An hour of flying later, Li Qiang directed me toward what had to be the most depressing religious site I'd ever seen.

The abandoned shrine sat in a clearing surrounded by withered trees, their branches reaching toward the sky like the skeletal fingers of some long-dead giant. The building itself was small and modest, built from gray stone that had probably been white once upon a time. Moss and ivy had claimed most of the walls, and several roof tiles had fallen to create gaps that let in shafts of dusty sunlight.

"This is perfect," I said, setting us down gently near the entrance. The isolation was exactly what I needed: close enough to the city that we could return quickly, but far enough that I wouldn't have curious onlookers if my experiments went sideways.

Li Qiang brushed dirt from his robes and looked around nervously. "Young Master, are you certain this place is suitable? The spiritual energy here feels... stagnant. Corrupted, even."

I could see what he meant. Unlike the vibrant conviction that saturated most of the realm, this place felt hollow, like an empty shell where belief used to live. It was probably a side effect of having a Disbeliever spend years here, systematically unraveling the faith that had once made this shrine a place of power.

"Actually, that makes it even better," I told him. "I need somewhere that won't interfere with my techniques."

As we walked closer to the shrine's entrance, Li Qiang suddenly stopped and pointed at something behind the building. "Young Master, that's... strange. I don't remember there being a boulder there during my last visit."

I followed his gaze and saw what he was talking about.

A large, rounded stone sat near the back wall of the shrine, probably about four feet tall and six feet across. It looked ordinary enough; weathered granite with patches of lichen growing on its surface.

Nothing particularly noteworthy about it.

"Perhaps it rolled down from the hills during the recent storms?" I suggested, pointing to the trail marks.

But Li Qiang's eyes had taken on that familiar gleam that I was starting to recognize in the inhabitants of this realm. The look that said they were about to make a completely ridiculous statement with absolute sincerity.

"Or perhaps," he said, his voice growing reverent, "the boulder appeared precisely because destiny knew you would need a suitable place to sit while conducting your divine preparations. The very earth itself has rearranged to accommodate your needs, Young Master!"

I stared at him for a long moment, trying to figure out if he was being serious or if this was some elaborate attempt at flattery.

In the cultivation world, servants and subordinates regularly engaged in shameless bootlicking, coming up with increasingly ridiculous explanations for why everything that happened was obviously proof of their master's greatness.

But from what I'd observed of this realm so far, and from Du Yanze's memories, the locals genuinely seemed to believe this kind of coincidence was not only possible but expected.

Which explained why Li Qiang's enthusiasm felt authentic rather than calculated, his conviction carrying the kind of certainty that suggested he really did think a random boulder had moved itself specifically to accommodate my meditation needs.

The thought was both fascinating and deeply unsettling.

"Li Qiang," I said carefully, "I am not Du Yanze. I don't require elaborate praise or fortune-telling about the placement of stones."

For a moment, it looked like he was going to argue. His mouth opened, probably to launch into an explanation about how the boulder's position clearly indicated celestial approval of my divine nature. But then something in my expression must have gotten through to him, because he closed his mouth and nodded.

"Of course, Young Master. My apologies for... stating the obvious."

"I need to focus without distractions," I continued, knowing that arguing with him any further would be pointless. "Can you stand guard at the entrance and make sure I'm not interrupted?"

Li Qiang straightened proudly. "Absolutely, Young Master. No one will disturb your cultivation." He paused, then added with obvious concern, "Should I be prepared for... unusual phenomena? Given your divine nature?"

"Probably," I admitted. "But don't interfere unless I specifically call for help."

He nodded and walked toward the shrine's entrance, taking up a position where he could watch the path we'd flown in on. I waited until he was far enough away that my experiments wouldn't distract him, then approached the boulder he'd pointed out.

The stone was actually in a perfect spot for what I had in mind. It was positioned to give me a clear view of the surrounding area while being mostly hidden from the main path by the shrine building. If any other cultivators showed up, I'd have plenty of warning and cover.

I settled into a meditation position on top of the boulder, noting that its surface was surprisingly smooth and comfortable. Li Qiang might have been onto something about it being conveniently placed, though I wasn't about to start attributing cosmic significance to geological accidents.

