A sudden rupture split the air like torn silk—one portal bathed in swirling violet and abyssal black, the other a molten storm of crimson and shadows. From the former stepped the God of Destruction, Hui, radiating controlled fury, with the serene Goddess of Life, Shang Liang, at his side. From the latter emerged the God of Evil, Xie, cloaked in the cold majesty of darkness, his presence flanked by the radiant warmth of the Goddess of Kindness, Sheng Ming.
The four divine figures appeared amidst the ether like a falling silence before a storm. The ground beneath them hummed with the tremors of their arrival.
After a brief exchange, both god-kings had already spoken in hushed urgency to their wives, explaining what they had come to do—and what they hoped to prevent.
Xie was the first to break the stillness.
"We come bearing no ill will, we didn't have anything to do with Asura or Poseidon," he said, his voice calm yet edged.
Zhongli stood at the edge of a cliff, overlooking a realm bathed in dusklight, his golden eyes half-lidded with calm indifference. He turned his gaze toward them and replied coolly, "There's no need. They act on their own will. Let them bear the weight of their choices."
A visible breath of relief passed between Hui, Xie, and their companions—brief, fragile.
But Hui pressed on, his voice laced with wary tension. "Then… do you intend to retaliate?"
Zhongli's smile was soft, almost nostalgic. "The first time, I let them go. It was, after all, my own mistake for trespassing. But now they've struck a second time." He looked over his shoulder, the glint in his eyes sharp as divine steel. "This time, I will respond accordingly."
Tension thickened, the gods barely restraining the impulse to defuse the rising storm. Hui and Xie were poised to speak—words of caution, of diplomacy.
But Zhongli raised his hand.
"Before you speak on their behalf, allow me to show you something—memories of your future."
Golden orbs shimmered into being above Zhongli's palm—four in total, each pulsing with divine light. With a gentle motion, he released them into the air. They floated, serene and inevitable, toward the four gods before him.
The moment the orbs touched their chests, they were drawn inward, dissolving into their divine cores. Time fractured.
Memories surged through them—not visions, but truth. Real moments of what was to come, etched into the tapestry of fate itself.
They saw it all.
Asura manipulating the cycle of reincarnation to bring Tang San's soul to Douluo Continent. The orchestrated rise of the boy who would become a twin-god. The theft of divine positions—the Sea God, then Asura—through spirit fusion with Xiao Wu, defying cosmic law.
They saw how Tang San reshaped history, painting Shrek as heroes and Spirit Hall as tyrants. How, after rising to godhood, he twisted the Divine Realm into a monarchy of one, placing his father as Planar Lord and making his mother the very life core of the world. They saw how, before Hui and Xie even reincarnated, the reins of power had already been placed in Tang San's hands.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Hui's jaw tightened, eyes dark with fury. "This… this is not balance. It's tyranny."
He turned a sharp glare toward Xie and Sheng Ming, whose expressions had fallen into guilt and regret. They had seen their future selves fail—seen themselves become complicit in the Divine Realm's slow collapse.
Sheng Ming gave a small, pained smile. "It seems… our future selves made grievous mistakes."
Even Xie could not hide the bitterness in his voice. "Too many."
Hui saw his counterpart—himself—drifting into wariness, then anger, as Tang San continued to shatter the laws of the Divine Realm. Again and again. He watched in horror as Huo Yuhao, the true Son of the Plane, was shackled by unseen strings. His rise, his rebellion, his final stand—all crushed under the weight of Tang San's preordained script.
Huo Yuhao was the last chance, the final flicker of resistance by the Douluo Plane to stop Tang San from replacing its life core. But that flicker was snuffed out. Hui felt it. The world had cried out—and no god had heard it.
More visions came, each more damning.
He saw his counterpart try to correct the imbalance. As more gods began to subtly pledge allegiance to Tang San, the Divine Realm began to skew under the weight of favoritism and quiet tyranny. The Hui of that future sought balance through expansion, to allow more gods entry and restore fairness.
But Tang San refused.
He spoke of a vague premonition—disaster, chaos. No proof, only power-backed conviction. And so he denied Hui's proposal.
That was when Hui rebelled.
He had gone too far to turn back. He had taken a desperate risk—threatening Tang San with the life of a pregnant Xiao Wu, just days away from childbirth. That move broke Tang San's will, or so it seemed. Tang San surrendered, and Hui sealed him—not with ordinary godly power, but with the forbidden force from the prison of the Golden Dragon King.
A seal no god king could break.
But Tang San… had wanted that.
The memory warped, burning into Hui's mind like branded iron. Tang San knew everything about the seal, he knew Hui's idea and expected this. He had manipulated Hui into unleashing the Golden Dragon King.
The beast erupted, vowing vengeance upon the Divine Realm—and especially upon the Silver Dragon King. But Tang San, ever the puppet master, baited it. Then slew it.
With the Sword of Three Trials, Tang San killed what no god dared challenge.
And then—he sealed the Golden Dragon King's divine core into the body of his son, Tang Wulin. Eighteen seals. Eighteen stages of control. It would also allow his son to slowly absorb the Golden Dragon King's bloodline essence into his body to get stronger.
