Myth Beyond Heaven

The insults from Yin were not delivered with rage, but with a cold, analytical scorn that made them cut deeper. They were designed to provoke, to find cracks in the cold arrogance that Nian Shi had cultivated over eons.

Nian Shi, however, did not flare with anger. His mismatched eyes merely narrowed a fraction, his expression remaining one of cold, analytical indifference. The words seemed to slide off him, failing to find purchase in his monumental ego.

“Is that so?” Nian Shi’s voice was flat, devoid of any emotion that Yin might prey upon. He stared at Yin, his gaze piercing. “And you, the legendary Chasm of Uncreation, the great equal to the Creator herself… is this all you have? Petty taunts and the same tired tricks of negation?”

He let a beat of silence pass, the dead space around them making it feel heavier. “The legends spoke of a force that could make the Creator herself tremble. They spoke of an absolute end. But what I see before me is… lacking. Perhaps the eons of hiding and being sealed away have diminished you. Perhaps the legends were simply overblown.”

It was a perfect counter-taunt, delivered with icy precision. He was not denying Yin’s power; he was questioning its scale, its majesty. He was implying that the great Uncreation had become… mediocre.

Yin’s mocking smile remained, but a flicker of something colder passed through the depths of his cosmic eyes. Nian Shi’s arrogance was, as expected, monumental. But his control was… irritating.

Then, Nian Shi moved.

It was not telegraphed. There was no gathering of energy, no shift in stance. One moment he was floating in silence, the next, he had struck.

But this was not an attack of Creation or Uncreation. It was something else entirely.

Buzz—

The power that erupted from him was Chaos.

It was not the disordered chaos of a random explosion. It was a fundamental, primordial Chaos—the state that existed before the concepts of Creation and Uncreation were even defined.

It was the raw, unformed potential from which both Yin and the Creator had been born, but which neither could truly command. It was the power Yun Lintian had been on the cusp of mastering, the unity that Nian Shi had now perfected and usurped.

A wave of this grey, shimmering, formless energy lanced towards Yin. It didn’t seek to create or destroy. It sought to unmake the definitions themselves.

Yin’s eyes widened a fraction, not with fear, but with sharp recognition. He had seen this before, in glimpses, when Yun Lintian had struggled with the power. He had anticipated that Nian Shi might attempt it.

“Tch!” Yin hissed, his playful demeanor vanishing, replaced by focused intensity.

He reacted instantly, raising both hands. He didn’t try to negate it with Uncreation, for how could you negate something that was the source of negation itself?

Instead, he tried to contain it. He attempted to impose a boundary around the chaotic energy, to define it as an “attack” and thus subject to the laws of cause and effect, which he could then manipulate.

But it was futile.

The chaotic energy simply… ignored the boundary. The concept of a “boundary” had no meaning to it. It passed through Yin’s defensive attempt as if it weren’t there.

Yin’s composure broke for a single, telling instant. A flicker of genuine surprise and frustration crossed his features. He tried another tactic, attempting to unmake the space the chaos was passing through, to create a void so absolute that not even pre-conceptual energy could traverse it.

But the chaotic energy wasn’t traversing space; it was redefining the very concept of “traversal.” It was already upon him.

Boom!

It struck Yin squarely in the chest. This content belongs to novel~fire~net

There was no explosive impact. Instead, a terrifying transformation occurred. The area around Yin’s torso didn’t vaporize or dissolve. It… fluctuated.

For a horrifying microsecond, it became a patch of vibrant, exploding creation, birthing countless strange, temporary universes.

In the next microsecond, it became a depth of absolute void, swallowing those universes whole.

Then it became solid matter, then pure light, then a concept, then nothing at all—all in a chaotic, unpredictable cycle that was beyond any law.

“Ugh!”

Yin let out a grunt of pain—a raw, shocked sound that was utterly alien to him. He was forced back, his form flickering wildly as the chaotic energy wreaked havoc on his very essence. It wasn’t destroying him; it was making his existence inconsistent. It was attacking the stability that allowed him to be “Yin.”

“Haha!”

Nian Shi watched, a cold, mocking laugh finally escaping his lips. The sound was full of triumphant contempt.

“You see?” Nian Shi’s voice rang out, cold and victorious. “You are outdated, Yin! A relic of a bygone era! Your power is absolute, but it is simple. It is a one-note song in a symphony you can no longer comprehend!”

He advanced slowly through the void, the chaotic energy still swirling around his fists. “The era of Uncreation ended the moment the Creator breathed life into the first star. And it will truly end today. You cling to a past that has no place in the future I will build.”

He raised a hand, gathering another, more concentrated ball of shimmering, chaotic grey energy. The power hummed, making the very concept of reality sick and dizzy around it.

“It is time to send you to hell,” Nian Shi declared, his voice dripping with finality. “Go and keep the original Creator company in the oblivion she so rightly earned. Your time is over.”

For the first time in the battle, Nian Shi held the undeniable upper hand. He had a power that Yin could not counter, could not negate, could not even properly understand.

The end of the embodiment of Uncreation seemed not just possible, but imminent.

Yin was sent flying backward through the void, his form flickering erratically like a faulty signal. The chaotic energy wreaked havoc within him, forcing his essence to cycle violently between states of being and non-being.

It was a profoundly disorienting and painful experience, one he had not felt since his initial confrontation with the Creator.

But as he tumbled, the initial shock and pain began to recede, burned away by a cold, rising fury. The playful mockery was gone from his eyes, replaced by an ancient, absolute seriousness.

He stabilized his form, the chaotic fluctuations slowly being suppressed by the sheer, overwhelming depth of his own power. He straightened up, brushing a non-existent speck of dust from his robe—a gesture of regained composure that was itself a declaration.

“A clever trick,” Yin admitted, his voice now flat and devoid of all amusement. “I must concede. Although you are a fake, a usurper who stole this power… the original owner of this body built a truly remarkable foundation.”