The first rays of dawn, a pale white light, filtered through the curtains and spilled into Duie's chamber. Fresh morning snow fell silently against the windowpane, and the drapes swayed with a quiet dignity of their own.

  On the bed, Su Nian’s eyes fluttered open as the golden morning light touched his face. But the sight that met him instantly shattered his morning peace. Before him lay Duie, bare-chested and deep in sleep; even Su Nian’s own robes were disarrayed. His breath hitched as the golden light illuminated the scene, but Duie remained submerged in a profound slumber.

  Suddenly, Su Nian grabbed a pillow and began to pelt Duie with rhythmic, forceful strikes. Jolted awake by the first blow, Duie blurted out the first thing that came to his mind:

  "Elephant!!! Where is the elephant???"

  Another pillow struck him squarely in the face. When it finally slid off, Duie saw Su Nian staring at him with a face boiling with indignation. Su Nian finally erupted:

  "Again! Duie!!! You won't rest until you get me fired from my duties! You have nothing better to do, but you won't let me work either! What will I say to Bao Fang and the others? And especially to Emperor Mo Yan? You fool! If I see you anywhere near me again, I’ll take your life!"

  After such a harsh scolding, Duie was left speechless, his mouth hanging open. He sat there frozen as Su Nian got ready and stormed out. After enduring the barrage of pillows, Duie’s nose had turned bright red. He sat back, pouting like a child, and began to grumble at the very pillow that had just struck him:

  "Huh. Why is my morning always like this?"

  Meanwhile, high above, cutting through the cotton-like clouds with a silvery shimmer, the melody Mo Yan had played reached the Dark Heaven. Passing through the clouds, it entered a black void. For a moment, its brilliance flickered upon entering Black Heaven, but it soon regained its glow.

  The place toward which the melody drifted was terrifying. Below lay a lake of blood, and in its center stood a throne fashioned from black bones. Sinister black shadows emanated from the throne, as if it were burning in an invisible fire. But the throne was not empty. Someone sat there, holding a flute. The melody danced and merged directly into the flute, which began to play on its own the very notes Mo Yan had composed. The person seated upon the throne, listening to those tunes, was none other than Yue Sui.

  The melody spread through the air like a sacred plea. As it concluded, a faint smile graced Yue Sui’s face, though his blood-red eyes did not match the expression. It was as if his soul were smiling while his body played the role of the Patriarch of Black Heaven.

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  Suddenly, walking upon the surface of the blood lake, Wuzu arrived. She bowed with dark devotion before Yue Sui and greeted him.

  "Our Black Heaven Patriarch, Lang Shenxie... my heartfelt congratulations. As your chief advisor, it is my duty to inform you that it is time to complete your final ritual. Congratulations on your victory."

  Yue Sui rose. Shrouded in a dark aura, he walked across the blood lake, passing Wuzu. She followed behind, explaining the ritual in a voice that was lethal yet filled with immense respect.

  "Patriarch Lang Shenxie, the way you conquered Black Heaven by slaying the previous Dragon King, Kong Li, is beyond praise. However, Black Heaven has its own laws that you must fulfill before leaving this place, or you will be destroyed before you can reach the mortal realm."

  Yue Sui’s footsteps stopped on the ash-covered ground. He cast a sharp, sideways glance back at Wuzu. His eyes looked like those of a demon goddess. Wuzu recoiled a step, slightly unnerved, but Yue Sui had no control over the terrifying intensity of his own eyes. Still, he spoke with as much composure as he could muster:

  "What laws?"

  Wuzu bowed her head, not daring to meet his gaze. "According to the laws of Black Heaven, you must wear garments fashioned from the black and red hide of the Dragon you slew. Your crown will house his soul so that he remains in your service for eternity. Your throne shall be made of his bones which has already been done and the lake of blood beneath your throne is made from the blood of King Kong Li himself. This is no ordinary punishment, Your Majesty. This is the price for conquering a realm like Black Heaven, which is considered a sin. If you ever lose Black Heaven, the same fate will befall you. My best wishes are with you."

  With that, Wuzu led him to a ruin where millions of souls were screaming terrifying, soul-piercing shrieks that sounded like the entire world was crying out in agony. But it had no effect on Yue Sui. Wuzu elegantly removed his upper garments and dressed him in the horrific hide-garments that looked like a living beast. She fastened a belt made of the shimmering blue-purple feathers and hide of Dragon Kong Li around his waist and draped a majestic red cloak over his shoulders.

  Finally, seating him on a stone pedestal, she placed a fearsome crown upon his head, shaped like the Black Dragon Kong Li, containing his trapped soul. Wuzu had completed his transformation into the Sovereign of Black Heaven.

  Yue Sui looked like a nightmare manifested, a demonic entity. But suddenly, his eyes filled with tears when a passing soul showed him his own reflection showing him what he had become. Seeing his own monstrous image, his eyes overflowed. Wuzu sensed this, but she merely bowed and gestured for him to follow her back to his chambers. Wuzu was lost in thought, while behind her, Yue Sui walked like a dangerous, waking corpse.

  Yet, the atmosphere in the mortal realm was entirely different.

  In the sacred library of the Tianjian Sect now known as the Liuguang Sect Lady Wang Ayi and Lady Shiyan Lee had arrived. They were welcomed by the senior disciples of Tianjian. Tianjian had always been renowned for its ancient texts and knowledge; its martial prowess was part of a grand legacy. Master Tong Men welcomed them personally and led them to the main library, where ancient scrolls were still preserved.

  Suddenly, emerging from the distance like a magical melody of a zither, came the newly-crowned High King, Mo Yan. His white robes fluttered in the wind. Behind him, twenty loyal disciples walked in two perfect rows, every step synchronized. Every gaze was fixed forward, shoulders squared, hearts ignited with faith.

  Master Tong Men and the disciples of the Tianjian Sect stood in stunned silence, their eyes wide with awe as they watched the grand procession approach.