Chapter Index

    Lu Yan’s expression froze for a moment, then immediately lit up with joy.

    To freeze time and causality in order to forcibly trigger a version update—this practically meant he could gain an extra chance at survival in a life-or-death crisis.

    Especially now, after being targeted by the Main God and other True Gods in the recent Great Collapse version, if the next update entered a related version, it could very well be fatal.

    This new permission directly compensated for his lack of self-preservation power.

    Even though this freezing of time and causality might still be interfered with by True Gods, as long as he used the permission before they reacted, he could skip directly past that version.

    As for powerhouses below the level of True Gods, this “Early Update” permission could completely ignore them.

    Lu Yan was genuinely pleased with this reward.

    There was only one detail that gave him pause—the line of small text beneath the permission:

    [Once Early Update is activated, version update occurs immediately and cannot be manually selected.]

    “An uncontrollable direction of update… This means that triggering Early Update might get me out of danger—but it could just as easily throw me into a different version that’s equally dangerous.

    So this is a trump card to be used only when absolutely necessary.”

    Lu Yan silently analyzed the implications.

    Still, he wasn’t overly concerned. Among the many versions linked to the Great Collapse, those that contained a True God were still rare. The odds of entering another equally dangerous one were not high.

    Moreover, the Early Update permission was simply too powerful. If it had no limits and could be used at will, it would essentially mean Lu Yan had taken control of the entire version update system—something that could never be permitted in this world.

    Shifting his attention away from the update permission, Lu Yan looked at the text left behind by the Great Transcendence Heavenly Dao and said:

    “I’ve destroyed all the version fragments. You should fulfill your promise now.”

    The promise, of course, was the Great Transcendence Heavenly Dao’s pledge to help him forge the Divine Court.

    After its completion, even with its restored integrity, the version update interface didn’t change much in terms of behavior.

    A long silence ensued. Then, a familiar broken string of text appeared before Lu Yan’s eyes:

    [Of course I…will fulfill…my promise.]

    [However, given that you…overfulfilled…our agreement, I can offer you more options.]

    Lu Yan’s eyes lit up immediately.

    “What do you mean by ‘more options’?”

    The update interface faded. In the void before Lu Yan, a golden humanoid form slowly took shape.

    This golden figure stood silently in the air, its body composed of countless converging Great Daos, like myriad rivers flowing into one sea—impossible to describe in words.

    The golden divine light surrounding it resembled the chaotic dawn of creation, exuding an aura so sacred it compelled worship, as if this being were both the origin of all things and the source of all laws.

    As it gazed at Lu Yan, a voice like the resonance of the Great Dao rang in Lu Yan’s ears. It wasn’t a sound that could be described in human terms, yet Lu Yan understood its meaning instantly.

    “This way of communicating is more convenient, don’t you think?”

    A look of surprise appeared in Lu Yan’s eyes. This golden humanoid was undoubtedly the incarnation of the Great Transcendence Heavenly Dao.

    He had encountered many Heavenly Daos across different versions. Most were more like accumulations of order and laws, with only basic instinctive tendencies for profit and survival, lacking true consciousness.

    But never had he seen such a human-like manifestation of a Heavenly Dao.

    After a moment’s thought, Lu Yan understood why.

    Though the Great Collapse version was born from torn-apart worlds and suppressed the Heavenly Dao, the version fragments scattered within had also provided unique opportunities for evolution.

    To be born and perfected under such conditions, the Great Transcendence Heavenly Dao had to be exceptional.

    This incarnation before him had shed millennia of suppression and achieved full completeness. Its once-limited awareness had advanced to something nearly indistinguishable from true sentience.

    The Dao Incarnation paid no mind to Lu Yan’s curious gaze and calmly said:

    “Our original agreement was for you to destroy ten version fragments. If you destroyed all of the Nine Heavens, I would grant you the full extent of my Heavenly Dao permissions to help you forge the Divine Court.

    But your actions far exceeded my expectations. Not only did you destroy the Nine Heavens, you also shattered countless minor fragments. You even used that borrowed sword to destroy Longevity Heaven, which contained the will projection of Immortal Taiyi.

    With those version fragments devoured by Longevity Heaven accounted for, you single-handedly swept through the entire Great Collapse domain and directly accelerated my full awakening.”

    “The original deal is no longer sufficient to reward your accomplishments.

    So, I’ve prepared a gift for you.”

    As the Heavenly Dao incarnation spoke, it raised its right hand. A crystalline orb appeared in its palm.

    This crystal wasn’t smooth and spherical. It had countless facets, each refracting blinding light.

    Lu Yan focused his gaze and saw that behind the dazzling brilliance, the facets each reflected scenes from various broken versions—as if they still existed within the crystal.

    The Heavenly Dao incarnation lifted the orb and continued:

    “Those version fragments were destroyed by the End Rule. The Heavenly Dao has since repaired the spatial voids left behind.

    Although the End Rule can nearly erase everything, the version fragments you destroyed weren’t erased perfectly. Some remnants remain—

    Be it a sliver of core rule, a faint shard, or even links between versions.”

    “To me, these things are worthless. But to someone like you, on the cusp of forging a Divine Court, they are of inestimable value.”

    Lu Yan’s expression changed. He had already begun to guess the Heavenly Dao’s intention.

    “You mean—”

    “Yes.” The Dao incarnation’s tone carried deeper meaning.

