The stranger's paranoid vociferation was not merely a conclusion; it served as the catalytic trigger for a cataclysmic shift in atmospheric pressure. A terrified silence descended like a shroud upon the chamber, and the maids, previously driven by innocent curiosity, now trembled violently as the air surrounding the stranger metamorphosed into something heavy, suffocating, and distinctly ancient—a crushing gravitational force that forced their knees to buckle in involuntary submission. RUMBLE. Beyond the sanctuary walls, the azure firmament was instantly devoured by an encroaching obsidian darkness, manifesting distinct, swirling nebulas charged with violent purple fulmination that signified not a meteorological storm, but the ominous congregation of a Heavenly Tribulation. Inside the chamber, the stranger's irises ignited with a terrifying, golden luminescence indicative of divine madness. ZHOOM. In the fraction of a microsecond, his physical form was excised from the room.
Five thousand meters above the terrestrial plane, amidst the roaring thunder and churning tribulation clouds, the entity reappeared; suspended as a minuscule speck against the wrath of the heavens, his presence paradoxically felt more expansive than the sky itself. His persona, his aura, and even the rigid set of his mandible indicated that Xan Li Fang had been obliterated, replaced by an entity entirely alien. He interrogated the void with a voice that boomed like thunder, repeating a singular, maddening inquiry: "Identify my essence! Am I mortal? Demon? Malevolent deity? Monstrosity? A God... or merely an insignificant insect before your gaze?" He did not await a response but screamed at the churning abyss, his fury vibrating through the spatial fabric. "You!!! Did you orchestrate this?! Wherefore?! Because I am fragile amongst my brethren?! Have you banished me to this Heavenly Cage as a punitive measure?! I am the Omniscient God! I am not an ant; even the Heavens perceive me and accord me three hundred points of reverence!"
He clawed at his chest, regarding his own mortal hands with profound disgust as tears of rage mingled with the incipient precipitation. "You... you actually... My soul bore too close a resemblance to these humans?!" The clouds churned, seemingly recoiling from his outburst, as the stranger's energy began to dissipate, his mortal vessel unable to sustain the magnitude of such divine indignation. "You excised the majority of my memory... You shall face a calamity for trifling with the Omniscient God!" His eyes rolled back as consciousness fragmented, but he whispered one final, terrifying axiom before the darkness claimed him: "I am the Fifth Scion of the Creator, the Origin God!" WHOOSH. The energy supply was severed, and the tribulation clouds dispersed with the same unnatural celerity with which they had congregated. The somatic form of the stranger plummeted from the zenith, searing through the atmospheric layers like a rogue meteor.
BOOM! He impacted the Temple Gardens with devastating force, excavating a crater three meters in depth and obliterating the surrounding flora in a cloud of debris; when the dust settled, the stranger lay at the epicenter, unconscious and fractured. To the denizens below, his diatribe had been an unintelligible cacophony of archaic linguistic complexity which no mortal tongue could decipher; they comprehended only that the heavens had raged and the stranger had fallen. The maids rushed forth to extract him from the crater, noting that while his strange robes were tattered and soiled, his physiology remained miraculously intact. They transported him back into the interior, their demeanor now colored by fear and reverence. Lady Agnes arrived moments later, her brow furrowing behind her veil as she appreciated his pulse; without interrogation, she retrieved several high-grade healing pellets from her sleeve and forced them down his throat. "His internal energy is chaotic," Agnes was diagnosed clinically. "Rest is the sole curative measure."
She rose, smoothing the folds of her reddish-pink gown, and turned her gaze toward a young woman positioned near the threshold. "Safira." The young maid stepped forward and executed a bow; she was merely eighteen winters of age, clad in standard white vestments that concealed her form, yet even through the fabric of her veil, her beauty was undeniable, possessing a grace that distinguished her even among the elite attendants. "Yes, My Lady?" Safira's voice was soft and obedient. "Maintain a vigil by his side," Agnes commanded. "Scrutinize him closely and notify me immediately upon his resuscitation." "As you command," Safira acquiesced. Lady Agnes and the retinue departed, abandoning the room to silence once more. Safira positioned a wooden chair beside the bed and settled into it, hands folded in her lap, watching the mysterious figure who had descended from the heavens, claimed divinity, and shattered the tranquility of their temple.
The stranger's terrifying outburst and the subsequent, unnatural congregation of tribulation clouds did not transpire in isolation; rather, the spiritual shockwave propagated through the urban infrastructure like a metaphysical tsunami, alerting every major power residing within the fortified walls. Sensing the anomaly, the high priests and sequestered patriarchs of various sects immediately executed a strategic retreat to their respective sanctuaries, initiating arcane rituals to commune with their deities in a desperate bid for comprehension. In the obsidian recesses of the metropolis, concealed within the penumbra of the Saint Duolu Temple, a clandestine convocation was underway. Fanhu, a figure whose aura was as turbid as the shadows that enveloped him, presided at the head of the table while his subordinates executed deep bows, trembling in deference. "Master," a spy reported, his voice reduced to a hushed whisper, "we observed Lady Agnes transporting a stranger into the Merry Andro Temple; furthermore, we possess absolute certitude that today's atmospheric aberration is intrinsically linked to this individual."
A slow, sinister smile distended Fanhu's features. "Hahaha..." His laughter was frigid, ricocheting through the dim hall. "Agnes... for decades I failed to detect a solitary fissure in your armor, finding no opportunity to dismantle you; yet now, it appears you have acquired a marionette for your amusement." Fanhu's eyes narrowed, gleaming with unrestrained malice at the prospect of his rival's misstep. If she hypothesizes that I will allow her to surpass me with the assistance of this stranger, she is indulging in a delusion. "Ascertain the precise identity of the entity Agnes introduced into the temple," Fanhu commanded, his voice sharp as a honed blade. "Subsequently, quantify his cultivation rank immediately; if today's meteorological chaos was indeed precipitated by him, he must be categorized as at least an Order Five existence." He slammed his palm upon the table with decisive force. "If his intent is to bolster Agnes... we cannot countenance it; we shall obliterate them both." "Affirmative, Master!"
In stark contrast to the stygian glow of Duolu, the Church of the Sun God was bathed in a blinding, artificial luminescence that mimicked the solar gaze. Three figures sat around a compact, circular table; the chamber was brilliant, adorned with golden tapestries, and the occupants wore pristine robes embroidered with the Sun God Totem. Their visages were obscured beneath deep cowls, leaving only the mechanical movement of their mandibles visible, creating an atmosphere not of political machination, but of terrifying divine fanaticism. "Regardless of this entity's taxonomy, we must establish his identity," one figure stated, his voice heavy with gravity. "I have already solicited the Sun God," the second figure interrupted, clasping their hands in reverent fanaticism. "I communicated with Him directly." "And the Oracle?" "His Divine Will is unequivocal," the second figure replied coldly. "The Sun God perceives no utility in preserving this life; he is a variable we do not require. We must purge him with extreme prejudice and celerity." The three figures nodded in unison; a divine decree had been issued, and the stranger was marked for erasure.
Oblivious to the knives being whetted in the darkness and the divine judgments being rendered in the light, the Merry Andro Temple remained a bastion of serenity. In the main hall, dozens of women clad in pristine white vestments, their faces obscured by delicate veils resembling angels, knelt in unison, chanting soft prayers to the statue of Merry Andro—an effigy that bore a striking resemblance to their own veiled forms. Deep within the architectural labyrinth, within the quiet seclusion of the Maids' Quarters, Safira sat silently beside the bed, maintaining her vigil over the fallen "god." Suddenly, the stillness was violently fractured. SNAP. The stranger's eyelids flew open.