The silence broke the moment Zhao Batian’s laughter died in his throat.

High above, on the 9,990th step, Han Lie moved.

Witnessing this, the Holy Son’s expression shifted instantly—a mask of arrogance shattering into undisguised dread. His heart, which had only just settled, leaped back into his throat.

“Do not panic, Holy Son,” Li Qingyu said, though her voice lacked its usual steel. “Look closely. The higher he climbs, the slower he becomes. The pressure is exponential. These final hundred steps are a chasm he will never cross, not in this lifetime.”

“Senior Qingyu speaks reason,” Zhao Batian stammered, his bravado hollow. “This is merely a futile struggle before death!”

Yet, a cold, creeping sensation of unease began to rot him from the inside out.

Time blurred, flowing like a rushing river. Three months passed in the blink of an eye.

Every step Han Lie took tugged at the souls of the six cultivators and one beast watching from below. The ascent was agonizingly slow. With every inch gained, the invisible weight of the heavens multiplied, threatening to crush him into dust.

But his feet never stopped.

Finally, Han Lie crossed the threshold, standing upon the 9,990th step. Only ten steps remained between him and the heavens.

His eyelids felt as heavy as mountains. His limbs were numb, sensation long since ground away by exhaustion. The pressure was no longer just a weight; it was a physical force seeking to obliterate his existence.

Han Lie’s eyes snapped open. Pitch-black pupils burned with the cold fire of a predator in his prime. There was no hesitation, only the absolute resolve of a conqueror.

Below, Xiao Yuruo and Bai Ling held their breath, their gazes locked on his gaunt, solitary back.

Zhao Batian’s eyes were bloodshot, practically splitting at the corners. Deep within his pupils, unwilling rage warred with terrifying realization.

After a long stillness, Han Lie lifted a heavy foot and brought it down.

Thump!

Step 9,991.

The pressure surged violently. Han Lie’s balance faltered, driving him down to one knee. The stone beneath him seemed to scream under the strain.

“A century of humiliation could not break my spine,” Han Lie snarled through gritted teeth, veins bulging like ancient roots across his neck. “What is this pile of rocks compared to that?”

With a guttural roar, he forced his knee off the ground. He stood.

A faint, fiery-red mist began to rise from his pores—the steam of a furnace pushed to its limit. He did not pause. He stepped again.

Step 9,992.

Boom!

The atmospheric pressure struck like a titan’s hammer. Han Lie’s left arm did not merely break; it detonated. Flesh and muscle disintegrated into a fine crimson mist, sending shards of jade-white bone scattering into the void.

“Brother Lie!” Bai Ling screamed, her pupils shrinking to pinpricks.

“Oh no! Is Big Brother dying, meow?” Xiao Zi hissed, fur standing on end.

“Could it be…?” Xiao Yuruo pursed her lips. Beneath the horror, a flicker of intense, knowing excitement lit up her beautiful eyes. He is shedding the mortal coil.

“Hmm?” Below, Dongfang Xuehong, Li Qingyu, and Huang Hai narrowed their eyes in unison.

“Impossible! Absolutely impossible!” Zhao Batian muttered. The bloody spectacle brought him no joy, only a deepening terror.

Boom!

Step 9,994.

Han Lie’s right arm exploded into blood mist.

Bai Ling felt her heart seize, her lungs refusing to draw air.

“Is this… all you have to stop me?” Han Lie’s face was a mask of ferocious determination.

He swayed, momentarily unaccustomed to the loss of balance, but he did not falter. He was no longer a man climbing stairs; he was a weapon being forged. He adjusted his center of gravity and climbed.

9,995. 9,996. 9,997.

Rip!

On the 9,997th step, the skin across Han Lie’s torso ruptured. Scalding blood washed over him, dyeing his figure crimson. To the onlookers, it was a gruesome flaying.

Pain, sharp and absolute—like ten thousand arrows piercing his heart—assaulted his mind. His vision blurred. His consciousness flickered like a candle in a hurricane, threatening to snuff out.

Hold.

Han Lie drove the Yin Yang Demonic Art to its peak. Pure Yang energy flooded his meridians and remaining bones, a roaring river that anchored his crumbling soul.

In that trance of agony, the world shifted. The crushing pressure seemed to vanish, replaced by a profound emptiness.

He did not question it. The end was right there.

Han Lie stepped onto the 9,998th step.

Boom!

His head exploded.

Blood sprayed like a fountain into the high altitude winds.

“Ah—!” Bai Ling’s scream was silent, her face draining of all color. Xiao Zi froze, terrified into silence.

Xiao Yuruo did not scream. Her expression grew grave, her focus absolute. She stared at the headless, armless figure standing amidst a halo of red mist, praying that her theory was correct.

Blood, bone fragments, and flesh hovered around the body, suspended in a gruesome orbit. To the uninitiated, Han Lie was dead—obliterated by his own hubris.

But the body did not fall.

The headless form stood on the 9,998th step for what felt like an eternity. Then, under the horrified gazes of the six cultivators and one beast, the legs moved.

Step 9,999.

Boom!

The torso disintegrated.

Internal organs, ribs, and spine shattered into microscopic particles, merging with the blood mist.

And there, suspended in the center of the carnage, a brilliant, spinning Golden Core pulsed with blinding radiance.

The air solidified. The wind died. Time itself seemed to freeze.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Xiao Yuruo’s heart hammered against her ribs. She refused to blink.

An unknown amount of time passed. Guided by sheer will, the remaining legs took one final step forward.

They crossed the threshold of the 10,000th step.

The moment the step landed, the legs exploded.

Han Lie was gone. Physically, there was nothing left but a cloud of essence and a defiant soul.

Thud.

Down on the 7,000th step, Zhao Batian collapsed to the ground, his eyes dead, his spirit utterly broken.

Even Li Qingyu frowned deeply, a look of grim realization crossing her face. While others saw death, she saw the ancient truth of the Dao.

No destruction, no construction. To forge the new, the old must be utterly annihilated.

Hum!

The next instant, the peak of the Celestial Staircase erupted in a pillar of blinding golden light.