Chapter 13: The Jackpot Walks In (And Laughs Silently)

The Grand Hall of Scorching Welcome hung in a state of suspended terror. The air, thick with the Qi of Sunfire Phoenix Hearts and Void-Touched Leviathan, tasted like ash on the tongues of the Scarlet Lotus elite. Sect Master Kael, Soul Transformation Realm sovereign, sat rigid beside Zhao Tian, his hand trembling so violently the ten-millennia spirit wine threatened to slosh over the rim of the cup he held frozen near the "Esteemed Senior's" goblet. The Nascent Soul elders resembled statues carved from panic, their eyes glued to Zhao Tian, the absurdly named Long Wang beyond the archway, or the intricate ice sculpture of a Void Leviathan currently melting beside Bai Xue's untouched plate.

Zhao Tian, for his part, radiated an unnerving calm. He chewed another piece of the spatially infused steak, the Boundless Origin Qi effortlessly harmonizing the chaotic energies. He felt the weight of their fear, the crushing deference born from cosmic-scale misunderstanding. It was… convenient. Delicious, even. Like the steak.

Then, the air *changed*.

It wasn't a sound, not initially. It was a shift in the fundamental pressure of the hall. The roaring lava falls flanking the entrance seemed to dim, their fury momentarily subdued. The ambient heat dropped several degrees, replaced by a profound, icy stillness that had nothing to do with Bai Xue. The intricate defensive formations woven into the obsidian walls and ceiling flickered, their fiery runes guttering like candles in a sudden, cosmic draft.

Every Nascent Soul elder instinctively flinched, their centuries-honed senses screaming primal danger. Sect Master Kael froze entirely, his Soul Transformation aura instinctively retracting, pulling tight around him like a shield against an invisible deluge. Even the distant, watchful presence of Long Wang seemed to focus minutely, one colossal quasar-eye narrowing infinitesimally.

A figure appeared at the far end of the hall.

He didn't stride in. He didn't teleport with a flash. He simply *manifested*, as if stepping out from the fabric of the hall itself, resolving from swirling motes of condensed void and solidified starlight. He was ancient beyond measure, his form draped in tattered robes that seemed woven from captured nebulae and the echoes of dead stars. His skin was cracked obsidian, mapped with lines of searing white energy that pulsed with a rhythm older than mountains. But his eyes… when they opened, they weren't eyes. They were collapsing stars, singularities of impossible age and power, radiating a pressure that made the earlier presence of the dragon feel like a summer breeze. The frozen halo of annihilating tribulation energy that had crowned him during his awakening was gone, replaced by a subtle, terrifying *stillness* that bent reality around him.

**Half-Immortal. Shi Huang.**

He took a single, silent step forward. The obsidian floor *didn't* crack; it *revered*, flowing like liquid beneath his foot before solidifying again. The air itself seemed to bow. His gaze, filled with dying suns, swept the hall, lingering for a microsecond on the prostrate form of his Soul Transformation Sect Master, the trembling Nascent Souls, the unnervingly calm girl radiating pure Yin cold, before finally settling on Zhao Tian.

The silence was absolute. Oppressive. Even the frantic beating of mortal hearts in the kitchens seemed muffled.

Shi Huang inclined his head, a gesture of profound deference from a being who had transcended mortality itself. His voice, when it came, resonated not in the ears, but in the bones, in the dantian, in the very soul of every cultivator present. It was the sound of continents grinding, of stars sighing their last breath.

**"Esteemed Presence,"** he intoned, the words dust-laden yet crackling with transcendent power. **"This unworthy one, Shi Huang, greets you. The Scarlet Lotus Sect is… illuminated… by your celestial passage."**

Zhao Tian looked at him. Truly looked.

