There was a lot of meaning in the ancestor’s words.

The arrangement my mother had left behind.

The things I had gained while searching for the Divine Tree and clashing with generals.

I thought about them and placed my hand on my chest.

Sssssss...

The vessel that I could no longer feel.

Fortunately, even though my vessel was gone, my soul remained.

I didn’t know what was keeping it together, but—

My soul hadn’t dispersed, it still swirled inside me.

And within it, I could still feel all the energies I had acquired so far.

The fire energy of Nine Flames Firewheel Art.

It couldn’t be activated, but it still existed within my body.

The sword qi of Mount Hua.

Even though there wasn’t much of it, it remained within my soul.

The aura of Tua Pacheonmu and the demonic energy also still lingered.

Different energies that had remained without clashing.

I could feel them all clearly—

But among them, there was one presence that felt completely different.

It was neither internal energy, sword qi, battle aura, nor demonic energy.

Something separate from all of them.

The nameless energy I had obtained from the Divine Tree.

Just as I started to wonder if this was the arrangement my mother had left behind—

“That is Shingeok (Divinity).”

The ancestor spoke as if confirming my thoughts.

“...Divinity?”

So this energy was called Divinity?

If I took the word literally, it was the height of arrogance. The status of a god?

Could something like that really be the name of an energy?

“What is Divinity?”

I now knew that the energy from the Divine Tree was called Divinity.

But what was it?

What was it, that my mother had placed inside me as an arrangement?

“Divinity is, quite literally, Divinity.”

“...That’s the most useless explanation I’ve ever heard.”

Was he even trying to explain? My patience was wearing thin.

Did he want to fight? Because at this point, I’d prefer it. Fighting would be better than hearing this nonsense.

But the ancestor, as if sensing my irritation, continued his explanation.

“Those with low levels of existence are unable to raise the grade of their soul and eventually die as they are.”

Crackkkk.

The sky split apart once again.

At that moment, I felt a tremor in my body.

Buzzzzzzzzz.

“Ugh—!”

The pain forced me to my knees.

I hadn’t felt anything before, but now, each time the sky shattered, the pain struck me.

I swallowed hard as a tearing sensation racked my body. Despite that, the ancestor continued his explanation without care.

“It is natural. Stature (level of existence) is something that has been determined from the start. Without a miracle, it can never change. However.”

The ancestor’s gaze shifted.

Toward Shin Noya, who was looking at me with a pitiful expression.

“Rarely, very rarely, even in the vast span of eternity, there are those who attempt to break through the Stature barrier.”

Those who transcend the order set by the world and raise their existence.

“People born with an extraordinary soul, who, in the mere blink of an eye that is their lifetime, shatter the thick walls of Stature through endless enlightenment and conviction.”

Rumble...!

The sky wasn’t just splitting now—it was collapsing entirely.

Beyond my bent knees, the pain was growing unbearable.

It was so intense that even holding onto my consciousness was becoming difficult.

“The power gained from such a rise in Stature—that is Divinity.”

“Haaah...!”

“It is also one of the conditions to become a Master—or what you call a Calamity.”

“...!”

My trembling consciousness barely held on at the mention of Calamity.

That Divinity was required to become a Master?

“Of course, the Master is an existence dictated by the world itself. Even if someone raises their Stature, not everyone can become a Master. In the end, the Master is chosen directly by the world.”

Drip...

The ancestor knelt down to match my gaze.

He was nothing but fire in human shape, yet I could tell instinctively.

The spot I was staring at—those were his eyes.

“Now then, descendant. What do you think of Zhongyuan?”

“That’s...”

“The punishment the world laid upon Zhongyuan was, clearly, to prevent anyone from raising their Stature. The world didn’t like it. It despised the idea of someone defying its judgment by raising their Stature through conviction in a world that was meant to be erased.”

A great achievement.

Raising one’s Stature with their own strength was a feat of immense magnitude.

The ancestor continued his explanation.

“So then, in a world without a Master, where no one could raise their Stature... who do you think had to take on that role?”

Hearing that, I let out a tired sigh before answering.

“...The Gu family?”

“Correct.”

“...”

“The world cannot sustain itself without a Master. That is why the role of the Gu family is crucial in Zhongyuan.”

Things that could only be understood once one became the head of the Gu family.

Was this what the ancestor was trying to tell me?

“What lies beneath the Gu family’s land is a different matter, but setting that aside... The reason why the direct line of the Gu family is free from the restriction placed upon raising Stature—”

Crackle.

The red flames burned, slowly feeding the ashen embers.

“—is ultimately to act as a replacement for the missing Master, to prevent the world from collapsing.”

“...That’s some real bullshit.”

Even through the pain, I let out a bitter laugh.

So the reason I was able to transcend Stature—

Was because I was acting as a substitute Master in a world that had lost its Master?

“...That means.”

I recalled the ancestor before me.

And I thought of my grandfather, who resembled him.

“...Then that old man—he might as well be the Master of Zhongyuan?”

