Somewhere in a faraway place, where the desert began to remember it was once a forest, Baili Feng crossed the Thousand Trees Oasis.
He moved with a solitary focus, a blade cutting through the world's noise. Rumors, carried on the dry wind and the hushed voices of fleeing travelers, spoke of a mountain to the west where a weapon of legend was still plunged into the stone. **Forged Destiny**. He had not been in time for the fight itself, but he had learned of its outcome. The weakling of the Jiang Mountain—Liang—had risen to a level Baili could not yet claim to touch.
Baili held no particular ill thought toward Liang. The man had made his choice, found his own poisoned path to power. Baili's path was different. His **Cloud Juggernaut** was not built on defiance or hatred, but on a single, hard-won principle: as long as he kept climbing, as long as he kept rising, the Juggernaut would follow, letting him reach a height even he himself could not yet fathom.
The politics of the Four Kingdoms, the fate of his captured sister, the schemes of assassins and kings—all of it had been sandblasted away by the desert wind of a single encounter. After meeting Buqu, after feeling his own existence rendered insignificant, a mere thought away from being blown out, Baili Feng had made a vow. *Never again.*
In his own stark, lonely way, the young man had grown up.
After a few days of walking, the sound of water led him to a rocky course cutting through the red stone. A figure was leaning over the bank, drinking directly from the stream. Baili's sharp eyes noted the premature strands of white in the man's hair, the familiar, slightly rounded shape of his shoulders and back.
His brow furrowed. "Chubbs?" he asked, the name sounding strange in this desolate place.
The figure's head tilted. For a fraction of a second, as he turned, his eyes were not his own. They flickered with something deep, vile, and ugly looking out from within. Then Chubbs blinked, slammed a hand to his own temple, and stood up quickly. His eyes cleared, returning to their usual, amiable warmth.
Over the years, he had changed quite a lot. He was not lean, but he was taller, his frame had filled out in a more solid way, his stomach less pronounced. His face, however, remained familiar—open, easy-going, though now edged with a weariness that hadn't been there before.
"What are you doing in this godforsaken place?" Baili asked. He had no special relationship with Chubbs. The man was Lorel's friend, her shield, the one who had stood by her when Baili could not. Baili would never admit it, but Chubbs had occupied a space in Lorel's life—one of simple, uncomplicated loyalty—that he, with all his power and pride, could never compete with. And he was perfectly fine with that.
Chubbs scratched his head with a rueful smile. "Guess I wasn't far enough." He made an exaggerated, sweeping gesture, a ghost of his old theatrical self. "Brother Baili! Do not be concerned about me. I am just passing by."
Baili's frown deepened. "I have no concern for such a fool," he said, his voice flat. "Why are you not with Lorel? Have you abandoned her?" The last question came out sharper, louder than he intended.
Chubbs quickly raised his hands, waving them in frantic dismissal. "No! No, I would never do something like that. Never."
Only then did some of the tension leave Baili's shoulders. He watched as the forced humor drained from Chubbs's face, leaving behind a bitter, raw expression.
"My lady…" Chubbs said, his gaze dropping to the stony ground. "I cannot stay around her anymore. The price I paid back at the Spirit Isle… it is catching up to me. I might harm her."
Baili listened carefully. The words did not sound like an excuse. He knew some of the story from the Sky Ocean. Without Chubbs's sacrifice that day, he and Lorel would never have escaped the Spirit Isle. But he had never imagined the debt was this severe. Knowing Chubbs, the man would have let himself be torn apart before willingly leaving Lorel's side. He must have fought it with immense willpower. Something Baili, in his own way, respected.
This was not the weak, fat boy he had met years ago. Chubbs had grown. Gotten stronger, to the point where he could stand at their level. His resolve had matured, too. They had all been forged in the fire of this desperate race against the Divine Generals.
Despite this understanding, Baili straightened his spine, his voice cutting through the quiet babble of the stream. "You always called her your lady. You said she was the center of your world. Not because she saw you as her clown, but as her equal. Her friend." He took a step closer, his words landing like blows. "And yet you abandon her. For *fear*."
The words hit Chubbs like a blade of condensed Qi, forcing his head up. The old Chubbs would have been terrified to meet Baili Feng's furious gaze. Today, there was only a crystal-clear, painful realization.
Baili waved a hand in disgust. "Pathetic. And to think I had started to respect you." His voice rose, raw with an anger that seemed directed at more than just the man before him. "Fear is the reason that spirit in your body has grown stronger! Fear is the reason our world has deteriorated to this level!"
Chubbs balled his fists. "But what can I do? I *am* scared to harm her!"
"Fool!" Baili cursed. "Beat the crap out of that fear! Move despite it! Run if you can on those fat legs! By the Wheel, *do* something!" He was nearly shouting now, his face a mask of fury, speaking as if he weren't addressing Chubbs, but some part of himself trapped in a memory.
In the past, when he had been stuck in the underground cave with the milky beast, he had been scared. When he had met Buqu, he had been scared. When he first saw the Divine General in the sky, he had been petrified. Yet, what had he done? He kept moving. Paralyzed by uncertainty and frustration, he had begun climbing a mountain he knew had no visible end. This wasn't a reminder for Chubbs. It was a reminder for himself. *To keep climbing.*
Chubbs fell quiet under the onslaught of Baili's raw grief and anger. But beyond the harsh words, something clicked into place within him.