He saw the cracked obsidian skin humming with power that could unravel mountains. He felt the spatial distortion clinging to the Half-Immortal like a second skin, a subtle warping that defied conventional perception. He sensed the vast, cold reservoir of energy within Shi Huang, a sea compared to his own Peak Nascent Soul lake. This being had weathered the Void Tribulation and emerged *more*. He was the real deal. The pinnacle of known cultivation. The end boss.

Inside Zhao Tian's mind, a single, blazing thought detonated like a supernova:

***JACKPOT!***

The sheer, unadulterated, cosmic-scale *luck* of it! A *Half-Immortal*! Walking right up to him! Delivered on a platter of terrified sect politics and a dragon-shaped misunderstanding! Provoking this guy meant… what? Peak Half-Immortal? Early Profound Immortal? The system would *leap*! He could practically hear the "DING!" already, feel the surge of impossible power. The path to Cosmic Ascendant, to maybe, *finally*, getting the Book of Sage Wisdom to spill the beans on the Empyrean Taoist… it hinged on this ancient, terrifying being throwing the first punch.

The wave of euphoria was so intense, so utterly *ridiculous* given the context, that it bypassed his vocal cords entirely. It didn't emerge as a roar, a chuckle, or even a snort. It manifested as a silent, full-body convulsion of pure, internal hysteria.

Zhao Tian's shoulders began to tremble. Not with fear, but with the sheer, overwhelming force of suppressed laughter. His chest hitched silently. Tears, genuine tears of pure, unhinged mirth, welled up in his eyes, tracing paths down his cheeks. His face contorted into a rictus grin, wide and unsettling, his metallic-flecked eyes glinting with manic glee. He remained seated, perfectly still except for these silent tremors, staring straight at the terrifying Half-Immortal while his entire being vibrated with the cosmic joke only he understood.

The effect was… horrifying.

Bai Xue, sitting beside him, felt the tremor run through the obsidian bench. She looked up, her glacial eyes widening in pure, instinctive terror. She saw the tears, the impossible grin, the silent shaking. To her, it looked like the precursor to some unimaginable, reality-shattering rage. She shrank back, a tiny whimper escaping her lips, frost blooming violently across the table in front of her, encasing a half-eaten Phoenix Heart in instant ice.

Shi Huang felt it too. The silent tremors radiating from Zhao Tian weren't power; they were something else. Something profoundly unsettling. To his transcendent senses, honed in the crucible of the Void, it felt like… *amusement*. A silent, cosmic-scale laughter directed *at him*. The tears weren't of sorrow or anger, but of… *delight*? The grin wasn't predatory; it was the grin of someone who had just found the ultimate prize.

*He laughs?* Shi Huang's collapsing-star mind reeled. *At my greeting? At my deference? Is my existence… a jest to him?* The thought was more terrifying than any display of power. Power could be measured, perhaps placated. But capricious, silent amusement from a being associated with the Celestial Empyrean Dragon? That was the stuff of existential nightmares.

The Half-Immortal's own immense aura flickered, a barely perceptible tremor running through the spatial field around him. Centuries of transcendent calm warred with a surge of primal apprehension. He forced himself to maintain the deferential posture, his ancient mind racing.

He needed to *understand*. He needed to place this unfathomable being. Gathering his transcendent will, Shi Huang spoke again, his voice a careful modulation of respect and cautious inquiry.

**"Esteemed Presence,"** he began, the words vibrating with the weight of collapsed stars. **"This unworthy one… dares to inquire. Does the radiance that graces our humble sect… originate from the esteemed Nine Heavenly Sects?"**

He held his breath, metaphysically speaking. The Nine Heavens were the pinnacle of known, organized power. If this being was from there, it was terrifying but… *categorizable*. Protocol existed, however strained.

Zhao Tian, still riding the silent wave of his internal "JACKPOT!" celebration, managed to control the trembling enough to speak. He wiped a tear from his eye with the back of his hand, the gesture casual, almost dismissive. He looked directly into Shi Huang's collapsing-star gaze, his own eyes still glinting with residual manic glee.

