back.
“When it blooms, it will form a map of the nebulae,” Yun Shang nodded. “Follow that map, and you will become the King of the Cosmos! Yang Hao, more importantly, you already possess three of the ten divine artifacts—three weapons that sealed the Divine Clan. Isn’t that proof enough?”
“Three divine artifacts?” Yang Hao was baffled.
Yun Shang tossed three swords back to Yang Hao—the three longswords he had taken from the Ten Swords Sect.
“The Sword of Immortality, the Sword of Treasures, and the Sword of Gravity—three of the ten divine artifacts that sealed the Divine Clan,” Yun Shang said.
Yang Hao’s eyes widened. Only now did he understand why the Ten Swords Sect was called the Ten Swords Sect, why these swords were their heirlooms, why they had fought so desperately to reclaim them.
After sealing the Divine Clan, to prevent their resurgence, the elders of the council had entrusted the ten divine artifacts to ten cultivation families for safekeeping. These families became the Ten Swords Sect, and the ten artifacts became their sect treasures.
It was laughable. Yang Hao found it laughable. He turned helplessly—Hunyuanzi had woken from his brief unconsciousness and had also seen the changes in Yang Hao’s body. Hearing the Divine Clan’s words, even this thousand-year-old ghost found it absurd. He wanted to laugh but couldn’t.
Whether here or in the entire Divine Realm, Yang Hao was likely the weakest. With a combat power barely in the teens—not even a fraction of Hunyuanzi’s—how could he compare to the five great gods or the thousands of mid-tier Divine Clan outside?
And yet, the task of finding “that power,” of becoming the King of the Cosmos, had fallen to Yang Hao.
Yang Hao decided the great gods must have lost their minds—the universe itself must be insane. Since there was no way out, he stopped worrying and started bargaining instead. “Since you want me to become the so-called King of the Cosmos and break your seal, shouldn’t you give me some benefits?”
“Benefits?” Yun Shang’s eyes widened—he hadn’t expected Yang Hao to switch gears so quickly. “Isn’t becoming the King of the Cosmos benefit enough? What more do you want?”
“Not the same, not the same!” Yang Hao finally regained his usual opportunistic bravado. “Like you said, becoming the King of the Cosmos is my destiny—meaning it’s already mine by right! What’s it to you? Now, you’re the ones asking me to break the seal, so of course you should pay a little reward!”
“Why me?” Yang Hao sighed helplessly. He felt like the weight of the entire world had been dumped onto his shoulders.
I am now the leader of the Dan Ding Dual Cultivation Sect. This old guy has long since… Yang Hao pouted, putting on the airs of a leader. “If it’s really about revenge, why would it be his turn to act? Of course, it’s up to me, the young and strong one!”
“Besides…
“Besides, if he could really solve the issue of the Divine Clan’s seal, why would you come to me to talk?” Yang Hao wasn’t stupid—he had already figured it out.
At this point, there was really no need for further nonsense. Yun Shang simply followed the Dragon Clan’s method, bundling his consciousness into a mass and tossing it directly to Yang Hao.
Just as Yang Hao had suspected, the Divine Clan had long harbored a scheme—one that only Yang Hao could fulfill.
Back then, though the Divine Clan had been deceived into being sealed, the spell that imprisoned so many gods was undeniably created by the Creator. The sealing barrier, forged with ten divine artifacts, was perhaps the most inconceivable magic in the world. The more power poured into it, the more impossible it became to break.
Think about it—back then, all the Divine Clan, whether of the Light or Dark factions, had poured their full strength into the artifacts, believing they were sealing their enemies. Little did they know, both sides had been deceived, trapping themselves instead. Now, even if the remaining Divine Clan gathered their dwindling numbers, they could never reopen the seal.
Unless there was new power—power even greater than before. A force surpassing the combined might of all the Divine Clan back then would be needed to break the seal and free the imprisoned gods.
In this world, such a thing seemed impossible. After all, the Divine Clan was already the race with the highest innate potential, shaped by the Creator in the most perfect way. How could they be surpassed by anyone else?
Yet, such power did exist—because it came from the Creator himself. Perhaps billions of years ago, the Creator had foreseen the Divine Clan’s defeat and prepared accordingly.
The Creator had buried all his power at the center of the universe.
This was a secret known only to the Divine Clan—or rather, only to the higher-ranking gods. One could say that the entire lives of the upper echelon of the Divine Clan had been spent searching for that hidden secret.
No one knew the extent of the Creator’s power, for this world, this universe, was his creation. Nor did anyone know where the secret was buried, for the universe was vast and boundless, with no known edges—how could one determine its center?
But regardless, all the Divine Clan believed that only the one who found that power could save them, breaking the seal completely.
“You think I’m that person? The savior?” Yang Hao pointed exaggeratedly at his own nose. Though he wished it were true, the odds seemed impossibly slim.
Yet the gazes of the great gods clearly said: “Yes, it’s you. Fate has chosen you.”
“Why?” Yang Hao sighed, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on him.
“Only the one chosen by the Creator can find that power,” Sa’an’s voice drifted down. “That person must endure three blasts of Light and three blasts of Darkness. That person’s body will bloom with the radiant flower of the crimson nebula. That person must lead gods, humans, all of Light and Darkness, to become the ruler of this universe—its king.”
“The king of the universe?” Yang Hao barely dared to breathe. If those words had been spoken about Sa’an or Yun Shang, he might have believed it. But applied to himself? His palms grew slick with sweat, and he couldn’t find a single excuse to convince himself.
“Your task is simple,” Yun Shang said gravely. “You must endure three blasts of Light and three of Darkness, then grow stronger—strong enough to reach the level of a mid-tier god, what you call the ‘Flying Immortal’ realm. Only then can you seek the power left by the Creator. By then, no one will be your match. You won’t need to fear enemies or the Divine Clan. You will be the master of this world, with all life kneeling at your feet.”
Yang Hao swallowed hard. “Sounds… nice.”
“It’ll feel even nicer,” Kadisilong rumbled.
“Alright, it probably is pretty nice.” Yang Hao couldn’t think of any downsides, so he nodded. “The only problem is—how do you prove I’m the one chosen by the Creator? Even if I’ve endured one blast of Light and one of Darkness, it could just be coincidence. There might be plenty of coincidental candidates…”
The great gods fell silent. They didn’t even glance at each other. Garuda and Titan sat with their eyes closed, as if in deep meditation, detached and serene.
Yang Hao thought he’d struck a nerve. “You can’t prove it, can you?
It’s not me. I’m just a kid with freakishly good luck, a disciple of the Dual Cultivation Sect, someone with a grudge to settle for my master. The king of the universe? The Creator? Your Divine Clan’s seal? None of that has anything to do with me.”
The air began to howl, as if hurricanes swirled around them, whipping Yun Shang’s robes violently. Yang Hao’s words died in his throat, but he stubbornly repeated, “You have no proof! You can’t prove it!”
The wind grew fiercer, sharp as blades. Voices were lost in the roar, leaving Yang Hao’s head ringing.
“You want proof? Then have your proof!”
A shriek, a tear—a few precise slashes of wind shredded Yang Hao’s outer robe, leaving his upper body bare. Then, before him, a strange shadow appeared—an exact mirror image of himself, floating in the air.
A mirror without a mirror—only the Divine Clan could manage that.
But soon, Yang Hao forgot about the mirror. Because he saw something—something shocking, unbelievable. It was on the mirrored body, and thus, on his own.
The proof the gods spoke of was undeniably there.
What Yang Hao saw was his own back, which should have been smooth and unmarked. Yet now, there was a pattern.
Like a stem, rising straight from his waist to the center of his shoulders, where a fist-sized bud bloomed.
The pattern was tinged with orange-red, like fire, or a flower from a dream.
It took all Yang Hao’s willpower not to reach out and touch the mirrored image. But whether he did or not, his eyes confirmed it—this wasn’t drawn on. It was etched into his skin, slightly raised, not obscuring a single pore. It was flawless.
“The crimson nebula flower has sprouted on your body,” Sa’an’s voice was merciless. “This is the map to that power. You are the chosen one. There’s no escape.”
“Will this flower… bloom?” Yang Hao’s hand trembled as he reached for his back.
“When it blooms, it will form a map of the nebula,” Yun Shang nodded. “Follow it, and you will become the king of the universe! More importantly, Yang Hao, you already possess three of the ten divine artifacts—three weapons that sealed the Divine Clan. Isn’t that proof enough?”
“What three artifacts?” Yang Hao was baffled.
Yun Shang tossed three swords back to him—the ones Yang Hao had taken from the Ten Swords Sect.
“The Sword of Immortality, the Sword of Treasures, and the Sword of Gravity—three of the ten divine artifacts that sealed the Divine Clan,” Yun Shang said.
Yang Hao’s eyes widened. Only now did he understand why the Ten Swords Sect was called that, why these swords were their heirlooms, why they had fought so desperately to reclaim them.
After sealing the Divine Clan, to prevent their resurgence, the elders had entrusted the ten artifacts to ten cultivation families for safekeeping. These families became the Ten Swords Sect, and the artifacts their sacred treasures.
It was laughable. Yang Hao found it absurd. He glanced back helplessly—Hunyuanzi had woken from his brief unconsciousness, witnessing the change in Yang Hao’s body. Hearing the Divine Clan’s words, even this thousand-year-old ghost found it ridiculous. He wanted to laugh but couldn’t.
Whether here or in the entire Divine Realm, Yang Hao was the weakest. With combat power barely in the teens—not even a fraction of Hunyuanzi’s—let alone compared to the five great gods and thousands of mid-tier Divine Clan outside.
And yet, the one chosen to seek “that power,” to become the king of the universe, was Yang Hao.
Yang Hao decided the great gods must be out of their minds—the universe itself must be insane. Since there was no way out, he stopped worrying and started bargaining instead.
“Since you want me to become the so-called king of the universe and break your seal, shouldn’t you give me some benefits?”
“Benefits?” Yun Shang’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected Yang Hao to flip so quickly. “Isn’t becoming the king of the universe benefit enough? What more do you want?”
“Not the same, not the same!” Yang Hao regained his usual shameless haggling spirit. “Like you said, becoming the king is my destiny—meaning it’s mine anyway, none of your business! But now you’re asking me to break the seal. Of course, you should pay a little commission!”
“The King of the universe?” Yang Hao barely dared to breathe. If that title were applied to Sa’an or Yun Shang, he might believe it. But applied to himself? Yang Hao’s palms were soaked with sweat. He couldn’t even find a single reason to convince himself.
Now I am the leader of the Dan Ding Dual Cultivation Sect. This old guy has long since… Yang Hao pouted, putting on the airs of a leader. “If it’s really about revenge, why would it be his turn to act? Of course, it’s up to me, the young and strong one!”
“Moreover…
“Moreover, if he could really solve the issue of the Divine Clan’s seal, why would you come to talk to me?” Yang Hao wasn’t stupid—he had already figured it out.
At this point, there was really no need for further nonsense. Yun Shang simply followed the Dragon Clan’s method, bundling his consciousness into a mass and tossing it directly to Yang Hao.
Just as Yang Hao had suspected, the Divine Clan had long harbored a scheme—one that only Yang Hao could fulfill.
Back then, though the Divine Clan had been deceived into being sealed, the spell that sealed so many gods was undeniably created by the Creator. The sealing barrier forged with ten divine artifacts was perhaps the most inconceivable magic in the world. The more power poured into it, the more impossible it became to break.
Think about it—back then, all the Divine Clan, whether from the Light or Dark factions, had poured their full strength into the artifacts, believing they were sealing their enemies. Who would have guessed that both sides had been deceived, trapping themselves instead? Now, even if the remaining Divine Clan gathered again, they could never reopen the seal.
Unless there was new power—new, even greater power. A force that could surpass the combined might of all the Divine Clan back then was needed to break the seal and free the imprisoned gods.
In this world, such a thing seemed impossible. After all, the Divine Clan was already the most gifted race, shaped by the Creator in the most perfect way. How could they be surpassed?
Yet, such power did exist—because it came from the Creator himself. Perhaps billions of years ago, the Creator had foreseen the Divine Clan’s defeat and prepared accordingly.
The Creator had buried all his power at the center of the universe.
This was a secret known only to the Divine Clan—or rather, only to the higher-ranking gods. One could say that the entire lives of the upper echelon of the Divine Clan had been spent searching for that hidden power.
No one knew the extent of the Creator’s abilities, for he had shaped this world, this universe. Nor did anyone know where the power was buried, for the universe was boundless, its edges still undiscovered—how could anyone know where its center lay?
