Lord of the void realm

Three days passed.

Three inheritance tombs vanished from the map.

Not destroyed. Not looted with explosions. Just... gone. Sealed shut, emptied clean, and erased from the surrounding spatial imprint—like they'd never existed.

Raizen didn't leave signatures. He didn't leave trails. Not even scent markers or lingering Qi traces. Space warped around him wherever he stepped, keeping even tracking beasts and divine tools blind.

To the cultivators watching from afar, it looked like a natural phenomenon. Collapse. Rot. Void storm. Any excuse.

But deep underground, beneath layers of carved runes and thousand-year seals, Raizen sat cross-legged before the shattered statue of an unknown elder—his third void inheritance in under a week.

He opened his eyes slowly.

> "Three down."

Each one had its own style. One used distorted pulse techniques to bypass time locks. Another trained in silence, using stillness to absorb enemy techniques during battle. The third relied on memory—storing endless spells in a compressed thought-state, launching them without casting signs.

Raizen didn't copy them.

He deconstructed them.

And then rewrote them.

Now, he could pull any spatial technique into silence, shatter an enemy's rhythm, and launch spells purely from thought—no incantation, no hand signs.

Yet no one knew.

To the outside world, he was a rogue cultivator hiding from sects.

To him, this was still just the beginning.

---

Above ground, whispers started to spread.

A masked figure had been seen in the vicinity of the Withering Sky Range, where the Ashblood Sect lost a vault overnight. No alarms. No resistance.

The sect head claimed it was internal sabotage.

Privately, he was shaking.

---

Raizen walked beneath a blood moon, shadows dragging behind him unnaturally long. A breeze passed by—cold, unnatural.

He paused.

His eyes flicked to the side.

> "So they've noticed."

A group of six cultivators in black cloaks stood atop a broken ridge behind him. Their auras were restrained, but not weak. Two were Saint-level. One had a divine artifact floating silently behind his shoulder. One was burning his own lifespan just to stay hidden.

They thought they had the advantage.

Raizen didn't turn around.

He just kept walking.

One of them raised a talisman.

> "Void spawn," the leader spat. "You're not going any farther."

Raizen stopped.

Not because of the threat. But because he recognized something in their robes.

> "Jade Shadow Sect," he said quietly. "Didn't you claim to destroy the last Void inheritor a hundred years ago?"

The leader blinked. "How—"

Too late.

Raizen raised one hand.

Space fractured around the six, forming a ring of compressed gravity so dense the ground beneath them exploded. They screamed, scrambling to activate barriers, but it was like being crushed by the weight of a planet.

He didn't let them die.

He didn't need to.

Instead, he took their rings.

He broke their weapons.

He wiped their memories.

And then he marked them—with a seal no one could see or remove.

> "Go back," he said flatly. "Tell your elders I'm just passing through."

He vanished before they could answer.

---

That night, in a far-off palace bathed in gold, a grand elder crushed his teacup as a servant read him the report.

> "No death. No destruction. But six of our elite returned with gaps in memory and tracking seals erased."

> "Whoever this Void user is," the elder said darkly, "he knows too much."

> "Should we inform the Heaven Watchers?"

> "Not yet. Let the other sects bleed first."

---

Raizen stood alone on a dark mountain peak, looking down at the glowing entrance to a fourth inheritance tomb. The stone carvings at its mouth read:

> "Here lies the Sage who Saw All but Could Save None."

Another void cultivator.

Another legacy.

Raizen exhaled.

> "You were all hunted."

He touched the stone gate and stepped through.

> "But I'm still here."

> And I'm not running.