"No," he said. Simple. Clear. Utterly devoid of elaboration.

The single syllable hit the hall like a spatial implosion.

*No.*

*Not from the Nine Heavenly Sects.*

The implications detonated in Shi Huang's transcendent consciousness. If not from the Nine Heavens… where? The Ten Earthly Sects were beneath consideration. Minor sects? Impossible. Rogue cultivator? Laughable.

There was only one realm left. The realm of myth, whispered about in the most forbidden archives of the Nine Heavens themselves. The realm beyond the established Dao. The realm of *True Immortals*.

*The Immortal Realm.*

Shi Huang's Half-Immortal core, a singularity of condensed power and hard-won transcendence, turned to ice. Absolute, soul-deep terror, the kind he hadn't felt since his nascent soul first faced the Void Tribulation's maw, flooded him. His carefully maintained spatial field wavered visibly, causing the air around him to shimmer and distort like heat haze over a furnace.

*An Immortal. A True Immortal. Walking among mortals. Riding the juvenile Empyrean Dragon. Laughing silently at my deference.*

The pieces slammed together with terrifying clarity. The casual naming of Long Wang. The impossible density of his bones (Divine Physique!). The terrifying sword intents that defied categorization. The spatial manipulation. The utter indifference to Soul Transformation and Nascent Soul power. The silent laughter at a Half-Immortal's greeting. It all pointed to one horrifying truth: This "Zhao Tian" wasn't a senior. He was an *entity* from a plane of existence utterly beyond Shi Huang's comprehension.

*If he is angered…* The thought was a cold dagger in Shi Huang's soul. *If my greeting offended… if my question displeased…* An Immortal's wrath wouldn't just destroy the Scarlet Lotus Sect. It wouldn't just erase Shi Huang. It could unravel the local Dao Domain. It could fracture reality itself. The legends spoke of such things – of Immortals flicking their sleeves and stars going dark, of their displeasure rewriting the laws of Qi.

Shi Huang's ancient, obsidian face, incapable of showing mortal pallor, seemed to absorb even more light, becoming a deeper, more profound void. The searing white lines across his skin dimmed momentarily. He bowed lower, deeper than before, a gesture of utter, abject submission from a being who had transcended mortality only to find himself an ant before a god.

**"This insignificant one…"** Shi Huang's voice, usually the grind of tectonic plates, was now a strained whisper echoing in the souls of everyone present, **"...profusely apologizes for the presumption of the question. The origin of your celestial radiance is beyond the ken of mortals and those who merely brush against immortality. We exist solely to serve, Esteemed Immortal Presence. Please…"** The word hung, laden with desperate hope, **"...consider this humble sect and this unworthy servant beneath your divine notice… unless it pleases you to command us."**

The Grand Hall was colder than the depths of Bai Xue's Glacier Heart. The Soul Transformation Sect Master looked ready to spontaneously combust from sheer terror. The Nascent Soul elders seemed to have stopped breathing. Bai Xue just stared at Zhao Tian, her earlier terror replaced by bewildered awe. Her Master… was an *Immortal*?

Zhao Tian looked at the profoundly bowed Half-Immortal, then at the petrified sect leadership, then at Bai Xue's wide eyes. The manic glee subsided, replaced by a slow, deep, utterly satisfied smirk. He leaned back in his obsidian chair, the sound of his Iron Bones shifting like mountains settling.

*Immortal Presence, huh?* he thought, the System humming eagerly within him. *Works for me.* He picked up his wine cup again, the spirit liquid glowing like captured starlight. This misunderstanding wasn't just convenient; it was the perfect springboard. Now, how best to provoke a Half-Immortal into attacking an "Immortal"... without getting instantly erased? The game had just entered its most deliciously dangerous phase. He took a sip, savoring the vintage and the sheer, absurd perfection of it all. The Jackpot was bowing before him, begging not to be annihilated. Zhao Tian couldn't have scripted it better himself.