Novels by TheBadass2413

The Dual Divine Circle of Chaos, raised by two sixteen-year-old cousins who both carried the First Emperor's Mark and the whole inheritance of the almighty chaotic body, was not the toy two children had once spun in an aurora hall. It was that technique grown into its final and absolute form — two law-wheels of primordial chaos interlocking into a single engine that did not obey the reality it turned inside, and where it turned, the reality's own rules bent aside to make room for something older and higher and further out than they were. Long Jianfei's crimson mark blazed up one arm and Long Qing's up the other, two imperial inheritances flaring in perfect mirror, and the wheels drank that light and turned faster.The Heaven-Devourer felt it, and for the first time in its unending existence — an existence that had begun outside this reality and crossed into it to feed — the invading hunger that ate universes and could not die knew fear."What — what are you," it howled, surging, refor

The blood of the dead dragon rose off the void and gathered itself, and where it gathered, a shape came into being that made the reality's oldest ancestors — the fossil-elders of the Academy, the sleeping ancients of a dozen powers — wake screaming across the whole province, because they alone were old enough to remember what it was.There is a particular quality to the terror of the very old. The young disciples of the Academy, who did not know what they were seeing, felt only a vague animal dread. But the ancients — the fossil-ancestors who had slept for centuries and millennia, the beings who woke once an age to whisper to each other and sleep again — came awake all at once across the whole province, and the sound they made was not a battle-cry or a warning but a kind of collective keening, the sound of the only people alive who remembered a nightmare discovering that the nightmare had come back. Sovereigns who had not descended from their mountains in three hundred years appeared

The Ancestral Evil Dragon of the House of Gu was a horror out of the reality's oldest nightmares — a coiling mountain of black scale and rotten starlight, a beast that had razed provinces in the dark ages before an alliance of sovereigns had bound it, its power a foul echo of the sixteenth realm, five whole realms above the boy it had been unleashed upon. It uncoiled across the ruined sky above the Academy, blotting out the light, and its roar cracked the heavens and sent a hundred thousand disciples diving for cover, and Gu Yan — mad with humiliation and terror — shrieked at it to feed.The dragon looked down at the small figure of Long Jianfei standing calm in the market below, and it laughed, a sound like grinding worlds. "A morsel," it rumbled. "I have slept an age, and I wake to a snack.""You woke," said Long Jianfei, and now, at last, he grinned — his father's grin, the reckless delighted grin of the blood that had laughed at the sovereigns of the Crimson Sky War and pulled the

On the other side of the reality, at the Supreme Celestial Academy, Long Jianfei was learning that being in love made him considerably less patient with fools.Word of the Everlasting Palace had reached the Academy within the day — it reached everywhere within the day — and so Long Jianfei already knew, when the trouble found him, that his sisters had killed a fifteenth-realm sovereign for laying claim to them, and that some remarkable young man with eleven sanctuaries had fought at their side and was apparently now being welcomed into the family. He had laughed out loud reading the sending, delighted and unsurprised in equal measure, and had thought, with a warm private pride: good. Nobody touches ours. It had not occurred to him that the reality contained a fool stupid enough to test the same lesson twice in the same week. He was about to be reminded that the reality contained an effectively infinite supply of such fools, and that his family's whole history was, in a sense, the stor

The Tuoba ancestor died the way arrogant ancients usually die: certain, until the very last instant, that it could not be happening to him.Li Qiye's tenth sanctuary broke him across a long and grinding battle — a battle that leveled the outer garden, cracked three of the Everlasting Palace's ornamental heavens, and drew, from the deep halls of the Palace and the watchtowers of a dozen nearby powers, a growing crowd of witnesses who could not look away. When the twelfth-realm elder finally fell — his soul guttering, his thousand-year arrogance ending in a single disbelieving exhale — a silence rolled across the ruined garden, because the assembled cultivators of half a province had just watched a young man they had never heard of kill a twelfth-realm ancestor with a cultivation art out of legend.And into that silence descended the patriarch.Tuoba Hong, patriarch of the House of Tuoba, fifteenth realm — a sovereign of the reality's high tiers, a being whose mere arrival bent the ligh

To understand what happened next, one must understand what Li Qiye was — and almost no one in the modern reality did, because the thing Li Qiye was had very nearly been erased from the world's memory.The cultivators of Haotian climbed the twenty realms: a ladder of law and power that every child understood, from the first Lumen Body to the unnamed summit. It was a good system. It was a modern system. And like most modern systems, it had replaced something older, harder, and incomparably more dangerous — the thing the ancients had done before the ladder was built, in the first ages of the reality, when cultivators had not climbed rungs at all but had opened sanctuaries.The Path of Spirit Sanctuaries was the oldest cultivation method in the river of time, and it worked like this: within every living being, folded in the deep architecture of the soul, sleep a number of spiritual sanctuaries — sealed chambers of primordial power, each one a small universe of law. To open a sanctuary is