"The Nine Heavens Yang Spirit Scripture has a flaw," Su Yan said quickly. "He never unified the Crimson Palace and Jade Capital secrets. When he channels power, the fourth heaven is empty."
Guo Xiaodie stared. "Really?"
"I translated his technique. A smart cultivator would leave that gap to force balance. A stupid one wouldn't reach that stage at all."
"The Emperor is famously clever!"
She shouted to Guo Yue, who rushed to the garden with the message.
Thunder shook the sky. Guo Tianxiong drove his dragon-halberd through the fourth heaven of stacked storm-clouds, planted his feet there, and struck at the central pillar of fire.
The pillar shattered. Blood rained down.
Guo Xiaodie wiped her face, terrified. "Did Grandfather kill the Emperor?"
Guo Tianxiong descended, grabbed Su Yan by the throat, and shook him. "What flaw did you give me? I nearly killed the Emperor!"
"A flaw in the technique. You broke his cultivation."
The old man set him down, face shifting between emotions. "If Zhou Qiyun still lived, he could heal this. But Zhou's dead. His clan is destroyed..." He walked away, muttering. "I served the throne my whole life. Now I've crippled the Son of Heaven. What does that make me?"
"Grandfather!" Guo Xiaodie called. "Can you still fight? Do we need to evacuate Su Yan?"
"Of course we evacuate! The brat annoys me. Get him out!"
His face changed. "Wait. Another immortal approaches. That low, heavy aura—Cui Zhiyuan. Coming to collect his prize."
He raised his halberd toward the gate.
Su Yan stepped forward. "Senior, you don't need to exhaust your life for me—"
"You're right." Guo Tianxiong relaxed and walked away. "I'm going to sleep."
Su Yan and Guo Xiaodie gaped.
"Tonight is uncertain," his voice drifted back. "Xiaodie, take him to the Second Capital. Survive tonight. Tomorrow we decide what next."
"Second Capital?" Su Yan asked.
Guo Xiaodie pulled him toward the Guo estate's martial hall. "Grandfather has lived since the Zhidao Emperor's reign. He helped six emperors conquer the world. He's worshipped in Lingyan Pavilion while still alive—a living god."
Guo Yue and Li Yingzhu lit incense sticks thick as arms. The Guo clan kowtowed, chanting Guo Tianxiong's name.
Sparks gathered. A portal opened, fragrant smoke swirling into another world.
Su Yan stepped through. The ground was soft beneath his feet—solidified incense. Above, miniature suns hung like ornaments, casting gentle light. Towering spirit-gods stood between pagodas and palaces, some with third eyes, some with three heads, some riding dragons or coiled in serpents.
They were the heroes of Lingyan Pavilion. Their incense had built a second capital, larger than the first, overlapping reality yet separate from it.
Su Yan understood. No wonder the Zhidao Emperor could force the Underworld Emperor to submit. With this power, he could have replaced the underworld entirely.
"Seventh Lord," Su Yan said, "these Lingyan spirits are living dao-manifestations. Study them, and we might create techniques to rival the Thirty-Six Heavenly-Gang Inner-Realm Arts."
Yuan Qi asked the bell, "Is A-Ying right?"
"Yes. But it requires intelligence."
"Never mind, then."
Su Yan walked to what corresponded to the Guo estate's front gate. Through the veil between worlds, he saw a straw-hatted old man approaching through the storm.
The man reached the gate. Rain froze. Lightning hung suspended in the air.
Before him sat a white-robed old man at a chess table, playing alone in the downpour. A single shaft of sunlight illuminated him.
The straw-hatted man sat opposite, picked up a black piece, and studied the board. "People say a red lady and white elder play chess in the mortal world. Watch them, and you'll never lose your way home."
He placed the piece. "But I saw the white elder on Mount Wuwang. A girl with a black coffin beat him until he vomited blood."
The old man's hand trembled.
"Then I heard both were beaten by Zhou Qiyun."
The white piece crumbled to dust.
"Cui Zhiyuan," the white-robed man said softly, "you think these words will break my composure? You're no Qingbi. You're no Zhou Qiyun."
He placed another piece. "When Wang Mang tried to eat him, I dropped one piece from this board. A hundred thousand nuo masters turned to ash. History calls it a falling star. It was merely my chess piece."
Cui Zhiyuan paled and leaped backward.
A white stone the size of a mountain fell from the sky.
The old man placed another piece, face darkening. "That time, I wondered—would the star kill him too? Would we finally be free?"
*Crack.*
The second stone shattered Cui Zhiyuan's defenses. His straw hat disintegrated.
"I am a true cultivator," the white-robed man snarled, placing a third piece, eyes burning with ancient fury. "A proud son of heaven. I won't be trapped in this game forever."