Far away...

In the shadowed valleys of the 'Mortal Shadow' Mountains, lay the jagged city of 'Echo Wand". It sprawled like a living mandala carved from obsidian stone and veins of glowing jade.

The name was no idle fancy, the city's echoes carried across the jagged peaks with unnatural clarity, bouncing from cliff to cliff like the dying screams of fallen gods.

Because of this, the Snow Moon Kingdom's command post perched high above on the frost-bitten ridges rather than in the city's bloated heart, forever bathing the range in the ominous title of Mortal's Shadow.

Below, towering red-stoned pagodas spiraled skyward like crimson fingers clawing at the heavens. Their rooftops bore massive rotating prayer wheels that turned with lazy, melodic chimes, not mere decoration, but ancient machinery humming protective wards against the mountain's frequent, bloodthirsty landslides.

This was the outer heart of the Snow Moon Kingdom: not the most glorious domain under the Kingdom's vast umbrella, but certainly one of the busiest, a throbbing artery of ambition, trade, and quiet desperation.

At the city's eastern gate, three massive portals stood upon a raised platform of bleached white bone and flowing spectral water, their frames humming with restrained cosmic power.

Two were active.

Warriors in ornate armors and flowing robes moved through them with the bored efficiency of seasoned veterans.

"Next group for the Crimson Lotus Universe," a stern official in gray robes announced, his voice as dry as century-old parchment, "Remember, your diplomatic token lasts three Netherworld cycles. Do not overstay, or you'll be feeding the giant monster worms."

A squad of seven Saint-level delegates bowed crisply and stepped through the swirling violet portal on the left.

Moments later, another group spilled out from the central golden one, merchants pulling floating carts overloaded with rare mutated herbs, shimmering crystals, and what looked suspiciously like jars of pickled hearts.

They were already laughing, haggling, and cursing each other's mothers with practiced vulgarity.

The third portal, on the far right, remained vacant and dim. Its frame was cracked, overgrown with pale, sorrowful flowers that bled faint moonlight even in the artificial dawn. No one approached it. It looked less like a gateway and more like a forgotten tombstone.

"Still no movement from the Azure Universe?" a young attendant asked his senior, voice tinged with boredom.

The older official snorted, spitting a wad of glowing phlegm that sizzled on the stone. "The provincial Lord has grown impatient. If those Azure bastards can't send a single qualified half-Immortal, we'll seal this shit permanently. Let them rot in their own mediocre cycle, jerking off to false prophecies."

It was still early morning. High above, the chained phoenix in the sky flared brighter, transforming into a massive glowing sun that cast bloody gold across the peaks.

Yet there were no new signs of ascension today, just the usual grind of souls chasing power they would never fully grasp.

Unlike the so-called "infinite" Earth universe, the Netherworld was not merely vast. It was a ravenous nexus, connected through intricate networks of portals to countless other recognized universes. The system was brutally hierarchical, designed to feed the strong and discard the weak:

First-grade VIP portals, reserved for official delegates from universes with deep, formal affiliations. These were the golden tickets for the elite, greased with politics, bribes, and ancient blood oaths.

Second-grade portals, the chaotic free-for-alls. These often became horrendously crowded during peak hours because every ambitious bastard in the multiverse wanted a piece of the Netherworld's superior resources, denser energy, and opportunities for transcendence that their home worlds could never provide.

Third-grade ascension portals, the cruelest and most interesting. These were for universes recognized by the Netherworld but deemed too small, too barren, or simply unworthy of proper relations. They offered a narrow, desperate path for warriors who had slammed into their universe's power ceiling. Every universe had such a limit, dictated by finite resources, gravitational laws, and cosmic stinginess.

Even Wang Xiao's mere existence as a Transcendent back on Earth had been enough to fuck the natural order. His raw, overflowing energy acted like a cosmic magnet, violently yanking his entire universe's trajectory and slamming it straight into the Netherworld's hungry maw.

He had brute-forced his way through the multiversal enforcers, those self-important watchdogs tasked with preventing such imbalances. In the grand machinery of existence, everything was designed as one endless feeding frenzy: universes devouring each other's potential, resources, and souls in a perpetual cycle of predation.

The enforcers? Nothing more than glorified guard dogs. No one wanted them barking and drawing unnecessary attention, so the smart ones simply found a universe large enough to contain their growing power.

But capacity was a cruel bitch. Even if a universe brimmed with energy, it often couldn't house two apex predators at once. The quota filled quickly, one lion already lounging in the territory meant the second had to fuck off and find new hunting grounds. This cosmic eviction notice forced countless powerhouses to abandon their original universes and join the deep arteries of the Netherworld.

The Netherworld had simply formalized it. Through its ruthless network of ascension portals, it turned desperate migration into a structured harvest, luring the strong, chaining the useful, and discarding the rest.

These ascension portals were established through treaties and maintained by provincial lords or higher entities.

The goal was simple and predatory: lure talented seedlings, slap them with lifetime slave seals in exchange for strength, knowledge, and protection, then use them as loyal attack dogs to expand influence.

A particularly skilled ascender might even be poached by the royal guards themselves, bypassing the provincial lord entirely.

The kingdom rulers allowed provincial lords to run relatively wild with this system. After all, a truly monstrous talent could always be elevated. In return, the ascended warrior's children and wives remained free, a deliberate mercy (or clever incentive) that allowed bloodlines to flourish under Netherworld's abundant resources.

Most genuinely talented individuals could reach full immortality within their lifetime here, unlocking paths that were forever sealed in resource-starved backwaters.

