197 The Seven That Remain

In the fragmented realm of the False Earth, where time ebbed in unnatural rhythms and the sky bore witness to centuries of conflict, seven figures known as the Sages had once reigned supreme. Of course, to call them a Sage would be an overstatement. After all, to their core, they were nothing but mere prisoners.

Stripped of their freedom and barred from true ascension, they pooled their knowledge and power to birth the Ascension Game, an elaborate mechanism designed to break through the world's restraints. Among them was Ru Qiu, the man history had titled the Heavenly Demon, a being whose very presence warped space with every breath.

Ru Qiu sat cross-legged on his obsidian dais, surrounded by cascading curtains of qi, his aura barely contained by the jade talismans floating around him. Silence reigned in the chamber until a rasping, guttural voice broke the stillness. A rotting crow perched on the edge of a brazier cawed thrice, each cry drenched in rancor. “Wen Yuhan has betrayed us. Wen Yuhan has betrayed us. Gather! Gather in the Throne Hall!”

The crow’s cries dissolved into the air like ash in the wind. Ru Qiu opened his eyes, his pupils shimmering with crimson streaks, irritation dancing at the corner of his mouth. “Annoying,” he muttered, flexing his fingers before extending his spirit into the projection medium he had embedded in the Sealed Island.

The projection pulled his awareness to the meeting place: a ruined fortress cast adrift in a phantom archipelago, wrapped in endless fog and cloaked beneath illusionary formations. Within its crumbling throne room stood seven colossal statues arranged in a circle around an empty obsidian throne. Each statue bore an eerie presence, their eyes lit with flickering power… except for one. The blindfolded woman of marble, a likeness of the Destiny-bound Seer Wen Yuhan, stood quiet and cold.

“You’re the last to join,” intoned the skeletal figure crowned with rusted gold. This was the Yama King, whose domain of death lent him dominion over decay and finality. His voice echoed like a funeral bell, laden with solemn mockery.

“And here I thought tardiness was your trait, King,” said a reedy, cracked voice. The speaker was the Divine Physician, shaped in stone as a hunched elder gripping a dragon-wood cane. He leaned slightly forward, his expression cast in permanent curiosity. “Ru Qiu… this is unlike you.”

A peal of deranged laughter followed, emanating from the serpentine effigy of a half-naked woman draped in a coiling viper. This was the Dark Witch, whose cruelty often wore the mask of frivolity. “Enough of this posturing,” she hissed. “Wen Yuhan has broken the pact. She, who swore neutrality, now entwines herself with Da Wei! We all know what that means. She must die!”

“That would be a waste of effort,” came a calm, almost disinterested reply. The speaker was the Enlightened Scholar, sculpted as a bald monk wielding a broom. Recently, he was referring to himself as the Game Master. His blank face betrayed nothing as he remarked. “She is the Seer. She evades consequences by design. If she has moved, then it is with precision… and calculation. The real question is, why now, and why that boy?”

“It matters little.” The Grand Exorcist, cloaked in stone veils, radiated an aura of judgment as he began. “She is compromised. And this Da Wei is a threat by association. Eliminate both. The Game proceeds cleanly.”

In the silence that followed, Ru Qiu narrowed his ethereal gaze, examining the expressions frozen on the statues. These six had once been forces of creation and destruction in the Hollowed World and the Lesser Universe… immortals whose names had been etched into myth. They were the origin of archetypes: the first Seer, the first Demon, the first King, the first Witch, the first Exorcist, the first Physician, and the first Enlightened Scholar. Their deeds had shaped the paths of countless cultivators. Their prisons, however, had shaped them even more.

“They have forgotten,” Ru Qiu whispered to himself, though his words echoed through the spiritual link, “what happens when one of us turns on the others. We are not disciples squabbling for sect favor… We are monsters clawing at the walls of eternity.”

The Game Master chuckled dryly. “Is that a warning, Demon?”

Ru Qiu’s gaze remained fixed on Wen Yuhan’s statue. “It is a reminder.”

“She should know her place,” Ru Qiu began, his voice calm but cold. “Strike Da Wei down, and the Seer will know her place. For all her foresight and subtlety, she remains the most shackled among us. Her power depends on her neutrality. The laws that bind this world have rendered her incapable of tampering with fate directly. If we force her hand, she loses everything.”

The Dark Witch let out a throaty giggle before speaking with acidic delight. “Oh, I like the sound of that. Sunder the little mortal and watch the blind Seer weep in frustration. But… who, dear Demon, is going to do it?” Her amusement thinned into disdain. “We’re all too busy trying not to lose our heads to play assassin.”

Indeed, the Ascension Game was no mere clash of powers. It was a war fought in layers… schemes, proxies, avatars, dreams, and blood. Every move demanded precision. A single miscalculation could shift the board irrevocably. Wen Yuhan may have played neutral, but her hands had long been sharpening blades in shadow. That she acted now meant something had changed, and that she was ready.

The Divine Physician tapped the stone floor with his cane, the statue remaining still, yet the sound of wood hitting stone echoed around them. “Since this Da Wei has entered Yama King’s territory, the answer should be obvious. He is the one best positioned to confront him.”