But regardless, all the Divine Clan believed that only the one who found that power could save them, breaking the seal completely.
“You think… I’m that person? The savior?” Yang Hao pointed exaggeratedly at his own nose. Though he wished it were true, the odds seemed impossibly slim.
Yet the gazes of the great gods clearly said: *Yes, it’s you. Fate has chosen you.*
“Why?” Yang Hao sighed, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on him.
“Only the one chosen by the Creator can find that power,” Sa’an’s voice drifted down. “That person must endure three blasts of Light and three blasts of Darkness. That person’s body will bloom with the radiant flowers of red nebulae. That person will lead gods, men, all light and darkness, to become the ruler of this universe—its king.”
“King of the universe?” Yang Hao barely dared to breathe. If those words had been applied to Sa’an or Yun Shang, he might have believed it. But for himself? His palms grew slick with sweat. He couldn’t find a single reason to convince himself.
“Your task is simple,” Yun Shang said gravely. “You must endure three blasts of Light and three of Darkness, then grow stronger—strong enough to reach the level of a mid-tier god, what you call a ‘Flying Immortal.’ Then, you must find the power left by the Creator. By then, no one will be your match. You won’t need to fear enemies or the Divine Clan. You will be the master of this world, and all life will bow at your feet.”
Yang Hao swallowed. “Sounds… nice.”
“It’ll be even nicer in practice,” Kadisilong rumbled.
“Alright, I suppose it really is nice.” Yang Hao couldn’t think of any downsides, so he nodded. “The only problem is—how do you prove I’m the chosen one? Even if I did endure one blast of Light and one of Darkness, it could just be coincidence. Maybe there are plenty of coincidental candidates…”
The great gods fell silent. They didn’t even glance at each other. Garuda and Titan sat like meditating monks, eyes closed, detached.
Yang Hao thought he’d struck a nerve. “You can’t prove it, can you? I’m just a lucky kid, a disciple of the Dual Cultivation Sect, someone with a grudge to settle for my master. The ‘King of the Universe,’ the Creator, your Divine Clan’s seal—none of that has anything to do with me.”
The air began to howl, as if hurricanes swirled around them, whipping Yun Shang’s robes violently. Yang Hao’s words died in his throat, but he stubbornly repeated, “You have no proof! You can’t prove it!”
The wind grew fiercer, sharp as knives. No voices could be heard—only the ringing in Yang Hao’s ears.
“You want proof? Then here’s your proof!”
A howl, a tearing sound—a few precise slashes of wind shredded Yang Hao’s outer robe, baring his upper body. Then, before him appeared a strange shadow—a perfect mirror image of himself.
A mirror image conjured from thin air—something only the Divine Clan could do.
But soon, Yang Hao forgot about the mirror image. Because he saw something—something shocking, unbelievable. It was on the mirrored body… and on his own.
The proof the gods spoke of was undeniably there.
What Yang Hao saw was his own back, which should have been smooth and unmarked. Yet now, there was a pattern.
Like a stem rising straight from his waist to the center of his shoulders, where a fist-sized bud bloomed.
The pattern was a faint orange-red, like fire or a dreamlike flower.
It took all Yang Hao’s willpower not to reach out and touch the mirrored image. But whether he did or not, his eyes confirmed it—this wasn’t drawn on. It was etched into his skin, slightly raised, not obscuring a single pore. It was flawless.
“The Red Nebula Flower has sprouted on your body,” Sa’an’s voice was merciless. “This is the map to that power. You are the chosen one. There is no escape.”
“This flower… will bloom?” Yang Hao’s hand trembled as he reached for his back.
“When it blooms, it will form a map of the nebulae,” Yun Shang nodded. “Follow it, and you will become the King of the Universe! More importantly, Yang Hao, you already possess three of the ten divine artifacts—three weapons that sealed the Divine Clan. Isn’t that proof enough?”
“Three divine artifacts?” Yang Hao was baffled.
Yun Shang tossed three swords back to him—the ones Yang Hao had taken from the Ten Swords Sect.
“The Sword of Immortality, the Sword of Treasures, and the Sword of Gravity. Three of the ten divine artifacts that sealed the Divine Clan,” Yun Shang said.
Yang Hao’s eyes widened. Only now did he understand why the Ten Swords Sect was called that, why these swords were their heirlooms, why they fought so desperately to reclaim them.
After sealing the Divine Clan, to prevent their resurgence, the elders had entrusted the ten artifacts to ten cultivation families—now known as the Ten Swords Sect. The artifacts became their treasures.
It was laughable. Yang Hao found it laughable. He turned helplessly—Hunyuanzi had woken from his brief unconsciousness, seen the change in Yang Hao’s body, and heard the gods’ words. The thousand-year-old ghost also found it laughable, though he couldn’t bring himself to laugh.
Here, or in the entire Divine Realm, Yang Hao was likely the weakest. With a combat power barely in the teens—less than a fraction of Hunyuanzi’s—let alone compared to the five great gods or the thousands of mid-tier deities.
Yet the one chosen to seek “that power,” to become the King of the Universe, was Yang Hao.
Yang Hao decided the great gods must be out of their minds—the universe itself must be out of its mind. Since there was no way out, he stopped worrying and started bargaining.
“Since you want me to become the ‘King of the Universe’ and break your seal, shouldn’t you give me some benefits?”
“Benefits?” Yun Shang’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected Yang Hao to flip so quickly. “Isn’t becoming the King of the Universe benefit enough? What more do you want?”
“That’s different!” Yang Hao regained his usual shameless haggling spirit. “Like you said, it’s my destiny—meaning it’s already mine! What’s it to you? Now you’re asking me to break the seal—of course you should pay a little reward!”
Yang Hao swallowed hard. “Sounds pretty good, I guess.”
“Feels even better when you do it,” growled the dragon Kardis roughly.
“Well, I guess it really might be pretty good,” Yang Hao admitted, unable to think of any downside, so he simply nodded. “The only problem is, how can you prove I’m the one the Creator chose? Even if I really did undergo one bath of light and one of darkness, maybe it was just a coincidence. Maybe there are lots of people who just happened to experience the same thing…”
Now I am the true leader of the Dan Ding Dual Cultivation Sect. This old guy has long since… Yang Hao pouted, striking a pose befitting a sect leader. “If revenge is really needed, why should he be the one to act? Of course, it should be me—young and strong—who steps up!”
“Moreover…
“Moreover, if he could truly solve the issue of the Divine Clan’s seal, why would you even come to talk to me?” Yang Hao wasn’t stupid; he had already figured it out.
At this point, there was really no need for further nonsense. Yun Shang simply followed the Dragon Clan’s method, bundling his consciousness into a cluster and tossing it directly to Yang Hao.
Just as Yang Hao had suspected, the Divine Clan had long harbored a scheme—one that only Yang Hao could fulfill.
Back then, although the Divine Clan had been deceived into being sealed, the spell that sealed so many gods was undeniably created by the Creator. The sealing barrier, forged with ten divine artifacts, was perhaps the most inconceivable magic in the world. The more power poured into it, the more impossible it became to break.
Consider this: back then, all the Divine Clan—whether from the Light Faction or the Dark Faction—had poured their full strength into the artifacts, believing they were sealing their enemies. Little did they know, both sides had been deceived, trapping themselves instead. Now, even if the remaining Divine Clan gathered their dwindling numbers, they could never reopen the seal.
Unless… there was new power. A power even greater than before. A force surpassing the combined might of all the Divine Clan back then—only then could the seal be broken and the imprisoned gods freed.
Such power seemed nonexistent in this world. After all, the Divine Clan was already the most gifted race, shaped by the Creator in the most perfect way. How could they be surpassed?
Yet, such power did exist—because it originated from the Creator himself. Perhaps billions of years ago, the Creator had foreseen the Divine Clan’s downfall and prepared accordingly.
The Creator had buried all his power at the center of the universe.
This was a secret known only to the Divine Clan—or rather, only to the higher-ranking gods. One could say that the entire lives of the higher gods were spent searching for that hidden secret.
No one knew the extent of the Creator’s power, for he had shaped this world, this universe. Nor did anyone know where the secret lay, for the universe was boundless, its edges still undiscovered. How could anyone pinpoint its center?
Yet, all the Divine Clan believed that only the one who found that power could save them, breaking the seal once and for all.
“You think… I’m that person? The savior?” Yang Hao pointed exaggeratedly at his own nose. Though he wished it were true, the odds seemed impossibly slim.
But the gazes of the great gods clearly said: “Yes, it’s you. Fate has chosen you.”
“Why?” Yang Hao sighed, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on him.
“Only the one chosen by the Creator can find that power,” Sa’an’s voice drifted down. “That person must endure three blasts of Light energy and three blasts of Dark energy. That person’s body must bloom with the radiant flowers of red nebula. That person must lead gods, humans, all of light and darkness, to become the master of this universe—its king.”
“The king of the universe?” Yang Hao barely dared to breathe. If those words were applied to Sa’an or Yun Shang, he might have believed them. But for himself? His palms were drenched in sweat, and he couldn’t find a single excuse to convince himself.
“Your task is simple,” Yun Shang said gravely. “You must endure the three blasts of Light and Dark, grow stronger until you reach the level of a mid-tier god—your so-called ‘Flying Immortal’ stage—and then seek out the power left by the Creator. By then, no one will be your match. You won’t need to fear enemies or even the Divine Clan. You will be the master of this world, with all life prostrate at your feet.”
Yang Hao swallowed hard. “Sounds… nice.”
“It’ll feel even nicer,” Kadis Long rumbled.
“Alright, it does sound pretty nice.” Yang Hao couldn’t think of any downsides and nodded. “The only question is—how do you prove I’m the chosen one? Even if I’ve endured one blast each of Light and Dark, it could just be coincidence. There might be plenty of coincidental candidates…”
The great gods fell silent. They didn’t even glance at each other. Garuda and Titan sat with eyes closed, as if in deep meditation, detached and oblivious.
Yang Hao thought he’d struck a nerve. “You can’t prove it, can you? I’m just a lucky kid, a disciple of the Dual Cultivation Sect, with some vengeance to carry out for my master. The king of the universe? The Creator? Your Divine Clan’s seal? None of that has anything to do with me.”
The air began to howl, as if hurricanes swirled around them, whipping Yun Shang’s robes violently. Yang Hao’s words died in his throat, but he stubbornly repeated, “You have no proof! You can’t prove it!”
The wind grew fiercer, sharp as knives, drowning out all sound. Yang Hao’s head buzzed.
“You want proof? Here’s your proof!”
A shrieking, tearing sound—a few precise gusts of wind shredded Yang Hao’s outer robe, baring his upper body. Then, before him, a strange shadow appeared—an exact mirror image of himself, projected without a mirror. Only the Divine Clan could manage such a feat.
But soon, Yang Hao forgot about the mirror image. Because he saw something—something shocking, astounding, utterly unbelievable. It was on the mirrored body… and on his own.
The proof the gods spoke of was undeniably there.
On his back, where there should have been smooth skin, a pattern had appeared.
Like a stem rising straight from his waist to the center point between his shoulders, where a fist-sized stamen bloomed.
The pattern was a faint orange-red, like fire or a dreamlike flower.
It took all Yang Hao’s willpower not to reach out and touch the mirrored image. But whether he did or not, his eyes confirmed it—this wasn’t drawn on. It was etched into his skin, slightly raised, not obscuring a single pore, flawless in its creation.
“The Red Nebula Flower has sprouted on your body,” Sa’an’s voice was merciless. “This is the map to that power. You are the chosen one. There’s no escape.”
“This flower… will bloom?” Yang Hao’s hand trembled as he reached for his back.
“When it blooms, it will form a nebula map,” Yun Shang nodded. “Follow it, and you will become the king of the universe! More importantly, Yang Hao, you already possess three of the ten divine artifacts—the very weapons used to seal the Divine Clan. Isn’t that proof enough?”
“What three artifacts?” Yang Hao was baffled.
Yun Shang tossed three swords back to him—the ones Yang Hao had taken from the Ten Swords Sect.
“The Sword of Immortality, the Sword of Treasures, and the Sword of Gravity—three of the ten artifacts that sealed the Divine Clan,” Yun Shang explained.
Yang Hao’s eyes widened. Now he understood why the Ten Swords Sect was called that, why these swords were their treasured heirlooms, why they’d fought so fiercely to reclaim them.
