CHAPTER 193: A SECRET REALM

On the upper platform draped in white jade and drifting clouds, Igaris stood before the ruler of the Blue Moon Empire.

Emperor Yan Jao.

The man bore sapphire eyes like frozen oceans, his long hair tied with a dragon-forged silver clasp. His robes shimmered with runes of moonlight, and an invisible wave of pressure rippled from his body — the hallmark of a Martial Emperor at the very least.

He looked regal. Unshakable. Like a sovereign born to command fate itself.

But to Igaris, it was little more than a flickering candle before a sun.

This man—despite his power—was still shackled within the mortal plane. An Ascendant like Igaris had already stepped beyond such thresholds.

Very few new of his true strength. And Emperor Yan Jao wasn’t one of them.

Because of this, Emperor Yan Jao looked down with the calm arrogance of a man used to having the last word. As if even Talented monsters could become pawns when the board demanded it.

With a faint smile that barely concealed calculation, he stepped forward and held out a scroll, its casing carved from Lunar Beast bone.

"This is a small reward, Champion of the Blue Moon Empire," the Emperor declared, his voice echoing like a royal decree, though his words were veiled in politic courtesy. "You’ve earned it."

He personally handed over the scroll. "Sun Moon Ascension. A Heavenly-grade Martial Art."

Then added with a casual flick of his sleeve, "As for the million Beast Cores... they will be delivered to your Soaring Dragon Sect in due time."

Murmurs rippled through the surrounding nobles and sect leaders.

Igaris took the scroll without kneeling or bowing, his gaze level and unreadable.

The martial art radiated a faint celestial pulse. Sun Moon Ascension — a rare technique said to allow the user to merge Martial paths with their bonded Life Partner, momentarily amplifying power and synchronizing minds to an almost divine state.

It was a powerful technique, to be sure.

But not what interested Igaris.

He sensed the Emperor’s intent. This was not just a reward. It was bait. A collar dressed in silk.

Still, he didn’t speak.

He simply turned, his obsidian robes trailing behind him like black flame, and walked off the stage—leaving behind the Emperor, who stared after him with a storm in his eyes.

Yan Jao’s smile didn’t fade.

But the grip on his throne’s armrest tightened.

The competition was over, yet his ambitions were not.

Later, deep within the gilded corridors of the Imperial Palace, footsteps echoed like slow drumbeats of a gathering storm. Emperor Yan Jao walked in silence, his long robe brushing against polished jade tiles. Moonlight filtered through the glass panels, casting shifting shadows across his sharp features.

A shrewd old attendant, dressed in simple silk and bearing the reserved posture of one who had survived many reigns, stepped beside him and spoke cautiously.

"Your Majesty... do you still intend to send that brat to the Secret Realm of Thousand Armaments alone? He is rebellious. If he reaches the Divine Weapon first, he might turn against us."

Yan Jao’s stride didn’t falter. His voice was low and cold.

"We have no other choice. Time is running out. But once he returns from that realm... we’ll take everything. Not even the Soaring Dragon Sect can stop me from claiming the Divine Weapon. Hmph."

The old eunuch bowed his head lower, lips tight with worry. "Then why not send more candidates, Your Majesty? We shouldn’t depend on a single... unruly Champion for such a task."

That made the Emperor pause.

A flicker of thought passed behind his sapphire eyes.

"You’re right, eunuch. We’ll send more lambs into the Slaughter Realm." His tone turned darker, amused.

He looked ahead with a vicious smile curling across his lips — one that didn’t reach his eyes.

"This will make things... more interesting."

---

"So, Emperor Yan Jao invited me to join a secret realm?" Igaris asked Sect Master Fang, who had just brought the news.

Fang Tianyi nodded. "Yes. Not just you. Many other Dao Children were invited as well. Though, from what I heard earlier, the initial plan was different. It was said that only the Champion would have been granted the privilege to enter and claim all the treasures. All... except one."

"And what might that be?"

Igaris asked, though he already had his suspicions.

In his previous life, he had caught whispers of a weapon. An extraordinary creation said to have been born from within the depths of that Dungeon World.

And the man who claimed it... was none other than Emperor Yan Jao.

After obtaining that weapon, Yan Jao’s power surged beyond comprehension. He shattered the limits of Saint Rank. Nations crumbled beneath his feet, empires bowed, and even the skies seemed to yield before his will. His reach extended not only across his world but slithered into neighboring realms, toppling everything in his path.

All because of a single weapon.

Igaris had never seen it with his own eyes, but back in Orca, rumors traveled from mouth to mouth, carried in hushed tones through underground networks. They spoke of a Divine Weapon, a blade so fearsome that it attracted entities from other worlds.

Earthlings—souls not native to the Martial Sanctuary—began appearing in pursuit of its power.

But Yan Jao would not allow competition.

When he learned of their intrusion, he executed every foreign soul he could find. Slaughtered them, one by one, in secret massacres, just to maintain absolute control over the weapon’s legacy.

He was ambitious. Ruthless.

After ascending beyond Saint Rank to Godhood, he set his sights on Orca itself.

But Orca’s Creator Gilgamesh sensed it.

He severed all dimensional links to his world, locking it away before his tyranny could spill through the veil.

That weapon was a force of destruction... and now, Igaris wanted it.

No, he needed it.

His return to this world had never been about reclaiming lost glory for the sect or petty revenge. From the start, it had always been about that Divine Weapon. He had planned to stay close to Yan Jao, to wait, to strike when the time was right.

But now, it was different.

He could feel it.

The weapon wasn’t waiting.

It was calling to him.