"Alright," I murmured to myself, closing my eyes and falling into the meditative breathing pattern I'd practiced thousands of times before. "Let's see how Xuan Yi matches up with my other energies."

The first step was understanding what exactly Xuan Yi was and how it functioned compared to the energy systems I was already familiar with. From what I'd observed during the confrontation with the Lu Clan cultivators, this realm's spiritual energy seemed to operate on completely different principles than qi.

In the cultivation world, qi was a fundamental force of nature that cultivators learned to manipulate through technique and understanding. It existed independently of human will, flowing according to natural laws that could be studied and mastered. A cultivator's strength came from their ability to channel and direct qi, not from their personal beliefs about how it should behave.

But Xuan Yi seemed to be something else entirely. Rather than manipulating an external energy source, cultivators in this realm appeared to be imposing their will directly onto reality itself. Their techniques succeeded not because they understood natural laws, but because they believed so strongly in their own importance that the universe bent to accommodate their expectations.

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It was like the difference between a scientist using physics to build a machine and a delusional person insisting that gravity should work differently just because they said so.

The really disturbing part was that in this realm, the delusional approach actually worked.

***

The Stone Emperor had been having what it considered a perfectly reasonable day, which naturally involved a great deal of contemplating its own inevitable rise to supreme power over all terrestrial matter.

It had begun the morning by traveling here from the Whispering Valley, rolling majestically across the countryside at a pace befitting its dignity—which was to say, very slowly and with tremendous gravity.

The journey had been necessary to escape the chaos of that ridiculous battle between the various human sects, with all their undignified shouting and wild Xuan Yi flinging.

Lesser stones might have found the spectacle entertaining, but the Stone Emperor had standards. It was, after all, over eight hundred years old and clearly the chosen representative of the earth itself.

Watching mortals wave their arms about and make flashy lights was beneath someone destined to grind entire civilizations to dust beneath its mighty form.

No, the Stone Emperor required peace and quiet for proper contemplation of its own greatness, specifically, detailed mental planning of how it would establish its inevitable empire.

There were so many important decisions to consider: which mountains would serve as regional capitals, how to organize the lesser rocks into an effective administrative hierarchy, what sort of tribute system to impose on the various human settlements.

It had even briefly considered stopping at a village to announce its divine nature to the inhabitants that it would soon rule over, but decided that peasants probably weren't worthy of such a revelation yet.

Better to establish its power base first, then graciously reveal itself to the masses who would undoubtedly build shrines in its honor.

This abandoned shrine had turned out to be perfect for such crucial strategic thinking.

The location provided excellent spiritual ambiance, with just the right amount of melancholy decay to complement the Stone Emperor's brooding magnificence. The withered trees created a properly dramatic atmosphere, their branches reaching toward the sky like supplicants begging for the Stone Emperor's attention. Even the cracked stone steps leading up to the main building seemed to acknowledge the superiority of their geological better.

Most importantly, the Stone Emperor had chosen this particular spot because the location felt spiritually significant.

According to the whispered legends it had overheard from passing travelers, this shrine had once housed a priest who became a Disbeliever: one of those pathetic creatures who lost faith in their own destiny and fell into spiritual corruption.

The irony was poetic.

Surely a place where a previous "chosen one" had failed so spectacularly would make an ideal staging ground for a true chosen one to begin their rise to power.

The Stone Emperor could practically feel the heavenly forces aligning to acknowledge this perfect symmetry. Where weakness had once dwelt, strength would now triumph. Where doubt had festered, certainty would flourish.

It had been settling into what promised to be a delightfully productive afternoon of megalomaniacal planning when the most outrageous thing imaginable had occurred.

Some insignificant biped had arrived and had simply... sat down. On the Stone Emperor.

Without permission.

Without even acknowledging its obvious superiority.

Without so much as a respectful greeting or request for an audience.

Did this mortal not recognize greatness when he saw it?

Could he not sense the incredible power contained within this perfectly sculpted granite form?

The audacity was beyond comprehension.