After sealing the Divine Clan, to prevent their resurgence, the elders had entrusted the ten artifacts to ten cultivation families—now known as the Ten Swords Sect. These swords became their most prized possessions.
It was laughable. Yang Hao found it absurd. He glanced back helplessly. Hun Yuanzi, having regained consciousness, had also seen the change in Yang Hao’s body and heard the gods’ words. The thousand-year-old ghost wanted to laugh but couldn’t.
Here—or in the entire divine realm—Yang Hao was likely the weakest. With a combat level barely in the teens, he couldn’t even compare to a fraction of Hun Yuanzi’s power, let alone the five chief gods and thousands of mid-tier gods outside.
And yet, the task of finding “that power,” of becoming the king of the universe, fell to Yang Hao.
Yang Hao decided the great gods must be out of their minds—the universe itself must be insane. Since there was no way out, he stopped worrying and started bargaining: “If you want me to become this ‘king of the universe’ and break your seal, shouldn’t you offer me some benefits?”
“Benefits?” Yun Shang’s eyes bulged. Yang Hao’s mood swings were faster than flipping pages. “Isn’t becoming the universe’s king benefit enough? What more do you want?”
“That’s different!” Yang Hao regained his usual shameless haggling spirit. “Like you said, it’s my destiny to be king—meaning it’s mine by right, none of your business! But now you’re asking me to break the seal, so of course you should pay up!”
Yang Hao thought he had struck the nerve: “You can’t prove it, can you?
I am now the leader of the Dan Ding Dual Cultivation Sect. This old guy has long since… Yang Hao pouted, striking a pose befitting a sect leader. “If revenge is really needed, why would it be his turn to act? Of course, it should be me, young and strong, who steps up.”
“Moreover…
“Moreover, if he could really solve the issue of the Divine Clan’s seal, why would you come to talk to me?” Yang Hao wasn’t stupid—he had already figured it out.
At this point, there was truly no need for further nonsense. Yun Shang simply followed the Dragon Clan’s method, bundling his consciousness into a cluster and tossing it directly to Yang Hao.
Just as Yang Hao had anticipated, these Divine Clan members had long harbored a scheme—one that only Yang Hao could fulfill.
Back then, although the Divine Clan had been deceived into being sealed, the spell that sealed so many gods was undeniably created by the Creator. The sealing barrier, forged with ten divine artifacts, was perhaps the most inconceivable technique in the world. The more power poured into it, the more impossible it became to break.
Think about it: back then, all members of the Divine Clan—whether from the Light or Dark factions—poured their full strength into the artifacts, believing they were sealing their opponents. Little did they know, both sides had been deceived, trapping themselves instead. Now, even if the remaining Divine Clan members gathered again, they could never reopen this barrier.
Unless there was new power—new, even stronger power. A force that could surpass the combined might of all the Divine Clan members back then was needed to break the seal and free the imprisoned gods.
In this world, such a thing seemed impossible. After all, the Divine Clan was already the race with the highest innate talent, shaped by the Creator in the most perfect way. How could they be surpassed by anyone else?
But in reality, such power did exist—because it originated from the Creator himself. Perhaps billions of years ago, the Creator had foreseen the Divine Clan’s defeat by another force, so he prepared in advance.
The Creator buried all his power at the center of the universe.
This was a secret known only to the Divine Clan—or rather, only to the upper echelons of the Divine Clan. One could say that the entire lives of the upper Divine Clan members were spent searching for the hidden location of that secret.
No one knew the extent of the Creator’s power, for this world, this universe, was his creation. Nor did anyone know where the secret was buried, for the universe was vast and boundless, with no known boundaries—how could anyone determine its center?
Regardless, all members of the Divine Clan believed that only the one who found that power could save all the gods and completely free them from the seal.
“You think I’m that person? The savior?” Yang Hao pointed exaggeratedly at his own nose. Though he wished it were true, the possibility seemed far too slim.
But the gazes of the great gods clearly said: “Yes, it’s you. Fate has chosen you.”
“Why?” Yang Hao sighed, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on him.
“Only the one chosen by the Creator can find that power,” Sa’an’s voice drifted down. “That person must be struck three times by the Light and three times by the Dark. That person’s body will bloom with the radiant red nebula flower. That person must lead gods, lead humans, lead all darkness and light, to become the master of this universe—the King of the Cosmos.”
“King of the Cosmos?” Yang Hao barely dared to breathe. If such a title were applied to Sa’an or Yun Shang, he might have believed it. But when it came to himself, his palms grew sweaty, and he couldn’t find a single reason to convince himself.
“Your task is simple,” Yun Shang said gravely. “You must endure three strikes of the Light and three of the Dark, then grow stronger—strong enough to reach the level of a mid-tier Divine Clan member, or what you call a ‘Flying Immortal.’ Finally, you must seek out the power left by the Creator. By then, no one will be your match, so you need not worry about enemies or the Divine Clan. You will be the master of this world, with all life bowing at your feet.”
Yang Hao swallowed hard. “Sounds… nice.”
“It’ll feel even nicer,” Kadis Long rumbled.
“Alright, it probably is pretty nice.” Yang Hao couldn’t think of any downsides, so he nodded. “The only question is—how do you prove I’m the one chosen by the Creator? Even if I’ve endured one strike of Light and one of Dark, it could just be coincidence. There might be plenty of coincidental candidates…”
The great gods fell silent. They didn’t even glance at each other. Garuda and Titan sat with their eyes closed, as if in deep meditation, detached and oblivious.
Yang Hao thought he’d struck a nerve. “You can’t prove it, can you? I’m just a kid with incredible luck, a disciple of the Dual Cultivation Sect, someone with a grudge to settle for my master. The King of the Cosmos, the Creator, your Divine Clan’s seal—none of that has anything to do with me.”
The air began to howl, as if hurricanes swirled around them, even whipping Yun Shang’s robes into a frenzy. Yang Hao gulped and cut himself off, but stubbornly repeated, “You have no proof! You can’t prove it!”
The wind grew fiercer, sharp as knives, drowning out all sound. Yang Hao’s head buzzed.
“You want proof? Then here’s your proof!”
A roar, a tear—a few swift gusts shredded Yang Hao’s outer robe, leaving his upper body bare. Then, before him appeared a strange shadow—a mirror image of himself, identical in every way.
A mirror image conjured without a mirror—something only the Divine Clan could achieve.
But soon, Yang Hao forgot about the image, for he saw something that shocked him beyond words. It appeared on the mirrored body—and on his own.
The proof the gods spoke of was undeniably there.
What Yang Hao saw was his own back, which should have been smooth and unmarked. Yet now, inexplicably, a pattern had appeared.
Like a flower stem, rising straight from his waist to the center point between his shoulders, where a fist-sized bud bloomed.
The pattern was tinged with orange-red, like fire or a dreamlike blossom.
It took all Yang Hao’s willpower not to reach out and touch the mirrored image. But whether he did or not, his eyes confirmed it—this was no painted design. It was etched into his skin, slightly raised, flawless in its perfection, not obscuring a single pore.
“The red nebula flower has sprouted on your body,” Sa’an’s voice was merciless. “This is the map to that power. You are the chosen one. There is no escape.”
“This flower… will bloom?” Yang Hao’s hand trembled as he reached for his back.
“When it blooms, it will form a nebula map,” Yun Shang nodded. “Follow it, and you will become the King of the Cosmos! More importantly, Yang Hao, you already possess three of the ten divine artifacts—three weapons that sealed the Divine Clan. Isn’t that proof enough?”
“What three divine artifacts?” Yang Hao was baffled.
Yun Shang tossed three swords back to Yang Hao—the ones he’d taken from the Ten Sword Sect.
“The Sword of Immortality, the Sword of Treasures, and the Sword of Gravity. Three of the ten divine artifacts that sealed the Divine Clan,” Yun Shang explained.
Yang Hao’s eyes widened. Only now did he understand why the Ten Sword Sect was called as such, why these swords were their heirlooms, why they fought so desperately to reclaim them.
After sealing the Divine Clan, to prevent their resurgence, the elders had entrusted the ten artifacts to ten cultivation families for safekeeping. These families became the Ten Sword Sect, and the artifacts became their treasures.
It was laughable. Yang Hao found it absurd. He glanced back helplessly—Hunyuanzi had woken from his brief unconsciousness, witnessed the change in Yang Hao’s body, and heard the Divine Clan’s words. Even this thousand-year-old ghost found it ridiculous, though he couldn’t bring himself to laugh.
Whether here or in the entire Divine Realm, Yang Hao was likely the weakest. With a combat power barely in the teens—not even a fraction of Hunyuanzi’s—and surrounded by five chief gods and thousands of mid-tier Divine Clan members, the idea was ludicrous.
Yet the task of finding “that power,” of becoming the King of the Cosmos, fell to Yang Hao.
Yang Hao decided the great gods must have lost their minds—and the universe along with them. Since there was no way out, he might as well stop worrying and start bargaining. “If you want me to become this ‘King of the Cosmos’ and break your seal, shouldn’t you offer me some benefits?”
“Benefits?” Yun Shang’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected Yang Hao to switch gears so quickly. “Isn’t becoming the King of the Cosmos benefit enough? What more do you want?”
“That’s different!” Yang Hao regained his usual opportunistic bravado. “Like you said, it’s my destiny to be the King of the Cosmos—meaning it’s mine by right, none of your business! Now you’re asking me to break the seal, so of course you should pay up!”
The air began to wail, as if a whirlwind were circling around them, even blowing Yun Shang’s robe wildly. Yang Hao was so frightened he choked off his words, but he stubbornly repeated, “You have no proof! You can’t prove it!”
The wind grew stronger, slicing like knives. No one could hear each other anymore. Yang Hao felt a buzzing in his head.
“You want proof? Then we’ll give you proof!”
With a shriek, a few sharp gusts tore Yang Hao’s outer clothes to shreds, leaving his upper body bare. Then, before Yang Hao’s eyes, a strange shadow appeared—an exact mirror image of himself.
Now, I am the true leader of the Dan Ding Dual Cultivation Sect. This old guy has long since… Yang Hao pouted, striking a pose befitting a sect leader. “If revenge is really needed, why would it be his turn to act? Of course, it should be me, young and strong, who steps up!”
“Moreover…
“Moreover, if he could really solve the issue of the Divine Clan’s seal, why would you even come to talk to me?” Yang Hao wasn’t foolish—he had already figured it out.
At this point, there was truly no need for further nonsense. Yun Shang simply followed the Dragon Clan’s method, bundling his consciousness into a mass and directly tossing it to Yang Hao.
Just as Yang Hao had anticipated, these Divine Clan members had long harbored a scheme—one that only Yang Hao could fulfill.
Back then, though the Divine Clan had been deceived into being sealed, the spell that imprisoned so many gods was undeniably created by the Creator Himself. The sealing barrier, forged with ten divine artifacts, was perhaps the most inconceivable magic in the world. The greater the power infused into it, the more impossible it became to break.
Consider this: back then, all Divine Clan members—whether of the Light or Dark factions—had poured their full strength into the artifacts, believing they were sealing their enemies. Little did they know, both sides had been deceived, trapping themselves instead. Now, even if the remaining Divine Clan members gathered again, they could never reopen this barrier.
Unless… there was new power. A new, far greater power. A force that could surpass the combined might of all the Divine Clan from back then—only then could the seal be broken, freeing the imprisoned gods.
In this world, such a power seemed nonexistent. After all, the Divine Clan was already the most gifted race, shaped by the Creator in the most perfect way. How could they possibly be surpassed?
Yet, such power did exist—because it originated from the Creator Himself. Perhaps billions of years ago, the Creator had foreseen the Divine Clan’s defeat and prepared accordingly.
The Creator had buried all His power at the center of the universe.
This was a secret known only to the Divine Clan—or rather, only to the higher-ranking gods. In truth, the entire lives of the upper echelon of the Divine Clan had been spent searching for the hidden location of this secret.
No one knew the extent of the Creator’s power, for this world—this universe—was His creation. Nor did anyone know where the power was buried, for the universe was boundless, its edges still undiscovered. How could anyone pinpoint its center?
Nevertheless, all Divine Clan members believed that only the one who found that power could save the gods, breaking the seal completely.
“You think… I’m that person? The savior?” Yang Hao pointed exaggeratedly at his own nose. Though he wished it were true, the odds seemed impossibly slim.
Yet the gazes of the great gods clearly said: “Yes, it’s you. Fate has chosen you.”
“Why?” Yang Hao sighed, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on him.
