Myth Beyond Heaven

Nantian Fengyu’s fingers froze as she caught a glimpse of something at the edge of the last page—a tiny, almost imperceptible rune carved into the leather. It was no larger than a grain of rice, its lines so fine they seemed to shimmer when the light hit them just right.

Her brow furrowed.

“What is this…?”

She hesitated for only a moment before pressing her fingertip against the symbol and channeling a wisp of divine energy into it.

The reaction was instantaneous.

The rune blazed to life, its glow erupting into a blinding radiance that flooded the study. The diary shot into the air, pages fluttering wildly as if caught in a hurricane. A resonant hum filled the room, vibrating through the very bones of the villa.

BANG!

The door burst open as Long Xi and the others rushed in, their expressions a mix of alarm and confusion.

“What’s happening?!” Long Xi demanded, her draconic aura flaring defensively.

Nantian Fengyu could only shake her head, her eyes locked on the floating book. “I don’t know! There was a rune hidden in the diary—Yun Lintian’s father’s diary. I activated it, and this—”

The pages continued to flip, faster and faster, until they became a blur. Yet no words appeared. No hidden messages. Just… emptiness.

Long Qingxuan stepped forward, her hand outstretched as if to grab the book, but the moment her fingers neared it, an invisible force repelled her.

“It’s rejecting us,” she muttered.

Linlin, in her miniature white tiger form, let out a frustrated growl and swiped at the air. Qingqing floated closer, her green eyes narrowed. “Maybe it needs a specific key?”

Long Xi crossed her arms, her frown deepening. “Yun Wuhan was the God of Elements and the creator of this realm. If he left something behind, it wouldn’t be so easily accessible.”

Nantian Fengyu’s mind raced. The diary’s contents had mentioned a “surprise” once Yun Lintian collected all the Beyond Heaven relics. He had collected them—so why hadn’t anything happened?

Unless…

Her eyes widened. “What if the relics weren’t the final key? What if they were just the prerequisite?”

The others turned to her.

Long Niu tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

Nantian Fengyu gestured to the still-flipping pages. “Yun Lintian’s father said there would be a surprise after gathering the relics. But what if the surprise wasn’t automatic? What if he needed to activate it—just like this rune?”

A heavy silence fell over the group.

Then, from the doorway, Gui Xuan’s childish voice piped up. “The blood remembers.”

Everyone turned. Zhang Yu stood behind him, her expression startled. “Little Master just… said that out of nowhere.”

Nantian Fengyu’s pulse quickened. She looked back at the floating diary. “Yun Wuhan’s bloodline. Yun Lintian’s blood. That’s the key.”

“But Yun Lintian isn’t here,” Long Xi said grimly.

“Then we find another way,” Nantian Fengyu snapped. “There has to be—”

CRACK!

The sound was like shattering glass. The diary’s pages suddenly stilled, frozen mid-flip. Then, without warning, the book split down the spine, its two halves hovering apart as a beam of golden light erupted between them.

The light coalesced into a figure—tall, broad-shouldered, his features achingly familiar.

Yun Wuhan.

Or rather, a remnant of him.

His spectral form gazed at them, his eyes filled with warmth. His lips curling into a knowing smile. “Hmm… it seems my son is quite the charmer. To have so many beauties worried for him—”

“Senior!” Long Qingxuan interrupted urgently, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Lintian is in danger right now! Please tell us how to help him!”

Yun Wuhan’s eyes twinkled as he looked at her. “Still calling me ’Senior’? Shouldn’t it be ’Father’ by now?” His gaze drifted meaningfully between her and the others. “After all, you’re all practically my daughters-in-law at this point.”

The room fell into stunned silence. Long Qingxuan’s face turned scarlet, while Nantian Fengyu choked on air. Even Long Xi’s usual composure cracked slightly, her draconic eyes widening.

Long Niu was the first to recover, slapping her hands against her cheeks. “W-wait! That’s not—we’re not—!”

Yun Wuhan chuckled, clearly enjoying their reactions. But then his expression grew serious. “I know what Lintian is doing right now.” A pause. “He’s probably slaughtering Primordial Gods like a demon unleashed.”

The mood in the room instantly sobered.

Long Xi frowned. “How do you know this? And if you knew, why didn’t you stop him?”

Yun Wuhan sighed, his spectral form flickering slightly. “Because this was always meant to happen.”

“What do you mean?” Nantian Fengyu demanded.

“Yun Tianming,” Yun Wuhan said simply. “The God of Fate foresaw this.”

A collective gasp rippled through the group.

“The God of Fate?!” Long Qingxuan’s voice trembled.

Yun Wuhan nodded. “He came to me long ago, back when Lintian was just an infant. He told me that one day, Nian Shi would attempt to seize my son’s body to ascend as the new Creator.”

Long Xi’s golden eyes sharpened. “Then the God of Fate must have prepared a way to stop this, right?”

Yun Wuhan’s expression turned complicated. “Yes… and no.”

He waved a hand, and the air shimmered with faint images—countless branching paths, each representing a possible future. “Even the God of Fate’s power has limits. The future is never set in stone. Nian Shi himself, as the God of Time, can only see possibilities, not certainties.”

Nantian Fengyu slammed her fist against the desk. “Then are we just supposed to sit here and do nothing?!”

Yun Wuhan chuckled. “Little Phoenix, your temper truly matches the Divine Phoenix’s.” His tone softened. “Of course there’s a way. Yun Tianming prepared for this. But…”

He hesitated, his form flickering again. “I cannot speak of it directly. The moment I do, Nian Shi may sense it. The God of Time’s reach extends even here.”

A heavy silence fell.

Then—

Gui Xuan, who had been unusually quiet, suddenly toddled forward. His tiny hands reached out toward Yun Wuhan’s projection. “Grandpa… left something.”

Yun Wuhan’s eyes softened as he looked at the child. “Ah, the Black Turtle God. Even in this form, your perception is sharp.”

He raised a hand, and the floating halves of the diary suddenly merged back together. The pages flipped rapidly before stopping on a seemingly blank sheet.

“But… there’s nothing there,” Long Niu said, confused.

Yun Wuhan smiled. “Not to your eyes.” He turned to Gui Xuan. “Little one, can you see it?”

Gui Xuan blinked, then nodded. “Words… shiny words.”

Yun Wuhan’s grin widened. “Good. Then it’s time for all of you to see what my son cannot—yet.”

He waved his hand, and golden light erupted from the diary, engulfing the room…