Chapter 307: When Does the Feast Begin?

The moment that terrifying, sky-obscuring face formed from storm clouds enveloped the entirety of Orank, Lu Yan felt it with chilling clarity—a supreme and exalted will, boundless in its majesty, locked onto him like an invisible shackle.

That will was so vast and overpowering it felt like the fury and judgment of the entire world itself, leaving him with not even the faintest thought of resistance.

Then, to his horror, Lu Yan discovered something even more unimaginable—time around him had begun to reverse in a strange, incomprehensible manner.

It was not true temporal regression, but the manifestation of the Storm God’s divine will, forcibly retracing everything that had ever happened to him.

His memories, his experiences, every secret he had ever buried—all were peeled back layer by layer like an onion, exposed before the will of that being who was this world’s sole existence, without a shred of concealment.

“No!”

Alarms exploded in Lu Yan’s mind. He frantically activated the mana within his body, attempting to mobilize the power of his Imperial Dharmic Form and even draw upon the still-incomplete order of the Celestial Court Underworld to resist the soul-rending scrutiny of this devastating will.

But it was futile.

His Mid Nascent Soul cultivation, his incomplete Celestial Court, even the transcendent might of the Imperial Dharmic Form—all of it was utterly insignificant before the will of a being who stood at the pinnacle of this world.

That divine will surged forth like an unstoppable flood, effortlessly crushing every defense he put up and diving deep into the very source of his soul—as though it sought to dissect him inside and out.

The moment this world’s only one descended, it was as if all had already been decided.

All of Lu Yan’s disguises, every calculation he’d ever made, were powerless before absolute strength.

But in the next instant—an abrupt change!

A dazzling sword light, so brilliant it defied all description, suddenly descended into the world. It crossed endless time and space, as if drawn from the river of Lu Yan’s memories, arriving without warning.

That sword light was so sharp and domineering it sliced through causality across all realms, ignoring the limits of past, present, and future—it was everywhere.

“Shhk!”

A soft tearing sound, barely audible, echoed out.

The divine will that had been retracing Lu Yan’s memories—exalted, supreme—was like paper before that sword light. In a flash, it was obliterated.

Even the secrets and memories that had been exposed vanished beneath the sword’s overwhelming brilliance, reduced to nothingness.

In the skies above, the enormous face formed from storm and lightning froze.

Within its dark, abyssal eyes appeared—for the very first time—a flicker of disbelief and astonishment.

It had clearly sensed the terror contained within that sword light… and the cold, irrefutable truth that its divine will had just been destroyed.

The Storm God fell silent.

It could feel that while the sword light was indeed terrifying, it hadn’t directly targeted its true body. Instead, it felt more like a trace—an echo of a warning from a distant, bygone timeline.

The intent embedded in that sword warned: if you continue, the consequences will be unimaginable—perhaps even deadly.

Its gaze fell once again on the small human below—the one who had seemed like an ant just moments before.

Now, Lu Yan stood there as calmly as ever, his face composed, as if the harrowing confrontation with divine will had nothing to do with him.

The contempt and disdain in the Storm God’s gaze gradually faded. What replaced it was solemnity—and a hint of intrigued amusement.

“Interesting…”

A grand and majestic voice descended from the heavens, like thunder rolling across the skies. All of Orank trembled beneath the weight of those divine words.

“As an avatar… you barely qualify to converse with this god.”

No one could know what kind of storm raged within Lu Yan’s heart in that moment.

He was exerting every ounce of effort to suppress his fear—a fear born from instinct, from being a mortal before this world’s only one.

Though he had narrowly escaped the Storm God’s initial probing thanks to the lingering might of the Eternal Slash, a trace of dread still flashed through his heart.

The Seven True Gods of this version might have stolen their divine rights from the Old Days, but regardless of the source, a this world’s only one was still the only one.

Their divine status already allowed them to glimpse the truth behind this entire version.

Their wills could transcend the very laws and principles of the world.

With just a single thought, they could see through the essence of anything within the version—truth and illusion alike.

Lu Yan was not a native of this world. The Celestial Court Underworld he controlled had yet to fully take shape. His divine rank was far from reaching the realm of the sole existences.

In such a state, he stood no chance against a will of that level.

If the Storm God had discovered that Lu Yan was not truly a this world’s only one—that the Celestial Court he’d crafted was merely a gilded shell—he would have been obliterated on the spot, no exceptions.

When Lu Yan realized the Seven True Gods would awaken early, he had begun preparing his countermeasures.

But he knew that with the immense disparity in divine status, any direct resistance would be useless.

His only path to survival… was to borrow power.

So, he gambled.

He linked all his core memories—especially those concerning his origin, the version update, and the foundation of the Celestial Court Underworld—to the memory of Jiang Zhiwei’s Eternal Slash that killed Immortal Taiyi.

It was a risky plan, but also terrifyingly elegant.

The moment the Storm God tried to probe those memories, he would inevitably touch upon the truth of Immortal Taiyi’s fall.

But Immortal Taiyi was a this world’s only one from the cultivation version—a being whose very existence carried unimaginable karmic weight and taboos.

The Storm God, being an outsider to the cultivation version, risked triggering karmic backlash merely by trying to explore it.

And Jiang Zhiwei’s Eternal Slash—its very sword intent carried the power to sever all illusions and block such causal entanglements.

