His vision spun violently, like his very soul was being unraveled, dragged upward by an unseen force.

  A moment ter, everything went dark.

  Then—light.

  But it was not a normal light. This light was a bleeding hue of red, thick and pulsing like a living wound torn across the heavens.

  A desote nd stretched before him, endless and silent.

  Red miasma rolled across cracked earth like smoke from a dying world.

  It clung to everything...everything.

  The jagged pebbles beneath his feet, the ancient stones scattered like forgotten memories, the ruined remnants of homes long devoured by time all bled that same red vapor, as though they hadn’t been built from stone, but forged directly from agony.

  Far ahead, towering pagodas loomed impossibly tall, piercing the sky like spears thrust at the heavens.

  They didn't look like just buildings but relics of a forgotten era, crowned with spires that vanished into the bleeding clouds.

  Their surfaces pulsed faintly, alive with the same dread miasma.

  The very air they breathed out whispered suffering, whispered madness, whispered eternity.

  The air burned in his lungs. The scent, if it could be called that, was indescribable. It reeked of anguish, of fury, of purgatory itself.

  Despair and rage hung in the atmosphere like ancient incantations etched into the wind. It was as if every known camity, every sin, every punishment conceived by gods or men had been bound together to forge this scarlet realm.

  And in the heart of it all sat a throne.

  Surrounded by the kneeling colossi of ancient pagodas, it stood alone, untouched and unchallenged.

  Majestic. Ancient. Desote.

  Its mere presence warped the world around it. The red miasma twisted toward it like it was praying. The earth cracked beneath it as if even the nd itself could not bear its weight. And though the throne was minuscule compared to the pagodas, no taller than a man.

  It radiated such power that it made those sky-scraping titans look like humble acolytes paying silent homage.

  It didn’t just sit in the center of this world, it ruled it.

  But the throne itself was no ordinary construct.

  It was not built from wood, or stone, or bone. It was woven entirely from threads.

  Red threads.

  They squirmed and pulsed with eerie grace, as though each strand was a w that governed this nightmare world.

  They wound together with divine precision, forming armrests, a high back, a base, and they glowed.

  Not with light, but with power.

  Ancient. Unyielding. Absolute.

  Each thread radiated an aura so dense, so crushing, it felt like it could command existence itself.

  Not just dominate lives, but reshape fate, dictate suffering and impose madness.

  They weren’t just binding the throne, No, they were the source of its majesty.

  Looking at them too long made the soul tremble.

  They pulsed as if breathing, or worse...waiting.

  This was no mere artifact, It was a will, A force, A monarch of ruin sitting patiently for a host.

  And as Jin Yu stood frozen in this crimson purgatory, every thread on that throne seemed to twitch.

  As if it had noticed him.

  “W–Where am I?”

  Jin Yu’s voice trembled as he fell to his knees, staring at the cursed ground beneath him.

  The sight he’d just witnessed almost drove him mad. It felt like something had cracked inside his mind, as if his very reasoning was slipping through his fingers.

  “Aghh!”

  A shallow gasp left his lips as he looked down at his hands.

  A single thread.

  Thin, Red, and unnatural.

  It coiled around his body like a vein, pulsing faintly as if it were part of him.

  The Thread!

  Jin Yu’s gaze snapped toward the distant throne, the one that loomed like a god in the middle of the world.

  It’s the same!

  Panic rushed through him. He yanked his robe sleeves up, revealing his arms.

  The same thread was there, not many, Just one. But even that lone thread, so much smaller and weaker than those embedded in the throne, had already rooted itself into every corner of his body.

  His breath caught in his throat. He stared stunned and paralyzed. The silence inside him grew heavier.

  Seconds passed. Then, without warning

  The thread moved.

  Like a strand unweaving itself from old cloth, it slowly detached from his skin, lifting into the air as if obeying some unseen command.

  The red miasma stirred violently around it, rushing in to wrap and mold the floating thread.

  Right before his eyes, it began to change.

  The thread gathered mass. The miasma thickened. And then...

  A figure emerged.

  The red mist parted, revealing a silhouette. Its back faced him.

  “Ah!”

  A small, frightened breath escaped Jin Yu’s mouth.

  Even without seeing its face, he knew.

  Me.

  He screamed in his mind.

  That’s... me.

  “You...?”

