Reaching the obelisk was no small feat. The guardians grew larger and more powerful as Zhen Hao and Lian Hua approached, their attacks relentless and coordinated. The silver flames roared higher, swirling around the obelisk as if protecting it.
"Do you have a plan for this thing?" Lian Hua asked, barely dodging a spear of energy thrown by a guardian.
"We take it down fast and together," Zhen Hao replied.
The two leapt onto the obelisk's jagged base, their feet landing on the molten stone. The runes etched into its surface began to glow, and the obelisk emitted a high-pitched hum that reverberated through their bones.
As Zhen Hao raised his blade to strike, a colossal guardian rose from the river, its body twice as large as the others and its eyes burning with golden fire. It swung a massive hammer of light down at the two cultivators, forcing them to leap apart.
"I'll distract it!" Lian Hua shouted, summoning a swarm of spectral vines to entangle the guardian. "You take down the obelisk!"
Zhen Hao didn't waste a moment. He dashed toward the obelisk, channeling his energy into his blade. He unleashed a powerful slash, but the obelisk's surface absorbed the attack, the runes glowing brighter in defiance.
"Direct force won't work!" Lian Hua called out as she narrowly avoided a devastating blow from the guardian's hammer.
Zhen Hao's eyes narrowed. If the obelisk absorbed energy, then the key was to overwhelm it with more energy than it could handle.
"Lian Hua! I need your help!"
She disengaged from the guardian, trusting her vines to hold it for a few moments. Together, they stood before the obelisk, their energy converging.
"We'll combine our attacks," Zhen Hao said. "Focus everything you have."
The two cultivators unleashed a simultaneous strike—Zhen Hao's blade crackling with golden lightning and Lian Hua's staff radiating vibrant green light. Their energies merged into a spiraling torrent that struck the obelisk with tremendous force.
The runes flickered, then shattered, the obelisk crumbling into the river with a deafening roar. The flames died down, and the guardians dissolved into streams of light, their forms returning to the river's currents.
The silence that followed was almost deafening.
As the obelisk fell, the chaotic River of Eternity calmed, its raging waters transforming into a smooth, reflective surface. Above it, the massive gate materialized—etched with celestial symbols that radiated a blinding, otherworldly light.
The gate exuded power, its presence so overwhelming that Zhen Hao and Lian Hua instinctively stopped in their tracks. This was no mere passage; it was a force of the Dao itself, ancient and incomprehensible.
Before they could approach, the Keeper's voice echoed once more, but this time, it was different—faint, almost strained.
"You have quelled the River of Chaos, but the path ahead requires more than strength and resolve. The Dao flows beyond comprehension, and not all who seek its end will find it."
Zhen Hao narrowed his eyes. "What does that mean? What more is there to prove?"
Lian Hua glanced at him, her voice cautious. "Maybe this isn't about proving anything. Maybe the Dao doesn't want us to simply fight—it wants us to understand."
The gate began to shift, its surface rippling like water. As the duo prepared themselves, a figure emerged from the radiant light of the gate.
It was a man—or at least, it seemed to be. His robes shimmered like liquid gold, and his long hair flowed unnaturally, as though caught in an eternal wind. His face was ageless, his eyes pools of infinite depth, swirling with the entirety of creation. He radiated authority, but not hostility.
"Who are you?" Zhen Hao demanded, stepping forward, his blade still drawn.
The figure regarded him with calm amusement. "I am Jiàn Wu, the First Fragment, the one who walked this path long before you and shattered the boundaries of the Dao itself. I am here because you stand at a crossroads, and this gate is not a passage—it is a choice."
Lian Hua frowned, her grip tightening on her staff. "A choice? What kind of choice?"
Jiàn Wu's expression grew serious. "The Dao is infinite, but not all paths lead to harmony. You seek power, understanding, enlightenment—but have you considered what lies beyond that? The path you tread will not just shape your fate but the balance of the Dao itself."
Zhen Hao's eyes narrowed. "What are you trying to say? That we shouldn't walk this path?"
"No," Jiàn Wu said, his voice resonating with a wisdom that transcended the moment. "I'm saying that the Dao is not merely a destination to reach or a force to master—it is a cycle. And cycles must be broken to progress. This gate marks the end of the old cycle and the beginning of the new. But to open it, you must decide what that new cycle will be."
Zhen Hao and Lian Hua exchanged glances, their minds racing. The Keeper had never spoken of such a choice, and the trials they had endured seemed pale in comparison to the weight of Jiàn Wu's words.
"What does that mean for us?" Lian Hua asked cautiously.
Jiàn Wu extended his hand, and a flicker of light formed into a map of swirling threads—the flows of the Dao. Some threads were harmonious, blending together seamlessly, while others clashed violently, creating fissures and tears in the weave.
"The Dao is fracturing," Jiàn Wu said. "The imbalance grows with every generation of cultivators who pursue personal glory without regard for the whole. The power you've gained is tied to that imbalance, whether you realize it or not. To pass through this gate is to decide the fate of the Dao itself. Will you mend its threads or break them entirely?"
Lian Hua's voice trembled. "And what happens if we make the wrong choice?"
"There is no 'wrong' choice," Jiàn Wu replied, though his tone carried a heavy burden. "But every choice has consequences. You could restore balance, and the Dao would flourish for a time—until the cycle repeats. Or you could shatter the Dao's constraints, unleashing untold chaos but granting freedom to all who walk its path."
Zhen Hao stared at the map, his mind ablaze with possibilities. "What about us? What happens to us if we choose?"
"You will transcend," Jiàn Wu said simply. "But transcendence is not what you think it is. To transcend is to cease being what you are and become something else entirely. You may lose everything—or gain something you cannot yet comprehend."