Jia-yin and Ding-chou, two of the mightiest entities within the Liu Ding and Liu Jia ranks, exchanged a knowing glance. Words were unnecessary; the gravity of the situation hung heavy between them. They both understood that if their formation collapsed, the entire balance of the battle would tip against them.
With her hair billowing against the force of gravity, Jia-yin raised her hands high into the air. Symbols of the celestial whirlwind element erupted from her palms like stars igniting in the night sky. Simultaneously, Ding-chou slammed his ancient ice staff into the barren ground, summoning primordial ice power that chilled the air far below absolute zero.
They moved as one, combining a storm of wind and deity-level ice to freeze the entire battlefield. Within moments, a colossal tornado made of jagged ice shards took shape, swirling with ferocity. The tempest didn't merely freeze physical objects; it also arrested the flow of Mana, Qi, and even the light particles brave enough to cross its path. The very fabric of space groaned under the strain, cracking with a terrifying sound, as though reality itself was being chewed up by the jaws of the god of death.
Thousands of ice pillars shot forth like slaughtering spears, controlled by the howling vortex, aimed squarely at the heart of the enemy's defenses. This was a catastrophic assault crafted to annihilate entire factions in a single breath.
Yet, in the face of this soul-chilling apocalypse, two figures approached with an unhurried grace.
Fukurokuju and Hotei.
Contrasting sharply with the war gods emanating a lethal aura, these two deities resembled elder men enjoying a leisurely stroll through a park. Hotei stood out with his bulging belly exposed, the loose monk’s robe fluttering around him, and an ever-present broad grin lighting up his face. He erupted into laughter, a sound that reverberated warmly through the cold air, dispelling the icy chill that clung to the bones.
"Hahahaha! So cold, so very cold! Are you trying to serve up shaved ice for my old belly?" Hotei chuckled, his voice resonating with a cosmic echo that made the space around him ripple.
Hotei swung his hand, opening his tattered sack that held an enigmatic secret.
The artifact was known among the old gods as the Bag of Infinite Void—a containment relic that did not simply destroy what it swallowed. It absorbed vast elemental and spiritual forces whole, compressing them within a private abyss. Yet the sack was no passive prison; what it consumed would not remain dormant forever. Sooner or later, it demanded release—belching back its stored mass as a focused discharge shaped by Hotei’s will.
The bag appeared worn, crafted from ordinary burlap, yet as the mouth of the sack gaped open, a pitch-black void peeked out from within.
Hotei's Skill: [Bag of Infinite Void: Laughing Cosmos]
Suddenly, the laws of physics surrounding Hotei crumbled. The mouth of the sack transformed into a singularity anomaly—creating a small, swirling black hole with a gravitational pull that defied reason. This black hole wasn't brutally destructive; it 'absorbed' with a terrifying gentleness.
A tempest of divine wind and ice unleashed by Jia-yin and Ding-chou—powerful enough to freeze an entire continent—was drawn into the sack as if it were mere dust caught in the breath of a colossal beast.
Yet the battlefield did not collapse inward as one might expect. The sack’s event-horizon was strictly limited to its mouth. What it consumed was not allowed to expand into surrounding space; instead, the swallowed storm was folded along an internal manifold, compacted within a private topology that did not intersect with the world outside. The void did not spread. It did not hunger blindly. It remained obedient to the rim of burlap in Hotei’s hand.
Remarkably, Hotei's sack did not expand even a little. Inside its depths lay a boundless void where matter and energy were consumed without a trace.
Millions of ice shards, fierce gusts of wind, and frozen energy were sucked in as if they were insignificant particles. Remarkably, Hotei's sack did not expand even a little. Inside its depths lay a boundless void where matter and energy were consumed without a trace.
Hotei continued to chuckle, patting his belly as the lethal storm completely vanished into his sack, leaving behind an oppressive silence that felt suddenly calm and eerie.
"My sack is always hungry, but it seems your ice lacks a bit of sweetness," Hotei chuckled, his eyes narrowing into playful crescent moons.
