Inside the Grand Hall of the Qingxuan Sanctuary, silence hung thick in the air.

“Master! The spirit cranes at Zhuo Peak are all dead! It was Jonathan Carter—he added Bone Dissolving Powder to their feed. I saw it with my own eyes!”

“Master, I’ve looked into it as well. The cause of death was definitely Bone Dissolving Powder. I even found this bottle in his quarters.”

Voices accusing him rang in his ears, snapping Jonathan Carter out of his daze.

“Jonathan, tell me,” said Elaine Lawson coldly, seated in her phoenix robe atop the sect master’s throne. “Is what they’re saying true?”

“I was just in… a vision? A dream that spanned millennia?”

Jonathan muttered to himself, staring around at the hall, familiar yet foreign, eyes filled with dread.

Just moments ago, in the same hall, he had been defending himself, arguing bitterly over whether the death of the spirit cranes was his doing.

Then, the world twisted. He was hurled into a vision, forced to watch the fragments of a forgotten future unfold.

In that illusion, he had been but a ghost lingering across endless years, watching the arc of his life from a place outside time.

Now, that life he saw… it was playing out before him.

“Jonathan, the evidence is right here. What more is there to say?” sneered Brianna Lawson. “Don’t tell me you saw feeding the beasts as an insult, and did this out of spite?”

“Master,” she turned to Elaine. “I warned you. He’s no longer fit to stay at Zhuo Peak, let alone care for anything sacred.”

Grace Lawson, calm but disappointed, added, “Five hundred years ago, you were a man of honor. Now look at you. If you hated the task, you could’ve said so. Why use poison like a coward?”

“I thought you only lost your cultivation, your body. Never thought you’d lose even your heart.”

The two women were his seniors—Brianna, famed beastmaster known far and wide, and Grace, the sanctuary’s most skilled alchemist.

And Elaine… his master. Cold. Distant. The sect leader of Qingxuan Sanctuary, reigning at the apex of her power.

Now all three looked at him with the same expression.

Contempt.

As if the man who once sealed himself in the Forbidden Ground for five centuries to protect the sanctuary no longer existed.

As if they were staring not at a hero... but at scum that polluted the sanctity of the sect.

Jonathan had endured that look too many times in the past three years. Yet now, after what he saw in the illusion—it cut deeper.

Out here, just seconds passed.

But in the illusion, a thousand years flew by.

He had been a silent watcher as events unfolded—wars, betrayals, the rise and fall of powers… and his fate.

The death of the spirit cranes? It was Grace who’d done it, with Brianna’s help.

Their purpose?

To drive him out of Zhuo Peak.

They wanted that spot to build a beast-taming arena for Tristan Carter, the so-called gifted younger brother who now wore the title he once held.

Of course, they couldn’t just seize his dwelling outright. Even in the sanctuary, appearances had to be kept.

The truth of it? Didn’t matter if the excuse was weak. Didn’t matter whether Jonathan gave in or not.

He was a cripple now.

No strength, no status, no power to resist.

In that future he saw, Jonathan refused to confess—kept chasing the truth, gathering evidence piece by piece.

And when he finally stood before Elaine with proof in hand, thinking it enough to clear his name...

He realized she’d known all along.

The poison? The plan?

All came from her command.She was the one behind it all.

All those scenes—what came after—Jonathan Carter had seen in that illusion that seemed to stretch over eternity. But now, looking into Elaine Lawson’s cold, detached eyes, he finally understood.

That wasn’t a dream.

It was real. Painfully, damnably real.

“Master, Jonathan’s in charge of the spirit beasts. One dies, it’s on him by the rules. And this time, he even poisoned one. That kind of offense can’t go unpunished,” Brianna Lawson said, her voice sharp and self-righteous.

Elaine Lawson frowned. “Jonathan, you may have rendered great service to the sect… Speak truthfully, and I won’t punish you harshly.”

Jonathan said nothing.

Elaine was about to continue, but he suddenly raised his head.

“It’s true, I was at fault.”

Elaine’s expression flickered. She hadn’t expected him to admit it so easily. She gave a slight nod anyway.

“Then speak—why did you poison the Spirit Crane?”

“I didn’t,” Jonathan replied calmly. “But I won’t deny I failed in my duty to protect it.”

Elaine’s face darkened, like she’d been toyed with.

“You dare mock me? Very well! You’ll spend seven days in the water prison!”

“And from this day on, you’re to move off Mount Zuo. You’re banned from this peak. Don’t go near the spirit beasts again.”

With those words, Grace and Brianna both let out a silent breath—smiles playing at the corners of their lips.

Jonathan glanced at them.

But he said nothing more. He turned and walked out of the main hall.

