241 The Thrones of Contest

The ruined castle stood ahead of us, gray stone bleached pale from untold ages of stillness. It could have once been a fortress, a sanctum of authority or war, but time had carved out its spine. No roof remained, only jagged arches reaching skyward like broken ribs. Wind howled freely through the hollowed halls. Columns were snapped, and the walls bowed with scars. Debris gathered in the corners like offerings to ruin, but none of it compared to what stood in the heart of the castle: a throne, not chipped or weathered, but untouched and proud, garishly opulent and out of place, as though reality itself dared not stain it.

“What in the world is that?” I asked, eyes narrowing at the center.

Across from us stood a thin old man flanked by an octopus… no, not quite an animal, something that floated unnaturally with an aura of veiled power. The old man, besides the creature, spoke as though we weren’t there at all. “Are they going to be our opponents, Game Master?”

On cue, the bald monk child responded, his voice calm but full of hidden mirth. “Just a bit more patience, old friend…”

I turned my attention to the surroundings. Seven statues towered around us, each one nearly nine feet tall. Three had been reduced to rubble from a blindfolded woman shattered at the torso, a veiled man missing everything above the knees, and a skeleton crowned like a king, whose limbs were strewn across the floor like broken toys. The remaining four statues were intact and imposing: a swordsman with his blade resting against his shoulder, an old man leaning on a gnarled cane, a bald monk holding a broom with both hands like a weapon, and a half-naked woman draped in a snake whose head curled around her throat like a noose.

“They’re the Seven Sages,” the Game Master began, as though continuing a tale we should have known. “The ones who’ve lasted the longest in this False Earth. Each of them once fought for the prize that lies before you now… Ascension.”

He pointed at the extravagant throne in the middle. Every remaining statue, even the shattered ones, had once faced toward it. Even now, the air around it felt denser, pulsing slightly as if the throne had a heartbeat of its own.

“And now, of the original seven,” the Game Master continued, “only four remain… and five more players have joined the game.”

As if cued by unseen strings, the four living Sages stepped into position beneath their respective statues. Ru Qiu stood proudly under the statue of the swordsman, jaw clenched with a ferocity that hadn’t wavered. The withered old man shuffled beside the cane-bearing sage, seemingly more ghost than flesh. The Game Master took his place under the broom monk, as though he were simply returning home. And the Dark Witch, with her signature smile, draped herself beneath the woman with the snake, tilting her head as though mocking the symbolism.

Then, the Game Master raised his hand. A subtle gesture, yet the floor trembled faintly. The four statues slid back on invisible tracks, creating space. In a wide arc, five more platforms emerged from the floor, each bearing a statue. I realized they were meant for us, the newcomers.

With a second flick of the Game Master’s wrist, thrones made of gray stone appeared before the statues. One of them, simple and unadorned, manifested just beside me. Unlike the central throne, this one looked utterly mundane… but I felt it call to me.

I turned to look at the statue behind my throne. It wasn’t a person, not a figure like most of the others. It was a colossal sword, stuck upright in a slab of stone, taller than all the rest. Its edges shimmered faintly as though resisting being carved by mortal hands.

The Game Master settled into his throne. His small figure disappeared into the high backrest as though swallowed by its immensity, but his presence grew all the more commanding. Without a word, the others followed—Ru Qiu on my left, sliding into his seat with the stiff dignity of someone about to unsheath a blade; Alice on my right, lounging as if this were a theater and not the prologue to something eldritch and apocalyptic.

I planted my hand on the armrest, feeling the cool stone beneath my fingers. Then I sat down.

Behind Alice loomed her statue: a massive guillotine whose blade never fell, eternally poised at the moment just before severance. It made no sound, yet in its stillness, I imagined the weight of the cut it promised.

Jin Chenglei’s statue, on the other hand, was grotesque in its elegance. An armored man with the lower body of a serpent curled upward like a coiling threat. His helmet bore no eyes, only a slit like a yawn, as if the armor itself was ready to consume.

Then there was Jue Bu’s. I had no words for it, only discomfort. The figure was nude but beyond mortal classification, with breasts on one side and a chiselled masculine chest on the other. Its face shifted with the light… sometimes motherly, sometimes violently unkind. There were no symbols to read, only confusion. That was Jue Bu’s nature laid bare.

And then… the octopus.

Yes, it had a statue. Of course, it had a statue. I should’ve expected it, and yet, seeing it rendered in stone… a humanoid figure cloaked in ornate priestly robes, tentacles draping from its sleeves and hood like ritual sashes… It made my gut coil. Whoever commissioned that idol had either gone mad or known something I didn’t. The stone eyes gazed downward in mock serenity, but I could feel something behind them: knowing, watching, and conscious.

“I really have a bad feeling about that octopus…”

The Game Master rose, his voice sharpened, each word projected with a rhythm that silenced idle thoughts.