“Only the one chosen by the Creator can find that power,” Sa’an’s voice drifted down. “That person must endure three blasts of Light and three blasts of Darkness. That person’s body must bloom with the radiant flower of crimson nebulae. That person must lead gods, lead men, lead all darkness and light—to become the master of this universe, its king.”
“The king of the universe?” Yang Hao barely dared to breathe. If such words were spoken of Sa’an or Yun Shang, he might have believed it. But applied to himself? His palms grew slick with sweat. He couldn’t find a single excuse to convince himself.
“Your task is simple,” Yun Shang said gravely. “You must endure three blasts of Light and three of Darkness, then grow stronger—strong enough to reach the level of a mid-tier god, what you call the ‘Flying Immortal’ realm. Only then can you seek the power left by the Creator. By then, no one will be your match. You need not fear enemies, nor the Divine Clan. You will be the master of this world—all life will kneel at your feet.”
Yang Hao swallowed hard. “Sounds… nice.”
“It’ll feel even nicer,” Kadisilong rumbled.
“Alright, it does sound pretty great.” Yang Hao couldn’t think of any downsides, so he nodded. “The only question is—how do you prove I’m the chosen one? Even if I did endure one blast of Light and one of Darkness, that could just be coincidence. There might be plenty of coincidental candidates…”
The great gods fell silent. They didn’t even glance at each other. Garuda and Titan sat with eyes closed, as if in deep meditation, detached and oblivious.
Yang Hao thought he’d struck a nerve. “You can’t prove it, can you?
I’m just a lucky kid—a disciple of the Dual Cultivation Sect, with some vengeance to carry out for my master. The king of the universe? The Creator? Your Divine Clan’s seal? None of that has anything to do with me.”
The air began to howl, as if hurricanes swirled around them, whipping Yun Shang’s robes violently. Yang Hao gulped, cutting off his words, but stubbornly repeated, “You have no proof! You can’t prove it!”
The wind grew fiercer, sharp as blades. Voices became inaudible. Yang Hao’s head buzzed.
“You want proof? Then have your proof!”
A shrieking, tearing sound—a few swift wind blades shredded Yang Hao’s outer robe, baring his upper body. Then, before him, a strange shadow appeared—a mirror image of himself, identical in every way.
A mirror image conjured from thin air—something only the Divine Clan could achieve.
But soon, Yang Hao forgot about the image. Because he saw something—something shocking, staggering, utterly unbelievable. It was on the mirrored body… and on his own.
The proof the gods spoke of was undeniably there.
What Yang Hao saw was his own back—where there should have been smooth skin, a pattern had inexplicably appeared.
Like a stem, rising straight from his waist to the center point between his shoulders, where a fist-sized stamen bloomed.
The pattern was a faint orange-red, like fire, or a flower from a dream.
It took all of Yang Hao’s willpower not to reach out and touch the mirrored image. But whether he did or not, his eyes saw clearly—this was no painted design. It was etched into his skin, slightly raised, not obscuring a single pore. It was flawless.
“The flower of crimson nebulae has already sprouted on your body,” Sa’an’s voice was merciless. “This is the map to that power. You are the chosen one. There is no escape.”
“This flower… will bloom?” Yang Hao’s hands trembled as he reached for his own back.
“When it blooms, it will form a map of the nebulae,” Yun Shang nodded. “Follow it, and you will become the king of the universe! More importantly, Yang Hao, you already possess three of the ten divine artifacts—three weapons that sealed the Divine Clan. Isn’t that proof enough?”
“Three divine artifacts?” Yang Hao was baffled.
Yun Shang tossed three swords back to him—the ones Yang Hao had taken from the Ten Sword Sect.
“The Sword of Immortality, the Sword of Treasures, and the Sword of Gravity—three of the ten divine artifacts that sealed the Divine Clan,” Yun Shang said.
Yang Hao’s eyes widened. Only now did he understand why the Ten Sword Sect was called as such, why these swords were their treasured heirlooms, why they had fought so desperately to reclaim them.
After sealing the Divine Clan, to prevent their resurgence, the elders had entrusted the ten artifacts to ten cultivation families for safekeeping. These families became the Ten Sword Sect, and the ten artifacts became their sect treasures.
It was laughable. Yang Hao found it laughable. He turned helplessly—Hunyuanzi had woken from his brief unconsciousness, witnessing the change in Yang Hao’s body. Hearing the Divine Clan’s words, even this thousand-year-old ghost found it absurd. He wanted to laugh but couldn’t.
Whether here or in the entire Divine Realm, the weakest was undoubtedly Yang Hao. With a combat power barely in the teens—not even a fraction of Hunyuanzi’s—let alone compared to the five chief gods and thousands of mid-tier Divine Clan members outside.
And yet, the one chosen to seek “that power,” to become the king of the universe… was Yang Hao.
Yang Hao felt those great gods must have lost their minds—that the universe itself had gone mad. Since things were already this way, he stopped worrying and started bargaining instead.
“Since you want me to become the so-called king of the universe and break your seal, shouldn’t you offer some benefits?”
“Benefits?” Yun Shang’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected Yang Hao to flip so quickly. “Isn’t becoming the king of the universe benefit enough? What more do you want?”
“Not the same, not the same!” Yang Hao finally regained his usual shameless haggling spirit. “Like you said, becoming the king of the universe is my destiny—meaning it’s already mine by right! What’s it to you? Now, you’re the ones asking me to break the seal. Of course, you should pay a little reward!”
But soon, Yang Hao forgot all about the mirror image, because he saw something—something shocking, incredible. The thing appeared on the mirrored body, and thus on his own body as well.
I am now the leader of the Dan Ding Dual Cultivation Sect. This old guy has long since… Yang Hao pouted, putting on the airs of a leader. “If revenge is really needed, why would it be his turn to act? Of course, it’s up to me, the young and strong one!”
“Moreover…
“Moreover, if he could really solve the issue of the Divine Clan’s seal, why would you come to talk to me?” Yang Hao wasn’t stupid—he had already figured it out.
At this point, there was truly no need for further nonsense. Yun Shang simply followed the Dragon Clan’s method, bundling his consciousness into a cluster and directly tossing it to Yang Hao.
Just as Yang Hao had anticipated, these Divine Clan members had long harbored a scheme—one that only Yang Hao could fulfill.
Back then, although the Divine Clan had been deceived into being sealed, the spell that sealed so many gods was undeniably created by the Creator. The sealing barrier, forged with ten divine artifacts, was perhaps the most inconceivable magic in the world. The more power poured into it, the more impossible it became to break.
Think about it—back then, all the Divine Clan, whether from the Light Faction or the Dark Faction, poured their full strength into the artifacts, believing they were sealing their enemies. Who would have guessed that both sides were deceived, ending up trapping themselves? Now, even if the remaining Divine Clan members gathered their dwindling numbers, they could never reopen the seal.
Unless there was new power—new, even stronger power. A force that could surpass the combined might of all the Divine Clan from back then was needed to break the seal and free the imprisoned gods.
In this world, such a thing seemed impossible. After all, the Divine Clan was already the race with the highest innate potential, shaped by the Creator in the most perfect way. How could they be surpassed by anyone else?
But in truth, such power did exist—because it originated from the Creator himself. Perhaps billions of years ago, the Creator had foreseen the Divine Clan’s defeat by another force, so he prepared in advance.
The Creator buried all his power at the center of the universe.
This was a secret known only to the Divine Clan—or rather, only to the upper echelons of the Divine Clan. One could say that the entire lives of the upper-tier Divine Clan were spent searching for the hidden location of that secret.
No one knew the extent of the Creator’s power, for this world—this universe—was his creation. Nor did anyone know where the secret was buried, for the universe was boundless, with no known edges. How could anyone determine where the center lay?
But regardless, all the Divine Clan believed that only the one who found that power could save them all, freeing them from the seal once and for all.
“You think I’m that person? The savior?” Yang Hao pointed exaggeratedly at his own nose. Though he wished it were true, the odds seemed impossibly slim.
Yet the gazes of those great gods clearly said: “Yes, it’s you. Fate has chosen you.”
“Why?” Yang Hao felt helpless, as if the weight of the entire world had been thrust upon him.
“Only the one chosen by the Creator can find that power,” Sa’an’s voice drifted down. “That person must be struck three times by the Light Force and three times by the Dark Force. That person’s body must bloom with the radiant flower of red nebula. That person must lead gods, lead humans, lead all darkness and light, to become the master of this universe—the king of the cosmos.”
“The king of the cosmos?” Yang Hao barely dared to breathe. If such words were applied to Sa’an or Yun Shang, he might have believed them. But when it came to himself, his palms grew clammy with sweat. He couldn’t find a single excuse to convince himself.
“Your task is simple,” Yun Shang said gravely. “You must endure three strikes of the Light Force and three of the Dark Force, then grow stronger—strong enough to reach the level of a mid-tier Divine Clan, what you call the ‘Flying Immortal’ realm. Finally, you must find the power left behind by the Creator. By then, no one will be your match. You won’t need to worry about enemies or the Divine Clan. You will be the master of this world, with all life kneeling at your feet.”
Yang Hao swallowed hard. “Sounds… nice.”
“It’ll be even nicer in practice,” Kadisilong rumbled.
“Alright, I suppose it really is quite nice.” Yang Hao couldn’t think of any downsides, so he nodded. “The only problem is—how do you prove I’m the one chosen by the Creator? Even if I’ve endured one strike of Light and one of Dark, it could just be a coincidence. Maybe there are plenty of coincidental candidates…”
The great gods fell silent. They didn’t even glance at each other. Garuda and Titan closed their eyes as if in deep meditation, detached and oblivious.
Yang Hao thought he had struck a nerve. “You can’t prove it, can you?
It’s not me at all. I’m just a kid with freakishly good luck, a disciple of the Dual Cultivation Sect, someone with a bit of vengeance to settle for my master. The king of the cosmos, the Creator, your Divine Clan’s seal—none of that has anything to do with me.”
The air began to wail, as if hurricanes swirled around them, even causing Yun Shang’s robes to flutter wildly. Yang Hao’s words died in his throat, but he stubbornly repeated, “You have no proof! You can’t prove it!”
The wind grew fiercer, cutting like knives. No voices could be heard now—Yang Hao’s head buzzed with noise.
“You want proof? Then have your proof!”
A howl, a tear—a few sharp gusts of wind shredded Yang Hao’s outer robe, leaving his upper body bare. Then, before him, a strange shadow appeared—a mirror image of himself, identical in every way.
A mirror image conjured without a mirror—only the Divine Clan could manage such a feat.
But soon, Yang Hao forgot about the mirror image entirely. Because he saw something—something shocking, staggering, utterly beyond belief. It was on the mirrored body, and thus, on his own.
The proof the gods spoke of was undeniably there.
What Yang Hao saw was his own back, which should have been smooth and unmarked. Yet now, inexplicably, a pattern had appeared.
Like a flower stem, rising straight from his waist to the center point between his shoulders, where a fist-sized bud bloomed.
The pattern was tinged with orange-red, like fire, or a flower from a dream.
It took all of Yang Hao’s willpower not to reach out and touch the mirrored image. But whether he did or not, his eyes saw clearly—this was no painted design. It was etched into his skin, slightly raised, not obscuring a single pore, flawless in its creation.
“The flower of red nebula has already sprouted on your body,” Sa’an’s voice was merciless. “This is the map to that power. You are the chosen one. There is no escape.”
“This flower… will bloom?” Yang Hao’s hands trembled as he reached for his own back.
“When it blooms, it will form a map of the nebula,” Yun Shang nodded. “Follow that map, and you will become the king of the cosmos! More importantly, Yang Hao, you already possess three of the ten divine artifacts—three weapons that sealed the Divine Clan. Isn’t that proof enough?”
“What three divine artifacts?” Yang Hao was baffled.
Yun Shang tossed three swords back to Yang Hao—the three longswords he had taken from the Ten Sword Sect.
“The Sword of Immortality, the Sword of Treasure, and the Sword of Gravity. Three of the ten divine artifacts that sealed the Divine Clan,” Yun Shang said.
Yang Hao’s eyes widened. Only now did he understand why the Ten Sword Sect was called as such, why these swords were their treasured heirlooms, why they had fought so desperately to reclaim them.
After sealing the Divine Clan, to prevent their resurgence, the elders had entrusted the ten artifacts to ten cultivation families for safekeeping. These families became the Ten Sword Sect, and the artifacts became their sect’s most prized possessions.
