Zhuo hovered just beyond the massive, shimmering barrier encasing Earth, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
To any ordinary observer, he looked calm.
Unbothered.
Like a traveler pausing to take in the view.
But internally?
He was groaning.
"Ahh, man… What do I do now?"
His voice drifted through the emptiness, swallowed by the infinite silence of space.
For a few moments, he simply floated there, lazily staring at the massive energy dome before him, waiting—as if the universe itself would kindly provide an answer.
It didn't.
Typical.
Zhuo groaned, dragging a hand down his face.
Normally, he'd at least make an effort to figure out who the hell had wrapped his planet in this oversized energy wall.
Normally.
But today?
He just wasn't in the mood.
Whoever set this thing up wasn't weak. That much was obvious.
If he wanted to shatter it, he could.
It would take effort, sure, but not impossible.
Still, why would he do that?
Why break something that wasn't necessarily meant for him?
He didn't know whether this barrier was protecting or imprisoning his planet, but that wasn't the point.
Destroying it without knowing the full picture would be dumb.
And Zhuo?
Wasn't dumb.
His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied the structure.
Whoever made this?
Knew what they were doing.
This wasn't some hastily thrown-together defense mechanism.
It was ancient—woven with laws that went beyond just keeping intruders out.
A force field of this scale wasn't just energy—it was law.
A structure that dictated how existence functioned within its reach.
He had seen barriers like this before.
Some were meant to protect.
Some were meant to contain.
And some?
Were meant to erase anything that touched them.
Luckily, this one wasn't that extreme.
But it was still strong.
If he really wanted to, he could break it.
It would take time, effort, and probably some level of annoyance.
But breaking through? Wouldn't be impossible.
Even so—
"Yeah, no. That's too much work."
Zhuo wasn't in the mood for a dramatic entrance.
Why go through all that effort just to tear apart a barrier that might be here for a reason?
Especially when he could just… slip through.
Like a mortal.
It wasn't his preferred method of entry—
But it was the easiest.
It would mean lowering his presence, letting himself blend in as something weaker, something small enough to pass through unnoticed.
Which led to the real problem.
He sighed in exhaustion.
"Ahh, man…" He ran a hand through his hair, staring at the swirling blue and green planet below. "What a pain."
Of all the things he had been forced to do throughout his absurdly long existence, this was—without a doubt—one of his least favorite things to do.
No, scratch that.
It was the absolute worst.
Even dying would've been less annoying.
Because if he wanted to step foot on Earth—if he wanted to return home without turning it into cosmic dust—then he had no choice but to do the one thing he loathed.
Abandon himself.
Become mortal.
Again.
Zhuo flexed his fingers, staring at his hands.
Right now, he was whole.
Power thrummed within him, an ocean so vast and boundless that even the cosmos shuddered at his presence.
His mere existence twisted reality.
The rules of time and space bent around him, acknowledging his will.
He was not a god.
Not an angel.
Not a celestial being bound by the constraints of divinity.
He was beyond that.
And yet—
He had to throw it all away.
Again.
Not just suppress it. Not just "seal" a portion of his strength.
He had to tear it all away.
Reduce himself to a mere fragment of what he truly was.
Because if he didn't—if he stepped onto Earth in his current form—he wouldn't just damage the planet.
He would erase it.
Not in some grand explosion.
Not in a fiery spectacle of destruction.
No.
It would just cease to exist.
Like a single candle flame snuffed out in an endless void.
No screams. No destruction.
Just nothingness.
And that was why he had no choice.
If he wanted to return—if he wanted to walk among mortals again—
He had to become one.
And he hated it.
Zhuo sighed as he hovered in place.
This wasn't the first time he had taken a mortal form.
And it wouldn't be the last.
But no matter how many times he did it, no matter how many lifetimes he spent trapped in weak, fragile bodies—
It never got easier.
Because this wasn't just "lowering" his power.
It wasn't like sealing away his strength and saving it for later.
It was unnatural.
Like stuffing a burning star into a glass bottle.
Or forcing an ocean into a single drop of water.
It was wrong.
His very existence rebelled against it.
And yet—
It had to be done.
Turning mortal wasn't the problem.
It was returning that made things… complicated.