Beside Hotei, Fukurokuju stepped forward. The old man, with an unusually high and elongated forehead, grasped a beautifully carved staff topped with a crane's head in one hand and an ancient scroll in the other. His deep-set eyes gleamed with the wisdom accrued over countless ages. He regarded Jia-yin, Ding-chou, and the line of Liu Ding and Liu Jia with an ironic gaze filled with compassion.
"You rush in too quickly, young ones," Fukurokuju said softly, his voice gentle yet somehow reaching into the minds of every celestial general present. "Speed and aggression are mere illusions. Allow me to teach you the true value of each passing second."
With deliberate care, Fukurokuju unfurled his scroll.
The technique known as Crane’s Longevity stirred to life. Within the space his golden script defined, time did not halt—it was multiplied unevenly. To those caught inside, each second stretched into ten; their subjective flow reduced to a tenth of the world beyond. Yet such precision demanded unwavering focus through the scroll’s living constellations, and when the effect ended, it would leave behind fine fractures in the air—subtle time-residue that marked where duration had once been forcibly bent.
Golden letters danced from the parchment, taking shape as constellations in the air above. Suddenly, a translucent spiritual crane erupted from the scroll, radiating a vibrant light. It stretched its wings wide, scattering golden dust that rained down upon the ground where their enemies stood, a spectacle of beauty and magic.
Fukurokuju's Skill: [Crane's Longevity: Temporal Dilation]
In an instant, the colors of the world around the ranks of Liu Ding and Liu Jia shifted to a muted sepia tone. The golden dust from the spiritual crane did not inflict physical harm; instead, it ensnared the very threads of time in that vicinity. Fukurokuju chanted incantations from his scroll, weaving together the complex laws of probability and duration with focused intent.
He slowed the flow of time specifically and exclusively in the zone where his enemies stood. The effect was instantaneous and absolute. Liu Ding and Liu Jia, who had once moved at the speed of light, capable of reacting to attacks in mere microseconds, now found their movements sluggish, reduced by 90%.
For Jia-yin and Ding-chou, the outside world suddenly accelerated. They were taken aback, feeling the rush of time as they attempted to step forward to launch a counterattack. Their divine muscles responded to their brain's commands, yet the fabric of space and time around them seemed to conspire against their efforts. A step that would typically take no time at all felt like pushing their bodies through a thick, viscous sea of honey.
Jia-yin's eyes widened, glimmering like exquisite ice crystals. He tried to part her lips to command Liu Jia’s formation to retreat, but the mere act of moving her jaw required a full three seconds. The air around her felt heavy, suffused with golden dust that clung to their souls and the essence of divinity.
The Illusion of Longevity, as they had named it. Fukurokuju imposed 'age' upon every second experienced by his targets. While outside events unfolded in the span of a heartbeat, for Jia-yin and his troops, it felt like an entire decade trapped in sensory and physical isolation.
"What... are... you... doing..." Ding-chou's voice echoed slowly and distorted, reminiscent of an old cassette tape playing at an incredibly low speed. Her icy aura, once explosive, now seeped out weakly, as if it were running out of pressure. A shadow of confusion crossed his face, and the unease in his tone betrayed the gravity of the situation.
Outside that temporal distortion, Hotei stole a glance at Fukurokuju, shaking his bald head in disbelief, a half-smile playing on his lips. "You always pull these frustrating tricks, Old Man," he remarked, his hands deftly tying up the frayed strings of his satchel.
His eyes roamed over the figures before them, frozen in place. "Look at them. They resemble ornamental statues in a forgotten temple," Hotei continued, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice, masking the tension that rippled in the air.
Fukurokuju stroked his long, white beard, his expression contemplative. "A long life is all about savoring the moments, Hotei," he replied, his tone dripping with philosophical gravitas. "They rush through existence, forgetting the essence of being. I merely present them with a chance to... reflect."
But Liu Ding and Liu Jia were not mere lowly entities to be trapped in this cage of time. Despite their physical movements and energy manipulation slowing by 90%, their awareness and mental will remained intact. A fierce pride simmered within them, the defiance of celestial generals rebelling against such an indignity.
Inside the decelerating temporal zone, Jia-yin's forehead gleamed with a secret emblem. Ever aware of the limitations of his physical form, he resorted to the most drastic measure imaginable: igniting the essence of his soul. The agony of this sacrifice was unbearable, threatening to diminish his divine stature. Yet, faced with a life-or-death scenario, he recognized no alternative.