If the Gu family had been acting as a replacement for the Master—

Then, recalling what I had felt when I met my grandfather, the conclusion was obvious.

All the Masters I had met so far had an overwhelming presence.

Back then, I hadn’t realized it.

But now I understood.

The feeling I had when I met my grandfather—

It wasn’t much different from the Masters I had encountered.

That meant—

‘My grandfather is the Master of Zhongyuan.’

Or at least, its acting Master.

That was the only logical conclusion.

Moreover—

‘The reason Grandfather commanded Father to carry out his duty...’

To quickly raise me to Young Lord and prepare me to ascend as the next Patriarch—

‘...Was it because he had to place him as the next Master?’

Because Father, the current Patriarch, needed to ascend to the position of Master.

If the duty of the Gu Clan was to continuously act as a substitute for the Master, then that interpretation seemed correct.

“Master, huh...”

At my words, the ancestor made a thoughtful expression.

“You are not wrong. That is not an incorrect statement. However—”

Though he seemed to acknowledge it, there was something he found unsatisfactory, and so he corrected one thing.

“Not Master—Key. That would be a more appropriate term.”

“Key?”

“Yes, the Key.”

Key?

It was a rather ambiguous term. I frowned at the choice of words, as it didn’t seem particularly connected to the Master.

“The one who becomes the Patriarch of the Gu Clan will come to fully understand the duty of our lineage.”

The ancestor looked at me and continued.

“And when one steps down from the position of Patriarch, it means they have grasped the Key.”

“...What do you mean? Holding the Key— cough!”

I stopped mid-sentence, choking on my own breath.

Crack—!

The same sound that echoed from all directions was now coming from within my own body.

With trembling eyes, I looked down at my hands. Cracks had formed.

From those cracks, searing heat was spilling out.

Blue flames {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} flickered and swayed.

I clenched my fists, trying to stop the cracks from spreading by sheer force of will.

Yet even in such a state, the ancestor continued speaking.

“Yes, the Key.”

“What...?”

“You will come to understand this naturally once you take on the duty of our lineage, so I will not bother explaining it now. What truly matters is the choice you will make.”

Flick.

The ancestor moved his hand as he spoke. From the tip of his fingers, a small ember ignited.

The flames surged forth, enveloping my body. Then, the breaking flesh started to mend itself.

No—rather than truly healing, it felt more like being held together by pressure, keeping the cracks from widening any further.

“Right now, Divinity is embedded within you. That is what is tearing your body apart.”

“Haaah...”

With the pain subsiding, I was finally able to exhale.

“A tragic thing. Forcibly stuffing you with Divinity that doesn’t even suit you—look at the result. It was an excessive gamble.”

“...It’s not like I asked for this. What kind of bullshit is this?”

“I never said it was your greed. If anything, it was closer to your mother’s greed. Didn’t I tell you? Something that was never meant to be placed within you has been implanted.”

“...Is this really such a big issue?”

“The Gu Clan’s soul has always been meant to house only a specific type of Divinity. It has been passed down for generations. Nothing else should ever be contained within it...”

Whoosh.

The flames surrounding my body wavered slightly.

I could feel my soul reacting to the fire.

“The reckless actions of the Dragon Lord, or more precisely Dragon Emperor and the arrangement left by your mother—these two factors intertwined. It seems intentional. And because of that, the timeline has been accelerated.”

“...Accelerated?”

“The moment when you would become a Calamity.”

“What?”

“You already know, don’t you? You were always meant to become a Calamity. That was the fate decided by the world—the final outcome of Zhongyuan.”

I had heard this before.

So many times, to the point that my ears bled from repetition.

“The original timing was set for the moment you surpassed the position of Patriarch and ascended to the role of Substitute Master. Once that happened, your fate would have been sealed—you would have become the Calamity.”

“...!”

Hearing those words, I gasped.

That was the set timing?

‘So, if I had taken Grandfather’s position...’

That would have been the moment I turned into a Calamity?

A suffocating realization.

“That was how it should have happened. That was the predetermined fate.”

The ancestor stated it as if it were an absolute fact.

But the moment I heard those words, a question surfaced in my mind.

‘If it was fate, then why didn’t it happen?’

In my previous life, I had never even reached the position of Patriarch, let alone my grandfather’s seat.

The circumstances had never allowed it.

“It was supposed to happen, but fate was twisted. A miserable soul, stubborn beyond reason, tore apart the very framework of fate. No matter how many times they tried, no matter how many times they failed, they persisted with desperate tenacity.”

“A miserable soul...?”

“There is one, is there not? The very reason you never became Patriarch. The one who went to absurd lengths, to the point of interfering with the very fabric of time.”

“...Ah?”

At the ancestor’s words, I immediately thought of someone.

The reason I had never become Patriarch.

The reason I was sent back in time.

It was all the doing of one person.

“...Cheonma?”

The Demonic Cult Leader—Cheonma.

She came to mind.