There was no anger in his chest. No outrage at being framed. Not anymore.

All he felt was the bitter irony.

He used to tread carefully, cautiously upholding the sect and treating his master and senior sisters like kin.

What a joke.

He’d been a stray, picked up by the old Saint Master of Cobalt Sky Sect. Back then, the old man had entrusted the young boy to Elaine.

Those were the happiest days of his life.

He’d become Elaine Lawson’s little disciple—next in line to lead the sect. She spoiled him. His senior sisters adored him.

Back then, Jonathan was the chosen one. The star of the sect.

Then five hundred years ago, the Forbidden Ground of Prosperity opened. The sect was facing destruction. Someone had to enter, endure five centuries of torment, and bring back fortune and power.

Jonathan stepped forward. As the sect’s Holy Son, he offered himself as the sacrifice.

Alone, he chained himself in the Forbidden Ground.

For five long centuries, he suffered unspeakable torture, biting down every day just to hold on—for the sect.

And in the end, he succeeded.

Every ounce of prosperity, every thread of fortune—he pulled it all back from the jaws of death. Cobalt Sky Sect rose from lowly obscurity to a first-tier sacred order.

But the cost—

His body broke down from endless battle. His soul nearly shattered. Though he lived, his cultivation was gone. His meridians ruined. Dao injuries craved his flesh day and night.

Still, back then, Jonathan thought it worth it.

Because this sect, these people—they were his family.

But five hundred years went by in a flash.

Everything changed.

The sect became a sacred land. Elaine became the Supreme. His senior sisters all rose to fame—in pills, talismans, weapons…

Everyone moved on.

And when Jonathan came back, there were no cheers. No gratitude.

Only one sentence greeted him."Jonathan Carter, your dantian and spiritual sea are gone. Your talents and foundations are ruined. You can't cultivate anymore. So, we've passed the title of Saint Son to someone else."

"That someone is your junior, Tristan Carter. His cultivation isn’t high yet, but his potential isn't below yours, and he’s shown signs of great talent. He might be the next you, even stronger. He can lead Azure Sanctum to a new peak."

"As for you... just stay in the sect and rest. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of you for the rest of your life."

Back then, those words crushed Jonathan.

Not because of how cold Elaine Lawson or his senior sisters were, but because he could no longer serve the sect.

But what really stung, what he never saw coming—

He had become the most useless burden in the entire sect.

At first, when he returned, people were polite enough. But it didn’t last long. Soon, no one would even look at him. He was ignored, disliked, treated like a walking corpse.

That alone should’ve been pitiful enough.

But in the illusion he'd just been trapped in—

The future was even worse.

Even destroyed as he was, in the end, he still died for the sect.

The joke was, he gave his life... and no one mourned him. No one.

All of Azure Sanctum rejoiced for Tristan Carter’s breakthrough, right after Jonathan’s death.

Not a single tear for him.

Only when that junior bared his fangs, turned on everyone and brought the sect to ruin—they finally regretted it.

But by then, it was too late.

"If that illusion is truly the future, then damn... what a pathetic life I've lived."

Jonathan shook his head and tried to clear his thoughts.

"If I hadn’t seen that dream, maybe I really would’ve followed that path straight to death."

"But now that I’ve glimpsed what’s coming..."

"I won’t make the same mistake again."

"As for this place..."

"I'm done with it."

He used to be blindly loyal. Not anymore.

If that was the past—

Then this life, he’d live for himself.

No more wasting breath for Azure Sanctum.

Eyes firm, Jonathan turned and sprinted toward his old residence.

If he wanted to break free, first he had to grab what was his.

There were two fortunes that once belonged to him.

And he was damn well going to take them back.

He ran like hell. Along the way, plenty of inner disciples saw him—but none of them so much as spared him a glance. They pretended he didn’t exist.

That was the usual.

By rank, he was technically their uncle. But who among them would call a crippled, abandoned, powerless man “Uncle”?

Didn’t matter to Jonathan.

Right now, only one thing was on his mind—those two things.

Especially one of them.

In the illusion, today was the day it would be taken from him.

He had to stop that.

He reached his peak residence, breath heavy, robes damp from sweat. But the second he stepped to the door, he froze, face darkening.

He had rushed, pushed his limits—but still, he was too late.

One of his fortunes... had already been taken.

And the one holding it—had already noticed his return.

The youth smiled warmly, wearing a troubled, concerned look.

“Senior brother, are you alright?”

“I heard Master punished you... I was really worried, so I came to check on you.”

Dressed in plain blue robes, his face was clean and handsome. His cultivation wasn’t high, but the aura about him was natural, effortless, like he belonged beneath the heavens.

That man—

Was none other than his deeply hidden, cunning junior—

Tristan Carter.