Take Earth, for example.

Its so-called "infinity" was a cosmic joke.

Netherworld had never officially recognized it. It was treated as nothing more than a convenient prison realm and resource mine.

Once its treasures were sucked dry, it was abandoned like countless others before it.

Aurora had stayed as an immortal for hundreds of millions of years yet couldn't break into Quasi-Transcendent (Immortal Sovereign) realm, not from lack of talent, but because Earth simply didn't have the spiritual nutrients left.

Eleanor, despite the relative wealth of the Xianthera, had been stuck at the Sage level for centuries.

The enslaved ascender could eventually break free if they advanced another major step. Upon reaching Quasi-Transcendent (Immortal Sovereign), they could be granted territory to rule as a minor kingdom King, a carrot that kept even the proudest souls grinding.

There were thousands of untouched or barely-touched universes floating in the void, some rich beyond measure, others barren wastelands. The Netherworld couldn't bother with all of them.

Occasionally, random spatial cracks would tear open in strange locations, offering fleeting doors to these forgotten lands. Many ambitious (or suicidal) explorers had vanished through such tears, never to be heard from again. Some returned with treasures that could make even Immortal raise an eyebrow.

Most returned as broken, half-mad things... or not at all.

"That's about it for the portals. Nothing else particularly interesting here," Xue Qiulian said smoothly, her voice carrying just enough casual elegance as she guided the small group through the bustling streets of Echo Wand.

In the heart of the crowd, amid the chime of protective prayer wheels and the constant hum of merchants haggling over glowing crystals, she was giving a basic rundown on the portal system, knowledge any local child would know by heart.

But these people weren't locals.

"Shh! Sister..." Xue Tianming hissed suddenly, pulling her aside while the others were distracted by the colorful stalls and spiraling red-tiled buildings.

"What?" Xue Qiulian shot back with clear annoyance. They had ditched their royal purple robes for plain civilian clothes, blending into the flow of warriors and traders like seasoned foxes.

Xue Tianming's eyes darted toward Yuriko, who had already wandered off with Ning Xue in one direction, while Althaea disappeared with Aisha and Helena. Lukas was nowhere to be seen, probably off hunting for something to smoke.

"Being surrounded by beautiful women should make a man cheerful," Lukas muttered under his breath, "but fuck me, none of these I can even look at without risking my balls getting turned into decorative lanterns..." His gaze softened slightly as it landed on Helena chatting with Aisha.

At least his marriage with Helena is set in stone.

Xue Tianming turned back to his sister. "You see? They're from another world, but aren't they a bit too suspicious? They know nothing about anything here. How the hell did people like this even ascend?"

Xue Qiulian glanced around for Yuriko's shadow before replying. "Or maybe they didn't ascend at all. They just came through with her. Either way, does it matter? You need support for the throne. Her presence alone is valuable. Then there's that mysterious man, at least an Immortal Sovereign, if not higher. With those two backing us, why are you still worrying like a estranged lover on his wedding night?"

"..." Xue Tianming fell silent for a moment, then pressed on. "Isn't it safer to rely on Yue Qingshuang? We know nothing about these outsiders. And don't you want to-"

Before he could finish, Xue Qiulian glared at him sharply. "Both things are different, brother. You can become the next king, and I can still have him. Simple." 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

After the earlier confrontation with Ning Xue's group, they had reached a fragile compromise.

These 'outsiders' were now being escorted toward the capital of the Snow Moon Kingdom.

Yuriko had openly admitted they came from another world, treating it like casual small talk. To her, this was just killing time until Wang Xiao arrived, and she clearly intended to explore on her own terms.

Xue Tianming, however, couldn't shake his unease. The Snow Moon Kingdom was used to foreigners and ascenders, but this group felt... off. Too powerful. Too composed. Too suspiciously ignorant of basic Netherworld workings for anyone who'd clawed their way through an ascension portal.

Xue Qiulian, on the other hand, saw opportunity like fresh blood. She was playing the long game for survival. With Yuriko and that mysterious man as backing, the king might directly grant her brother the crown prince title. Yue Qingshuang was useful but controversial, tainted by his association to the various forces. These "newly arrived" powerhouses had cleaner reputations and might even catch the eye of the Great Lord himself.

If everything aligned, she could even leverage it to secure her own marriage to Yue Qingshuang under the Great Lord's blessing, cleaning his name and shielding them from future troubles.

What she miscalculated, though, was assuming Wang Xiao was the type to be played by others... or that he was merely an Immortal Sovereign.

At some distance away...

In the misty, echoing back alleys of Echo Wand, where the chimes of distant prayer wheels mixed with the low growls of unseen mountain spirits, two figures walked in quiet isolation.

The air filled with faint metallic tang of portal residue and old, forgotten sorcery.

"You want that...?" Yuriko asked softly, noticing how Ning Xue kept fidgeting, her fingers twisting nervously at the hem of her robe.

Ning Xue shook her head, eyes downcast, a shadow of melancholy to her usually vibrant features.

At first, Yuriko had blamed it on the earlier fallout with the Xue siblings.

But this felt different.

"...Is something wrong with you?" Yuriko suddenly asked, stopping mid-step. She turned, placing a gentle hand on Ning Xue's forehead, her expression shifting from calm to sharp concern as she scanned the girl's entire being with a flicker of divine sense.

"What is it?" Ning Xue asked, voice tight with anxiety.

Yuriko's eyes widened in genuine confusion.