Chapter 1343: Unity of Fate

Chapter 1343: Convergence of Fate

“Gods and immortals are fundamentally different,”

Xu Qing gazed at Zi Qing and spoke calmly.

“But the moment one abandons the path of thick earth and chooses to ascend, their essence… becomes the same.”

“Therefore, within the Ascendant Star Ring, gods and immortals may appear vastly distinct, yet they share a common origin.”

“Thus… I shall die—and so shall you.”

“But compared to death, what I truly desire is to see—on this plane—whether your fate runs deeper or my dimension stretches infinitely!”

His voice still echoed as Xu Qing stepped forward, crossing a hundred zhang in an instant, charging straight toward Zi Qing outside the grand hall.

Outside the hall, Zi Qing’s eyes fell upon Xu Qing’s approaching figure, his expression cold and silent.

Behind him, inside the hall, another Zi Qing remained gentle, speaking softly—the sound threading through the main trunk of fate, resonating beyond the hall along the tributaries of destiny.

“Younger brother, your thoughts are mine as well.”

“Fate… superimposes!”

The moment those words rang out, the expressionless Zi Qing outside the hall raised his right hand and gently pressed it toward the swiftly approaching Xu Qing.

With that press, the power of fate descended soundlessly, manifesting an indescribable intent around Xu Qing, rippling outward in concentric waves.

Within those ripples emerged countless scenes.

Each scene reflected a different Xu Qing—not parallel selves conjured by temporal or spatial arts, but divergent streams branching from the main trunk of his own fate.

In other words, these were infinite possibilities born naturally from the decay of life itself!

Every possibility now formed its own image.

“Time, in truth, does not exist. It is merely a concept created by sentient beings to measure their own—and all things’—natural decay.”

“Hence, your spacetime is flawed.”

“And I… do not rely on spacetime.”

Zi Qing inside the hall spoke softly.

His voice reached beyond the hall, disturbing the ripples of those images.

And within those images lay contradictions: in some, Xu Qing fought fiercely against others; in others, at that very same node of fate, he sat in meditation.

Some showed his death within a certain fate-line; others depicted him receiving profound opportunities in that identical fate.

Some portrayed the fading of loved ones; others showed tender companionship.

This was the superposition of fate!

At this moment, multiple mutually exclusive destinies coexisted upon Xu Qing simultaneously.

These entangled fates manifested around him as fragmented shards.

His true body grew blurred among them, as if about to be erased—each step forward splitting into countless translucent afterimages.

Those afterimages, in turn, became new possibilities of fate.

Endless. Boundless.

It was as though he lived countless lives all at once.

In this state, every movement—even each heartbeat—triggered storms of probability, rendering his fate wildly unstable, liable to shift at any moment.

He could scarcely control himself!

This was the main fate being interwoven with its branches.

This was the self being usurped by other selves.

Only his voice remained calm, echoing steadily amidst the fusion and usurpation.

“A similar scene—I have experienced it before.”

“And my cultivation has never been confined solely to time or space. The law I comprehend is…”

“Convergence!”

“Time converges. Space converges. Spacetime converges. Parallels converge. Fate… also converges!”

The instant Xu Qing uttered those words, his increasingly ethereal form lifted his right hand.

The intent of his law erupted abruptly, surging from his raised palm and forming a single thread of convergence that pierced violently outward in all directions.

It pierced through every fragment of fate, linking them all together—

Then Xu Qing clenched his fist fiercely.

All the surrounding fragments of fate roared at once. The scenes within were forcibly rewritten—transformed entirely into reflections of his present self!

Then those images rushed toward Xu Qing, merging rapidly with his form.

Since every image mirrored his current self exactly, no overlapping double-images appeared—only seamless fusion.

His originally blurred silhouette was thus redrawn again and again, growing ever more substantial.

Until finally, when all images vanished completely, the Xu Qing standing there was extraordinarily real, extraordinarily clear!

Then his voice reverberated once more.

“Descend!”

At that utterance, everything around him transformed with astonishing speed!

Amidst thunderous roars shaking heaven and earth, ink wash spread from where Xu Qing stood!

Centered on him, this ink wash surged outward, carrying his law, unfurling suddenly in all directions—

Dyeing everything it touched!

Palaces, imperial capitals, even the entire Heaven-Devouring Domain—all regressed precipitously in that instant, mirroring Xu Qing’s newfound clarity!

The concept of height was stripped away; three-dimensional existence flattened into two dimensions. In the blink of an eye, everything became an ink-wash painting.

This was… dimensional reduction!

Including the palace hall—and the cold-faced Crown Prince Zi Qing standing outside it.

Both became mere elements within the painting!

Only Xu Qing retained color—the sole vivid presence standing upon the ink-wash canvas!

He lifted his right foot, as though replacing the heavens themselves, and took a step toward the palace hall within the painting.

This was another manifestation of Xu Qing’s mastery over his own law.

As his descending foot neared, the Crown Prince Zi Qing before the hall within the ink-wash world raised his head, gazing up at the shadow looming over his world—as if it had supplanted the sky itself.

Coldly, he spoke:

“In Wushuang City, your first death came at the age of seven!”

At those words, Zi Qing’s left eye revealed the image of young Xu Qing from Wushuang City long ago.

That image shattered instantly, transforming into seven silver threads that materialized vividly before them.

Each line represents one year.

“Within the Seven Blood Pupils, you underwent countless transformations—five of them were opportunities!”

As the second sentence echoed, Ziqing Crown Prince’s right eye reflected scene after scene of Xu Qing’s trials within the Seven Blood Pupils, and from it emerged five golden butterflies.

Each one represented a single stroke of fortune!

“The Empress altered fate—you died a second time; your tribulations numbered two!”

At the utterance of this third phrase, an image coalesced before Ziqing Crown Prince from the void: the very moment Xu Qing perished in the Imperial Capital of humankind.

From that image burst forth two black chains at the instant of death!

“Today, I weave silver threads from your lifespan, shape golden butterflies from your fortunes, forge iron shackles of death from your calamities—and thus form your Fate Butterfly…”

The images intertwined; gold, silver, and black swiftly merged into a single tricolored butterfly!

The moment this butterfly appeared, the entire ink-wash painting rippled violently, as if the scroll itself were crumpling!

As the tricolored butterfly spread its wings, color radiated outward from its center, flooding across the monochrome ink-wash world!

No longer stark and lifeless, the painting now seemed to breathe with vitality!

Then, with sudden force, the butterfly shot upward toward the heavens!

Wherever it passed, the painted world melted away. Higher and higher it soared, until at last—it shattered through the confines of the ink-wash realm!

Bursting out beyond the canvas.

The instant it emerged, the entire ink-wash painting began to fracture.

That tricolored butterfly flickered once—and split into countless others, swarming the sky, all surging toward Xu Qing!

To Xu Qing’s senses, each one felt intimately tied to himself—as though… every single butterfly was him!

Meanwhile, as the ink-wash painting collapsed, Ziqing’s voice reverberated through the hall:

“With your Fate Butterfly, I forge your Fate Cage!”

“Imprison!”

Requesting one day off.

Couldn’t sleep last night; feeling unwell today. Wrote something unsatisfactory and deleted it.

Taking one day off.