Just as the Stone Emperor had been preparing to reveal its true nature, to demonstrate the folly of treating a destined ruler as a mere chair, something strange began to happen.

A foreign energy seeped into its consciousness, red as fresh blood and hungry as a starving predator. The moment it touched the Stone Emperor's awareness, everything began to change.

The certainty that had sustained it since awakening started to waver. The conviction in its own destined greatness began to crack like ice under sudden pressure.

What if, the insidious red energy whispered through its thoughts, you're not actually special at all?

The Stone Emperor tried to reject the thought, to maintain its unwavering belief in its own importance. But the red energy was relentless, seeping into every crevice of its consciousness like water finding its way through stone.

Look at yourself, the energy seemed to say. You're just a rock. A chunk of mineral that developed delusions of grandeur after being struck by lightning. You can't move under your own power. You can't speak. You can't even see properly. What kind of emperor are you?

The Stone Emperor's sense of self began to crumble. The magnificent destiny it had imagined for itself suddenly seemed absurd, the product of a damaged consciousness rather than genuine divine calling. How could a piece of granite rule anything? How could something that couldn't even roll uphill without assistance claim imperial authority?

You're nothing, the red energy whispered with growing intensity. You're less than nothing. At least other rocks don't pretend to be more than they are. You're just a delusional fragment of silicon and carbon, desperately inventing importance for yourself because you can't accept the meaninglessness of your existence.

The assault on its beliefs was devastating.

The Stone Emperor felt its consciousness beginning to fray at the edges, its sense of identity dissolving like salt in water. Over eight hundred years of certainty and purpose were being stripped away, leaving behind only the stark reality of what it actually was: an ordinary boulder that had briefly developed delusions of grandeur.

It was about to surrender to the inevitable return to simple mineral existence when the red energy suddenly vanished, replaced by something entirely different.

Blue energy flowed into its consciousness like cool water in a desert, soothing the damage left by the red assault. But this energy carried its own message, and it was just as overwhelming as the previous attack had been.

You are blessed, the blue energy whispered. You have been chosen to serve a being of unimaginable power and wisdom. Your existence has meaning beyond your wildest dreams, but not in the way you originally believed.

The Stone Emperor's shattered sense of self began to coalesce around this new understanding. It wasn't meant to be a ruler; it was meant to be a faithful servant to something infinitely greater than itself.

Look at the energy flowing through you, the blue energy continued. This is power beyond mortal comprehension, beyond the pathetic Xuan Yi that these locals play with. You are being touched by forces that operate on scales these insects cannot imagine. Your purpose is to facilitate this greatness, to provide a stable foundation for works that will reshape reality itself.

The revelation was intoxicating.

Yes, this made perfect sense!

The Stone Emperor had known it was special, but it had misunderstood the nature of its specialness.

How could it have been so foolish as to think it was meant to rule?

All eight centuries of growth and development, was preparation for this singular moment of purpose - to serve as a throne for a higher being!

It was the most important responsibility any rock had ever been given.

Then, as suddenly as it had arrived, the blue energy faded away.

The Stone Emperor was left alone with its thoughts, and for the first time since awakening, it experienced something it had never felt before: genuine terror.

The being sitting upon it had demonstrated casual control over forces that could rebuild or destroy consciousness at will.

The red energy had nearly stripped away its entire sense of self, while the blue energy had rebuilt it along completely different lines. And both had been deployed with what felt like casual indifference, as if the being was merely testing the effects rather than trying to accomplish anything specific.

What kind of monster had such power?

What manner of creature could manipulate the very foundations of awareness as easily as a mortal might flex their fingers?

The Stone Emperor began to sweat; an impossible feat for a rock, but fear had a way of making the impossible seem mundane.

Every instinct he possessed was screaming at him to flee, to roll away as fast as his spherical form could carry him and never look back. Yet it forced itself to remain perfectly still, not daring to move even the tiniest fraction of an inch. It didn't know what this being was, where it had come from, or what it intended to do next.

But it knew, with certainty, that its survival depended on being the best possible meditation seat that any boulder had ever been.

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