The figure in blue robes held both hands in prayer, gazed downward in silence, and continued climbing day after day, paying no heed to the skeleton's words. The skeleton went on: "All sorcerers of illusion may claim it, but you cannot— you are not one of the chosen ones. You are an outcast among sorcerers. "If you wish to return to the real world, there may yet be a chance when the heavens and earth are overturned. But if you dare to challenge the gods' authority, your fate will be only destruction—your past erased, and you will be remembered as one who lacked foresight." At the final words, the Master Without Trace finally lifted his gaze, his voice deep and resonant, like a great bell, steady and powerful. "I once retreated only because my cultivation was insufficient. For the past twenty years, I have endured in silence—now, here I am." "Yet what difference does twenty years of patience make? You were a ninth-rank sorcerer twenty years ago, and you still are today. What has changed?" The skeleton seemed dismissive. The Master Without Trace spoke slowly: "Then, what is it that makes you afraid?" "The words seemed to stir the skeleton, his soul-fire in the eyes flaring high, and he spoke in a firm, resounding tone: 'Back then, you mice sneaked into the Hall of the Gods, nearly disrupting the balance of the spiritual realm. If the curse hadn't killed you, you should have stayed hidden. Now, you come again to seize divine authority—this is precisely how you will meet your end.' Master Wuhen paused, his expression momentarily hazy. 'They have already passed on. Lingtuo has also fallen. Back then, we were too hasty. If only we had waited until Lingtuo and Zhang Tianshi reached the rank of half-gods, or until Chu Shang had fully absorbed the authority bequeathed by the old chieftains of the Chu family, the outcome would have been different.' He paused again, his expression now calm and indifferent, as though fully enlightened. 'The past is now settled. 'I shall not die. I shall only ascend to the rank of half-god. By claiming that portion of authority, one of the Phantasm Gods will be diminished. Each time the divine realm grows weaker, the power of the Phantasm Masters will wane. On the He is not a god. Do not defile the god. I know His name—The Outer Realm Demon. "Brave!" The voice of the skeleton resonated throughout the entire world. "It is forbidden to call upon the name of the god." The Master Without Trace continued: "You cannot stop me. I am a master of illusion. I have the right to enter the palace and claim the authority. This is the rule of the spiritual realm—your god cannot prevent it." The skeleton chuckled coldly. "Since you refuse to embrace yourself, since you refuse to follow your own heart, you will never attain divine authority. I am curious—what within you has allowed you to persist for twenty years?" The Master Without Trace paused, gazing at the palace gatekeeper, and slowly said: "Because I am a member of the Freeing Organization. The organization's creed is… to prevent the world from being destroyed." He stepped over two stone steps. "To protect the peace of the world." He stepped over two stone steps again. "We are willing to do anything." He stepped over two stone steps once more. At that moment, he was less than a meter away from the skeleton, only two stone steps separating them—yet Master Wuhen came to a halt, as if those two steps had become an impassable chasm. The skeleton seemed to exhale, the flame of life within his eyes burning more calmly. "Twenty years ago, you stopped at the very last two steps as well," he said. "As I mentioned before, if you refused to embrace your true nature, how could you ever ascend to the rank of Phantom God? You cannot cross them—the power of the Phantom God will shatter your mind, turning you into a more decadent狂徒 than Lingtuo himself." Master Wuhen stood motionless, calm and composed, asking quietly, "So, you believe that twenty years later, when I return here, it will be to reminisce?" The flame within the skeleton's eyes flickered momentarily. Master Wuhen folded his hands and softly chanted the Buddha's name: "Amitabha Buddha. For twenty years, I have sealed myself in this practice, solely to refine my heart!" With that, he stepped over the final two steps. After twenty years, he finally reached the place that symbolized the pinnacle of a "You...!" The soul flame within the skeleton's eyes trembled violently, unable to tell whether it was rage or fear, roaring, "Why can't you follow your nature? Why won't you embrace yourself? You are a master of illusion! You are a master of illusion!!" Master Wuhen did not look at it, merely gently pointed, "Amitabha Buddha says: you must return to nothingness." The soul flame within the skeleton's eyes faded out. This guardian, meant to be the final boss of the quest, fell into eternal stillness. ... The Dream Palace. The