Chapter 132: The Aftermath
Great Yan Empire.
The night was anything but ordinary. It should have been quiet, with the moon casting its pale glow over mountains and rivers. But tonight, the heavens themselves had been torn open, and every corner of the empire quaked with dread and awe.
The sky over the Thousand Mist Forest had burned with divine light, constellations twisting and realigning as though rewriting fate itself. Across the land, from bustling capitals to remote villages, billions of eyes had lifted to watch. Now, chaos reigned.
The streets of every major city were flooded with people, their faces pale under the torchlight. Some trembled in fear, others whispered in excitement, but all of them looked toward the forest. The phenomenon was too vast to ignore.
Above them, streaks of light cut across the night sky. Hundreds—no, thousands—of cultivators flew in formation, each one like a falling star. From sect elders to wandering sword masters, from clan prodigies to rogue cultivators chasing luck, every person with even a spark of ambition surged toward the forest.
The air itself seemed to be filled with desperation.
Mortals, powerless to join the rush, clutched their families and muttered prayers. They had seen things no mortal should see: phantom soldiers marching through their streets, banners snapping in spectral wind, weapons trembling in their hands as if saluting an unseen master.
"Divine weapon..." the word hissed from every mouth. "The heavens have birthed a divine weapon."
Greed drowned out fear. Though the Thousand Mist Forest was a nightmare few dared approach, tonight it became a beacon. They were willing to throw their lives into its jaws for even the chance of seizing what had been born within.
And they weren’t alone. Orders had already been issued. Elders, masters, and patriarchs demanded results: Do not come back empty-handed.
***
Inside the main hall of the Heavenly Sword Sect, one of the largest sect in the empire, dozens of elders sat in solemn silence. Their robes rustled faintly, being the only sound in the chamber apart from the crackle of incense fires.
At the head of the hall, the sect master sat unmoving, his expression unreadable. His presence was like a blade sheathed but sharper than any steel.
Finally, one elder broke the silence. "Sect Master... what do you make of it? Was this truly the birth of a divine weapon? Or... could it be something else?"
Murmurs rippled through the hall. None dared voice their thoughts, but the question hung heavily in the m air.
The sect master’s eyes narrowed, their depths reflecting the image of countless swords rising into the heavens. He exhaled slowly. "It was not a weapon. It was a talent. A supreme weapon talent, birthed into this world."
A chill swept through the elders. Supreme weapon talents were things of myth, passed down in tales but never seen in reality. To master one weapon was extraordinary. To master tow was sheer monstrosity. To master all weapons, to merge their Daos into one—such a thing had never been witnessed.
He continued, voice calm yet heavy with finality. "Everyone rushing to the forest now will find nothing. Whoever bore that talent... they are no fool. If they had the courage to enter that forest, then they also have the wisdom to vanish from it before the world arrives."
The elders nodded, though unease lingered in their hearts. The same question echoed silently in every mind: Who was it? And what will they become?
***
Far across the empire, in the hall of one of the great clans, the atmosphere was very different. Where the sect was cautious, the clan was electric with ambition.
"They say the heavens have blessed us!" one elder shouted, pounding the table. "At last, we will secure the chosen one. The clan’s centuries-long plan will finally bear fruit!"
The patriarch, seated at the head, smiled slowly as his fingers tapped lightly against the armrest, hi eyes gleaming with greed and ambition. Before he could speak, the air within the hall shifted violently.
A vast pressure descended, heavy as a mountain. Then, from nothing, an old man materialized in their midst. His hair was silver, his back slightly bent, yet his mere presence made the hall tremble.
"Ancestor..." dozens of voices gasped, falling to their knees.
The old man’s eyes swept the hall, crinkling into a smile. "Do not waste this chance. Find the bearer of the supreme weapon talent. Spare no effort, no cost. Bring him into our clan. And if he refuses..."
His voice sharpened, cutting like frost. "...eliminate him. Quickly. The future of our clan depends on it."
The hall’s atmosphere grew solemn, all levity stripped away. Every elder bowed deeply, acknowledging the gravity of his command.
***
Within the royal chambers of the Great Yan Emperor, silence reigned. The emperor himself sat at the highest window, his features handsome and sharp, though his eyes carried centuries of weight. He looked no older than thirty, but in truth, he had reigned far longer.
He stared into the night, gaze fixed on the distant glow of the forest.
Behind him, a woman’s voice broke the silence. "Your Majesty, one of the commanders has already dispatched troops. He prepares to enter personally. We cannot allow the clans to seize the one who bears this talent. If they succeed, their confidence will swell, and their schemes will accelerate."
The emperor’s lips curved faintly, though not in amusement. He shook his head. "It is useless. The one responsible is gone. I cannot feel his presence at all."
The woman’s brow furrowed. "Then... was he killed by the tribulation?"
"No." The emperor’s voice was firm. "Not killed. He has hidden himself. And soon... he will reveal himself again."
***
Meanwhile, on Earth.
The world was calm, ignorant of the storm raging in another universe. In Bellemere Mansion, Liam lay on his bed, chest rising and falling in slow rhythm.
More than thirty minutes had passed since he had returned, but his mind was still reeling from everything that has happened.
His muscles still twitched with phantom pain and his eyes still flashed with the memory of weapons falling from the sky, of phantom soldiers marching through mist.
"Myriad Armament Constitution..." he whispered, flexing his fingers.
Even now, when he closed his eyes, he felt the weight of countless weapons tugging at his soul.
He exhaled sharply, forcing calm.
A knock at the door drew him back and Evelyn’s soft voice floated through. "Sir, Daniel is waiting for you downstairs."
Liam sat up at once. "I’ll be there shortly."
"Yes, sir. I’ll inform him." Her footsteps retreated, leaving the silence intact.
Liam pushed himself to his feet. His body still ached, but he moved quickly. He showered, letting hot water wash away the lingering scent blood, then dressed in a fresh set of clothes.
Before leaving his room, he paused. His gaze fell on the Gear Glass resting on his desk. The device was scorched, tiny cracks spidering across its surface — scars left by the heavenly lightning that had struck him.
"Not good," he muttered. With a thought, he stepped into the Dimensional Space.
There, under Lucy’s control, it was fixed in a second inside the molecular assembler.
"Good as new," Liam said softly, sliding it back into place, as he returned to his room and left his room, going downstairs to meet Daniel.