54. The Emperor's Sword (5)

A complex wind blew into his face, and He Shenyan did not use a spell array to block its intrusion. The mage stood there expressionlessly.

This was a place beyond description.

The Land of Void—here, nothing truly existed. Time, space, even he himself was the same. One second ago, he had not existed in this space, until a tide-like surge of immense mana shaped his body into being.

The Treefolk's voice sounded by his ear. "You responded to Divinity again."

"Yes," the mage replied. "So?"

The Treefolk cared nothing for his impatient attitude. To a being like it, the attitudes of others were utterly irrelevant. It merely acted according to its interests—this merchant's face it now wore, that smiling, kindly visage, was nothing more than a disguise.

If it wished, it could grow another face at any moment. If it wished, it could be a god. It could be a devil that destroyed worlds, if it wished.

He Shenyan abruptly felt a wave of weariness.

Will I become like this too?

"The terms of the transaction were that I would help you remove Divinity, guest." The Treefolk's voice echoed through this space. "But you have kept responding to their prayers. That will only deepen the degree to which Divinity alters you."

"I know."

The willpower of all living beings turned into silver threads before his eyes, and broken scenes began flashing in front of him. Men and women sleeping beside a fire. Exhausted soldiers. An ignorant child standing beside his dead mother, silent.

They began to call out—Emperor, god. They began praying for rescue, begging for salvation, unaware that the one they prayed to had already become someone else.

The silver threads vanished, and a mirror forged of darkness appeared before him.

Reflected upon it was his image: a gaunt