---
There are thrones forged of gold, jade, obsidian.
Thrones passed down through bloodlines and carved by sects.
Thrones protected by dragon veins and backed by Heaven's Will.
But there is only one throne that no one dares sit upon.
Because it was not built.
It was left behind.
---
Three days passed since Yun Mu shattered the Seventh Chain.
The Ironcloud Sect remained quiet—too quiet.
Its elders moved behind closed doors. Messages were sent to distant sects. The sky above the inner court pulsed faintly with divine wards.
Something ancient had shifted.
And they were afraid.
---
Yun Mu stood at the edge of the Starfall Basin—an ancient scar upon the world, where spirit stones melted and qi refused to gather.
It was said that during the First War of the Mandate, a meteor forged from pure will struck the earth here, burning a hole into the soul of the continent.
Now, that crater whispered to him.
> "Come."
"Deeper."
"Your throne awaits."
He stepped forward.
---
Below the basin, there was no light.
Only memory.
Not his memory—but the world's.
As Yun Mu walked, shapes formed in the darkness:
—A man devouring lightning bolts.
—A woman laughing as she drowned stars.
—A child speaking laws that made Heaven tremble.
The First Maw Cultivators.
But their eyes were not cruel. Not evil.
They were desperate.
> "We did not choose to destroy Heaven," one spirit whispered.
"We chose not to be ruled."
Their voices echoed inside him.
But the path was not straight.
Because someone else had arrived first.
---
At the center of the abyss, a fire burned.
Not real flame—but spiritual wrath, locked in a seal that had lasted since the Era of Severed Fate.
And beside it stood a man.
He wore no sect robes.
His eyes were closed.
And the Hollow whispered his name.
> "Ren Xian."
---
Yun Mu stepped forward, and the man opened his eyes.
They were exactly like his own.
Not in color or shape.
But in hollowness.
In hunger.
In grief.
> "You followed the whispers," Ren Xian said.
"So did I. Once."
He turned back to the flame.
"I reached the threshold before you. I saw the throne. I heard its voice. And I stepped away."
Yun Mu studied him.
"Why?"
"Because I realized something," Ren Xian said. "The throne does not elevate you. It consumes you."
> "You become nothing but the path."
---
Yun Mu said nothing.
He stepped closer to the flame.
It pulsed against him. Like it recognized him.
Ren Xian raised a hand.
"Turn back. You still have choice. I didn't sit—but I could have. You have not even earned the right to try."
A tension filled the air.
Two Hollow Cultivators.
Two broken reflections of what fate tried to erase.
But only one could approach the Throne of None.
---
They fought.
But it was no ordinary clash.
It was a battle of wills.
Each blow struck not flesh—but memory.
Ren Xian conjured the life Yun Mu never lived.
A father he never knew.
A battlefield he never lost.
A world where he died before suffering.
Yun Mu answered with truth.
With a scream that cracked the spiritual ground:
> "You turned back because you feared what you'd become."
"I fear what will happen if I do not."
Their auras collided.
Hollow flame met Hollow void.
And in the end…
Only one stood.
---
Ren Xian lay broken.
Not dead.
But defeated.
Tears ran down his face as Yun Mu approached the throne.
> "You will lose everything," he whispered.
"Even your name."
Yun Mu looked up at the throne.
It was empty.
It was massive.
It was carved into the world's soul—above concepts, beyond understanding.
But it recognized him.
Not with joy.
Not with approval.
With hunger.
And Yun Mu said:
> "Then devour me."
He stepped forward—
—and vanished.
---
Above, in the skies of the Central Heaven Domain, storm clouds coiled.
The constellations shifted.
The voice of the heavens thundered:
> "The Throne of None has been touched."
"Prepare the Judgment Envoy."
"The Hollow has crossed the line."
And deep in the Forbidden Sky Vaults, a sealed weapon stirred.
A blade made not of steel—but of broken oaths.
The Mandate Severing Sword.