The Fall of the Golden Seat, All Heavenly Secrets Obliterated

True Lord lowered his gaze, one hand resting on Chen Yuan's shoulder. He had occupied the seat of [Zhang Yue] for nearly a thousand years, his Golden Seat suspended high above, the Crescent Moon illuminating the night.

He had seen too much of the world's affairs, so much that he had nearly grown weary of them. Dynasties were like anthills, prodigies like blades of grass; the fall of a True Person was no more than a shooting star striking the earth, not worth raising an eye for.

Yet at this moment, the hand resting on Chen Yuan's shoulder froze.

That aura surged from within Chen Yuan, vast and ancient. It was neither spiritual nor demonic, neither law nor force, and existed outside the "Dao." It was the emptiness before all things were born, the ashes after all realms had returned to their end.

True Lord's pupils contracted slightly.

He had lived too long, so long that he no longer remembered his age. Yet the aura before him... was not something that should exist in this world.

Silvery-white threads flowed from his palm, winding down Chen Yuan's spine in layer after layer. They were enough to bind any living being beneath the Golden Core, yet now, those threads were fading.

They were not breaking. They were "returning to nothing."

It was as though an invisible hand had torn open the curtain between realms. The Heavenly Net trembled, and the tiny Crescent Moons at its knots gave mournful cries. The strands of light they expelled turned a withered gray, as if something had annihilated them at their source.

True Lord tried to pull away.

But that jade-white hand seemed welded to Chen Yuan's shoulder. The aura spread up his arm, invading his meridians, invading his Purple Mansion, invading... his Golden Seat.

Deep