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A translucent silver flame began to engulf Jia-yin's form.
But such credit was not infinite.
Existential currency did not regenerate with meditation or divine pride. Each ignition shortened the arc of one’s eternity. Already, a thin silver vein surfaced across Jia-yin’s forehead, faint but unmistakable—a mark known among high generals as the Scar of Spent Continuity. His hair at the temples dulled a shade, and the aura that once blazed with unbroken authority flickered at its edges.
Those who burned their core too often did not grow stronger. They grew brittle. Future combustions would ignite slower, fracture faster, and cost more than the last.
The heat radiating from it was unlike any ordinary fire; it sprang from the combustion of karma and existence itself.
This was no ordinary surge of power. It was Soul-Combustion—the deliberate burning of one’s existential credit to rupture metaphysical constraints. Such a flame fed not on mana nor on qi, but on the very continuity of the self. Every second it blazed, something irreplaceable was spent. And when it faded, the loss would remain.
The heat radiating from it was unlike any ordinary fire; it sprang from the combustion of karma and existence itself. This fiery sacrifice resonated with waves of energy that disrupted the fragile stability of time around him. Tiny rifts started to tear open within the golden dust of Fukurokuju's Temporal Dilation.
Ding-chou and the other ten generals sensed Jia-yin's resolve. Despite the torturous slow-motion, they synchronized their soul’s breath with Jia-yin's silver blaze. The formation, once chaotic, was compelled to merge harmoniously under the poignant resonance of their sacrifice. Twelve pillars of light strained to pierce through the oppressive dome of Fukurokuju, battling against the weight that bore down upon them.
Fukurokuju raised his thick brows, intrigued. The lines of light etched across his scroll trembled gently, reflecting his shifting focus.
"Interesting," Fukurokuju remarked, his tone taking on a more serious edge. "Such remarkable resolve. They are willing to burn their very core of immortality to destroy a mere hundredth of a second's delay." The tension in the air intensified as the spiritual crane soared above the foes, its wings losing their golden glow, burdened by the fierce backlash from the soul sacrifices of Liu Ding and Liu Jia.
Hotei's eyes sparkled with mischief as he called out, "Looks like your timeweb is about to tear, Grandfather!" His laughter rang joyfully, utterly unfazed by the impending doom.
Fukurokuju met his exuberance with calm wisdom. "That is how the universe operates, Hotei. Nothing truly lasts forever. Even the time I've granted has its limitations when faced with absolute sacrifice." He paused for a moment, gazing into the throbbing chaos around him. "However, my intention isn’t to imprison them eternally. My purpose is to offer you a chance."
A broad grin spread across Hotei’s face, revealing a row of gleaming teeth. "Ah! You’re right! My bag just managed to digest their ice storm, and now it’s grumbling, eager to 'belch'!" His excitement was palpable, filling the atmosphere with a sense of camaraderie even in the face of adversity.
Hotei stepped forward, his bare feet pressing into the ground, which curved inward rather than cracking beneath him. It was as if the very space bowed with respect to his presence. He gripped the base of his massive burlap sack tightly with both hands. The muscles in his arms, obscured by layers of fat, suddenly tensed, revealing the ancient strength of a god hidden behind his jovial facade.
"You sent winds and ice our way," Hotei shouted, his voice booming as he addressed the line of enemies still struggling within the confines of time’s cage. "As a god who values a fair exchange of karma, allow me to return the favor—with a dash of my own... spice!" His eyes sparkled with mischief and intensity.
Hotei's Skill: [Bag of Infinite Void: Cosmic Regurgitation]
With a determined flick of his wrist, Hotei aimed the mouth of his sack toward the enemy formation and yanked it open with surprising force.
What followed was the inevitable consequence of containment. The sack disgorged its burden in a phenomenon the old gods called Cosmic Regurgitation—compressed void-mass released as a single, high-velocity beam. Because its mass had been compacted beyond local chronology, its trajectory did not obey the sluggish distortions of Fukurokuju’s temporal field. It traveled along objective causality, not subjective time. Wherever it passed, the air split apart, and even the onyx-laced ground beneath fractured into glittering shards, unable to withstand the discharge of stored infinity.
