After three days refining Laws, Han Ling managed to comprehend the basic structure of the world, along with the Laws of Time and Fate he had obtained from his sister.
The entire region where Han Ling was returned to normal, turning into a green plain without rivers or inverted mountains.
But this wouldn't last forever, as the new World Laws were slowly breaking and deforming, meaning this place would soon return to normal.
Proving Han Ling right, there was some kind of force distorting this place. It wasn't the fault of incomplete World Laws—if it were, another cultivator would have solved this problem a long time ago.
Not wanting to waste more time on useless thoughts, Han Ling decided to make his breakthrough right there, since with the Incomplete World Laws of this place, he wouldn't face a deadly tribulation.
Unlike common tribulations, which aim to test the cultivator, the tribulations of the Dao Integration and Tribulation Transcendence realms seek to kill the cultivator.
This happened because at these realms, the cultivator's power grows to the point of being able to challenge the world itself.
Which is an affront to the world.
Clearing his mind, Han Ling decided to begin his breakthrough, still seated in a meditative posture.
At first, nothing happened, but within minutes, dark clouds began to gather in the sky.
"Shit."
Those clouds in the sky seemed to be gathering power. This was unusual, as the tribulation should have started attacking immediately, but it seemed that the strangeness of this place had made the tribulation behave oddly.
Han Ling had already noticed that the tribulation would unleash all its power in a single strike. However, he couldn't stop his breakthrough—advancing to the Dao Integration realm involves fusing one's own will with the will of the world. To stop midway would mean death.
However, facing the tribulation also meant death.
Which left Han Ling with two possibilities: either he died, or he survived.
Han Ling leaned more toward the first possibility, but he couldn't die here—not when his sister was waiting for him so eagerly.
Snapping out of his thoughts, Han Ling watched as the aura of the auspicious clouds grew more oppressive.
Lightning tore through the sky in an instant, converging into a single beam of murky, thick light, charged with destructive energy that made the very air crackle.
The beam descended like a spear crashing from the heavens, ripping through the atmosphere with a muffled roar. The moment it struck the ground, the earth itself quaked; shards of rock were flung in every direction, and a shockwave of heat and energy shattered everything within hundreds of meters.
Han Ling, still in his meditative posture, was hit directly; his flesh tore in blue flames, bones grinding under the indescribable pressure. He screamed—a guttural cry of pain—but at the same time, he smiled. This pain was proof that his body and mind were truly merging with the Dao.
The air around him distorted, each particle of destructive energy spinning into vortices that shredded the fabric of reality. The energy fragments tried to expel him from existence, but thanks to the Laws of Time, Han Ling extended a fragment of his will to "hold" that instant long enough to reverse the peak of the impact.
When the light finally faded, Han Ling stood still in the surrounding void. The attack had been so destructive it annihilated the chaotic space, leaving only emptiness behind.
When the light finally faded, Han Ling stood still in the surrounding void. The attack had been so devastating that even the chaotic space was disintegrated, revealing the bare abyss of the primordial void.
His body floated motionless, wrapped in glowing threads of energy that refused to disperse. Half of his face was burned down to the bone, his arms hung in tatters, and his meridians seemed on the verge of collapse. Even so, in his amber eyes, there was only a cold calm.
In the Dao Integration realm, the body was unnecessary—as long as the will remained, the body could be regenerated infinitely.
While he thought about this, the Heart Tribulation arrived. It was time to face his inner demon.
At some point, Han Ling found himself in a dark room, facing a person identical to himself.
"Oh? You came. Come on, sit down."
The stranger sat in a chair, pointing toward another one that had suddenly appeared in that dark space.
Han Ling's gaze remained cold as he stared at the stranger, not moving an inch.
The stranger, seemingly ignoring Han Ling, began eating a lamb leg that had appeared in his hand out of nowhere.
He raised his eyes to meet Han Ling's.
"Hey! Aren't you hungry? Come on, let's eat!"
"I don't have time for games," Han Ling replied coldly. "Let's get this over with."
"What's the rush?" The stranger smiled. "You want to go back to Han Xinrou after everything you did?"
He took another bite of the lamb leg while gesturing toward the chair in front of him, as if telling Han Ling to sit.
With no other option, Han Ling sat down silently, staring at his other self with a penetrating gaze.
"Wow, such an intense look. If I were a woman, I'd be all over you," the stranger said, licking his greasy fingers.
"Well then, let's get to the point." The world around them shifted.
In a dark room with filthy walls and a damp atmosphere, two children lay on a mattress made of rags.
One of the children had a thin, malnourished body and was holding the other in his arms. The other child, a little girl, was chubbier despite also being undernourished.
Unlike the boy, whose body was covered in bruises, the girl's body showed only a few marks on her arm.
The clothes they wore seemed to have once been expensive, but due to constant wear had become nothing more than torn rags, useless against the cold.
Ironically, the malnourished boy wrapped his arms around the little girl. Even while shivering from the cold, he held her as if trying to warm her, protect her, love her.
Han Ling's body stiffened, as if this scene had unlocked forgotten memories.
"Why are you showing me this?" Han Ling's voice came out colder and clearer than usual.