  A whisper echoed softly in his mind, disturbingly familiar.

  “It’s you...”

  His voice cracked as his mind spiraled further.

  “You always whisper in my head... and then I forget. I don’t remember anything afterward. It’s you!”

  The figure gave no reply. It stood quietly, staring at the distant throne, unmoving, like it had been here long before Jin Yu ever arrived.

  A few seconds passed.

  Then, in a voice as light as smoke, it whispered again in his head:

  “Red Sovereign.”

  The words felt like an ancient decree, vibrating through his bones.

  Jin Yu turned his head slowly, eyes locking once more onto the throne.

  Awe, Terror, and Something in between gripped his chest.

  "Red Sovereign..."

  His voice echoed low and weak, as if calling the name invoked something terrible.

  “Then where am I?” he asked, turning back.

  “Who are you? Why am I here? What exactly is this pce?!”

  No response.

  He stared at the figure’s back, heart pounding.

  “Answer me... why do you look like me?!”

  Still nothing.

  Frustration boiled in his chest. He stepped forward and reached out, hand shaking.

  But the moment his fingertips neared...

  Peng!

  A force surged out from the figure, brutal and ancient, and struck him like a tide.

  It didn’t sm him away, it lifted him slowly, almost gently, as if time itself had stilled.

  And as he drifted backward, weightless and helpless, he saw them—

  Cold, Red eyes.

  Unblinking. Unfeeling.

  That was the st thing he saw before the world threw him out.

  ---

  Back in Solenthia

  A sharp gasp tore from Jin Yu's lips as his eyes flung open.

  His mind felt bnk, his memories distant, like the aftermath of a dream slipping through his fingers.

  Above him, the sky had darkened, and a full moon now hung silently in the heavens.

  “You’re awake.”

  A voice pulled him back to reality. Then everything rushed in.

  I was breaking through!

  Jin Yu blinked rapidly and looked up. A familiar man squatted in front of him.

  “You fell asleep.” the man said.

  “It’s you… Father sent you to give me the jade slip.”

  “And now, the Golden Sacrifice.” the man added as he stood.

  “What do you mean?” Jin Yu asked, rising slowly from his lotus position and scanning the surroundings.

  “What are these fgs… Oh! I sensed Father earlier. Where is he?”

  The man gave him a gnce, then waved his hand. The surrounding fgs flew toward him, and he caught them with ease.

  He held them up. “Here.”

  “What—the fgs?”

  “These aren’t just fgs. It’s called The Golden Sacrifice. Old Master created it using his bloodline to help you break through.”

  “Wha...” Jin Yu stared at the fgs, stunned.

  “So what I felt earlier wasn’t Father, but this?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Then… what’s the sacrifice about?”

  The man studied him for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to expin. But after seeing the genuine curiosity in Jin Yu’s eyes, he sighed.

  “The moment Old Master realized you were immune to Qi, he immediately ordered this sacrificial formation from the capital. Who knew you’d break through so soon? Luckily, your body accepted the same bloodline. Your talent… might even surpass the Old Master’s,” the man said, his eyes lighting up like he'd found a treasure.

  “In just a few decades, you might actually become… an Immortal.”

  Adoration, and a touch of awe seeped into his voice.

  “Ahem,” Jin Yu coughed awkwardly at the man's fervent gaze.

  The man blinked, caught himself, and cleared his throat to hide his embarrassment.

  “Whatever. Have a nice day.”

  He turned to leave.

  “Wait!” Jin Yu called.

  The man stopped and gnced back, his face once again calm and unreadable, like a zy afternoon sky.

  “Did... is he okay?”

  “Huh?”

  “Father… he used his bloodline. Is he alright?”

  His voice came out low and anxious.

  “Pfft.” A fsh of disdain crossed the man’s eyes.

  “You think a drop of bloodline for a brat like you could harm Old Master? Do you even know what an Immortal is? You should hurry up and go experience life.”

  He waved Jin Yu off like some clueless caveman.

  “...”

  Seriously? How was I supposed to know?!

  The man turned again to leave, but Jin Yu stopped him once more.

  “Wait.”

  “What now, kid?”

  “Can you… uh… give me some spirit stones?” Jin Yu asked, gncing at the man’s spatial ring with a sheepish look.

  The man gave him a strange stare that made Jin Yu’s face heat up.