“Three factions,” he began, gesturing widely, “Three players in each team.”

Then he snapped his fingers.

A low hum filled the ruined hall, deep and omnidirectional. From the space above the central throne, light gathered, swirling upward like incense made visible. Shapes assembled themselves into geometry, and geometry into geography.

And then I saw it.

A sphere, suspended in midair, radiant and humming with energy. It was what I could only describe as a perfect replica of the False Earth. The seas glimmered with illusory depth, mountains cast shadows, and cities pulsed like hearts. A hologram, but alive in every detail. It rotated slowly, allowing everyone to see their slice of this broken world.

But this wasn’t just a map. No, it was more intimate than that.

I narrowed my eyes, extended my Divine Sense, and reached into it. At first, only surface-level impressions greeted me: mountains blanketed in clouds, rivers writhing like living veins. But as I pushed deeper, as my sense honed in…

There. New Willow. The streets looked peaceful enough, though I could sense tension simmering just beneath the surface. And in one courtyard I knew too well…

I froze.

My twin sister was there. She was giving birth.

Already?

I blinked once. Then again. My mind backtracked, calculated, and tried to form an excuse for the impossible.

“It’s just been days since she announced her pregnancy!” I hissed aloud, glaring at the map as though it owed me an explanation. “How in the world!?”

My eye twitched.

I saw that Da Ji, my twin sister, was screaming her heart out. Her face was red, contorted, and soaked in tears as she gripped the sheets like she wanted to tear reality apart. Her cries echoed through the Divine Sense connection, raw and unfiltered.

Chen Enlai, her ever-sincere husband, was bawling on the sidelines. Not the manly kind of tearful joy, either. No, the nose-running, shoulder-shaking, helpless kind of sobbing that would’ve made him the laughingstock of any ranks in the military. And yet, there was something beautiful in how shamelessly he wept. His love was loud.

Lin Wei, my mother, worked with practiced hands, directing the process like a battlefield general. She took the newborn with care etched into her every wrinkle. Then she handed the child to Enlai with a look that could only be called a benediction.

As for my father, Da Jin, the man had no shame at all… he was laughing. Loud and full-bellied, the kind of laugh that could make the sky crack open. He slapped Enlai’s back and declared something I couldn’t make out, probably some nonsense about virility or good fortune. Knowing him, he’d already promised the baby a sword and a tiger.

“So, the rules…” said the Game Master.

His voice shattered the moment. I blinked, pulling back from the living hologram, from that delicate thread of family, and refocused on the floating sphere. My gaze slid, slowly and deliberately, toward the octopus.

Eight limbs. A literal floating octopus.

I raised my voice. “How about a little introduction first? We are game buddies in this, so the least thing we can do is know each other.”

The Game Master chuckled, shaking his head. “Game buddies? Hardly. This is a fight to the death, and the utter decimation of the opposing force. It’s competitive gaming, Immortal Paladin.”

I blinked. “While I am curious where the ‘Immortal Paladin’ address comes from, I am more curious about the octopus…”

The Dark Witch leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm with predatory amusement. “I’m curious too. I know almost everyone here, except the pink-haired bitch and the eight-legged freak.”

Alice didn’t even glance at her. Her disinterest was legendary.

Ru Qiu glared at the Witch like she was a fly buzzing near his ear. “I don’t care for the names of those whose ends I already desire.”

I sighed. “Okay, that’s settled then. A little introduction circle. Please, call me Da Wei. I’m not from this place. I’m a Paladin… Technically, the representative of the Sacred Groves. My hobbies include eating things, playing games I don’t fully understand, and laughing when I absolutely shouldn’t.”

An awkward silence settled.

I turned toward the vampire beside me. “Alice, how about you?”

“Alice,” she replied, her eyes unmoving. “Vampire.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’ve always known your introductions would be… challenging.”

Ru Qiu leaned forward, eyes glowing faintly. “And I am the Heavenly Demon. I will annihilate anyone who stands in my way, starting with you, Witch.”

The Dark Witch laughed with such delight that it made me want to flinch. “And I am the Dark Witch with the darkest heart of them all. Representative of the Demonic Cult.”

At the mention of “Demonic Cult,” Ru Qiu’s teeth were grinding so hard I could hear the sound.

The Witch tilted her head coyly and looked at Jin Chenglei. “Darling~ Your introduction?”

Jin Chenglei offered a stiff, soldier’s nod. “I am Jin Chenglei, Commander of the Rebels, and the Snake Charmer.”

For some reason, he was glaring daggers at me.

Jue Bu slouched, looking more bored than usual. “I’m Jue Bu. And don’t confuse me with David… I’m a different person. I just stole his body. Anyway, you can also refer to me as the Foolish King.”