The stranger smiled, clearly savoring Han Ling's discomfort.
"Do you remember? That boy, he's you. The big brother who protected his sister from everything." His voice carried unmistakable mockery.
The demon — that shadow with Han Ling's face — leaned back in the chair with a theatrical sigh, as though enjoying a classic play.
"You remember that night, don't you?" He snapped his fingers.
The scene in the room changed.
The little girl, Han Xinrou, clutched her brother's arm tightly, her wide eyes brimming with tears. Her body trembled — not just from the cold, but from fear. On the other side of the door, footsteps approached. The sound of a key turning. The rasp of heavy, beast-like breathing.
Han Ling, ribs exposed and eyes vacant, stood up, instinctively shielding his sister.
"No!" Xinrou's voice echoed in Han Ling's mind. "He… he's going to come in! He's going to hurt me!"
The demon clicked his tongue.
"You killed him… remember? Drove that iron rod into his neck so many times your hands were soaked in blood. Beautiful, wasn't it? A brother saving his sister… the hero."
The vision showed Han Ling kneeling on the floor, trembling, with Xinrou clinging to him, crying. The shadow of their dead father still loomed behind them, blood spreading across the dirty floor. A moment of terror, followed by a brief instant of… relief?
"But that's not why you're trembling now, is it?" The demon tilted his head, smiling crookedly. "You tremble because you remember what came after. When she asked you… to be the first. You agreed—and liked it."
Han Ling clenched his fists. His face maintained its usual coldness, but a vein on his forehead throbbed slightly.
"You were just kids… that's what you're going to say, right? Innocent. Hurt. Alone." He leaned forward, his amber eyes narrowing. "But what about now, Han Ling? Now that you've grown up… do you still think it was innocent?"
The room vanished.
Now they were under a tree in the orphanage's courtyard. Han Xinrou, older, tried to smile while adjusting her brother's uniform collar. She looked different: beautiful, radiant, her eyes overflowing with love for him.
Han Ling turned his face away in the memory, unable to look at her.
"You ran away, remember?" the demon's voice cut like a blade. "Left her behind. Because running was easier than facing the truth. You thought you were dirty. And her? Have you ever wondered how much she suffered because of your cowardice?"
Han Ling slowly rose from the chair, his figure sinking into the surrounding shadows. He stared at the demon with a gaze cold enough to freeze the soul.
"You're not me."
"Aren't I?" the demon smiled. "Then why do you still feel guilty? Why do you still call her 'mine' with such hunger in your eyes? Why do you still desire the girl you… raised in the depths of hell?"
The darkness around them pulsed, reacting to the tension rising between the two.
Han Ling remained standing, his right hand clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palm. When he spoke, his voice sounded like a blade being unsheathed.
"This has nothing to do with guilt."
"No?" The demon laughed mockingly. "Do you really think you can lie to me? I am you. I'm the part you buried—along with that father, along with your childhood, along with the last look Xinrou gave you before you ran."
The scene shifted once more.
Now they stood at the orphanage gate. It was raining. Han Xinrou, already a teenager, was kneeling in the mud, clutching Han Ling's pant leg.
"Don't go… please, don't leave me! You promised… you said you'd never leave me alone!"
The girl sobbed as if her entire world was falling apart. And Han Ling — with cold eyes and trembling steps — turned his back.
"You remember this moment every night, don't you?" The demon approached from behind, whispering like a serpent. "Her begging… the scent of her cheap perfume mixed with the rain… and still, you were too much of a coward to stay. Because you were afraid… afraid of how you felt about her."
He circled Han Ling, stopping in front of him, his blood-red eyes locking with Han Ling's amber ones, as if searching his soul.
"You know what it feels like to be abandoned—you felt it when your mother left you both with that abusive father." He smiled, though it was hollow. "You remember begging her not to abandon you in that hell. Xinrou begged you too. But you still left."
The demon stepped back, resuming his previous casual demeanor.
"Man, I really don't know how you sleep at night, knowing you abandoned the only person who ever loved you."
The demon sat back down in his chair, resting his chin on his hands as he watched Han Ling with interest.
Han Ling remained motionless for a few seconds. The silence between them was filled only by the distorted whispers of the surrounding darkness — as if voices from the past echoed through the void, suffocating any trace of peace.
Then, he stood up and took a step forward.
"You talk too much." His voice was lower now, but every word carried a quiet, lethal edge.
The demon raised an eyebrow, still smiling. "You think you can kill me, Han Ling? You can't kill what lives inside your chest."
Han Ling stared at him. His gaze, once sharp as blades, now carried a shadow. Not of doubt — but of acceptance.
"You're right about one thing…" Han Ling said, slowly opening his hand to reveal a palm marked by his own bloodied nails. "I hate myself."
The confession lingered in the air like poison.
"I hate what I did. I hate who I was. But…"
He looked up, and in his eyes was an absolute coldness — yet also a flame burning deep within.
"…I love her more than I hate myself."
The demon began to laugh hysterically.
"How cliché. But fuck it."
The demon pointed to his own neck.
"Let's see. Kill me. Prove your love is greater than the guilt you carry."
***
End of chapter.