It was laughable. Yang Hao found it laughable. He turned helplessly—Hunyuanzi had woken from his brief unconsciousness and witnessed the changes in Yang Hao’s body. Hearing the Divine Clan’s words, even this thousand-year-old ghost found it absurd. He wanted to laugh but couldn’t.
Whether here or in the entire Divine Realm, the weakest was undoubtedly Yang Hao. With combat power barely in the teens—not even a fraction of Hunyuanzi’s—let alone the five great deities and thousands of mid-tier Divine Clan outside.
And yet, the one chosen to seek “that power,” to become the king of the cosmos, was Yang Hao.
Yang Hao decided the great gods must have lost their minds—the universe itself must have lost its mind. Since things were already this absurd, he stopped worrying and started bargaining instead.
“Since you want me to become the so-called king of the cosmos and break your seal, shouldn’t you offer me some benefits?”
“Benefits?” Yun Shang’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected Yang Hao to flip so quickly. “Isn’t becoming the king of the cosmos benefit enough? What more do you want?”
“Not the same, not the same!” Yang Hao finally regained his shameless haggling spirit. “Like you said, becoming the king of the cosmos is my destiny—meaning it’s already mine by right! What’s it to you? Now, you’re the ones asking me to break the seal, so of course you should pay a little reward!”
What Yang Hao saw was the back of his body. Where there should have been smooth skin, there was now a strange pattern.
It looked like a flower stem, rising straight from his waist upward, ending at the center between his shoulders with a flower bud the size of a fist.
The pattern was slightly orange-red, like fire, like a flower from a dream.
Yang Hao had to force himself to resist the urge to touch the mirrored image of his body. But whether he did or not, his eyes clearly saw that this was no drawing. It was carved into his skin, slightly raised, not covering even a single pore, perfectly flawless.
“The Red Nebula Flower has already sprouted on your body. It is the map to finding that power,” Sa’an said cruelly. “You have already been chosen. There is no escape.”
“Will this flower bloom?” Yang Hao trembled, reaching toward his own back.
Now, I am the true leader of the Dan Ding Dual Cultivation Sect. This old man has long since… Yang Hao pouted, striking a pose befitting a sect leader. “If it’s really about revenge, why would it be his turn to act? Of course, it should be me, young and strong, who steps up!”
“Moreover…”
“Moreover, if he could really solve the issue of the Divine Clan’s seal, why would you come to talk to me?” Yang Hao wasn’t stupid—he had already figured it out.
At this point, there was truly no need for further nonsense. Yun Shang simply followed the Dragon Clan’s method, bundling his consciousness into a single package and tossing it directly to Yang Hao.
Just as Yang Hao had anticipated, the Divine Clan had long harbored a scheme—one that only Yang Hao could fulfill.
Back then, although the Divine Clan had been deceived into being sealed, the spell that sealed so many gods was undeniably created by the Creator. The sealing barrier, forged with ten divine artifacts, was perhaps the most inconceivable magic in the world. The more power poured into it, the more impossible it became to break.
Consider this: back then, all the Divine Clan—whether from the Light Faction or the Dark Faction—had poured their full strength into the artifacts, believing they were sealing their enemies. Little did they know, both sides had been deceived, trapping themselves instead. Now, even if the remaining Divine Clan gathered what little power they had left, they could never break the seal.
Unless… there was new power. A power even greater than before. A force surpassing the combined might of all the Divine Clan back then—only then could the seal be broken and the imprisoned gods freed.
In this world, such a thing seemed impossible. After all, the Divine Clan was already the most gifted race, shaped by the Creator in the most perfect way. How could they be surpassed?
Yet, such power did exist—because it came from the Creator himself. Perhaps billions of years ago, the Creator had foreseen the Divine Clan’s defeat and prepared accordingly.
The Creator had buried all his power at the center of the universe.
This was a secret known only to the Divine Clan—or rather, only to the higher-ranking gods. One could say that the entire lives of the higher gods were spent searching for that hidden secret.
No one knew the extent of the Creator’s power, for he had shaped this world, this universe. Nor did anyone know where the secret was buried, for the universe was boundless, its edges still undiscovered—how could anyone know where its center lay?
Yet, all the Divine Clan believed that only the one who found that power could save them all, breaking the seal completely.
“You think… I’m that person? The savior?” Yang Hao pointed exaggeratedly at his own nose. Though he wished it were true, the odds seemed impossibly slim.
But the gazes of the great gods clearly said: “Yes, it’s you. Fate has chosen you.”
“Why?” Yang Hao sighed, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on him.
“Only the one chosen by the Creator can find that power,” Saan’s voice drifted down. “That person must endure three blasts of Light Power and three blasts of Dark Power. That person’s body will bloom with the radiant flowers of red nebula. That person must lead gods, lead humans, lead all darkness and light—to become the master of this universe, its king.”
“The king of the universe?” Yang Hao barely dared to breathe. If those words were applied to Saan or Yun Shang, he might have believed them. But for himself? His palms were slick with sweat, and he couldn’t find a single excuse to convince himself.
“Your task is simple,” Yun Shang said gravely. “You must endure three blasts of Light Power and three of Dark Power, then grow stronger—strong enough to reach the level of a mid-tier god, what you call ‘Flying Immortal.’ Finally, you must find the power the Creator left behind. By then, no one will be your match. You won’t need to fear enemies or the Divine Clan—you’ll be the master of this world, with all life bowing at your feet.”
Yang Hao swallowed hard. “Sounds… nice.”
“It’ll feel even nicer,” Kadis Long rumbled.
“Alright, it probably is pretty nice.” Yang Hao couldn’t think of any downsides, so he nodded. “The only question is—how do you prove I’m the one chosen by the Creator? Even if I’ve endured one blast of Light and one of Dark, it could just be coincidence. Maybe there are plenty of coincidental candidates…”
The great gods fell silent. They didn’t even glance at each other. Garuda and Titan sat with eyes closed, as if in deep meditation, detached and oblivious.
Yang Hao thought he’d struck a nerve. “You can’t prove it, can you? I’m just a kid with crazy luck, a disciple of the Dual Cultivation Sect, someone with a grudge to settle for my master. The king of the universe? The Creator? Your Divine Clan’s seal? None of that has anything to do with me.”
The air began to howl, as if hurricanes swirled around them, whipping Yun Shang’s robes violently. Yang Hao’s words died in his throat, but he stubbornly repeated, “You have no proof! You can’t prove it!”
The wind grew fiercer, sharp as knives. No voices could be heard—Yang Hao’s head buzzed with noise.
“You want proof? Here’s your proof!”
A roar, a tear—a few swift gusts shredded Yang Hao’s outer robe, leaving his upper body bare. Then, before him appeared a strange shadow—a perfect mirror image of himself, floating in the air.
Creating a mirror image without a mirror? Only the Divine Clan could manage that.
But soon, Yang Hao forgot about the image altogether. Because he saw something—something shocking, unbelievable. It was on the mirrored body… and on his own.
The proof the gods spoke of was undeniably there.
On his back, where there should have been smooth skin, a pattern had appeared.
Like a flower stem, rising straight from his waist to the center of his shoulders, where a fist-sized bud bloomed.
The pattern was a faint orange-red, like fire, or a dreamlike blossom.
It took all Yang Hao’s willpower not to reach out and touch the mirrored image. But whether he did or not, his eyes saw clearly—this wasn’t drawn on. It was etched into his skin, slightly raised, not obscuring a single pore. It was flawless.
“The Red Nebula Flower has sprouted on your body,” Saan’s voice was merciless. “This is the map to that power. You are the chosen one. There’s no escape.”
“This flower… will bloom?” Yang Hao’s hands trembled as he reached for his back.
“When it blooms, it will form a nebula map,” Yun Shang nodded. “Follow it, and you’ll become the king of the universe! More importantly, Yang Hao, you already possess three of the Ten Divine Artifacts—three weapons that sealed the Divine Clan. Isn’t that proof enough?”
“Three divine artifacts?” Yang Hao was baffled.
Yun Shang tossed three swords back to Yang Hao—the ones he’d taken from the Ten Sword Sect.
“The Sword of Immortality, the Sword of Treasures, and the Sword of Gravity. Three of the ten artifacts that sealed the Divine Clan,” Yun Shang explained.
Yang Hao’s eyes widened. Now he understood why the Ten Sword Sect was called that, why these swords were their heirlooms, why they’d fought so fiercely to reclaim them.
After sealing the Divine Clan, the elders had entrusted the ten artifacts to ten cultivation families for safekeeping—now known as the Ten Sword Sect. The artifacts became their most prized treasures.
It was laughable. Yang Hao found it absurd. He glanced back helplessly—Hunyuanzi had woken from his brief unconsciousness, witnessing Yang Hao’s transformation and hearing the gods’ words. Even this thousand-year-old ghost found it ridiculous, though he couldn’t bring himself to laugh.
Here, or in the entire Divine Realm, Yang Hao was likely the weakest. With combat power barely in the teens—not even a fraction of Hunyuanzi’s—let alone compared to the five chief gods or the thousands of mid-tier gods.
Yet, the task of finding “that power,” of becoming the king of the universe, fell to Yang Hao.
Yang Hao decided the great gods must be out of their minds—the universe itself must be insane. Since there was no way out, he stopped worrying and started bargaining. “If you want me to become the so-called king of the universe and break your seal, shouldn’t you offer me some benefits?”
“Benefits?” Yun Shang’s eyes widened—Yang Hao’s mood swings were faster than flipping pages. “Isn’t becoming the king of the universe benefit enough? What more do you want?”
“Not the same!” Yang Hao regained his shameless haggling spirit. “Like you said, it’s my destiny—meaning it’s mine anyway, none of your business! Now, you’re asking me to break the seal. Of course, you should pay a little commission!”
“The three divine artifacts?” Yang Hao was puzzled.
Yun Shang tossed the three swords back to Yang Hao—the three swords he had seized from the Ten Sword Sect.
Now I am the leader of the Dan Ding Dual Cultivation Sect. This old guy has long since… Yang Hao pouted, striking a pose befitting a sect leader. “If it’s really about revenge, why would it be his turn to act? Of course, it should be me, young and strong, who steps up.”
“Moreover…
“Moreover, if he could really solve the issue of the Divine Clan’s seal, why would you come to talk to me?” Yang Hao wasn’t stupid—he had already figured it out.
At this point, there was indeed no need for further nonsense. Yun Shang simply followed the Dragon Clan’s method, bundling his consciousness into a mass and tossing it directly to Yang Hao.
Just as Yang Hao had anticipated, these Divine Clan members had long harbored a scheme—one that only Yang Hao could fulfill.
Back then, although the Divine Clan had been deceived into being sealed, the spell that sealed so many gods was undeniably created by the Creator. The sealing barrier, forged with ten divine artifacts, was perhaps the most inconceivable technique in the world. The more power poured into it, the more impossible it became to break.
Think about it: back then, all the Divine Clan—whether of the Light or Dark factions—had poured their full power into the artifacts, believing they were sealing their enemies. Little did they know, both sides had been deceived, trapping themselves instead. Now, even if the remaining Divine Clan members gathered again, they could never reopen this barrier.
Unless there was new power—new, even stronger power. A force that could surpass the combined might of all the Divine Clan back then would be needed to break the seal and free the imprisoned gods.
In this world, such a thing seemed nonexistent. After all, the Divine Clan was already the race with the highest innate talent, shaped by the Creator in the most perfect way. How could they be surpassed by anyone else?
Yet, such power did exist—because it originated from the Creator himself. Perhaps billions of years ago, the Creator had foreseen the Divine Clan’s defeat by another force and thus made preparations in advance.
The Creator buried all his power at the center of the universe.
This was a secret known only to the Divine Clan—or rather, only to the upper echelons of the Divine Clan. One could say that the entire lives of the upper Divine Clan were spent searching for the hidden location of that secret.
No one knew the extent of the Creator’s power, for this world, this universe, was his creation. Nor did anyone know where the secret was buried, for the universe was vast and boundless, with no known boundaries—how could anyone pinpoint its center?
Regardless, all the Divine Clan believed that only the one who found that power could save all the gods and free them from the seal.
“You think I’m that person? The savior?” Yang Hao pointed exaggeratedly at his own nose. Though he wished it were true, the odds seemed impossibly slim.
Yet the gazes of the great gods clearly said: “Yes, it’s you. Fate has chosen you.”
“Why?” Yang Hao sighed, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on him.