What emerged was not merely the storm of ice he had absorbed; his void bag had compressed that divine tempest, fusing it with the gravitational weight of a black hole. Now, he unleashed it like a cannonball of cosmic energy.
A beam of destruction, shimmering in dark blue hues, shot forth from the bag.
It did not behave like ordinary force unleashed into slowed time. The void within Hotei’s sack had stored its mass-energy outside the local temporal lattice. What now erupted was a stored-causality discharge—its trajectory anchored not to subjective tempo but to objective cause and effect. In later accounts, it would be said that the beam was measured to exist on a different causal plane.
Its speed shattered any normal comprehension of time and space. The beam tore through the air, leaving a void behind where reality itself seemed to vanish.
Jia-yin, still caught in the throes of incinerating his soul to break Fukurokuju's time freeze, could only watch in horror. The weight of Temporal Dilation slowed her movements, haunting his as the beam of destruction drew ever closer, each inch stretching in agonizing slow motion. He could perceive every ripple of dark energy radiating from it, every twisted gust of ice-cold wind corrupted by Hotei's void.
Time seemed to expand for her; she had ample moments to grasp the deadly intent of the attack but found herself helpless to evade it.
The blend of Fukurokuju's time manipulation and the destructive power of Hotei's absorbent-reflective forces proved to be a perfect and dreadfully effective tactic from their team.
"Brace for impact!" Ding-chou commanded, her voice slicing through the constraints of time as he sacrificed part of his vocal cords, the sound tearing his throat and spilling crimson. The twelve generals gathered the remaining energy from their soul combustion—not to flee—but to forge a colossal hexagonal shield before their formation.
BZZZTTT—BOOOOMMMM!
The cosmic cannon beam from Hotei struck the hexagonal shield formed by Liu Ding and Liu Jia. The collision of such extreme forces erupted into a blinding flash of light, transforming the sky from gray to an overpowering white. The sound of the explosion was deafening, drowning out the senses of all beings within a thousand-mile radius, leaving only a high-pitched ringing that resonated like a celestial siren.
As the shockwave spread, the time dome of Fukurokuju shattered into countless fragments, releasing Liu Ding and Liu Jia from their sluggish bindings. Yet, this newfound freedom came at the worst possible moment. The force of the impact swept over them like dried leaves caught in the eye of a raging storm.
Jia-yin was thrown backward, a mouthful of golden silver blood erupting from his lips, dissipating into the air before it could touch the ground.
Jia-yin’s knees struck the shattered onyx with a bone-jarring crack that echoed through the hollow silence of the vault. The impact should have broken him, should have sent his sprawling into the dust and defeat.
But He did not fall.
He remained upright, a jagged silhouette against the darkness. Across his forehead, a silver vein began to pulse with a rhythmic, bioluminescent light, tracing a map of old power through her skin. He didn't look like a victim; she looked like a catalyst.
He drew a single, frozen breath and spoke the words that the air itself seemed to fear.
“Frost Dominion: Sovereign of the Pale Cataclysm.”
The temperature in the chamber didn't merely drop; it reorganized.
This wasn't the clumsy cold of a winter storm or the simple absence of heat. It was a fundamental restructuring of the environment. Every molecule of moisture in the air was suddenly drafted into a new, geometric order, crystallizing into floating sigils of jagged ice that hummed with a low-frequency power.
The battlefield floor, once a chaotic mess of shattered stone and oily void-slag, froze into a perfectly mirrored expanse of pale, terrifying authority. Even the lingering remnants of the Void—the stubborn, entropic filth that usually resisted all form of light—stiffened under her gaze, forced into brittle, frozen submission.
Meanwhile, the staff of the eternal ice Ding-chou splintered in three places,
Cracks splintered across the length of his staff, the wood groaning like a dying animal, but Ding-chou’s grip only tightened. He didn't just hold the weapon; she fused with it, her knuckles whitening as the splinters bit into his palms.
She drew a breath that felt like inhaling ground glass, and then he spoke the law of the end.
“Absolute Zero Fang: Polar Execution Spiral.”