Any being that attempted to probe the truth of Immortal Taiyi’s fall, and tried to draw him back into existence, no matter how powerful… would be annihilated by that cross-temporal sword light.

Even a being like the Storm God could not avoid this fate.

And indeed—Lu Yan’s gamble paid off.

The Storm God’s divine will was obliterated the moment it touched those memories.

The dreadful killing intent woven into the Eternal Slash successfully forced the Storm God to abandon his attempt to probe deeper.

The greatest threat had been silently defused.

But that didn’t mean Lu Yan was safe.

Though he had manipulated the narrative and used the sword’s residual power to mislead the Storm God into believing he was merely an avatar of the true Fengdu Emperor…

That did not extinguish the storm god’s rage.

The fall of the Storm Angel King was an unforgivable humiliation to the Storm Church.

For Lu Yan, the danger had not passed.

If he appeared too submissive now—if he tried to defuse the situation meekly—it might arouse the Storm God’s suspicion.

After all, would an avatar with such terrifying power bow his head so easily?

But if he acted too defiant, if he talked back or resisted…

That might also provoke the god’s wrath.

To the Storm God, Lu Yan was still just an avatar. No matter his background, he was but a subordinate.

Would a true god tolerate arrogance from a mere avatar?

Right now, Lu Yan was walking a tightrope above an abyss.

One misstep, and he would fall into the void—doomed beyond salvation.

He had to find a delicate balance between strength and restraint.

He had to display enough presence to command respect… but not so much that he became a threat.

Thoughts raced through Lu Yan’s mind at lightning speed. In a heartbeat, he had devised a plan.

He knew that any excuses or signs of weakness would only backfire.

Only by projecting power—true, unfakeable authority—could he earn the respect of the Storm God and the other gods surely watching from afar.

With his resolve set, Lu Yan no longer hesitated.

He took a deep breath and, under the soul-crushing divine pressure, slowly sat down cross-legged.

In the next instant, an overwhelming aura erupted from his body.

Above Orank, a towering Imperial Dharmic Form—ten thousand zhang tall—took shape in the heavens.

It wore deep black ceremonial robes and a twelve-jade-bead imperial crown. It faced the vast storm face above the city with unshakable majesty.

This Dharmic Form bore seven to eight parts resemblance to Lu Yan himself, but carried an even deeper gravity, an aura of absolute dignity.

When its eyes opened and closed, one could see the cycles of sun and moon, the birth and death of stars.

The form radiated not just mana, but traces of a higher, more ancient aura—an echo of the Old Days.

The moment it waved its vast sleeve, a force of divine summoning spread across the heavens.

And then—

The stars returned.

Those countless stars nearly drowned by the storm’s darkness now blazed once again, as if summoned by some ancient authority.

One by one, ten by ten, hundreds and thousands—they pierced the thunderous clouds like divine swords, reclaiming their place in the sky.

The apocalyptic storm, once so unstoppable, began to dissipate—melting away like snow before the sun.

Stellar Realignment.

This was no ordinary astrological shift. It was the resurgence of Old Day power.

The Storm God might be mighty enough to temporarily dim the starlight, but he could never truly hide what lay behind them.

The storm faded. Thunder fell silent.

Only the radiant stars remained, along with that towering Imperial Dharmic Form—standing alone beneath the night sky.

Old Day power swirled around him like living spirits, blending with the divine light from the Underworld’s order. At this moment, Lu Yan truly looked like a sovereign of a divine pantheon.

The storm-forged face in the sky flinched—the abyssal pupils narrowing slightly.

It hadn’t expected this turn of events.

And then, under the watchful gazes of the Seven True Gods—some surprised, some cautious, some cold—that towering form took a single step forward.

Time and space twisted.

The starlight elongated and transformed into glowing ribbons, flowing backward at incredible speed.

Lu Yan felt his consciousness lifted—drawn out of the physical world and into a higher dimension.

When everything settled, he stood—through the Imperial Dharmic Form—in a strange and magnificent realm.

There was no sky, no ground. No sun, no moon.

Only endless radiant nebulae and rivers of light.

He looked down—and the world he had known, the world of mystery and billions of souls, was now no larger than a grain of dust at his feet.

This was the Astral Realm—the legendary divine dimension where the gods’ true kingdoms resided.

Looking around, Lu Yan saw seven colossal figures seated upon divine thrones, each radiating different divine light and overwhelming pressure.

These were the Seven True Gods, more solid and majestic than ever before—each representing the ultimate authority in their domains.

And even higher, even farther out—he saw it.

A presence so vast it defied all measure, so grotesquely immense it could not be comprehended.

It was the true form of the Old One’s corpse.

Only now, without the veil of material starlight, could Lu Yan grasp its true horror.

He could not describe it in any language. Even looking at it for a moment made his soul tremble—he could feel the madness and chaos attempting to devour him.

If not for the Seven Gods stabilizing this layer of the Astral Realm, he would’ve been consumed the moment he stepped foot here.

Suppressing his awe and dread, Lu Yan, through his Dharmic Form, cupped his hands with dignity under the gazes of those towering divine figures.

His voice echoed through the silent Astral Realm—cold and detached, but also calm and firm.

“I have come as invited. Now tell me—when does the feast begin?”

(End of Chapter)