Lower realm, Immortal Spirit Holy Land.
The myriad cultivators had long since dispersed, leaving only the swirling immortal spirit energy flowing like gossamer, wreathing the two figures suspended in midair.
The earlier clamor and dispute seemed swept away by the pure wind, leaving behind a nearly stagnant silence.
Chen Chang'an, robed in simple white, sat upon a cloud platform, his gaze falling upon the ever-shifting Spirit Realm before him.
The game between them used the vast starry firmament of that world as its foundation, with the mountain and river veins of the Spirit Realm as its patterns. Each chess piece above shimmered with flowing light, corresponding to "variables"—perhaps a prodigy, perhaps a rare treasure, perhaps a hidden opportunity.
Across from him, Jiang Shang, clad in a Daoist robe woven with mysterious star patterns, wore a serene expression. His fingertips twisted a strand of clear radiance, as if deep in thought, or as if he had already seen through the entire board.
However, Chen Chang'an's state of mind was far from as calm as his exterior suggested.
The scene of the Black Tortoise breaking their agreement still reverberated through his consciousness. That voice, vast and deep as the ocean. Those eight cold and resolute words—"The pact is broken, the karma is yours to bear"—pierced like the coldest ice spike into the one variable he had least anticipated when laying out his plans.
"No wonder..." A white jade chess piece hovered between Chen Chang'an's fingers for a long while before he finally set it down, sighing inwardly. "No wonder finding the origin of the Water Law was so effortless back then, stumbling upon the eternally slumbering Black Tortoise as if nodding off and finding a pillow... All gifts had already been secretly priced."
He had borrowed the Black Tortoise's power to perfect the Water Law of this realm and help the Spirit Realm achieve completion, but in doing so, he had planted the seeds of today's calamity.
The Black Tortoise demanded a share of the law's authority. He had never intended to refuse—after all, they hadn't agreed on a specific timeline. But he hadn't expected this ancient divine beast to be so resolute, leaving no room for negotiation, outright flipping the board.
That flip shattered all his arrangements.
Originally, the twenty streaks of flowing light bearing "seeds" that descended from the heavens should have been like timely rain, like auspicious omens, sought after by all.
After those chess pieces reincarnated, relying on foreknowledge and innate talent, they should have swiftly seized resources and established dominance. Some would become immortal seedlings, others holy disciples, lighting sparks across the Spirit Realm that would grow into a prairie fire, helping him steadily control the direction of this game.
But now, the Black Tortoise had triggered a heaven-earth calamity that lasted for years, leaving all living beings in terror. The descending streaks of light were no longer auspicious omens but symbols of disaster instead.
The perfect opening of "Saints Descending to the World" had been brutally twisted into the hellish predicament of "Disaster Stars Descending to the World."
Of the ten key streaks of light he had invested, five had accurately landed in locations or factions where he had planted hidden pieces years ago, gaining protection and barely maintaining their development. But the other five—including the one carrying the primordial spirit of his disciple's daughter, Ye Fan—faced tumultuous fates.
Thinking of Ye Fan, Chen Chang'an's gaze unconsciously swept across the southwestern corner of the board. There, the destiny light representing the Ye family was dim and uncertain, and within it, a tiny point of light—nearly drowned out by the family's gray haze—flickered stubbornly, like a candle in the wind, enduring rejection and cold stares.
A five-year-old child, reduced to a servant's status, forbidden even from cultivating... The difficulty of his circumstances was something Chen Chang'an could perceive even across thousands of miles and mountains through the faint connection with his chess piece.
Did it pain him? Naturally.
This was not merely an important chess piece—it was one entrusted to him by his beloved disciple.
But he was powerless.
In this realm, he was a player, not a direct intervenor. Bound by the rules, he could only place pieces; he could not personally clear the thorns from their paths. The fate of each chess piece ultimately depended on their own struggle and fight.
"This time, the opponent has indeed seized the initiative." Chen Chang'an gathered his thoughts and turned his gaze back to Jiang Shang, who sat calmly across from him.
The catastrophe wrought by the Black Tortoise's broken pact had certainly been a tragedy of suffering for the living, but for certain beings, chaos was precisely the ladder to rise.
The faction Jiang Shang had chosen—the Demon Sovereign Qin Ao—was brimming with the aura of a warlord from the start.
And their ten chess pieces had their birthplaces deliberately chosen in areas dominated by demonic sects, where order was in chaos.
Once the heaven-earth calamity erupted, orthodox immortal sects were overwhelmed with disaster relief and self-preservation. Demonic factions, on the other hand, seized this moment of cosmic upheaval to expand aggressively, swallowing resources and recruiting cultivators who, embittered by the disaster, had fallen onto the demonic path.
Qin Ao thrived like a fish in water.
The calamity was no hindrance to him—rather, it was a heaven-sent opportunity to consolidate his power and display his demonic might.
The so-called "disaster star"? In the eyes of demonic sects that preached the law of the jungle and defied the heavens, it might instead be proof of being a "baleful star" or a "demonic embryo"—a mark of distinction worthy of greater attention and cultivation.
As one side weakened and the other grew, Chen Chang'an's chess pieces struggled at every step, some even reduced to disaster stars like Ye Fan, enduring endless suffering. Meanwhile, Jiang Shang's chess piece Qin Ao might ride this wind to soar, growing more rapidly into a great demon lord powerful enough to disrupt the entire board.
A disadvantageous start, with the grand momentum tilting slightly.
Chen Chang'an drew a slow breath. The immortal spirit energy entered his body, cool yet unable to dissolve the heaviness in his chest.
He slowly turned his gaze toward somewhere in the east.
There, the fortune of a hidden piece he had planted years ago was rising steadily. Though also affected by the calamity, its foundation remained intact.
"Fortunately... it's not a complete loss from the very beginning." Chen Chang'an thought silently.
He had operated for a long time, and his hidden pieces were not limited to those on the surface.
Some deeper, more secretive arrangements might preserve the normal development of some "seeds" through this sudden storm.
If five or six of the ten could survive—or even more—there would still be room to maneuver.
The chess game had only just begun.
The Black Tortoise's broken pact was a heavy blow that disrupted his rhythm and dealt him a bitter loss, but it had only seized the initiative.
He raised his eyes to look at Jiang Shang, who had remained composed throughout.
The other seemed to sense his gaze and looked up. His eyes were as unfathomable as an ancient well, completely placid. He merely gave a slight nod, as if acknowledging that defensive move Chen Chang'an had just played—or as if everything was entirely within his grasp.
Chen Chang'an's expression remained calm, but calculations churned furiously in his mind. In a position of disadvantage, even greater caution was required. He needed to reassess the value and potential of every chess piece—especially the resilience they displayed in adversity.
Like that child in the Ye family woodshed, still trying to channel faint moonlight essence.
A disaster star? Perhaps.
But who could say for certain that a disaster star couldn't illuminate its own path—or even... turn around and illuminate this chaotic world?
Above the nine heavens, clouds rolled and unfurled, pieces placed in silence.
Below the nine heavens, the Spirit Realm's living beings, destinies ever turning.
This game had only just begun. It was far from the endgame.
...
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