Ascension of The Unholy Immortal

Liang staggered backward, his mind racing to make sense of what was happening. This… entity? God? Whatever it was, it exuded an aura of familiarity, as though buried deep within his subconscious he knew exactly who—or what—it was. Yet the truth refused to surface, lurking just out of reach.

The figure threw back its head and laughed—a sound that reverberated through the garden, shaking leaves and sending ripples across the crystalline pool. The laughter was wild, unhinged, filled with both triumph and madness. When it finally subsided, the figure lowered its head, fixing Liang with those unnerving blue eyes once more.

"You," it said, pointing a slender finger at him. "You have done well. Better than even you realize." The words dripped with mockery, as though implying that Liang had been nothing more than a pawn in some grand design. "But tell me… do you truly understand what you've unleashed?"

Liang opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out— He had made a grave mistake.

The figure stepped forward, its movements fluid and graceful despite its translucent form. As it approached, the orchid's petals quivered, releasing more threads of light that wrapped around the figure like ribbons, strengthening its presence.

"They used to call me Frostfall God, And thanks to your unwitting efforts, I have returned ."

A cold dread settled into Liang's chest. The Frostfall Ancient God—the same being whose blood he had introduced into the spirit milk, the same one slaughtered by Dong Jue eons ago—was now standing before him, reborn and fully conscious. All the pieces clicked into place: the old man's mysterious artifact, the memories of the dwarf ancestor, the transformation of the orchid… everything had led to this moment.

In fact, for some reason, even Liang planting the orchid in his Inner Universe seemed to have been anticipated—or perhaps even accepted—by this ancient being. In the outside world, such a resurrection would have been utterly impossible, undoubtedly triggering a forbidden heavenly tribulation of catastrophic proportions. However, within the confines of his own universe, no such laws existed to prevent it—yet.

The absence of external constraints should have given Liang an overwhelming advantage, but as he stared at the Frostfall Ancient God's grinning visage, unease coiled around him like a vice.

The god tilted its head, studying him with detached curiosity, as though examining an insect. " Nine Revolution Era Orchid is no mere Immortal plant, It is a fragment of my soul, preserved across millions of years. Each petal represents a shard of my essence, waiting to be reunited. Your meddling completed the process prematurely—but perhaps fate intended it this way all along."

Liang clenched his fists, sweat beading on his forehead despite the coolness of the space around him. This was his Universe—a realm where he should have been omnipotent, its laws bending to his will. Yet, even here, the presence of the Frostfall Ancient God disrupted everything.

"You think this is coincidence? Your actions, your choices—they were all part of my design. Even your acquisition of my blood... it wasn't chance. It was inevitability."

Liang frowned slightly, his features tightening as he forced himself to remain calm. Panic was a luxury he couldn't afford, not in this moment. Though he told himself that everything the Frostfall Ancient God had said was likely nothing more than deception, But doubt gnawed at him nonetheless. Had everything truly been orchestrated by this ancient being? Was his discovery of the jade case, the memories of the old man, and even the cultivation of the Nine Revolutions Era Orchid—all of it preordained?

"No, This is my universe. You are nothing but a soul fragment at most, it's impossible for you to have anticipated everything."

He understands exactly what this being is attempting to accomplish, and he is determined not to let it sway his thoughts or cloud his judgment.

The Frostfall Ancient God chuckled, "A fragment? Perhaps. But fragments can grow, given the right nourishment." His gaze shifted to the orchid, now glowing brighter than ever, its petals pulsing rhythmically as if synchronized with some cosmic heartbeat. "And oh, how beautifully you've nurtured me. The spirit milk, my own blood—combined, they've acted as a catalyst for my rebirth. All thanks to you, little creator."

With those words, the god raised a hand, and the fabric of the universe trembled. Stars dimmed, planets cracked under unseen pressure, and threads of spiritual energy that Liang had woven into existence began unraveling before his eyes. The once-stable boundaries of his Inner Universe faltered, their integrity compromised. Laws he had established began to fracture, replaced by something alien, something colder.

Liang reacted instinctively, summoning torrents of qi from every corner of his universe. They coalesced into massive constructs: ethereal chains, walls of light, and weapons forged from pure spiritual essence. With a roar, he unleashed them against the Frostfall Ancient God, each strike potent enough to shatter mountains or obliterate lesser beings. But the god merely stood there, unflinching, as though the attacks were no more than a gentle breeze.

"Is this the limit of your power?" the Frostfall Ancient God asked mockingly, tilting his head. "You've grown strong for a mortal, I'll admit. But strength alone won't save you. This isn't about brute force—it's about understanding. And you, understand nothing."

As if to prove his point, the god extended a single finger. A thread of golden light shot forth, striking one of the runic arrays Liang had painstakingly embedded into the landscape. In an instant, the array inverted, its purpose twisted. Instead of reinforcing the garden, it began siphoning energy—not from the environment, but from Liang himself. Pain lanced through him as he felt his life force being drained, his connection to his own universe weakening.

Desperation clawed at Liang's mind. He poured every ounce of focus into resisting, channeling the rawest depths of his spiritual reservoirs to counteract the drain. Slowly, agonizingly, he managed to sever the link, collapsing to one knee as exhaustion washed over him, and for the first time, fear crept into his heart.