“Only the one chosen by the Creator can find that power,” Sa’an’s voice drifted down. “That person must endure three blasts of Light power and three blasts of Dark power. That person’s body will bloom with the radiant flower of red nebula. That person must lead gods, lead humans, lead all darkness and light, to become the master of this universe—the king of the cosmos.”
“The king of the cosmos?” Yang Hao barely dared to breathe. If those words were applied to Sa’an or Yun Shang, he might have believed them. But for himself? His palms were drenched in sweat, and he couldn’t find a single excuse to convince himself.
“Your task is simple,” Yun Shang said gravely. “You must endure three blasts of Light power and three of Dark power, then grow stronger—strong enough to reach the level of a mid-tier Divine Clan, what you call the ‘Flying Immortal’ realm. Finally, you must find the power left by the Creator. By then, no one will be your match, so you need not worry about enemies or the Divine Clan. You will be the master of this world, with all life prostrate at your feet.”
Yang Hao swallowed hard. “Sounds… nice.”
“It’ll feel even nicer,” Kadis Long rumbled.
“Alright, it probably is pretty nice,” Yang Hao conceded, unable to think of any downsides. “The only problem is—how do you prove I’m the one chosen by the Creator? Even if I’ve endured one blast each of Light and Dark, it might just be a coincidence. There could be plenty of coincidental candidates…”
The great gods fell silent. They didn’t even glance at each other. Garuda and Titan sat with eyes closed, as if in deep meditation, detached and oblivious.
Yang Hao thought he’d struck a nerve. “You can’t prove it, can you? I’m just a kid with crazy luck, a disciple of the Dual Cultivation Sect, someone with a grudge to settle for my master. The king of the cosmos, the Creator, your Divine Clan’s seal—none of that has anything to do with me.”
The air began to howl, as if hurricanes swirled around them, whipping Yun Shang’s robes violently. Yang Hao’s words died in his throat, but he stubbornly repeated, “You have no proof! You can’t prove it!”
The wind grew fiercer, sharp as knives. Voices were drowned out, and Yang Hao’s head buzzed.
“You want proof? Then here’s your proof!”
A howling, tearing sound—a few swift wind blades shredded Yang Hao’s outer robe, baring his upper body. Then, before him appeared a strange shadow—a mirror image of himself, identical in every way.
Creating a mirror image without a mirror was something only the Divine Clan could do.
But soon, Yang Hao forgot about the image altogether. Because he saw something—something shocking, astounding, beyond belief. It appeared on the mirrored body, and thus, on his own.
The proof the gods spoke of was undeniably there.
What Yang Hao saw was his own back, which should have been smooth and unmarked. Yet now, inexplicably, a pattern had appeared.
Like a flower stem, rising straight from his waist to the center point between his shoulders, where a fist-sized stamen bloomed.
The pattern was a faint orange-red, like fire, or a flower from a dream.
It took all of Yang Hao’s willpower not to reach out and touch the mirrored image. But whether he did or not, his eyes confirmed it: this was no painted design. It was etched into his skin, slightly raised, not obscuring a single pore—flawlessly formed.
“The flower of red nebula has already sprouted on your body,” Sa’an’s voice was merciless. “This is the map to that power. You are the chosen one. There is no escape.”
“This flower… will bloom?” Yang Hao’s hands trembled as he reached for his own back.
“When it blooms, it will form a map of the nebula,” Yun Shang nodded. “Follow that map, and you will become the king of the cosmos. More importantly, Yang Hao, you already possess three of the ten divine artifacts—three weapons that sealed the Divine Clan. Isn’t that proof enough?”
“What three divine artifacts?” Yang Hao was baffled.
Yun Shang tossed three swords back to Yang Hao—the ones he’d taken from the Ten Sword Sect.
“The Sword of Immortality, the Sword of Treasure, and the Sword of Gravity. Three of the ten divine artifacts that sealed the Divine Clan,” Yun Shang explained.
Yang Hao’s eyes widened. Only now did he understand why the Ten Sword Sect was called as such, why these swords were their heirlooms, why they fought so desperately to reclaim them.
After sealing the Divine Clan, to prevent their resurgence, the elders had entrusted the ten artifacts to ten cultivation families for safekeeping. These families became the Ten Sword Sect, and the artifacts their treasures.
It was laughable. Yang Hao found it absurd. He turned helplessly—Hunyuanzi had woken from his brief unconsciousness, seen the change in Yang Hao’s body, and heard the gods’ words. Even this thousand-year-old ghost found it ridiculous, though he couldn’t bring himself to laugh.
Whether here or in the entire Divine Realm, Yang Hao was likely the weakest. With combat power barely in the teens—not even a fraction of Hunyuanzi’s—let alone compared to the five great gods or the thousands of mid-tier Divine Clan members outside.
And yet, the task of finding “that power,” of becoming the king of the cosmos, fell to Yang Hao.
Yang Hao decided the great gods must be out of their minds—the universe itself must be out of its mind. Since there was no way out, he stopped worrying and started bargaining with Yun Shang and the others: “Since you want me to become this ‘king of the cosmos’ and break your seal, shouldn’t you give me some benefits?”
“Benefits?” Yun Shang’s eyes widened, surprised at Yang Hao’s sudden shift. “Isn’t becoming the king of the cosmos benefit enough? What more do you want?”
“That’s different!” Yang Hao regained his usual opportunistic bravado. “Like you said, it’s my destiny to be the king of the cosmos—meaning it’s already mine. What’s it to you? Now you’re asking me to break the seal, so of course you should pay a little reward!”
Yang Hao’s eyes widened. Only now did he understand why the Ten Sword Sect was called the Ten Sword Sect, and why these swords were their most treasured heirlooms, worth fighting desperately for.
Now, I am the true leader of the Dan Ding Dual Cultivation Sect. This old guy has long since… Yang Hao pouted, striking a pose befitting a sect leader. “If revenge is really needed, why would it be his turn to act? Of course, it should be me, young and strong, who steps up!”
“Moreover…
“Moreover, if he could truly resolve the issue of the Divine Clan’s seal, why would you even come to talk to me?” Yang Hao wasn’t foolish—he had already figured it out.
At this point, there was indeed no need for further nonsense. Yun Shang simply followed the Dragon Clan’s method, bundling his thoughts into a single package and tossing them directly to Yang Hao.
Just as Yang Hao had suspected, the Divine Clan had long harbored a scheme—one that only Yang Hao could fulfill.
Back then, though the Divine Clan had been deceived into being sealed, the spell that imprisoned so many gods was undeniably created by the Creator Himself. The sealing barrier, forged with ten divine artifacts, was perhaps the most inconceivable magic in the world. The more power poured into it, the more impossible it became to break.
Consider this: back then, every member of the Divine Clan—whether from the Light or Dark factions—had poured their full strength into the artifacts, believing they were sealing their enemies. Little did they know, both sides had been deceived, trapping themselves instead. Now, even if the remaining Divine Clan members pooled their dwindling power, they could never reopen the seal.
Unless… there was new power. A power even greater than before. A force surpassing the combined might of all the Divine Clan from that era—only then could the seal be broken, freeing the imprisoned gods.
In this world, such a power seemed nonexistent. After all, the Divine Clan was already the most gifted race, shaped by the Creator in the most perfect way. How could they be surpassed?
Yet, such power did exist—because it came from the Creator Himself. Perhaps billions of years ago, the Creator had foreseen the Divine Clan’s downfall and prepared accordingly.
The Creator had buried all His power at the center of the universe.
This was a secret known only to the Divine Clan—or rather, only to the higher-ranking gods. In truth, the entire lives of the upper echelon of the Divine Clan had been spent searching for that hidden power.
No one knew the extent of the Creator’s abilities, for He had shaped this world, this universe. No one knew where the power was buried, for the universe was boundless—where could its center be?
Yet, all the Divine Clan believed that only the one who found that power could save them, breaking the seal once and for all.
“You think… I’m that person? The savior?” Yang Hao pointed exaggeratedly at his own nose. Though he wished it were true, the odds seemed impossibly slim.
But the gazes of the great gods clearly said: “Yes, it’s you. Fate has chosen you.”
“Why?” Yang Hao sighed, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on him.
“Only the one chosen by the Creator can find that power,” Sa’an’s voice drifted down. “That person must endure three bursts of Light energy and three bursts of Dark energy. That person’s body will bloom with the radiant flowers of red nebula. That person must lead gods, lead men, lead all darkness and light—to become the ruler of this universe, its king.”
“The king of the universe?” Yang Hao barely dared to breathe. If those words had been spoken about Sa’an or Yun Shang, he might have believed them. But applied to himself? His palms grew slick with sweat. He couldn’t find a single reason to convince himself it was true.
“Your task is simple,” Yun Shang said gravely. “You must endure three bursts of Light and three bursts of Dark energy, then grow stronger—strong enough to reach the level of a mid-tier god, what you call ‘Flying Immortal.’ Only then can you seek the power left by the Creator. At that point, no one will be your match. You need not fear enemies, nor the Divine Clan. You will be the master of this world—all life will kneel at your feet.”
Yang Hao swallowed hard. “Sounds… nice.”
“It’ll feel even nicer,” Kadisilong rumbled.
“Alright, I suppose it really is nice.” Yang Hao couldn’t think of any downsides, so he nodded. “The only problem is—how do you prove I’m the chosen one? Even if I’ve endured one burst of Light and one of Dark, it could just be coincidence. There might be plenty of coincidental candidates…”
The great gods fell silent. They didn’t even glance at each other. Garuda and Titan sat with eyes closed, as if in deep meditation, utterly detached.
Yang Hao thought he’d struck a nerve. “You can’t prove it, can you?
It’s simple—I’m just a lucky kid, a disciple of the Dual Cultivation Sect, someone with a grudge to settle for my master. The ‘king of the universe,’ the Creator, your Divine Clan’s seal—none of that has anything to do with me.”
The air began to howl, as if hurricanes swirled around them, whipping Yun Shang’s robes violently. Yang Hao’s words died in his throat, but he stubbornly repeated, “You have no proof! You can’t prove it!”
The wind grew fiercer, sharp as knives. Voices were lost in the roar. Yang Hao’s head buzzed.
“You want proof? Then have your proof!”
A shriek, a tear—a few precise slashes of wind shredded Yang Hao’s outer robe, baring his torso. Then, before him, a strange shadow appeared—an exact mirror image of himself, floating in the air.
A mirror without a mirror—only the Divine Clan could manage that.
But soon, Yang Hao forgot about the mirror. Because he saw something—something shocking, unbelievable. It was on the mirrored body, and thus, on his own.
The proof the gods spoke of was undeniably there.
What Yang Hao saw was his own back—where there should have been smooth skin, a pattern had appeared.
Like a stem rising straight from his waist, ending between his shoulder blades in a fist-sized bud.
The pattern was tinged orange-red, like fire, like a dreamlike flower.
It took all Yang Hao’s willpower not to reach out and touch the mirrored image. But whether he did or not, his eyes confirmed it—this wasn’t drawn on. It was etched into his skin, slightly raised, not obscuring a single pore. It was flawless.
“The Red Nebula Flower has sprouted on your body,” Sa’an’s voice was merciless. “This is the map to that power. You are the chosen one. There is no escape.”
“This flower… will bloom?” Yang Hao’s hand trembled as he reached for his own back.
“When it blooms, it will form a map of the nebula,” Yun Shang nodded. “Follow that map, and you will become the king of the universe! More importantly, Yang Hao, you already possess three of the ten divine artifacts—three weapons that sealed the Divine Clan. Isn’t that proof enough?”
“Three divine artifacts?” Yang Hao was baffled.
Yun Shang tossed three swords back to him—the ones Yang Hao had taken from the Ten Sword Sect.
“The Sword of Immortality, the Sword of Treasures, and the Sword of Gravity,” Yun Shang said. “Three of the ten artifacts that sealed the Divine Clan.”
Yang Hao’s eyes widened. Only now did he understand why the Ten Sword Sect was called that, why these swords were their heirlooms, why they’d fought so desperately to reclaim them.
After sealing the Divine Clan, to prevent their resurgence, the elders had entrusted the ten artifacts to ten cultivation families for safekeeping. Those families became the Ten Sword Sect, and the artifacts became their treasures.
It was laughable. Yang Hao found it laughable. He turned helplessly—Hunyuanzi had woken from his brief unconsciousness, seen the change in Yang Hao’s body, and heard the gods’ words. Even this thousand-year-old ghost found it absurd. He wanted to laugh but couldn’t.
