I gain ten years' worth of cultivation every day, and even geniuses will only see my doorstep!

The entrance to the eighth heaven was a slowly rotating halo of light. The moment Qin Yuan stepped across it, a crisp metallic clang echoed beneath his feet.

He looked down. Countless gears filled the entire space, large and small, densely packed, like the interior of some enormous machine. Gears meshed with each other, layer upon layer, extending in all directions, seemingly without end. Some gears spun rapidly, only blurry afterimages visible; others were almost still, each tooth meshing only after a long interval. The air was filled with the smell of rust and machine oil, and a deep resonance, like the heartbeat of a giant beast.

Lin Qing'er stepped on a gear and swayed. Qin Yuan reached out to support her waist. After she regained her balance, she looked around and whispered, "This place reminds me of the Sacred Domain of Destiny, but it's not quite the same."

"The Sacred Domain of Destiny is the thread," Qin Yuan said. "This is the wheel."

At the center of the gear train, light began to converge. Not from a single point, but rising simultaneously from the axis of each gear, like millions of threads woven into a cloth. The light coalesced into a human shape—no, not a human shape, but an outline composed of gears, pointers, and springs. Its body was transparent, with countless gears turning inside, each engraved with a name. Qin Yuan didn't recognize any of those names, but he knew they were the names of every living being in the myriad worlds.

"The Eighth Heaven." The voice didn't seem to come from a throat, but rather from the noise of gears grinding together. "Gatekeeper, Wheel of Fate. The fact that you've made it this far means the first seven pieces of trash are all dead."

Qin Yuan released Lin Qing'er and stepped forward. "Are you going to stop me?"

"No," said the Wheel of Fortune, "I want you to choose."

Two cracks appeared on the surface of the roulette wheel, from which light poured forth, paving two paths. The left path was paved with golden bricks, leading to a white gate of light. The right path was paved with gray stone slabs, leading to complete darkness, from which the faint sound of wind could be heard, like someone weeping.

"Choose correctly, and you'll ascend to the Ninth Heaven. Choose incorrectly, and you'll plummet into the Abyss of Myriad Realms." The gears of the Wheel of Fate accelerated their rotation. "Choose."

Lin Qing'er stared at the road to her right. The darkness on that road seemed to beckon her, not with sound, but with something more primal—like an echo from the depths of memory, like an instinct flowing in her blood. Her foot unconsciously shifted half a step to the right.

"That road," her voice tightened, "seems to be related to me."

"The memories of the Azure Emperor," said the Wheel of Fate. "The karma you owe, the truth of your past life, the reason for your reincarnation—all lie at the end of that path. Want to know? Go there, and you will find out."

Lin Qing'er's fingers curled up. She wanted to know. For billions of years, she had been tormented by the name "Azure Emperor," suffocated by the karma of her past lives. She wanted to know what she had done wrong, why she had to endure ninety-nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine lifetimes of reincarnation.

"Take the left." Qin Yuan's voice came from behind her, not loud, but steady.

Lin Qing'er turned to look at him. He didn't explain, but simply held out his hand. Palm up, fingers slightly spread, waiting for her.

She put her hand on it.

The two stepped onto the left-hand path. The golden bricks creaked dully under their feet, like walking on hollow wooden planks. They walked for a long time, so long that Lin Qing'er thought she had been walking for years, before the road finally came to an end.

A wall. White, smooth, without any gaps. No door, no window, not even a crack.

The path behind them had vanished. The gray stone slabs, the dark abyss, the Wheel of Fate—all gone. Only this wall remained, and the two people standing before it.

"You've chosen the wrong path." The voice of the Wheel of Fate came from within the walls, laced with mockery. "The left leads to the abyss, the right to the ninth heaven."

The ground began to sink. Golden bricks fell one after another, revealing the void below. Countless gray tentacles stretched out from the void, wrapping around Qin Yuan's ankles and dragging him downwards. Lin Qing'er was also entangled; the tentacles were cold, slippery, and like snakes.

Qin Yuan did not struggle. He looked down at the tentacles, then looked up at the wall.

"You said you chose the wrong one," he said. "But if I had chosen the right side, would you have said the right side was the wrong one?"

The grinding of the wheel of fate paused for a moment.

"Yes," it said, "because fate has no right or wrong. Whatever you choose is wrong. The outcome is already predetermined; you're just going through the motions."

"Then I won't choose it."

"Not choosing is also a choice. The result of not choosing is an abyss."

Qin Yuan smiled. He crouched down and reached out to grab the gray tentacle wrapped around his ankle. The tentacle twisted in his palm, trying to break free, but he held on tightly.

"You say fate has no right or wrong," he said, "but the people walking on it do. The road is dead, but people are alive. How you build the road is your business. Which way you go is my business."

He stood up and released the tentacles. The tentacles didn't attack him; instead, they retreated into the void, as if frightened away by something.

Qin Yuan drew the Xingtian Sword. The golden light on the sword was brighter than ever before. He didn't slash at the tentacles, nor at the wall, but at his feet—at the central axis of the gear wheel.

The sound of metal snapping was piercing, like fingernails scraping against an iron plate. The axle broke. The gears, freed from their restraints, began to spin wildly, colliding, shattering, and flying everywhere. Iron filings rained down on Qin Yuan's body, face, and hands.

The Wheel of Fate began to twist. Its internal gears no longer meshed, but jammed together, emitting a sharp, grinding sound. "You've gone mad! You've destroyed the Eighth Heaven!"

"It's not destruction," Qin Yuan said, "it's demolition. I'll tear down the lousy road you built, and I'll walk on it myself."

The second sword strike aimed at the core of the Wheel of Fortune. Gears shattered, hands snapped, and the spring broke. The Wheel of Fortune, like a collapsing clock tower, crumbled from the top, fragments falling and crashing onto the gears, kicking up a cloud of rust.

"There's...more..." Its voice grew weaker and weaker, finally disappearing into the sound of iron filings falling to the ground.

The eighth heaven collapsed. Gears fell, the ground shattered, and the void closed. A new light curtain appeared before Qin Yuan, white and brighter than all the previous ones.

Lin Qing'er hugged his waist from behind, her face pressed against his back.

"I almost chose the right side just now," she said in a muffled voice.

"I know."

"Aren't you going to stop me?"

"You chose the left side."

Lin Qing'er buried her face even deeper.

The Ninth Heaven has no ground, no sky, and nowhere to stand. There is only a wall of light, arising from the void and extending into the void, with no boundaries visible in any direction. The wall is white, but that white is not a color; it is "emptiness"—like what remains after all colors have been removed.