The Heavenly Emperor Returns

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From the far edge of the boundary sea, the colossal white jade Qiongtian hand surged forth—crossing eternity in mere breaths—and descended into the primal chaos. Only in its looming proximity could countless beings comprehend its boundless divinity and incomprehensible vastness.

Even a peerless Dao Ancestor, standing beneath it, felt no more significant than a grain of dust adrift in a cosmic ocean.

Terror erupted.

Howls tore through the sky as millions of grotesque beings—once a relentless tide—collapsed like brittle stalks beneath a tempest.

One sweep of the jade hand carried transcendent force enough to erase all from existence; even monstrous Immortal Kings, sovereigns of eerie realms, were crushed to dust without resistance.

A Dao Ancestor-level entity, an Immortal Emperor on par with Lu Jin, fled in desperation, unleashing all his power to escape across billions of miles. Another, slower to react, was caught beneath the falling hand—Dao mark severed, body disintegrated, all timelines and echoes erased across infinite dimensions.

True extinction—irreversible, even for the Ten Ancestors.

The Chaos Sea exploded as mists of chaos were swept aside; beneath the hand's divine descent, millions of abominations were reduced to crimson vapor.

Witnessing this devastation, all living creatures gasped, stunned into silence by such absolute supremacy. The once-terrifying army, the scourge of the heavens, crumbled like brittle parchment; seventy to eighty percent were annihilated within moments, their morale shattered as surely as their flesh.

A lone surviving Immortal Emperor, soaked in dread, stared at the divine hand and muttered, "This time... even the ancestors may not survive..."

At that moment, the head of the Ten Ancestors snarled, "The ritual needs time! We must delay it!"

Deep within the Etu Plateau, the ancient bronze coffin of the Third Generation trembled, something terrible within stirring toward awakening—but it needed at least one incense stick's duration.

"You! You're not of this time or space, are you?" the ancestral leader roared toward the sky. "You cross realms—do you not fear Karma or Dao backlash?!"

But the jade hand continued descending, slow and unstoppable.

Karma? Dao backlash?

To a being of true detachment, such forces are no more than illusions—dreams that shatter with the lightest touch.

"Attack!"

With grim resolve, the lead ancestor turned to the remaining nine. In an instant, the Ten Ancestors moved as one—wielding cursed relics of unknowable origin: a bloodstained spear, a black mace, a rusted bone nail, a red-haired palm cloaked in malice.

They unleashed forbidden powers, striking upward with all the might of eras long buried. The primal chaos trembled, collapsing and reforming under their assault. Across the heavens, their shadows echoed as a suffocating red mist coiled and surged, choking the void.

Boom after boom resounded as their joint barrage engulfed the falling hand, the blood-hued fog consuming everything in its path.

Even spectators across distant realms felt their hearts seize, staring in dread at the crimson cloud. The combined assault of the Ten Ancestors rivaled that of resurrected Emperors Ye and Huang—an apocalyptic onslaught.

Yet, when the haze cleared, the hand remained.

Pristine. Unmoved. Radiating flawless light without the slightest crack or scar.

The divine jade remained immaculate.

All ten ancestors stood frozen, their ultimate strikes wiped away as if they had never existed.

"Impossible!" they cried, shaken to their core.

No time for disbelief.

The jade hand, still aglow with divine brilliance, fell.

The starry sky tore like rotted cloth. The primordial chaos was erased, vanishing like spilled water wiped from a table.

"ROAR!!!" The Ten Ancestors howled in unison—and were gone. Obliterated. Not merely slain, but erased from all reality.

Behind them, the blood-red arch bridge—once stretching across the void to the bronze coffin—collapsed into ash. Deep within the Etu Plateau, the ancient coffin fell silent once more.

The Great Sacrifice had failed.

The sleeping terror inside would not awaken.

With a final boom, the hand gently curled its fingers inward.

A vortex formed in its palm—a storm of spiraling time, reversing the flow of existence. Rivers of time twisted. Stars shifted. The sun and moon reversed their orbits.

High above, a faint immortal light appeared—growing brighter and brighter, drawing strands of brilliance from all directions like moths to flame.

Within that glow, silhouettes began to form.

First came Emperor Huang and Emperor Ye—once lost to light and rain—now returning, their past reshaped by reversed time. Then more emerged.

Wu Shi. The Great Emperor. The Ruthless Empress. The White-Robed Willow God.

Figures who had long dissolved into the Dao now reappeared in the light.

And still, the procession continued.

Gouhuang. Ye Yishui. Pang Bo. The Son of the Huangdi. Jiudaoyi. The dual-pupiled Shi Yi. The 800 soldiers. Tianjiao the proud ant. Master Meng. Xiaosong. The Burial Master. The Butcher...

One by one, the departed heroes of the era returned, stepping into the light, drawn toward the palm of the white jade sky.

Then—pfff—the hand folded gently, gathering the immortal brilliance into its grasp, and began to withdraw.

All watched, silent, awestruck.

They understood.

The white jade hand that had obliterated the Ten Ancestors… was now leaving.

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