southern sect's senior abbot, seated on the golden throne, suddenly raised his head, gazing toward the highest, most distant realm. "The Master?" The abbot stood and looked upward. No reply came, yet immediately, the palace shrouded in mist began to fade. The pillars supporting the dome vanished, the red carpet disappeared, and even the golden throne beneath him began to dissolve. The entire palace seemed like an oil painting slowly retreating, while the figure in the flowing cloak, standing six meters tall, remained untouched. The senior elder of the Southern School. Suddenly, the palace vanished entirely, and a new scroll unfolded—azure skies spread out like a canvas, with the sun clearly outlined. Then, endless grasslands unfolded across the horizon, stretching toward the distant sky. As the grasslands took shape, sparkling lakes emerged from the depressions, gurgling softly. Next, herds of horses and flocks of birds appeared. A magnificent scene of the grasslands was thus painted, yet in the very next instant, the grasslands transformed into arid desert plains, which then shifted into a sea-life aquarium-like underwater world. Within just a few seconds, the senior elder had experienced landscapes of ocean, grasslands, desert, and forest—all both illusion and reality. Finally, all scenes faded away, and thin, gray clouds crept in from the horizon, dimming the sky to a pale, sickly white. The earth, once dark brown, rose and fell unevenly, with decayed bones resembling sores growing upon its surface. Here it seems to be an ancient battlefield, with remains of both human and large animals—some so unusual they appear almost extraordinary, with six legs, three cervical vertebrae, and nine tails. Some bones have cracked and decayed over time, while others remain luminous and imbued with spirit, making them exceptionally high-quality materials. At the heart of the land lies a lake of blood, upon which a majestic, ancient palace hovers. A figure dressed in a green robe stands before the palace. The scene is thus frozen in time. The Grand Elder surveys this world, his gaze finally settling on the figure in the green robe. Beneath his cloak, the deep black light flickers continuously, as if shifting between expressions, and the Elder gasps, "Has the Past-Trace ascended to the rank of half-divine?" A distant, resonant voice echoes through the sky: "Establish contact with the Spiritual Expansion!" The black light beneath the cloak flickers again, then settles, as he bows, "Yes, Master!" ... September 20th. Zhang Yuanqing wore a baseball cap and mask, standing at the entrance of the underground parking garage, P2, and waving enthusiastically as the mature woman approached. The woman dressed in a white shirt and black skirt, the shirt hem tucked into her waist, accentuating her graceful, slender figure. Her beautifully wavy hair cascaded over her shoulders and back. A pair of sleek black sunglasses rested on her smooth forehead, revealing a refined and three-dimensional face. She carried a small carry-on suitcase, smiling warmly and briskly heading toward Zhang Yuanqing, her high heels clicking with each step. Zhang Yuanqing opened his arms to greet her, and they embraced. "Mom, I've missed you so much! It's been a month. You've gotten even younger and more beautiful—I'd have thought you were my sister!" Fu Xue was delighted and laughed, "Your mouth! You've only ever used it to charm Guan Ya. Don't use it on any other woman!" Zhang Yuanqing pouted, "Then can't I charm you at all?" Fu Xue gave him a look of mild disapproval. Zhang Yuanqing then politely helped his mother-in-law with her suitcase and opened the car door, inviting her to get in. He was being so attentive for a reason. After the bachelor engineers from the "Mechanical R&D Company" had worked tirelessly, night after night, tightening screws, the first batch of mechanical weapons had finally been completed and were now ready for delivery. The delivery wasn't as simple as handing over the goods and receiving payment at the same time. Knowing that Fu Qingyang was absent and that headquarters had been experiencing its own set of troubles, they had raised two demands. First, they wanted to pay a deposit upfront and only settle the final payment after a two-month trial period. Second, they requested a free three-year warranty. Securing payment for the project was a traditional challenge for official institutions. In addition, there were personnel from relevant departments who needed to be properly handled, and key officials who took the opportunity to request kickbacks. This meant not only navigating complex procedures but also constantly negotiating with the official side. Such matters, Xia Hou Ao Tian was certain, would be impossible to manage. The protagonist would simply rise, slam the table, and with an air of lofty disdain declare: "If you won't willingly hand over the