The staff didn't just break; it detonated into a thousand jagged teeth. Instead of falling, the fragments hung in the air, caught in a sudden, violent orbit around her. They accelerated until they were nothing but a blur of refracted light, emitting a silence so absolute it felt like a physical weight—a cold that wasn't just low temperature, but the total absence of molecular intent.
Frost didn't spread outward; it imploded. It collapsed inward, drawing every joule of energy from the surrounding space into a singular, rotating spearhead of compressed annihilation.
Ding-chou let out a guttural roar, her muscles straining against the sub-zero pressure, and thrust the spiral forward.
The air didn't just freeze—it screamed. A jagged line of crystalline geometry tore through the atmosphere, crystallizing the very oxygen in a straight, lethal path toward Hotei.
its once-mighty aura diminishing rapidly. The ten other generals were scattered in various directions, their once-proud formation utterly obliterated.
Thick smoke and a storm of spiritual dust enveloped the epicenter of the explosion, obscuring the chaos within.
Hotei rapidly tied his bag shut, hoisting it back onto his shoulder. His boisterous laughter had faded into a thin, satisfied smile. Beside him, Fukurokuju carefully rolled up his ancient scroll, the spiritual crane having long since vanished back into its original dimension.
“They’re still alive,” Fukurokuju murmured, his sharp gaze piercing through the veil of dust. “The essence of the god of war is not so easily extinguished.”
“Let them be,” Hotei chuckled softly, patting his belly once more. “At least they'll think twice before challenging a couple of old men out for a stroll.”
As the dust began to settle, the figure of Jia-yin slowly rose, bracing himself on one knee. His eyes burned with an intensity that was more than just the desire to kill; they were filled with pure hatred and a deep understanding of the terror surrounding him. The long-standing illusions of Fukurokuju’s longevity and Hotei’s empty space had stripped away their pride. They were starkly reminded that in this universe, certain ancient laws prevailed—laws far more absolute than the mere destructive forces of pure elements.
“You think you can intimidate me?” Jia-yin’s voice sliced through the air, sharp and fierce, echoing his defiance. “I’ve faced horrors that would break lesser beings.” His gaze fixed on the sky, his heart pounding like a war drum.
Fukurokuju, his expression grimmer than before, retorted, “You’ve only just begun to comprehend the depths of despair, child. Your understanding is but a flicker in the vast darkness.” There was a resonant authority in his tone, a reminder of ages past when he had faced far greater threats.
Before the polar spiral could bite into Hotei’s flesh, Fukurokuju’s eyes sharpened into two points of ancient, calculating light. He did not rush. He did not shout.
With a movement as fluid as a calligraphy stroke, he tapped his heavy scroll once against the trembling air.
“Longevity Mandate: Thousand-Year Pause.”
The world did not freeze. A total cessation of time was a crude tool, and Fukurokuju was a master of precision. Instead, the mandate settled exclusively along the jagged, linear trajectory of Ding-chou’s spiral.
The air between the two men curdled. The attack, which had been a blur of compressed annihilation a millisecond before, suddenly hit an invisible wall of multiplied duration. It didn't stop—it was simply forced to endure a millennium of travel within the span of a single heartbeat.
The destructive tip of the "Absolute Zero Fang" hung suspended, looking less like a weapon and more like a fossil caught inside a block of prehistoric amber. The frost shards, once vibrating with lethal velocity, now trembled in an elongated state of existence. They were moving, but at a velocity so infinitesimal that the human eye perceived only a shimmering, crystalline statue.
Ding-chou’s roar died in his throat as she watched his ultimate technique become a relic. The air around the spiral began to groan under the sheer weight of the temporal displacement.
“A thousand years is a long time to wait for a killing blow, Ding-chou,” Fukurokuju murmured, his voice sounding distant, as if he were speaking from the other side of the centuries he had just conjured.
The spiral was not dead, but it was marooned. Every ounce of its destructive potential was still there, buzzing with the need to explode, but it was being crushed by the weight of a forced longevity it was never meant to possess.
Hotei chuckled, a low rumble from deep within, as he adjusted his posture, preparing for the confrontation. “Let’s savor this moment, shall we? You believe you wield power, yet you’re merely a spark in a storm.” He stepped forward, a glint of mischief in his eyes, confidence radiating from him.