The next day, the sun rose over the crimson-stained banners of the Feng Kingdom.
Within the grand castle, silence reigned. No ministers, no nobles—just still air and quiet dread.
Atop the obsidian throne, clothed in robes of black trimmed with blood-red, sat Feng Yun. His posture was relaxed, yet imposing. The long shadows cast by morning light only deepened the aura around him.
His expression was unreadable—neither joy nor sorrow, as if emotion itself had long been burned from his soul.
He murmured to the empty hall, voice low and cold, "What's taking him so long?"
As if summoned by fate, the heavy double doors creaked open.
A boy walked in, trembling.
Feng Yichen.
He looked nothing like the carefree youth of yesterday. His eyes were bloodshot, ringed with dark circles. His hands shook by his sides. His steps were uneven. Grief clung to him like a second skin.
"I greet the king," he said, lowering his head.
But Feng Yun raised a hand.
"There's no need for formalities between us. We greet strangers, not blood." His gaze sharpened. "Tell me. Is the task complete?"
Yichen nodded stiffly. "Yes... Father."
His voice cracked.
"I killed the two assassins. And... and the manager. His family too."
Feng Yun said nothing at first. He simply stared, as if weighing something deeper than words.
Then, he rose from the throne.
"Son," he said at last, his voice like steel wrapped in silk. "Do you see how I claimed this throne? Was it because the heavens favored me? No. I sit here because I was strong. I won because I endured when others broke. My brother didn't lose because he was wrong—he lost because he was weak. If he had been stronger... then I'd be the one buried, not him."
Yichen looked away, jaw clenched. But Feng Yun stepped forward, eyes boring into his.
"I know. You don't want a lecture. Children rarely do. But some lessons cannot be ignored—they burn themselves into your bones, because this world…" He paused, letting the silence press against his son. "This world isn't fair. It's not a storybook. Justice is a lie told by the weak to make sense of their suffering."
"There is only one rule. One truth."
"The law of the jungle."
"The strong devour the weak. That is the only justice. That is the only god."
Then, unexpectedly, Feng Yun stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the boy.
Yichen froze.
And then the tears came, silent and hot.
His father's whisper pressed into his ear like a brand:
"I don't give lectures to anyone—except those I love.Forget your guilt. Forget mercy.Remember this truth, and you'll survive long after I'm gone."
Yichen buried his face in his father's chest. And for one fleeting moment, inside a castle of stone and death, he was just a child again—grieving, trembling, and held by the monster who made him.
Later, after Yichen's tears had dried and silence reclaimed the throne room, he sat on the cold stone floor, his eyes cast downward. Feng Yun reclined back onto the throne with a sigh, his gaze drifting toward the high ceiling as if the answers he sought were hidden in the cracks.
Then, Yichen asked softly, "Father… are you still going to find Mother?"
The question fell like a stone into still water.
Feng Yun's expression didn't change, but his eyes narrowed slightly. "Why do you ask such a thing?"
There was hesitation.
Yichen clenched his fists, summoning courage from somewhere deep within. "Because when I was little… you always ignored me. Whenever I tried to play or eat, you'd punish me—sometimes just for smiling. You used to say I was cursed. That I was the reason Mother left."
Feng Yun looked down at him, his fingers tightening on the throne's armrest.
"You cried when you thought no one saw you. You screamed at the walls and beat the servants. But… I didn't care about any of it. Not the punishment. Not the silence."
Yichen raised his head, eyes shimmering.
"Because I just wanted to see you happy."
Feng Yun froze.
His eyes widened ever so slightly, not in rage, not in calculation—but something else. Something buried. Something he had long forgotten existed.
Yichen continued, voice unwavering now, "That's why I don't want you to look for Mother anymore. I don't even want to call her my mother… Not after seeing how much pain she caused you."
Feng Yun didn't speak. For a long moment, only the wind outside filled the void.
But his mind stirred like an ancient beast disturbed from slumber.
