Chapter 107: Transcending the Chessboard, Seeing All Things Within Sight

“Boom!”

As the final slash collided, blades locked, a shockwave erupted—the ground shattered beneath their feet; between Ye Xuan and Aizen, blade light flashed like lightning, each strike slicing through the air with piercing sharpness.

But unlike before, this time Aizen’s rhythm unexpectedly faltered, while Ye Xuan’s every strike precisely targeted his weak points, even subtly suppressing Aizen’s offense.

Amidst the clashing blade light, Aizen’s brow twitched almost imperceptibly—Ye Xuan’s progress had outpaced even his expectations.

“Zheng—!”

With the final resonance of the sword, both sheathed their blades; Aizen stared at Ye Xuan, a faint smile forming on his lips.

“I never expected your sword art to advance so swiftly.”

“Even now, I may not be your match.”

Aizen was genuinely surprised; though he had anticipated Ye Xuan might surpass him in no time, he hadn’t expected it to happen this fast.

The last time they fought, Ye Xuan’s sword technique was strong—but still within Aizen’s control; now, merely a month later, Ye Xuan’s sword intent had grown so profound it subtly overshadowed him.

“And unlike last time, when your Wangquan sword intent was razor-sharp, this time there’s far more within it.”

Though the world’s system differs, strictly speaking, sword intent—a mystical concept—doesn’t exist in the Soul Reaper world; combat there relies primarily on sword techniques and momentum, still rooted in spiritual pressure.

Yet Aizen still sensed something unique in the way Ye Xuan’s blade moved.

Wind, water, wood, mountains, thunder—it was an indescribable sensation; though it was merely a sword, his vision seemed filled with all things under heaven and earth.

Had he not been certain Ye Xuan wouldn’t do such a thing, he might have thought himself hypnotized by Zangetsu.

In just one month, such monumental progress in sword art—what exactly had happened to Ye Xuan?

More than his sword technique, what truly intrigued Aizen was the subtle transformation in Ye Xuan himself—a shift in his very aura.

Previously, after entering a new realm, he had radiated an aloof detachment, instantly distinguishable from ordinary mortals; now, the figure standing before him exuded an odd sense of distance.

Not deliberate arrogance, nor feigned indifference—it was like a single splash of unexpected color in a traditional ink painting, naturally drawing every gaze.

Apathy toward all things? No—it was more as if he had ascended to a higher dimension, observing the world like a detached witness.

This posture bore resemblance to his own past self—once the strategist who manipulated all, standing above every pawn, viewing the board from beyond it, taking in all things at a glance.

But it was different.

If his past self had regarded himself as a god looking down upon mortals, then Ye Xuan now seemed more like one who had merged into something far greater.

“I want to know what caused this change in you.”

Aizen asked without hesitation.

He asked so directly because he knew that as a figurine, even if he understood these truths, they would have no impact on Ye Xuan.

“I merely used the Rat Talisman’s power to see more, from the perspective of the Heavenly Dao.”

“If one day you attain the rank of the Soul King, you’ll understand this transformation.”

Ye Xuan said calmly.

Though the Soul King in the Soul Reaper world differs fundamentally from an Emperor, it isn’t inaccurate to say the Soul King possesses a perspective akin to the Heavenly Dao.

As the source of power in the Soul Reaper world, the Soul King had seen the end of all things from the beginning.

If Aizen ever reached the Soul King’s level, he would naturally comprehend what Ye Xuan meant by “the perspective of the Heavenly Dao.”

Aizen also noticed that when Ye Xuan spoke, there was no hesitation—this candor stemmed not from trust or self-confidence, but from pure indifference.

And indeed, it was true.

Though Ye Xuan’s ideals didn’t align with Holy Kesa’s, he had not refuted one point she made.

“In the limited span of mortal life, few things are worth remembering; in their brief existence, they selectively forget their own deceit, lies, and betrayals, remembering only the glorious and brilliant moments.”

“But gods are different.”

“For deities with vast lifespans who embody the will of civilization, every word they speak and every choice they make reflects the civilization’s will.”

“Thus, gods do not lie, nor do they deign to lie.”

“When you one day possess a god’s mindset, you will be the same.”

Ye Xuan, of course, did not possess a “god’s mindset”—he had not grown so arrogant as to believe he could embody civilization’s will through his own.

Nor did he believe Holy Kesa had truly achieved “neither lying nor deigning to lie.”

At least regarding the Void, she and Hexi had studied it extensively—yet refused to acknowledge the Void, only recognizing “sub-biologicals.”

If Morgana had known sooner, she’d have called her a “bitch” twice over.

But Ye Xuan did not find Holy Kesa’s statement wrong—only that it demanded power beyond ordinary reach.

In the Hyperdimensional world, known space could barely produce a handful of third-generation gods; the Angel Civilization, possessing two fourth-generation divine bodies, over three third-generation divine bodies, and several to dozens of second-generation gods, towered above nearly all known civilizations.

Even the Soul Reaper Kar, before Holy Kesa’s withdrawal, had been forced to hide himself.

She certainly had the right to say such things.

But in this world, if she had descended earlier, perhaps she could have; if she arrived too late, after stronger beings had appeared—or if blue-star’s own warriors had risen above the Angel Civilization—she might have to reconsider.

Of course, at his current level on the blue-star, Ye Xuan truly had no need to care.

Aizen listened in silence, a faint smile curling his lips.

So that was it—this candor wasn’t trust, but transcendence beyond concern; just as humans don’t lie to ants, Ye Xuan didn’t care whether Aizen learned these truths.

No wonder he felt such similarity—yet—

“Loneliness isn’t pleasant, Ye Xuan.”

Having experienced it himself, Aizen spoke these words.

The highest beings stand alone—not because they love solitude, but because none of their kind walk beside them.

Without peers, no one can truly communicate with them.

He was such; so, too, Ye Xuan, in his eyes.

But Ye Xuan was luckier—in this world of dimensional invasion, no matter how high he rose, others even higher would eventually emerge.

His loneliness would be momentary, not eternal.

And he—

(End of Chapter)