The Nether Corpse Sect elder immediately realized that something had gone terribly wrong.

Very wrong.

At first, when the strange pulling force emerged from the mirror fragment, he still maintained his confidence.

After all, he was not some ordinary cultivator.

He was not a Foundation Establishment disciple.

He was not a Core Formation elder.

He was not even a Nascent Soul expert.

He was a Soul Transformation cultivator.

A genuine Soul Transformation cultivator.

Throughout the cultivation world, there were countless regions where merely mentioning his name would cause weaker cultivators to lower their heads in fear.

He had cultivated for well over a thousand years.

He had walked through rivers of blood and mountains of corpses.

He had survived countless assassination attempts.

He had survived heavenly tribulations.

He had survived secret realm disasters.

He had fought enemies stronger than himself.

He had massacred entire sects.

He had refined countless corpses.

He had enslaved powerful souls.

He had witnessed the rise and fall of generations.

A mere mirror fragment should not have frightened him.

And yet...

The longer he stared at that mirror...

The colder his heart became.

Because no matter what he did...

Nothing worked.

The elder immediately raised both hands.

Demonic energy erupted from his soul body like a volcanic eruption.

The sky darkened.

Dark green flames burst into existence.

Thousands of corpse runes appeared around him.

The spiritual energy in the surrounding area immediately became chaotic.

A giant corpse dragon suddenly manifested behind him.

The dragon was several hundred meters long.

Its scales were formed from ancient skeletons.

Its eyes burned with ghostly fire.

Its enormous body radiated terrifying pressure.

The moment it appeared, countless cultivators instinctively retreated.

Even several Nascent Soul experts felt pressure.

The dragon roared.

The sound shook mountains.

The sound shattered clouds.

The sound echoed throughout the heavens.

Then the dragon lunged toward the mirror.

The elder’s eyes lit up.

The surrounding cultivators held their breaths.

Even the Heaven Cleaving Sect elder stared intently.

Then...

The dragon vanished.

Not destroyed.

Not injured.

Not shattered.

Vanished.

It was as though the mirror had casually swallowed the entire technique.

The elder froze.

His confidence immediately weakened.

However, he still refused to believe it.

Immediately, he unleashed another spell.

Then another.

Then another.

A giant skeletal hand descended from the heavens.

A sea of corpse flames erupted from beneath.

Thousands of ghostly faces screamed from the darkness.

Soul chains shot toward the mirror.

Blood-colored spears tore through the air.

One terrifying technique after another appeared.

The surrounding cultivators watched in amazement.

Each attack possessed enough power to slaughter entire cities.

Each attack could annihilate countless weaker cultivators.

Yet none of them worked.

Every technique vanished the moment it approached the mirror.

Some disappeared silently.

Some collapsed into dust.

Some were swallowed whole.

The mirror remained exactly the same.

It did not shake.

It did not crack.

It did not even move.

Meanwhile, the pulling force became stronger.

Much stronger.

The elder immediately felt something terrifying.

His soul body was moving.

Not by his own will.

The mirror was dragging him forward.

Slowly.

Relentlessly.

Like an invisible hand was grabbing him.

The elder’s expression finally changed.

"No."

"No."

"This cannot be happening."

His voice lost some of its confidence.

The arrogance from earlier was beginning to disappear.

Immediately, he activated even more techniques.

His hands formed seals at incredible speed.

Demonic symbols filled the sky.

Soul attacks exploded one after another.

Ancient forbidden techniques emerged.

Secret arts that had not been used for centuries appeared.

The heavens trembled.

The earth trembled.

The surrounding cultivators trembled.

Yet the mirror did not.

The pulling force continued.

Slowly.

Steadily.

Inevitably.

Soon, the elder noticed something horrifying.

The lower half of his soul body had already disappeared.

The mirror was consuming him.

Not devouring his flesh.

Not devouring his cultivation.

It was devouring his soul itself.

For the first time in centuries, genuine fear appeared in his eyes.

Not caution.

Not concern.

Not wariness.

Fear.

Pure fear.

His voice immediately became sharp.

Then desperate.

Then frantic.

"Fellow Daoist!"

The elder suddenly turned toward the Heaven Cleaving Sect representative.

His eyes became bloodshot.

His expression became twisted.

"Fellow Daoist!"

"We have known each other for centuries!"

"We are both Soul Transformation cultivators!"

"We have shared drinks together!"

"We have explored secret realms together!"

"You cannot simply stand there!"

"Help me!"

His voice echoed throughout the heavens.

The surrounding cultivators could hardly believe what they were hearing.

This was the same elder who had spoken arrogantly earlier.

The same elder who had attempted negotiating with the deity.

The same elder who had appeared completely fearless.

Now he looked like a drowning man desperately grabbing for anything.

The pulling force increased again.

His waist disappeared.

His chest slowly moved toward the mirror.

The elder screamed.

"Help me!"

"Please help me!"

"We can destroy it together!"

"We can attack together!"

"We can escape together!"

His voice became increasingly desperate.

The elder no longer cared about dignity.