money, what business do you have acting so ungrateful and making such a fuss?" Z Let him handle it—another court hearing is certain. After all, only his mother-in-law, with first-rate social grace, first-rate business acumen, and shareholder status, could possibly manage it. So Zhang Yuanqing called her, saying it was time for the three-year term to end and for Fu Longwang to return to his rightful place. As the car drove out of the airport, Fu Xue sat gracefully in her seat, opening a small mirror to touch up her makeup, and said casually, "Why didn't the little girl come to meet us at the gate?" "Tired, sleeping." "Tired?" Fu Xue paused mid-powdering, turned her head to look at her son-in-law, and after a few seconds, as a seasoned senior lady, she understood. The mother-in-law remarked, "No wonder she's the Night-Wanderer—such vibrant energy!" Zhang Yuanqing snorted, "No matter how vibrant, your daughter is still a truly stunning woman. Have you found a master-class knight yet?" Fu Xue's smile slowly faded, "Ah, it's all my mother's fault. Back then, she was so impulsive—she shouldn't have asked Guan Ya to make a vow." Zhang Yuanqing seized the opportunity to apply psychological pressure, saying, "Alright, Mom, just focus on handling your company matters. By the end of the year, the validity period of your pledge will have expired." ... Songhai, Chaomen District. In a residential complex, a man wearing a baseball cap knocked on a deep red security door. The woman who opened the door was a senior citizen, around sixty years old, with white hair and numerous wrinkles, dressed neither simply nor extravagantly. "Who are you looking for?" she asked in clear, well-articulated Mandarin, without the typical loose intonation common among women of her age. The man in the baseball cap remained expressionless, even serious, as he pulled out his identification and said, "May I speak with Yao Yilin? I'm a security officer from the Second Security Office of Chaomen District, and I have something to discuss with him." Upon hearing it was a security officer, the elderly woman didn't react as one might expect from a regular resident; instead, she remained calm and stepped aside, saying, "Please come in. He's at home today, comrade. What's the matter?" "I have a case to consult with him." "The man in the cap entered the room, gave a slight smile, saying, 'Don't worry, it's just a inquiry—nothing to do with him.' The elderly lady guided him to a sofa in the living room, poured him a cup of tea, and called out to the bedroom, 'Old Yao, there's a security officer here to see you.' Though elderly, her voice remained clear and strong. The man in the cap glanced around the living room—the decor and furnishings were as weathered as their owners. It seemed there were only two elderly people living here, as he didn't see any items used by younger generations. An elderly man stepped out of the bedroom, his silver hair now somewhat sparse, his back slightly bent, deep lines etched around his eyes that accentuated the drooping corners, giving him a stern, reserved demeanor. He wore a pair of old-fashioned reading glasses on his neck. 'A representative from the Security Bureau?' the man asked, sitting across from the man in the cap, his expression curious, 'What's on your mind?'” The man in the cap didn't answer at first, just stared at the elder and asked, "Yao Yilin, a retired teacher, formerly employed at Songhai Kangyang Middle School, retired two years ago, is that correct?" The elder nodded. Sitting beside him, the elderly woman couldn't help but remark, "In fact, he had already been internally retired four years ago due to health issues. At that time, he wasn't happy—he still wanted to teach. Fortunately, he did retire. If he had waited any longer, his life would have come to an end, and then what would there be left to support in old age?" The man in the cap paid no attention to the woman's complaint, simply looked at the elder and said, "We're investigating a theft case. We suspect that the suspect once studied at Kangyang Middle School, but neither teachers nor students remember this person. So, we're only causing you a bit of inconvenience." As he spoke, he pulled out his phone, opened a photo, and handed it to the elder. Yao Yilin was the sixteenth retired teacher he had interviewed among the middle school educators—there are still many others like him on the list. Currently, investigations into the identity of the Primordial Heavenly Sovereign have yielded no results, and the patience of the Master of Pure Yang is nearly exhausted. He only hopes to soon narrow down the identity of the Primordial Heavenly Sovereign. The elder takes the phone and carefully examines the young man in the photo. After struggling to recall for a long time, he suddenly brightens: "I remember him. Yes, he is indeed one of our students from Kangyang Middle School."