[[White Bone Throne], unfinished [fruit position], choice]

[The sight before you exceeded your understanding. Countless stark-white skeletons,]

[as though controlled by an invisible giant hand, began arranging, stacking, and interlocking with unprecedented Order amid the crack-crack of scraping and colliding bones.]

[They were no longer chaotic symbols of death, but the basic building blocks of some magnificent creation.]

[Chen Qingyan stood motionless on high, gazing indifferently down at this uncanny, spectacular "construction."]

[When the tide of white bones surged to his feet, it flowed around him of its own accord as though alive, ignoring him entirely.]

[At last, you saw clearly—what these bones were building was none other than a towering, sinister [White Bone Throne], imbued with an aura of sacred death!]

[A single supporting leg was composed of tens of thousands of complete skeletons tightly fitted together, radiating a heart-stopping vastness of death and ancient, oppressive might.]

[“What is this?” You gaped, unable to imagine what kind of being would display their Authority in such a manner.]

[The gray-robed elder still made no attempt to stop it. He merely watched in silence, his expression complex and unreadable.]

[His lips moved a few times, but in the end, all that emerged was a sigh of dissuasion:]

["This is the... vital reserve that being left you. Do you truly intend to use it now, for a situation like this?"]

[Chen Qingyan turned a deaf ear to his words.]

[His gaze remained fixed on the gradually forming White Bone Throne. An extraordinarily complex emotion flowed through his eyes—reminiscence, wistfulness, and even a barely perceptible trace of... sorrow?]

[In the end, however, he said nothing. He simply suppressed Everything, turning it into a calm as unfathomable as an abyss.]

[Each harboring your own thoughts, you waited for the throne to be completed. From its base to its back, from its armrests to its initial outline...]

[Yet just as the bones were about to begin carving the throne's back with what should have been incomparably intricate patterns symbolizing power and the Dao Path, the entire construction process stopped abruptly.]

[It was as though the last shred of strength had been exhausted, or the most crucial source was missing.]

[The enormous throne remained “unfinished.” Though its framework was complete and its presence magnificent, it lacked that flawless perfection, that divine essence from which Authority arose of its own accord.]

[At this sight, Chen Qingyan finally let out a soft sigh, unmistakable regret within it.]

[But the next moment, his eyes regained their usual firmness and resolve.]

["Chen Fan." He turned his head, his gaze settling on you. "You... go!"]

[You jolted in alarm!]

[Go? Go where? Could he mean... that unfinished White Bone Throne?]

[Seeing your shock and uncertainty, Chen Qingyan explained:]

["This object is a [Nascent Fruit Position] entrusted to me by a great being several epochs ago.]

[Although it does not itself possess the conditions needed to let someone directly attain the Dao, countless mystical properties have emerged through its gestation over endless years."]

[He gave you a deep look, his gaze seeming to pierce through the fatal calamity entangling your Fortune:]

["Its power is enough to break the 'Death Luck' entwined around you. Enough... to restore a moment of clarity to certain beings who have been blinded."]

[He paused, the final sentence becoming a silent thought: *"And finally... it can buy me a precious moment to catch my breath."*]

[At his words, you instinctively looked toward the gray-robed elder in the distance.]

[He still made no move. Instead, he seemed even more like a spectator uninvolved in the affair, waiting with interest to see what came next.]

["Rest assured," Chen Qingyan's voice reached you. "Under the rules of this place, he cannot interfere."]

[You nodded, drew a deep breath, and suppressed the fear and confusion churning within you.]

[Things had come this far; there was no turning back. Life or death would be decided by this single move!]

[Under Chen Qingyan's calm, profound gaze and the gray-robed elder's inscrutable scrutiny,]

[You set off, walking step by determined step toward that unfinished creation, radiating vast desolation, deathly silence, and a faint thread of life—the [White Bone Throne].]

[As you walked step by step toward the unfinished White Bone Throne, the gray-robed elder's low voice came from behind you, carrying a barely perceptible trace of complex emotion:]

["Why not tell him?" he asked, his eyes still on your retreating figure,]

["That once he attains that unfinished [Fruit Position], he will have, at most, a single Incense Stick's worth of time left to live?!"]

[Those words exploded beside your ears like a thunderclap, bringing your steps to an abrupt halt! One Incense Stick?! Attaining the Dao meant death?!]

[You fought down the urge to turn and demand answers, straining your ears to listen.]

[Chen Qingyan's voice reached you, as flat as ever, yet laced with a bone-deep chill:]

["There is no need," he said indifferently. "Since a [True Lord] sent him to my side, presumably they have some designs on me as well.]

[Rather than let a pawn continue muddling through, only to die without understanding why, I might as well... put him to the fullest use."]

[Put him to the fullest use... those words pierced your heart like an icicle.]

[So what you had seen as your only chance of survival was, in his eyes, merely a calculation to "put him to the fullest use"!]

[The gray-robed elder seemed somewhat surprised and pressed him: "Are you so certain he can attain the Dao through this [Nascent Fruit Position]?"]

["Of course!" Chen Qingyan's tone held unquestionable certainty, and even the glance he cast at the elder carried a hint of mockery,]

[“Otherwise, why do you think he happened to appear before me? Everything is nothing more than arrangements made on a higher level.”]

[At this, the gray-robed elder fell silent for a moment. In the end, he could only let out an inscrutable sigh:]

["Just as I would expect of you... Lord Heavenly Venerable."]

[After that, neither spoke again. Only two gazes remained, one indifferent, the other complex, both focused on you]

[—on the retreating figure walking toward his predetermined Fortune.]

[Did you know now? You did.]

[They had made no effort to keep that brief exchange from you. Or rather, they did not care whether you heard it at all.]

[Despair? Anger? Yes, you felt both. But more than anything, you felt the helplessness of being swept along by an immense Fortune.]

[Perhaps you had already lost control of your own life the moment you awakened the Simulator.]

[[Golden Core], [True Lord], [Heavenly Venerable]... you were like a lone skiff amid raging waves, your course long since beyond your control.]

[Ahead lay a throne of Certain Death; behind you, an abyss of immediate death.]

[You stopped before the towering, incomplete White Bone Throne, its shadow engulfing you completely.]

[You knew you had no choice.]

[Or rather, your only choice was how to die.]

[Would you die an ignorant ghost, erased by that "Death Luck" of unknown origin?]

[Or... would you burn through this final Incense Stick's worth of time, briefly touch that supreme power as one who had attained the Dao, glimpse a corner of this chessboard, and then... perish in a blaze of glory?]

[You drew a deep breath, filled with the cold and deathly stillness unique to white bones.]

[Then, beneath the two gazes behind you, you resolutely lifted your foot and stepped onto the first stair leading to the throne.]