Strange... I'm over two hundred years old. I've lived lifetimes and seen empires crumble. But no one—not a single soul—has ever said something like this to me... without wanting something in return. They lied, begged, flattered. But this child... he's genuine. A kind soul, in a world that devours kindness.
Then, at last, Feng Yun stood and stepped down from the throne.
"I'm sorry, Yichen," he said quietly. "For being a bastard of a father. For making you carry pain that wasn't yours."
Yichen blinked.
"But I can't stop looking for your mother."
"Why?" Yichen asked, voice cracking. "Why do you need her so badly?"
Feng Yun turned away, walking back toward the throne. "Son… imagine you're a king. And one day, someone attacks your city and claims it for their own. Do you let them keep it?"
He didn't wait for an answer.
"No. You take it back. Even if you must burn the world to ash, you take it back. Because no one… no one takes what belongs to me."
"I see…" Yichen murmured. "Then I'll support you. If it makes you happy, that's enough for me."
He stood up, wiping his face and bowing respectfully. "Do you need anything else?"
Feng Yun's voice returned to its usual command. "Tell the guards I've summoned the finance minister. And inform the jailer—I'll be visiting the prison."
Yichen nodded and turned to leave.
As the doors shut behind him, silence settled once more.
Feng Yun leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming. "She must still be in that prison…"
But even the past couldn't haunt him forever—not in a world ruled by power.
That's when the screen appeared…
| DING… Congratulations, Successor. You have reclaimed your rightful throne. |
| Reward Available. Would you like to open it now? Y/N |
A smirk tugged at Feng Yun's lips.
"Hmm. So even doing what I want gives me rewards? Then sure—yes."
| Reward Granted:→ Skill 1: Soul Imprint→ Skill 2: Skill Maker & Modification |
| Details: |
Soul Imprint—Similar to a slave mark, but permanent. Even death and reincarnation cannot sever the bond. It leaves no trace on the body—only on the soul.
Skill Maker & Modification—Allows you to modify any skill you possess or acquire, including those given by the system or stolen from others. You may also create custom skills perfectly suited to your DAO.
Feng Yun's eyes sharpened.
"A soul-based permanent bond... Even if they return from death, they're still mine?"
He chuckled lowly, like a predator discovering a new kind of trap.
Then another blue screen emerged, this one pulsing with power.
| Sudden Quest Unlocked:Awaken Your True Bloodline.Complete the objective to receive your next evolution. |
Feng Yun leaned back, his eyes like twin storms.
"Awaken my true bloodline? So the game has just begun…"
"Oh? Then tell me more about this quest."
| Quest Unlocked: Become the God |
| Objective: Gain 9,999 followers. || Progress: 0/9,999 |
"God, is it?" Feng Yun scoffed. "Believers alone? Sounds childish."
| Host is correct. This is only the beginning of your path to godhood. |
He reached into his robes and pulled out five jet-black seeds, pulsing faintly with a strange heat.
"I want to know about these seeds," he murmured. "The ones I received. What do they do?"
Before the system could respond, footsteps echoed.
"I greet the king."
Feng Yun looked up calmly.
The man entering wore court robes — slightly wrinkled, hurried. A scroll clutched in one hand.
Ah. This must be the finance minister... and supposedly, the best friend of one of those traitors. I have no memory of his face, but my instinct rarely lies.
Feng Yun's voice was firm and emotionless. "Do you know where your dearest friend is slacking?"
The minister blinked. "My friend? Ah… Yes, Minister Van and the general… they vanished yesterday evening after the tournament. I thought they returned home, but… I haven't seen them since."
Feng Yun's lips curled faintly. "I see. Then send a search party. If they're still missing by sundown, send letters to their families."
"Yes, my lord." The minister bowed low and quickly retreated.
Just then, a guard entered the chamber.
"My lord, the jailer from the underground prison seeks your audience."