*What was he doing?*
Back then, before the fight with Buqu had even started, he had been going to bid farewell to Lorel, who was with Gen. Then the spirit inside him had stirred, and he had harmed a disciple in his confusion. Alarmed, terrified for his lady above all else, Chubbs had run. He had fled the coming battle, carrying the distant impact of Buqu's assault on the Lost Triangle on his back. Not because he was scared of the fight—he had wanted to help his friends—but because how could he help anyone if the monster inside him endangered Lorel?
Chubbs balled his fist, the motion tight with new resolve. He lifted his head to speak, to thank this harsh, lonely prince who had unknowingly held up a mirror.
But Baili Feng never even looked at him. His proud back was already turned, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon where a certain mountain waited. He wanted to see **Forged Destiny** for himself. Only then could he settle the stone on his heart.
Just as Chubbs gathered his will to ascend back toward the Four Kingdoms and his lady, he saw it. A brief, almost imperceptible gesture. Baili lifted his left hand, not in a wave, but in a simple, acknowledging tilt of the wrist. It was nothing. And for Chubbs, it meant everything.
"My lady," he said to the dry wind, a true smile touching his lips for the first time in weeks. "I am coming."
He used his **Shidao**, and the air answered, lifting him into the sky. At that moment, as purpose solidified in his core like cooling steel, something within him *opened*.
**Heidao.** The Wheel of Combination.
He hadn't learned all the Wheels, not by far. But this particular gate swung open on its own, not with a bang, but with a deep, resonant *click* of rightness. His **Jingdao**, his foundation. His **Shidao**, his connection to the world. And now, his **Heidao**, the principle of synthesis. This was who he was. Chubbs had never been so clear about anything in his life.
Just as she had once jumped into a cloud over the Sky Ocean for him, he would now jump back into hell for her.
***
In another part of the world, on a shattered mountain that still wept dust and memory, a one-armed figure ascended the final cliff.
Li Zhan stood at the edge and finally saw it.
There it stood, driven into the heart of the mountain like a nail holding down a god's ghost. **Forged Destiny**. Though it held no active aura now, it was perhaps the most imposing thing he had ever seen. More imposing than Nix's null-blades, more imposing than the Damocles themselves, for this was a thing that had been *wielded*.
Li Zhan smiled, cracking the dried blood at the corner of his mouth. He had been too late to collect Gen's soul from the aftermath, but if he could harvest the remnant of Buqu, just as he had with Nix, then there would be no one left in this world able to stop him. He unleashed his Wheels. **Fendow** and **Shidao**, twinned together in the delicate, brutal dance of extraction he had performed once before.
Although Buqu had died days ago, he believed it was still possible. The essence of such a being would linger. This would be his ultimate test of power. After this, even a Divine General would have to reckon with him.
Where Gen and his friends sought to save the world, Li Zhan had no interest in such grand designs. His goal was to collect and create the most beautiful collection of puppets anyone had ever seen. Prime targets of choice, like Gen and Lorel, would soon be on his list. But first, he needed to add Buqu to his master collection.
Li Zhan unleashed his Qi into the charged area.
**Forged Destiny** reacted.
A violent tremor ran through the axe and the stone around it. Li Zhan's senses were flooded. Vaguely, he could *hear* all the echoes of the fight that had happened here—the impacts, the grandeur, the final, silent clash. A tingling smile grew on his face as he saw flashes of memory that were not his own: Gen, forcing a Divine General to react. The blood, the chaos, the dead… it was a symphony of emotions that exhilarated Li Zhan to his core.
However, just as he was about to coax the faint, lingering ball of celestial energy from the ground, something happened.
**Forged Destiny** shook violently.
A single, final, defiant pulse of light erupted from it—not an attack, but a statement. A last decree of will.
Li Zhan blinked twice as the force hit him. It was not physical, but spiritual—the last echo of Buqu's unbending principle. His body was hurled backward as if struck by a meteor, crashing hard into a crater of his own making yards away. He spat blood onto the gray stone, staring up in a mix of shock and perverse, loving frustration.
"So that's **Forged Destiny**," he muttered, pushing himself up on his single arm. "No wonder."
He took one last, long look at the axe. He understood. This time, he would not be the victor. At his current level, Li Zhan could almost instantly evaluate the threat required to extract any soul. To claim the remnant of Buqu left here, he would have to give up his life in the attempt. The thought was frustrating, but also deeply fascinating to him.
"Perhaps one day," he murmured to himself.
There was no way he would leave such a treasure here forever. But for now, at his current skill, he would need a few more years of refinement before he dared attempt it again.
Despite the disappointment, he was not discouraged. He still had other targets of choice. More… attainable acquisitions.
"Gen. Lorel. My dear friends," he muttered, looking up past the mountain to the three remaining Damocles in the sky. A smile, more genuinely friendly than any he had ever shown, spread across his face. It was the smile of a collector who has just finalized a magnificent, once-in-a-lifetime wish list.