80. The Throne’s Whisper

Ling Tian stood frozen before the Vanquished Throne, his heart pounding like war drums in his chest.

The battlefield stretched endlessly, corpses of gods and devils strewn across the desolate land. Ancient weapons, cracked and rusted, jutted out from the ground like gravestones.

And at the center of it all—the throne.

It wasn't just a seat of power. It was a relic of a forgotten era, a monument of defiance against fate itself.

Yet, as he stood before it, a whisper coiled around him like a serpent.

"Do you remember now?"

The voice echoed from the throne, deep and ancient, carrying the weight of countless eons.

Ling Tian clenched his fists.

"I don't know who you are," he said, his voice cold, "but I know one thing—whoever sealed my past is afraid of me knowing the truth."

The whisper laughed.

"Afraid? No… they are terrified."

A vision surged into his mind.

A younger version of himself, standing atop a tower of corpses. His azure and gold aura burned like twin stars, his eyes filled with sovereign might.

A figure knelt before him—a king whose crown had fallen.

"You are unfit to rule."

And then—he cut the man down.

The scene shifted.

A temple collapsed in flames, divine beings kneeling in despair. A woman, her face blurred by time, reached for him.

"You were never meant to return."

The vision shattered.

Ling Tian's breath came ragged. His fingers trembled as he reached toward the throne.

And then—

A hand stopped him.

Xu Qing'er.

She was standing beside him, her golden eyes filled with worry.

"Ling Tian," she whispered, "wake up."

He blinked.

The battlefield faded.

They were back in the village, standing in the town square. The old man was gone. The villagers had vanished.

Only the scent of burning incense remained.

Xu Qing'er's grip tightened around his wrist. "What did you see?"

Ling Tian exhaled slowly.

"…A glimpse of what was taken from me."

Her expression darkened. "And?"

His eyes flickered with a dangerous light.

"I'm going to take it back."

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