*Lake-Heart Island – Live Feed*

  Ni Yu: “He’s here! He’s really here!”

  Little Yinglong’s sausage lips flapped: “Bwa-bwa-bwa!”

  Ning Zhao’s sword hand trembled on the mirror’s edge.

  On screen: dawn, dust, and a lone rider on black iron.

  …

  *Western Pass – Third Sunrise*

  Zhou Haisheng rose from the road like a corpse remembering it was once a storm.

  Cangsheng Sword multiplied—thirty-two blades of grief orbiting his head.

  “Three days are up.

  Twelve cities for one grandson.”

  Xu Chu’s horse screamed.

  Ten thousand iron throats answered:

  “WEST COOL HAS NO COWARDS!”

  Black hooves parted.

  Overlord dismounted.

  He tore the grey shroud.

  *UNYIELDING AXE-SHIELD.*

  Bronze-green metal, veins of crimson lightning frozen mid-pulse.

  Thunder penalty still crackled in the grooves—Gongshu Yu’s gift, forged in blood and storm.

  Overlord kissed the flat of the axe.

  “Old ghost.

  Your grandson cut me once.

  Today I return the favor—with interest.”

  *WAR!*

  He charged.

  Earth split behind each footfall.

  Zhou Haisheng’s eyes bled winter.

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  Sword fingers flicked.

  Thirty-two Cangsheng clones became thirty-two meteors.

  BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!

  Ground flowered into craters.

  Overlord hid behind the shield—every impact a gong struck inside his bones.

  UNYIELDING stacked.

  One sword, two, thirty-two—

  each wound fed the next blow.

  He leapt.

  Spine-dragon roared.

  Fourth-pole Heavenly Lock locked into place mid-air.

  Shield met Cangsheng prime.

  *CLANG!*

  Heaven lost its voice.

  Shockwave shaved the mountain bald.

  Overlord spat blood, smiled crimson.

  Flew backward—

  crashed through three hills, left a canyon shaped like his grin.

  Dust settled.

  Zhou Haisheng floated above the new valley, sword tip dripping sunrise.

  “Still breathing?”

  His voice cracked—first surprise in seventy years.

  From the rubble, metal scraped stone.

  Overlord rose.

  Shield cracked in a spiderweb.

  Axe drank the cracks—red lines crawling, knitting, glowing.

  UNYIELDING: every wound returned as interest.

  He laughed until the desert laughed with him.

  “Old man.

  That all?”

  He dragged the axe-shield like a planet on a chain.

  One step—

  ground forgot it was ground.

  Second step—

  air surrendered.

  Third step—

  Zhou Haisheng’s pupils shrank to pinpricks.

  Because the boy was no longer running.

  He was *falling upward*.

  Axe overhead, shield forward, body a black comet.

  All thirty-two wounds, all thirty-two sword blows, all three days of grief—

  compressed into one swing.

  *UNYIELDING: REVERSE HEAVEN.*

  Zhou Haisheng had half a heartbeat to remember his grandson’s smile.

  Then the axe arrived.

  *BOOM.*

  The sky folded.

  Cangsheng prime met Unyielding edge—

  and screamed like a child.

  Sword shattered into thirty-three pieces of regret.

  Shockwave peeled the clouds.

  Zhou Haisheng’s black robe became confetti.

  He flew—

  not gracefully,

  but like a nail shot from a cannon.

  Crashed through the western wall of the pass.

  Left a Zhou-shaped hole and a heartbeat of silence.

  …

  *Lake-Heart Island*

  Ni Yu dropped the mirror.

  Little Yinglong’s sausage lips fell open—popped back to normal.

  Ning Zhao whispered, “He… reversed the realm gap?”

  On the preaching platform, Lu’s finger paused above the final chess piece.

  A grey spark danced on the half-finished Covered-Heaven Sword.

  He smiled.

  “Looks like the whale won’t need to sing today.”

  …

  *Western Pass – Dust Settles*

  Overlord stood in the crater, one knee down, axe planted like a flag.

  Blood poured from every pore, but his spine was straighter than dawn.

  Zhou Haisheng crawled from the rubble—half his ribs singing outside his chest.

  He stared at the boy who should be dead.

  Overlord lifted the cracked shield.

  Red runes reformed—stronger.

  “Old man.

  Your grandson’s sword is now my kindling.”

  He took one step forward.

  Zhou Haisheng took one step back.

  For the first time in seventy years,

  a Nascent Soul retreated before a Heavenly Lock.

  Behind Overlord, ten thousand iron throats roared until the mountains answered.

  The war was not over.

  But the message was delivered.

  *Five Phoenix is not toothless.*

  Far away, four holy lands felt the tremor in their tea.

  On Lake-Heart Island, the Tongtian Mirror cracked—overloaded by a single swing.

  Ni Yu hugged the broken glass.

  “Senior Sister… did we just watch a legend write its first page?”

  Ning Zhao’s sword finally stopped shaking.

  “No,” she said, eyes bright as new steel.

  “We watched the prologue.”

  Little Yinglong sneezed a rainbow.

  Somewhere, an old sword ghost looked at the sky and saw his future written in axe marks.

  The desert wind carried one sentence across the continent:

  *The Overlord keeps his regrets in a box.*

  *Today he nailed it shut.*