Because no matter how much he stripped away his power, how much he buried his true self beneath layers of limitation, it wasn't gone.
It couldn't be gone.
Zhuo wasn't some weak, reincarnated cultivator grinding his way back to strength like this was some cheap novel plot.
His real self didn't disappear just because he decided to tone it down for a while.
It was still there. Waiting. Watching. Unfathomable.
And at any moment—whenever he wished—he could reclaim it.
It wasn't even difficult.
No elaborate rituals.
No tedious training arcs.
No divine trials of suffering.
It was as simple as snapping his fingers.
Just a thought.
And he'd be back.
But there was a problem.
A massive problem.
Because the moment he reversed the process and ascended back to his true form—
Everything would die.
And no, not in a dramatic, tragic hero sacrifices himself to protect the world kind of way.
It would be instant. Unstoppable.
The sky would tear apart.
The oceans would boil.
Mountains would collapse into dust.
Time would fracture. Space would twist.
And before anyone could even scream, reality itself would cease to exist.
And the worst part?
It wasn't even on purpose.
Zhuo wouldn't have to launch a grand attack or unleash some catastrophic power.
Just the mere act of returning to himself was enough to erase the world.
Because beings like him—beings that stood above the heavens, beyond the gods—
Couldn't exist in fragile realms.
Their presence alone broke the rules of existence.
So no.
Zhuo wasn't just sealing away his strength to start some low-level, rise-to-the-top journey.
He was doing it because he had no other choice.
If he didn't, the world would shatter before he even stepped foot on it.
And that wasn't even the worst part.
If something—or someone—were to threaten him while he was in this fragile mortal state…
He'd be powerless to stop it.
Well—mostly.
Killing him would still be next to impossible.
Beings like him didn't just die.
No curse, blade, or energy in existence could simply erase him.
But if something strong enough came after him while he was stuck in this limited shell?
Yeah.
He'd be completely screwed.
Because the only way to fight back was to ascend.
And ascending?
Would wipe out the very thing he was trying to protect.
So the second he stepped into mortality—
He was trapped.
Earth became his cage.
And until he left the planet's surface, he wouldn't be able to reclaim himself.
Unless, of course…
He decided Earth wasn't worth keeping.
But that was a last resort.
For now, he had no choice.
And yet—
Zhuo didn't hesitate.
Because if there was one thing he hated more than throwing away his power…
It was taking the boring route.
If he wanted to avoid all this trouble, he could have just stayed in the void.
He could have stood out here, outside of Earth's barrier, and reached into the planet from a distance.
He could have meddled in fate from afar. Pulled some strings. Bent the course of events to his liking.
But that wasn't his style.
"Ahhh… whatever," Zhuo muttered, stretching his arms over his head. "No point in overthinking it."
Then, with an exasperated sigh—
He let go.
And the change was instant.
Zhuo felt it immediately.
His body—his real self—was ripped away.
His power, his very essence, unraveled.
It wasn't painless.
And it sure as hell wasn't comfortable.
Because Zhuo wasn't meant to be human.
For someone like him—an entity who had long since abandoned the shackles of mortality—this was a curse.
And yet—
The cosmos complied.
Because even the universe acknowledged his will.
Even the laws of reality bent to his decision.
And in an instant—
His transformation was complete.
Zhuo hovered in place.
Still in space.
Still outside Earth's barrier.
But now—
He was mortal.
The change was immediate.
His body—once an untouchable, absolute entity—now felt heavy.
Weak.
Constrained.
Like he was wrapped in chains.
And worst of all?
He could feel pain.
Zhuo scowled.
He clenched his fist, flexing his fingers like they weren't his own.
He hated this.
"Ugh," he muttered, rolling his shoulders. "I forgot how much this sucked."
Then—
He sneezed.
A completely human sneeze.
" I hate this already," he grumbled, rubbing his nose.
For the first time in millennia, he could actually feel cold.
And it was annoying.
"Why do mortals even put up with this?" Zhuo muttered, glaring at his hands.
But there was no turning back now.
Not unless he wanted to obliterate the entire planet.
He sighed.
Then, with one last glance at Earth, he descended.
"Alright, Earth," he muttered.
"Let's see how much of a mess you've become while I was gone."
And with that—
He fell.