The Game Master sighed. “Looks like we’re doing this… I am the Game Master, representative of the Heavenly Alliance.”

An old man from the Game Master’s faction sneered. “I refuse to join this tomfoolery.”

The Game Master gave a helpless shrug. “My grumpy old friend here is the Divine Physician. And as for the octopus—”

The octopus raised one tentacle.

“I AM THE GREAT DREAMER~!” it boomed in a theatrical, echoing voice.

It opened its beak to speak a name.

“[----]”

That was all I heard. Garbled, unreadable, like someone mashed all the forbidden tongues together and shoved them through a shattered flute.

The Great Dreamer tilted its bulbous head.

“LET’S PLAY.”

“The rules are simple,” began the Game Master. “If you’ve played chess before, then you have an idea how to play this game. The victory condition is simpler still… kill the enemy camps’ Generals. The camp with the last General remaining wins.”

He paused, letting that sink in. No flair, no theatrics. Just the raw shape of the game laid bare.

“Each of you will designate one ‘General’ piece,” he continued, “the most important piece on your side. Once that piece perishes, your existence will be forfeit. You cannot choose yourself. The General must be someone you can call your own, whether a worshipper, a slave, a friend, or family.” He lifted one small hand and pointed toward the central throne. “At its essence, this is a war game. You will move pieces.”

“How?” he asked rhetorically, his eyes scanning us like a teacher awaiting the answer. “Through Qi Speech. But… with a limitation. You can only use Quintessence.”

Huh?

I leaned back slightly, tension rising at those final words. That was brutal. In our current realm, Soul Recognition, Quintessence was more of a rare treat than a resource. I had just used Divine Word: Raise on Ru Qiu not long ago. I wouldn’t be able to do anything like that again for a day or two. Even then, I’d be scraping my reserves to make it happen.

But that wasn’t even the worst part.

I raised my hand. The motion felt heavier than it should have, but the question needed to be asked. “If we do this… too many are going to die. What do you think about that?”

A quiet fell over the ruins. Not just silence, but an emptiness that stretched into the bones.

Then came the cackling.

Jue Bu burst into hysterics, slapping his knees like I’d just told the world’s greatest joke. “Ha ha ha ha ha~! That’s so funny, good ol’ David… So naive and pure… ‘What do you think about that?’ ‘What do you think about that?’”

I let him laugh. Someone needed to.

The Dark Witch sneered, her voice honeyed with venom. “You’re free to back out if you're so uncomfortable with the idea.”

Then came the mutter from the old man, the so-called Divine Physician. “People die… They always do… That’s life.”

I snorted, unable to hold back the disdain. “And you call yourself the Divine Physician?”

Jin Chenglei, of all people, chimed in next. “Do you even know why we’re doing this?”

I raised a brow, more irritated than curious. “Please. Enlighten me.”

His eyes burned as he pointed to the central throne. “It’s for a shot at true ascension.”

I let that hang for a moment before sighing. That wasn’t a surprise, but hearing it laid so bare made it sound… emptier than ever.

In the beginning, I had only wanted to return to the Hollowed World. To uncover the truths of this False Earth. To protect my family. That had been enough. Or so I thought. Then Meng Po shattered that illusion. She gave me time, clarity, and above all, perspective. When I finally returned to the False Earth, it no longer felt like escape… it felt like reckoning.

Now, seated on this stone chair under the statue of an immovable sword, I understood something else.

If I wanted to protect the ones I cherished, I had no choice. I would have to beat them all. Starting with the Game Master himself. The worst part? I was outmatched. This wasn’t just some quirky ascended cultivator with too much time. This was a Supreme Being, playing mortal for his own amusement. And the game was his.

So I asked the only question that mattered. “What happens if I refuse to play?”

Unexpectedly, it was Ru Qiu who answered. “Isn’t it obvious? They’ll rip apart everyone you care about. They’ll ensure your destruction is total, so that you may never rise again.” His glare bored into me. “Get your shit together, Da Wei. I consider you my peer. If you bend now… what does that make of me?”

“Hah~! That pulled a laugh from me, one I didn’t bother hiding. “Probably dead…”

Ru Qiu raised an eyebrow, probably recalling moments ago what had happened. Good times.

I straightened and lifted my voice for all to hear. “I’m going to make a statement.”

I pointed at the Divine Physician, ignoring his unimpressed frown. “I’m going to have your General killed first.”

He didn’t blink. But the corner of his mouth twitched, ever so slightly.

Then I turned to Jue Bu. “And you. I’m giving you one opportunity to redeem yourself. We don’t have to be enemies. But make sure… You don’t miss it.”

The Dark Witch scoffed. “If you think we’ll fall for your tricks… sowing discord like some little spy… then think again.”

I didn’t even look at her. My eyes remained fixed on Jue Bu. “You know I’m not lying,” I said, calm and clear. “You know it.”