The Game Master’s voice was calm, inquisitive, and ever careful. “Before we assign blades to throats, tell me… what do we truly know of this Da Wei?”

A scoff echoed from the veiled statue of the Grand Exorcist, his tone sharp as rusted steel. “That he gave the Heavenly Demon a run for his money, for one.”

A long pause stretched across the circle like a taut string. The Dark Witch’s statue blinked. “Wait… Ru Qiu, you’re not denying it?”

Soft, mocking laughter followed, brief but pervasive. None claimed it, and Ru Qiu's expression darkened slightly, though he masked it well with his being made of stone.

“And where did you hear that from, you third-rate exorcist?” His words held the faintest tremor of irritation, betraying the insult.

The Grand Exorcist shot back with venom. “From the way you’re rattled, I’d say it doesn’t matter. Perhaps you’ve finally found someone who doesn’t quake before your name, Demon. Why not face him yourself? Make it a grudge match. Reclaim your pride, if that’s still a concern.”

The Yama King finally spoke, his voice grave and deliberate. “There’s no need for petty challenges. I will deal with him. This Da Wei… he is not a typical cultivator. His soul bears marks I have never seen. It is not bound to this world’s order.”

The Dark Witch gave a dry huff. “Of course, he’s not normal. Everyone thrown here was once considered exceptional… too exceptional. It takes a certain degree of madness to attract the gaze of a Supreme Being… or their ire.”

“You’re all wrong,” said the Game Master. "There is more to this..."

That alone was enough to make them still. Though his chosen name was Game Master, those who knew him in ages past had once called him the Enlightened Scholar for a reason. His knowledge had bent cause and effect, and even Supreme Beings once paused to hear him speak.

“He wasn’t cast here like us,” he said slowly. “He came of his own will.”

Confusion rippled through the gathering, not in loud questions, but in the abrupt stillness that followed. Even the Witch ceased smiling. Her statue returning to its rigidness. The Grand Exorcist, for once, said nothing.

The Game Master continued. “I have charted the heavens since we were sealed here. Each of us descended with signs… comets, storms, celestial screams. This Da Wei came differently. He arrived through the Reincarnation Method. His entry was deliberate and constructed. And not by accident.”

Ru Qiu’s eyes narrowed as he finally broke the silence. “Are you suggesting… a God sent him?”

“I don’t know,” the Game Master admitted. “Maybe Her. Maybe another. But he is not bound by the same shackles we are. If he recovers his power—and he will!—it won’t be long before he surpasses what any of us can currently access.”

“And yet…” the Divine Physician murmured, “he’s still playing like a mortal.”

The Game Master nodded. “For now. But if he’s truly an agent of something higher, his existence here throws the entire Game off balance. I am inclined to eliminate him, if only to preserve the rules.”

No one disagreed.

…

..

.

…Walking down the beaten path was a certain pair, a Paladin and a Seer.

“So,” I said, eyes half-lidded from weariness but voice as flat as ever, “you’re telling me they’ll misread my origin, mistake me for some divine agent, and because of that, they’ll come after me?” I glanced at her sidelong. “And if I want to avoid being crushed under the weight of their collective paranoia and power, I have to go with you so you can ‘protect’ me while I recover my strength?”

Wen Yuhan didn’t flinch. She kept walking beside me, the faint crunch of gravel beneath our boots the only other sound in that quiet, lonely trail. For the past fifteen minutes, she had painted a bleak future in exacting strokes, introducing me to the so-called Six or maybe Seven if I included Wen Yuhan... Heavenly Demon, Yama King, Divine Physician, Dark Witch, Game Master, Grand Exorcist… titles so inflated they sounded like the start of a children’s tale, but her tone left no room for fantasy. These weren’t bedtime stories. These were the monsters waiting at the edge of my path.

We were heading back to Willow Village, walking side by side, though I led more out of habit than authority. The beaten path curled through the hill, shaded with whispering leaves that made it easy to imagine peace, if only for a moment.

I gave her another look and asked, “What do you think I think?”

She didn’t miss a beat. “That you can’t be convinced.”

I grunted. “If you already knew that, why bother telling me anything?”

“Because,” she said, a flicker of that ever-present, unreadable smile forming at her lips, “the second time I ask, you’ll agree. Especially after watching your loved ones die. Painful, yes… but necessary. You need to learn. Attachments can get you killed.”

I narrowed my eyes and replied with no small amount of bite, “At least I have attachments.”

She gave a soft hum, but it was edged with something sharper. “Hmmm… What makes you think I don’t?”

I turned slightly toward her, raising a brow. “I didn’t say anything. Feeling defensive?”

Wen Yuhan exhaled sharply and stepped ahead of me, either annoyed or trying to hide something. “My powers are the most restrained among us,” she said, voice quieter but firmer. “Even knowing the future, I can’t change it, not directly. I can’t save people. But you… you’re different. You weren’t born under my Eye. You’re not bound like the rest of us. That’s why you can change things. Because your fate is your own.”