Here, or in the entire Divine Realm, Yang Hao was likely the weakest. With a combat level barely in the teens—not even a fraction of Hunyuanzi’s—let alone compared to the five chief gods or the thousand mid-tier Divine Clan members outside.
Yet, the one chosen to seek “that power,” to become the king of the universe, was Yang Hao.
Yang Hao decided the great gods had lost their minds. The universe itself had lost its mind. Since there was no changing it, he might as well stop worrying and start bargaining.
“Since you want me to become this ‘king of the universe’ and break your seal, shouldn’t you give me some benefits?”
“Benefits?” Yun Shang’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected Yang Hao to switch gears so quickly. “Isn’t becoming the king of the universe benefit enough? What more do you want?”
“Not the same!” Yang Hao finally regained his shameless haggling spirit. “Like you said, it’s my destiny—meaning it’s already mine! What’s it to you? Now, you’re asking me to break the seal. Of course you should pay a little reward!”
Now I am the leader of the Dan Ding Dual Cultivation Sect. This old guy has long since… Yang Hao pouted, striking a pose befitting a sect leader. “If revenge is really needed, why would it be his turn to act? Of course, it should be me, young and strong, who steps up!”
“Moreover…”
“Moreover, if he could really solve the problem of the Divine Clan’s seal, why would you come to talk to me?” Yang Hao wasn’t stupid—he had already figured it out.
At this point, there was indeed no need for further nonsense. Yun Shang simply followed the Dragon Clan’s method, bundling his consciousness into a mass and directly tossing it to Yang Hao.
Just as Yang Hao had anticipated, these Divine Clan members had long harbored a scheme—one that only Yang Hao could fulfill.
Back then, although the Divine Clan had been deceived into being sealed, the sealing spell that trapped so many gods was undeniably created by the Creator. The sealing barrier, forged with ten divine artifacts, was perhaps the most inconceivable magic in the world. The more power poured into it, the more impossible it became to break.
Consider this: back then, all the Divine Clan—whether from the Light Faction or the Dark Faction—had poured their full strength into the artifacts, believing they were sealing their enemies. Little did they know, both sides had been deceived, ending up trapping themselves. Now, even if the remaining Divine Clan members gathered again, they could never reopen this barrier.
Unless… there was new power. A power even stronger than before. A force surpassing the combined might of all the Divine Clan from back then—only that could break the seal and free the imprisoned gods.
In this world, such a thing seemed impossible. After all, the Divine Clan was already the most gifted race, shaped by the Creator in the most perfect way. How could they be surpassed?
But in truth, such power did exist—because it originated from the Creator himself. Perhaps billions of years ago, the Creator had foreseen the Divine Clan’s defeat and made preparations.
The Creator had buried all his power at the center of the universe.
This was a secret known only to the Divine Clan—or rather, only to the higher-ranking Divine Clan. One could say that the entire lives of the higher-ranking Divine Clan were spent searching for that hidden secret.
No one knew the extent of the Creator’s power, for he had shaped this world, this universe. No one knew where the secret was buried, for the universe was boundless—where could its center be?
Yet, regardless, all the Divine Clan believed that only the one who found that power could save them all, breaking the seal completely.
“You think… I’m that person? The savior?” Yang Hao pointed exaggeratedly at his own nose. Though he wished it were true, the odds seemed impossibly slim.
But the gazes of the great gods clearly said: “Yes, it’s you. Fate has chosen you.”
“Why?” Yang Hao sighed, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on him.
“Only the one chosen by the Creator can find that power,” Sa’an’s voice drifted down. “That person must endure three blasts of Light Power and three blasts of Dark Power. That person’s body will bloom with radiant red nebula flowers. That person must lead gods, humans, all light and darkness, to become the master of this universe—the king of the cosmos.”
“The king of the cosmos?” Yang Hao barely dared to breathe. If those words were applied to Sa’an or Yun Shang, he might have believed them. But for himself? His palms were drenched in sweat—he couldn’t find a single reason to convince himself.
“Your task is simple,” Yun Shang said gravely. “You must endure three blasts of Light Power and three of Dark Power, then grow stronger—strong enough to reach the level of a mid-tier Divine Clan, what you call ‘Flying Immortals.’ Finally, you must find the power left by the Creator. By then, no one will be your match. You won’t need to fear enemies or the Divine Clan—you will be the master of this world, with all life bowing at your feet.”
Yang Hao swallowed hard. “Sounds… nice.”
“It’ll feel even nicer,” Kadis Long rumbled.
“Alright, it probably is pretty nice.” Yang Hao couldn’t think of any downsides, so he nodded. “The only question is—how do you prove I’m the one chosen by the Creator? Even if I’ve endured one blast of Light and one of Dark, it might just be coincidence. There could be plenty of coincidental candidates…”
The great gods fell silent. They didn’t even glance at each other—Garuda and Titan sat with closed eyes, as if in deep meditation, detached and oblivious.
Yang Hao thought he’d struck a nerve. “You can’t prove it, can you? I’m just a lucky kid, a disciple of the Dual Cultivation Sect, someone with a grudge to settle for my master. The king of the cosmos, the Creator, your Divine Clan’s seal—none of that has anything to do with me.”
The air began to howl, as if hurricanes swirled around them, even whipping Yun Shang’s robes violently. Yang Hao gulped, cutting off his words, but stubbornly repeated, “You have no proof! You can’t prove it!”
The wind grew fiercer, sharp as knives. No voices could be heard—Yang Hao’s head buzzed.
“You want proof? Here’s your proof!”
A roar, a tear—a few swift wind blades shredded Yang Hao’s outer clothes, baring his upper body. Then, before him appeared a strange shadow—a mirror image of himself, identical in every way.
A mirror image conjured without a mirror—only the Divine Clan could manage that.
But soon, Yang Hao forgot about the image. Because he saw something—something shocking, astounding, beyond belief. It appeared on the mirrored body… and on his own.
The proof the gods spoke of was undeniably there.
On his back, where there should have been smooth skin, a pattern had emerged.
Like a stem rising straight from his waist, its tip blooming between his shoulder blades—a fist-sized stamen.
The pattern was tinged orange-red, like fire, like a dreamlike flower.
It took all Yang Hao’s willpower not to reach out and touch the mirrored image. But whether he did or not, his eyes saw clearly—this wasn’t drawn on. It was etched into his skin, slightly raised, not obscuring a single pore, flawless in its creation.
“The Red Nebula Flower has sprouted on your body,” Sa’an’s voice was merciless. “This is the map to that power. You are the chosen one—there’s no escape.”
“This flower… will bloom?” Yang Hao’s hands trembled as he reached for his back.
“When it blooms, it will form a nebula map,” Yun Shang nodded. “Follow that map, and you will become the king of the cosmos! More importantly, Yang Hao, you already possess three of the ten divine artifacts—three weapons that sealed the Divine Clan. Isn’t that proof enough?”
“Three divine artifacts?” Yang Hao was baffled.
Yun Shang tossed three swords back to him—the ones Yang Hao had taken from the Ten Swords Sect.
“The Sword of Immortality, the Sword of Treasures, and the Sword of Gravity—three of the ten divine artifacts that sealed the Divine Clan,” Yun Shang said.
Yang Hao’s eyes widened. Only now did he understand why the Ten Swords Sect was called that, why these swords were their heirlooms, why they’d fought so fiercely to reclaim them.
After sealing the Divine Clan, to prevent their resurgence, the elders had entrusted the ten artifacts to ten cultivation families—now known as the Ten Swords Sect. The swords became their treasures.
It was laughable. Yang Hao found it absurd. Helpless, he glanced back—Hunyuanzi had woken from his brief unconsciousness, witnessing Yang Hao’s transformation. Hearing the Divine Clan’s words, even this thousand-year-old ghost found it ridiculous—but he couldn’t bring himself to laugh.
Here, or in the entire Divine Realm, Yang Hao was likely the weakest. With a combat level barely in the teens—not even a fraction of Hunyuanzi’s—let alone compared to the five chief gods and thousands of mid-tier Divine Clan outside.
Yet, the task of finding “that power,” of becoming the king of the cosmos, fell to Yang Hao.
Yang Hao decided the great gods must be out of their minds—the universe itself must be mad. Since there was no way out, he stopped worrying and started bargaining: “Since you want me to become the so-called king of the cosmos and break your seal, shouldn’t you offer some benefits?”
“Benefits?” Yun Shang’s eyes widened—Yang Hao’s mood swings were faster than flipping pages. “Isn’t becoming the king of the cosmos benefit enough? What more do you want?”
“Not the same!” Yang Hao regained his usual opportunistic bravado. “Like you said, becoming the king is my destiny—meaning it’s mine by right, none of your business! Now, you’re asking me to break the seal—of course there should be some payment!”
“I am now the leader of the Dan Ding Dual Cultivation Sect. This old guy has long since…” Yang Hao pouted, striking a leader’s pose. “If revenge is really needed, why would it be his turn? Of course, it’s up to me, the young and strong one.”
“Moreover…”
“Moreover, if he could really solve the issue of the Divine Clan’s seal, why would you come to me to discuss it?” Yang Hao wasn’t stupid—he had already figured it out.
At this point, there really was no need for further nonsense. Yun Shang simply followed the Dragon Clan’s method, bundling his consciousness into a cluster and tossing it directly to Yang Hao.
Just as Yang Hao had anticipated, these Divine Clan members had long harbored a scheme—one that only Yang Hao could fulfill.
Back then, although the Divine Clan had been deceived into being sealed, the spell that sealed so many gods was undeniably created by the Creator. The sealing barrier, forged with ten divine artifacts, was perhaps the most inconceivable magic in the world. The more power poured into it, the more impossible it became to break.
Think about it: back then, all members of the Divine Clan—whether from the Light Faction or the Dark Faction—poured their full power into the artifacts, believing they were sealing their opponents. Little did they know, both sides had been deceived, trapping themselves instead. Now, even if the remaining few Divine Clan members gathered again, they could never break this seal.
Unless there was new power—new, even stronger power. A force that could surpass the combined might of all the Divine Clan from back then would be needed to break the seal and free the imprisoned gods.
In this world, such a thing seemed impossible. After all, the Divine Clan was already the race with the highest innate talent, a people shaped by the Creator in the most perfect way. How could they be surpassed by anyone else?
But in reality, such power did exist—because it originated from the Creator himself. Perhaps billions of years ago, the Creator had foreseen that the Divine Clan would be defeated by another force, so he made preparations in advance.
The Creator buried all his power at the center of the universe.
This was a secret known only to the Divine Clan—or rather, only to the upper echelons of the Divine Clan. One could say that the entire lives of the upper-tier Divine Clan were spent searching for the hidden location of that secret.
No one knew the extent of the Creator’s power, for this world—this universe—was his creation. No one knew where the secret was buried, for the universe was vast and boundless, with no known edges. How could anyone know where its center lay?
But regardless, all members of the Divine Clan believed that only the one who found that power could save them all, freeing them from the seal completely.
“You think I’m that person? The savior?” Yang Hao pointed exaggeratedly at his own nose. Though he wished it were true, the possibility seemed far too slim.
Yet the gazes of the great gods clearly said: “Yes, it’s you. Fate has chosen you.”
“Why?” Yang Hao sighed, feeling the weight of the entire world pressing down on him.
“Only the one chosen by the Creator can find that power,” Sa’an’s voice drifted down. “That person must be bathed three times in the Light Force and three times in the Dark Force. That person’s body will bloom with the radiant flower of the red nebula. That person must lead gods, lead humans, lead all darkness and light, to become the master of this universe—the king of the cosmos.”
“The king of the cosmos?” Yang Hao barely dared to breathe. If those words had been applied to Sa’an or Yun Shang, he might have believed them. But when it came to himself, his palms grew sweaty, and he couldn’t find a single excuse to convince himself.
“Your task is simple,” Yun Shang said gravely. “You must endure three baptisms of Light Force and three of Dark Force, then grow stronger—strong enough to reach the level of a mid-tier Divine Clan, what you call the ‘Flying Immortal’ realm. Finally, you must find the power left behind by the Creator. By then, no one will be your match, so you need not worry about enemies or the Divine Clan. You will be the master of this world, and all life will bow at your feet.”
Yang Hao swallowed hard. “Sounds… nice.”
“It’ll be even nicer in practice,” Kadisilong rumbled.
“Alright, I suppose it really is quite nice.” Yang Hao couldn’t think of any downsides, so he nodded. “The only question is—how do you prove I’m the one chosen by the Creator? Even if I’ve endured one baptism of Light and one of Dark, it might just be a coincidence. There could be plenty of coincidental candidates…”
The great gods fell silent. They didn’t even glance at each other. Garuda and Titan closed their eyes as if in deep meditation, detached and oblivious.