    “I can use the lingering remnants of these version fragments as a medium, and combine them with the creatures of this world… to reflect your Divine Court across many versions!”

    Lu Yan’s heart surged with waves of emotion.

    As an Unchanging One, anything Lu Yan did in this version could leave echoes in other versions. For example, when he masqueraded as the Lord of the Underworld in the Urban version, that impression continued to affect future versions like the Great Collapse.

    But he had noticed something critical—the information projection was not immutable.

    The closer a version was to the original source, the stronger the effect. In the nearby Demon version, the Underworld Lord still inspired awe. But the farther away the version, the more the projection weakened.

    Eventually, after several updates, that image would fade into legend.

    Lu Yan suspected this decay was due to his low position as an Unchanging One.

    If he could become something beyond the True Gods—what legends called the “Sole Existence Across All Worlds”—perhaps his information would remain constant, shaping entire realities.

    But as things stood, he lacked the strength to maintain such projections.

    Previously, this wasn’t a major issue. He only used information mapping as a tactical advantage—he never truly relied on it.

    But now, after forming a pact with the Great Transcendence Heavenly Dao and preparing to forge the Divine Court as a Second Dao, these projections became vital.

    The more versions the Underworld spread through, the more incense power and conceptual energy it could receive, accelerating the growth of the Divine Court.

    It would determine whether it could truly become a Heavenly Court Across All Worlds.

    Even as an Unchanging One, Lu Yan had to enter each version, spreading the idea of the Divine Court slowly and laboriously.

    But now, the Dao Incarnation offered him a shortcut.

    Lu Yan could use the last remaining links between the Great Transcendence version and other versions to directly imprint his Divine Court across them all.

    Furthermore, the other beings of this world—after witnessing the formation of the Divine Court—would carry that knowledge into other versions, further spreading its influence.

    If this succeeded, it would mean Lu Yan had soared in one leap. The name of the Underworld would echo across countless realities.

    If he could fully harness this, it would be as though the fledgling court had skipped its developmental stages and directly ascended to the level of the legendary Heavenly Courts.

    This was no different from cheating the system.

    Lu Yan was overwhelmed by joy. He hadn’t expected that his deal with the Great Transcendence Dao would result in such an unexpected reward.

    But then, the Dao Incarnation poured cold water on his enthusiasm.

    “I advise you to think carefully. Ascending in one step to forge the Heavenly Courts may not be as good as it seems.

    With your current strength, and that tiny divine kingdom of yours, can you really shoulder the weight of such a title?”

    The reminder brought Lu Yan back to reality.

    Yes, soaring to the top could grant the name of a Heavenly Court, but behind that name were countless hidden dangers.

    The biggest problem was this—Lu Yan was too weak.

    He was just a mere Golden Core cultivator. Even with Crafting Fate, the most he could handle was a Nascent Soul Dao Lord.

    Such strength might suffice for a single version, but to support a court that spanned worlds? Utter fantasy.

    A true Heavenly Court could dispatch a single angel or deity with Nascent Soul-level strength, not to mention having countless powerhouses above that—and even True Gods had to tread carefully before them.

    Even if the Underworld became a Heavenly Court in name, it lacked any of the substance.

    The moment its illusion was pierced, it would collapse.

    Without strength to back it, the fame would draw suspicion and trials. If Lu Yan couldn’t withstand them, it would all come crumbling down.

    And strength alone wasn’t enough. A real Heavenly Court possessed vast structures, doctrines, and foundations—the result of eons of accumulation.

    To build all that in such a short time, even with cheats, was impossible.

    Now Lu Yan understood why the Dao Incarnation said this was merely a choice.

    Without the strength to carry its weight, grasping at the gains of today might cost him everything.

    He fell silent, thoughts flashing through his mind. Within the Underworld’s inner world, the Probability Cloud began simulating every known variable.

    The Heavenly Dao incarnation didn’t rush him and simply waited.

    Time passed quickly. Lu Yan’s reasoning—and the futures simulated by the Probability Cloud—arrived at the same conclusion.

    Refuse.

    Yes, from a logical standpoint, the answer was to decline.

    With his current power, he couldn’t sustain a Heavenly Court. A single unforeseen event could unravel everything.

    If the Underworld’s facade was shattered, he would lose his greatest hope of ever resisting the True Gods.

    Instead, building his court steadily, expanding it version by version using his Unchanging power, would allow both strength and foundation to grow naturally.

    That would lead to a true Heavenly Court.

    His thoughts calmed. The Probability Cloud faded. Lu Yan let out a deep breath, his decision made.

    “Heavenly Court is right in front of me—why would I ever say no?”

    The Dao Incarnation’s expression shifted with surprise.

    “Your simulation gave a completely opposite conclusion.”

    Lu Yan’s gaze was firm. “Probability simulation is thorough—but it’s still just a rule. It can’t account for things beyond the rules.

    Cautiously nurturing the Divine Court might be the safe path—but I don’t have that kind of time.

    Immortal Taiyi hides in the shadows. The Main God and the other True Gods are eyeing me like prey. These beings can’t be predicted by simulations.

    If not for Jiang Zhiwei’s help, I’d already be dead.”

    “I can’t place my hopes in the mercy of the True Gods. I can only rely on myself.

    The Heavenly Court Across All Worlds… is my only chance.”

    With that, Lu Yan slowly reached out and accepted the multifaceted crystal orb from the Dao Incarnation’s hand.

    (End of Chapter)

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