After releasing the final seal, Tang Wulin would become the new Golden Dragon King.
And the Silver Dragon King? Tang San tied her fate to his son's bloodline as well. Leashed both dragons with one hand.
The Divine Realm fell deeper into his grasp.
Then, Hui saw the end. His counterpart, alongside Sheng Ming, sacrificed themselves to stabilize the collapsing Divine Realm. In their final act, they entrusted the Seed of Destruction—their legacy—to Tang San.
It was the final betrayal. The end of all hope.
Hui's fists clenched. Lightning cracked across the sky from his divine aura, barely restrained.
He turned sharply toward Xie and Shang Liang, his voice low but vicious."If you two hadn't handed that brat so much authority… If you hadn't praised him like some divine prodigy—none of this would have happened. He turned the Divine Realm and Douluo Dalu into his own backyard."
Xie winced, his face pale, lips pressed tightly. Shang Liang looked away, shame clouding her usually composed eyes.
Sheng Ming laid a gentle hand on Hui's arm, calming him like rain on wildfire.
Zhongli's voice came, deep and steady.
"You cannot fully blame them. Asura and Poseidon laid the foundation long before. Tang San rode upon their myths—slayer of evil sects, first god with dual thrones. His reputation was carefully, masterfully crafted. Unless you looked very, very closely… his hypocrisy was invisible."
Hui took a breath. His fury began to ebb, replaced by grim resolve.
Sheng Ming's voice pierced the silence. "So… what do we do about this?"
Her words trembled—not with fear, but with a fury more subtle: righteous, maternal.
Sheng Ming and Shang Liang had seen what Tang San's actions had wrought—how Evil Soul Masters, long imprisoned in the City of Slaughter, had been unleashed after its destruction.
Tang San had claimed it was an act of justice. In truth, he had destroyed the only place where future inheritors of the Deathgod Domain—his own godly seat. A calculated move to erase rivals.
And with Spirit Hall crushed, no force remained strong enough to contain the chaos.
The next ten thousand years were soaked in blood.
They had seen it. Infants drained for cultivation. Spirit Masters mutilated for their soul energy. Women cut open, their unborn children sacrificed for strength.
Even gods were forbidden from intervening in the mortal realm. But this—this pierced even divine law.
Here's a polished, more novelistic and cinematic version of your scene, enhancing character emotions, dialogue flow, and dramatic tension:
Sheng Ming trembled, her delicate frame rigid as her eyes glistened—an anguished blend of fury and sorrow. Her hands clenched at her sides, the glow of her divine aura flickering unsteadily.
Beside her, Shang Liang lowered his gaze. His voice, barely more than a whisper, was heavy with regret. "We should have stopped this… before it reached this point."
Zhongli looked up, eyes shimmering with golden wisdom as he shook his head gently. "Even if you had tried, it wouldn't have mattered. Tang San had already gathered legions of followers. With two god positions under his belt, any resistance would've sparked a civil war. The Divine Realm would have torn itself apart. And with the Way of the Universe backing him… it would've been your downfall, not his."
A grim silence fell over the four gods. None of them could deny the truth of Zhongli's words.
Zhongli, calm and composed, gave a faint smile. "Don't worry. I'll take care of them. You must not intervene."
Then, Zhongli lifted his hand. From his palm, four orbs formed—each glowing with a distinct hue and resonance. One radiated deep violet with the essence of Destruction. Another pulsed with lush green, brimming with the vitality of Life. A third swirled with pitch black, thick with the Law of Evil. The last glowed in pure white, exuding warmth and serenity—Kindness incarnate.
Each bead floated effortlessly, suspended above his palm like the cosmos had bowed to his will.
Hui, the God of Destruction, narrowed his eyes. He could feel the law of his dominion thrumming in the violet bead—raw, unfiltered, ancient. Sheng Ming's breath caught as the green bead resonated with her soul; it was as if the heartbeat of life itself pulsed within it. Xie felt the black bead call to him with a dark familiarity, while Shang Liang, the embodiment of Kindness, instinctively reached for the white bead, its purity soothing the storm in his heart.
With a flick of Zhongli's wrist, the orbs levitated toward their rightful owners, glowing brighter as they neared.
Zhongli smiled at them and said."This is gift for your troubles."
"Also, you needn't worry," Zhongli added, his voice steady. "I will not act against anyone but Asura and Poseidon. Only if others raise arms against me will I respond in kind. As for their divine thrones… I will ensure they remain intact, so their legacies may pass to those truly worthy."
The gods stared at the floating beads now before them—beads that pulsed with untold power. Each one could remake laws, rewrite fates. Yet Zhongli offered them freely, as if they were mere tokens.
To him, perhaps… they were.
Hui finally spoke, voice resolute. "We will make sure other gods won't intervene as much as possible."
Sheng Ming, her eyes softer now, nodded. "Thank you… for giving us a choice."
Zhongli said nothing more. He simply turned, his gaze returning to the horizon.
[A/N:A quick question even though he has Yan Sen's template. I am quite interested in techniques used by Wang Ling in Daily life of the Immortal king. Also, who do you think is stronger Yan Sen and Wang Ling.]