She turned around mid-step, her golden eyes meeting mine, eyes that shimmered like twin amber flames, their glow defying the soft afternoon light. I found no pride or manipulation there. Only a quiet desperation, and an ache to matter.

I stopped walking, then nodded once. “Alright,” I said with a sigh, “you’re hired.”

She blinked. “Hired?”

“Welcome to Willow Village, Strategist Wen Yuhan.”

She pouted, mock-offended. “Hmmm? What are you even talking about?”

“In five years,” I said, staring into the distance where the village gate waited beyond the trees, “I’ll kill the Heavenly Demon. In exchange, you’ll give me everything… every detail you know about the other prisoners. On top of that, you’ll serve as my strategist. Sound fair?”

She grinned, tilting her head as if weighing a game she’d already won. “You sure are demanding, but I guess… there’s no harm in staying a bit longer.”

I scoffed. “Don’t play coy. You either saw this coming, or you’ll pretend like you didn’t so you can claim you’re still surprised by something.”

The trees thinned as we approached the familiar wooden walls of the village. A hunter perched on the ramparts drew a bow instinctively, calling down with practiced suspicion. “Who goes there?! This is—wait—Wei? Da Wei, is that you?! Your twin sister said to keep the gates closed… and who’s that woman?”

I raised a hand and called out calmly, “Don’t worry, she’s with us.”

“Da Wei’s back!” a younger voice shouted from somewhere behind the wall. “Open the gates!”

The groaning creak of heavy wood and iron sounded as the gate began to open, revealing the villagers waiting anxiously behind. I looked toward Wen Yuhan, who stood quietly beside me, her eyes sweeping across the horizon with some unspoken calculation already running in her head.

“How long before they make their move?” I asked, keeping my voice low enough that only she could hear.

Her answer came with a smile far too calm for the storm she predicted. “A year. Maybe less.”

Once the village gates creaked fully open, the first person to come barreling toward me was Da Ji. She ran with the reckless energy of someone who hadn't yet decided whether she wanted to punch me or cry. Her dark hair flew behind her, and her expression lit up when she saw me.

“Brother!” she shouted, skidding to a halt just before crashing into me.

But just as quickly, her wide eyes darted to the woman standing beside me. Her smile twisted into a confused squint. “Who’s the old lady?”

Wen Yuhan’s lips twitched, caught between a forced smile and a murderous glare. Her gaze snapped toward me, eyes narrowing like blades. For someone who probably watched galaxies die with a sigh, she looked incredibly human in that moment, half pissed and half embarrassed.

I cleared my throat, trying not to laugh. “Put a bit of respect in her name, sis. This old lady here will be our little village’s consultant for the future to come.”

Wen Yuhan crossed her arms. “Who is the old lady!?”

Da Ji blinked, as if genuinely trying to be helpful. “You must be older than you look... You’re already going deaf.”

I coughed, failing to suppress the chuckle rising in my throat. Wen Yuhan’s expression soured further, golden eyes flickering with what I could only assume was the urge to curse me into stone. The absurdity of the moment sat in sharp contrast with the dire conversation we’d had moments ago… about threats, about war, about death.

But that was the thing about Da Ji. She had the uncanny ability to cut through tension like a blade through silk, and more importantly, she kept me grounded. Her irreverence was more than personality; it was a defiant shield against the madness of the world.

“I’ll have you know,” Wen Yuhan said, her voice clipped but measured, “I’ve been mistaken for a goddess more times than I can count.”

Da Ji tilted her head. “Must be a really old goddess, then.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. I let out a full laugh, shaking my head. “Alright, that’s enough. Strategist Wen Yuhan, this is my younger twin sister, Da Ji. Da Ji, meet our newest advisor. She sees the future, manipulates fate, and… depending on her mood… might kill us all in our sleep.”

Da Ji snorted, arms folded with exaggerated exasperation. “Great. Another crazy person. Just what this village needed. Yuen Fu is already too much to handle…”

Her words struck like a rock skipping across still water. I turned to her, brows lifting. “Yuen Fu? He’s here?”

In the past two months, a good number of soldiers from the 112th had made their way to Willow Village. Some arrived with families clinging close, others with grief hollowing out their eyes. A few wandered in dazed and half-starved, remnants of a unit that had once stood tall. I welcomed them all. Every single one of them had been a connection I treasured in there own unique ways.

Da Ji nodded slowly, her voice softer now. “He said he had something to tell you, brother. He just arrived some time ago, before high noon.”

I stared at her for a moment, then asked, “Where is he?”

She looked away.

That slight delay told me enough. Her expression shifted, eyes darkened by hesitation, and lips drawn in a line between guilt and worry. “He’s being taken care of by Mother,” she finally said. “She advised not to call for you… and to let him rest.”

I stood there a moment, processing that. Mom wouldn’t have said that lightly. If Yuen Fu was in her care and not one of the medics’, it meant it wasn’t just physical wounds. 

“I see,” I muttered. I turned to Da Ji, giving her a firm nod. “Still… take me to him.”