No longer cared about reputation.

No longer cared about status.

He only wanted to survive.

"I will give you treasures!"

"I will give you inheritances!"

"I will give you my cultivation resources!"

"I will give you everything!"

"Just save me!"

The Heaven Cleaving Sect elder remained silent.

His face was pale.

Very pale.

Because he had witnessed everything.

Every technique.

Every attack.

Every secret art.

Not one had worked.

Not even slightly.

Meanwhile, above the heavens, the giant face of the deity remained calm.

Watching.

Observing.

Silent.

The Heaven Cleaving Sect elder immediately bowed deeply.

Then respectfully cupped his fists.

"Senior."

"This junior understands."

"This junior was wrong."

"This junior will never again ask for additional compensation."

"This matter has nothing to do with me."

"This junior does not know him."

The Nether Corpse Sect elder’s eyes widened.

Then filled with rage.

"You!"

The Heaven Cleaving Sect elder immediately stepped backward.

Several Nascent Soul cultivators also retreated.

Nobody wanted becoming involved.

Nobody wanted becoming the next target.

The Nether Corpse Sect elder glared at everyone.

His eyes burned with hatred.

His face twisted with resentment.

Yet none of it mattered.

The mirror continued pulling.

The force became stronger.

Stronger.

Stronger.

Until finally...

The elder’s scream echoed throughout the heavens.

Then his soul disappeared completely.

The mirror swallowed him whole.

Silence descended upon the cultivation world.

The kind of silence that only appears when everyone is afraid to speak.

...

Meanwhile, outside the Tiny World, Clayne smiled.

Then casually picked up the mirror fragment.

To the cultivators below, it looked as though heaven itself had moved.

An enormous hand descended.

Its fingers alone appeared larger than mountain ranges.

Its shadow covered entire regions.

Then the hand grabbed the mirror.

And vanished.

Immediately, countless cultivators felt chills running down their backs.

Because nobody knew what happened to souls taken by the deity.

Nobody wanted finding out.

...

Inside the strange darkness surrounding Clayne’s consciousness, the Nether Corpse Sect elder appeared.

The moment he opened his eyes, he became frozen.

Above him stood an existence beyond comprehension.

Its shape resembled a humanoid.

Yet that was where the similarities ended.

Its body seemed composed of entire universes.

Countless stars rotated beneath translucent skin.

Nebulas drifted through its limbs.

Galaxies swirled endlessly inside its chest.

Clusters of stars appeared and disappeared throughout its form.

Every movement seemed capable of shaking existence itself.

Yet the most terrifying feature was its face.

Or rather...

The lack of one.

No eyes.

No nose.

No mouth.

No ears.

Nothing.

Only a smooth, featureless void where a face should have existed.

The sight alone made the elder’s soul tremble.

His instincts screamed danger.

No.

Something beyond danger.

Something that should not exist.

Something his cultivation could not comprehend.

Immediately, the elder attempted fighting back.

Demonic energy erupted.

Soul Transformation cultivation exploded.

Countless techniques manifested.

Dark energy covered the sky.

Ancient runes appeared.

Forbidden arts activated.

Nothing worked.

The giant merely lowered two fingers.

Then pinched him.

Like a human picking up an insect.

The elder immediately became horrified.

No matter how much power he used.

No matter how many techniques he activated.

No matter how desperately he struggled.

The fingers remained unmoving.

The difference between them felt infinite.

The elder suddenly shouted.

"Even if I die!"

"Your forest will disappear!"

"Your connection to our world will disappear!"

"You will regret this!"

Unfortunately...

Clayne completely ignored him.

His attention had already shifted elsewhere.

Because he was expecting memories.

Inheritance.

Cultivation manuals.

Treasure refinement knowledge.

Alchemy techniques.

Formation arts.

Something useful.

The elder’s soul shattered.

Information entered his consciousness.

At first, Clayne became excited.

Then confused.

Then disappointed.

Because there was almost nothing.

No supreme cultivation manuals.

No ancient inheritance.

No heaven-defying secret techniques.

Almost nothing.

The amount of information felt ridiculously small.

This was a Soul Transformation cultivator.

How could his memories contain so little?

Then suddenly...

One fragment remained.

A complete technique.

Not damaged.

Not fragmented.

Not incomplete.

A fully intact spell.

The information slowly unfolded before him.

Its function was simple.

Controlling insects.

Controlling beasts.

Controlling lesser creatures.

Creating commands.

Establishing dominance.

Influencing swarms.

Guiding movements.

The more Clayne understood the spell...

The brighter his eyes became.

The disappointment immediately disappeared.

Because unlike countless flashy cultivation techniques...

This was something he could actually use.

Something practical.

Something useful.

Something perfect for the apocalypse outside.

The more information entered his mind, the more excited he became.

By the time the inheritance fully settled, Clayne’s heart was pounding.

His eyes widened.

His breathing quickened.

Then he stared at the newly acquired spell in disbelief.

"A complete Cultivator Spell?"

His voice was filled with shock.

Then excitement.

Then overwhelming joy.