Feng Yun stood without a word and motioned toward the door.
"Bring him in. I don't have all day."
But as the jailer approached, Feng Yun raised a hand, cutting him off.
"No need to waste time with words. Just show me the way."
The jailer hesitated at the sudden dismissal, but nodded.
And together, they vanished into the depths of the castle.
The descent into the prison was steep and suffocating. The air grew heavier with each level, thick with rot, blood, and old screams.
At the final landing, torches flickered along damp stone walls, casting eerie shadows.
The jailer stopped and turned.
"My lord, my name is Guru," he said, bowing low. "I am one of your most loyal subjects. May I ask why someone of your esteemed position would wish to enter a place like this?"
His tone was sweet. Too sweet.
Feng Yun's eyes sharpened.
"Shut your mouth before I shut it for you," he said coldly. "Just show me to Level Seven."
The color drained from Guru's face—not at the threat, but at the destination.
"M-My lord, forgive me, but... Level Seven is not like the others. The prison is structured by strength. Each level descends deeper, housing stronger monsters. Level Seven houses monsters, my lord. Stage Five, Awakened Path or worse."
He swallowed hard and added, "Entering that floor without a general—or someone stronger—would be suicidal. And I don't fear for myself… but for you, my lord."
Feng Yun didn't even blink.
"I didn't ask for your concerns. Lead the way."
Guru hesitated only for a moment before nodding and walking ahead.
As they moved deeper, Feng Yun glanced sideways, speaking to the translucent window that hovered quietly near his vision.
"Tell me—did you suppress my spiritual energy?"
| Affirmative. For the safety of the host and others, your current displayed realm is Mortal Path – Stage 5. |
| Would you like the suppression removed? |
Feng Yun smirked.
"No. Keep it as is. Let them wonder how I leap realms in days while they take years."
The stairs ended before a great black gate, sealed with layered enchantments and steel chains.
Guru stopped. His voice trembled.
"This is it, my lord. Level Seven."
He turned slowly, sweat glistening on his brow.
"If you tell me which prisoner you seek, I'll fetch their record. But please… do not step too close to the cells. These monsters aren't bound by sanity—or mercy."
He ignored him and stepped toward the gate of the cell where he wanted to go. His fingers curled into a fist."Open it," he said.
Behind the steel, something stirred. And laughed.
Meanwhile, far from the blood-soaked throne of Feng Yun...
In a field of wildflowers swaying under the sun, a white-haired beauty sipped tea at a delicate wooden table. Her features were noble, serene—yet shadowed by silent tension.
Beside her stood a man like a statue. Tall—around 195 centimeters—with pale skin, black hair, and piercing blue eyes. His frame was lean, his face handsome enough to halt conversation. A long sword rested against his back. He wore a simple white shirt and dark pants, untouched by the dirt of the earth.
The beauty, setting her teacup down with a sigh, said, "Sir Asher, how long do you intend to stand there? You're not a guard, and I'm no helpless princess. I may be royalty, but I'm still only a daughter. Why did Father assign you of all people to protect me—when your sword is needed at the frontlines? Our people are dying… and the Hero of Eldoria watches flowers bloom."
But Asher did not move.
"I cannot leave your side," he said simply. "Not now. Not while we're still at war with Emberwood."
Ariel sighed, brushing a strand of white hair behind her ear. "You're too stubborn."
Asher remained silent.
But his mind burned.
I can't leave you—not today. Not when I know what's coming. I watched you die in my last life… assassinated by your own sister. She blamed Emberwood, but I remember the truth. This time, I'll stop it. I'll catch her red-handed. I swore to protect you—even if it breaks the heavens.
Then, mentally, he called out:
"System. How long until my ability—Timebound Resurrection—is recharged?"
"Only one year remains until the Cataclysm begins."
| DING… Timebound Resurrection will fully recharge: Tomorrow. |
Asher's lips curled into the faintest smile.
"Good."