Yang Hao, however, thought he’d struck a nerve. “You can’t prove it, can you? I’m just a kid with incredible luck, a disciple of the Dual Cultivation Sect, someone who just wants to avenge his master. The king of the cosmos, the Creator, your Divine Clan’s seal—none of that has anything to do with me.”
The air began to howl, as if a hurricane were swirling around them, even causing Yun Shang’s robes to flutter wildly. Yang Hao gulped, cutting off his words, but stubbornly repeated, “You have no proof! You can’t prove it!”
The wind grew fiercer, sharp as knives, drowning out all sound. Yang Hao’s head buzzed.
“You want proof? Then here’s your proof!”
A howling, tearing sound—a few swift gusts of wind shredded Yang Hao’s outer clothes, leaving his upper body bare. Then, before him appeared a strange shadow—a mirror image of himself, identical in every way.
Creating a mirror image without a mirror was something only the Divine Clan could do.
But soon, Yang Hao forgot about the mirror image, for he saw something else—something shocking, astounding, utterly unbelievable. It appeared on the mirrored body, and thus, on his own.
The proof the gods spoke of was undeniably there.
What Yang Hao saw was his own back, which should have been smooth and unmarked. Yet now, inexplicably, a pattern had appeared.
Like a flower stem, it rose straight from his waist to the center point between his shoulders, where a fist-sized bud bloomed.
The pattern was a faint orange-red, like fire, or a flower from a dream.
It took all of Yang Hao’s willpower not to reach out and touch the mirrored image. But whether he did or not, his eyes clearly saw that this was no painted design—it was etched into his skin, slightly raised, not obscuring a single pore, flawless in its creation.
“The flower of the red nebula has already sprouted on your body,” Sa’an’s voice was merciless. “This is the map to that power. You are the chosen one. There is no escape.”
“This flower… will bloom?” Yang Hao’s hands trembled as he reached for his own back.
“When it blooms, it will form a map of the nebula,” Yun Shang nodded. “Follow that map, and you will become the king of the cosmos! More importantly, Yang Hao, you already possess three of the ten divine artifacts—three weapons that sealed the Divine Clan. Isn’t that proof enough?”
“Three divine artifacts?” Yang Hao was baffled.
Yun Shang tossed three swords back to Yang Hao—the very ones he had taken from the Ten Sword Sect.
“The Sword of Immortality, the Sword of Treasures, and the Sword of Gravity,” Yun Shang said. “Three of the ten divine artifacts that sealed the Divine Clan.”
Yang Hao’s eyes widened. Only now did he understand why the Ten Sword Sect was called as such, why these swords were their treasured heirlooms, why they had fought so desperately to reclaim them.
After sealing the Divine Clan, to prevent their resurgence, the leaders of the Elder Council had entrusted the ten divine artifacts to ten cultivation families for safekeeping. These families became the Ten Sword Sect, and the ten artifacts became their sect treasures.
It was laughable. Yang Hao found it laughable. He turned helplessly—Hunyuanzi had woken from his brief unconsciousness, having seen the changes in Yang Hao’s body and heard the Divine Clan’s words. Even this thousand-year-old ghost found it absurd, though he couldn’t bring himself to laugh.
Whether here or in the entire Divine Realm, Yang Hao was undoubtedly the weakest. With a combat power barely in the teens—not even a fraction of Hunyuanzi’s—let alone compared to the five main gods or the thousands of mid-tier Divine Clan members outside.
And yet, the one chosen to seek “that power,” to become the king of the cosmos, was Yang Hao.
Yang Hao decided the great gods must have lost their minds—the universe itself must be insane. Since there was no way out, he stopped worrying and instead began bargaining with Yun Shang and the others. “Since you want me to become this so-called king of the cosmos and break your seal, shouldn’t you offer me some benefits?”
“Benefits?” Yun Shang’s eyes widened, surprised at how quickly Yang Hao had switched gears. “Isn’t becoming the king of the cosmos benefit enough? What more do you want?”
“Not the same, not the same!” Yang Hao regained his usual opportunistic bravado. “Like you said, becoming the king of the cosmos is my destiny—meaning it’s already mine by right! What’s it got to do with you? Now you’re asking me to break the seal, so of course you should pay a little reward!”
Yet it was Yang Hao—the one chosen to find “that power,” the one destined to become the King of the universe.
“I am now the leader of the Dan Ding Dual Cultivation Sect. This old guy has long since…” Yang Hao pouted, striking a pose befitting a sect leader. “If revenge is to be taken, it certainly shouldn’t be left to him. Naturally, it’s up to me, the young and strong one, to handle it.”
“Moreover…”
“Moreover, if he could really solve the issue of the Divine Clan’s seal, why would you come to talk to me?” Yang Hao wasn’t foolish—he had already figured it out.
At this point, there was truly no need for further nonsense. Yun Shang, following the Dragon Clan’s method, condensed his thoughts into a bundle and directly transmitted them to Yang Hao.
Just as Yang Hao had suspected, the Divine Clan had long harbored a scheme—one that only Yang Hao could fulfill.
Back then, though the Divine Clan had been deceived into being sealed, the spell that imprisoned so many gods was undeniably created by the Creator. The sealing barrier, forged with ten divine artifacts, was perhaps the most inconceivable magic in the world. The more power poured into it, the more unbreakable it became.
Consider this: at the time, all Divine Clansmen—whether of the Light or Dark factions—had poured their full strength into the artifacts, believing they were sealing their enemies. Little did they know, both sides had been deceived, trapping themselves instead. Now, even if the remaining Divine Clansmen pooled their dwindling numbers, they could never reopen the seal.
Unless… there was new power. A power even greater than before. A force surpassing the combined might of all Divine Clansmen from that era—only then could the seal be broken, freeing the imprisoned gods.
Such power seemed nonexistent in this world. After all, the Divine Clan was already the most gifted race, shaped by the Creator in the most perfect form. How could they be surpassed?
Yet, such power did exist—because it originated from the Creator himself. Perhaps billions of years ago, the Creator had foreseen the Divine Clan’s downfall and prepared accordingly.
The Creator had buried all his power at the center of the universe.
This was a secret known only to the Divine Clan—or rather, only to the higher-ranking Divine Clansmen. One could say that the entire lives of these elite beings were spent searching for that hidden power.
No one knew the extent of the Creator’s abilities, for he had crafted this world, this universe. Nor did anyone know where the power was buried, for the cosmos was boundless, its edges still undiscovered. How could anyone pinpoint its center?
Yet, all Divine Clansmen believed that only the one who found that power could save them, breaking the seal once and for all.
“You think… I’m that person? The savior?” Yang Hao pointed exaggeratedly at his own nose. Though he’d love to be, the odds seemed impossibly slim.
But the gazes of the great gods clearly said: “Yes, you. Fate has chosen you.”
“Why?” Yang Hao sighed, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on him.
“Only the one chosen by the Creator can find that power,” Sa’an’s voice drifted down. “That person must endure three blasts of Light and three of Darkness. Their body will bloom with radiant crimson nebulae. They will lead gods, men, all Light and Dark, to become the master of this universe—its king.”
“King of the universe?” Yang Hao barely dared to breathe. Had this title been bestowed upon Sa’an or Yun Shang, he might have believed it. But for himself? His palms grew slick with sweat. He couldn’t find a single reason to convince himself.
“Your task is simple,” Yun Shang said gravely. “Endure three blasts of Light and three of Darkness. Grow stronger—strong enough to reach the level of a mid-tier Divine Clansman, what you call ‘Flying Immortal.’ Then, seek the Creator’s power. By then, no one will be your match. You need not fear enemies or the Divine Clan. You will rule this world, with all life prostrate at your feet.”
Yang Hao swallowed. “Sounds… nice.”
“It’ll feel even nicer,” Kadis Long rumbled.
“Alright, it does sound pretty great.” Yang Hao couldn’t think of any downsides and nodded. “Only one problem—how do you prove I’m the chosen one? Even if I’ve endured one blast of Light and one of Darkness, it could just be coincidence. Maybe there are many coincidental candidates…”
The great gods fell silent. They didn’t even glance at each other. Garuda and Titan sat like meditating monks, eyes closed, detached.
Yang Hao thought he’d struck a nerve. “You can’t prove it, can you? I’m just a lucky kid, a disciple of the Dual Cultivation Sect, with a bit of vengeance to settle for my master. The ‘King of the Universe,’ the Creator, your Divine Clan’s seal—none of that has anything to do with me.”
The air began to howl, as if hurricanes swirled around them, whipping Yun Shang’s robes violently. Yang Hao’s words died in his throat, but he stubbornly repeated, “You have no proof! You can’t prove it!”
The wind grew fiercer, sharp as blades. No voices could be heard—only the ringing in Yang Hao’s ears.
“You want proof? Then have your proof!”
A shriek, a tear. A few precise gusts shredded Yang Hao’s outer robe, baring his torso. Before him, a strange shadow appeared—an exact mirror image of himself.
Creating a mirror image without a mirror? Only the Divine Clan could manage that.
But soon, Yang Hao forgot about the image. Because he saw something—something shocking, unbelievable. It was on the mirrored body… and on his own.
The proof the gods spoke of was undeniably there.
On his back, where there should have been smooth skin, a pattern had emerged.
Like a stem, rising straight from his waist to the center of his shoulders, where a fist-sized bud bloomed.
The pattern glowed faintly orange-red, like fire, like a dreamlike flower.
It took all Yang Hao’s willpower not to touch the mirrored image. But whether he did or not, his eyes confirmed it—this wasn’t drawn on. It was etched into his skin, slightly raised, not obscuring a single pore. Perfect.
“The Crimson Nebula Flower has sprouted on your body,” Sa’an’s voice was merciless. “This is the map to that power. You are the chosen one. There’s no escape.”
“This flower… will bloom?” Yang Hao’s hand trembled as he reached for his back.
“When it blooms, it will form a map of the nebulae,” Yun Shang nodded. “Follow it, and you’ll become the King of the Universe. More importantly, Yang Hao, you already possess three of the Ten Great Divine Artifacts—three weapons that sealed the Divine Clan. Isn’t that proof enough?”
“Three divine artifacts?” Yang Hao was baffled.
Yun Shang tossed three swords back to him—the ones Yang Hao had taken from the Ten Sword Sect.
“The Sword of Immortality, the Sword of Treasures, and the Sword of Gravity. Three of the ten artifacts that sealed the Divine Clan.”
Yang Hao’s eyes widened. Now he understood why the Ten Sword Sect was called that, why these swords were their heirlooms, why they’d fought so fiercely to reclaim them.
After sealing the Divine Clan, to prevent their resurgence, the elders had entrusted the ten artifacts to ten cultivation families—now known as the Ten Sword Sect. The swords became their treasures.
It was laughable. Yang Hao found it absurd. He glanced back—Hunyuanzi had woken from his brief unconsciousness, seen the change in Yang Hao’s body, heard the gods’ words. Even this thousand-year-old ghost found it ridiculous. He wanted to laugh but couldn’t.
Here, or in the entire Divine Realm, Yang Hao was the weakest. With a combat level in the teens, he couldn’t even compare to Hunyuanzi’s remnants, let alone the five chief gods and thousands of mid-tier Divine Clansmen outside.
Yet, the task of finding “that power,” of becoming the King of the Universe, fell to Yang Hao.
Yang Hao decided the great gods must be out of their minds—and the universe along with them. Since there was no way out, he stopped worrying and started bargaining. “If you want me to become the ‘King of the Universe’ and break your seal, shouldn’t you offer some benefits?”
“Benefits?” Yun Shang’s eyes widened. Yang Hao’s shift in attitude was faster than flipping a page. “Isn’t becoming the King of the Universe benefit enough? What more do you want?”
“Not the same!” Yang Hao regained his shameless haggling spirit. “Like you said, it’s my destiny—meaning it’s mine anyway, none of your business! Now you’re asking me to break the seal. Of course you should pay up!”
“Benefits?” Yun Shang’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected Yang Hao to switch gears so quickly. “Isn’t becoming the King of the universe enough benefit? What else could you possibly want?”
“No way, no way!” Yang Hao finally regained his usual, shameless, greedy attitude. “Like you said, becoming King of the universe is my fate, meaning it’s already mine. What do you have to do with it? Now you’re asking me to break the seal, so naturally, you should pay me a little compensation!”
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