The ghostly trireme sliced across the still waters like a phantom whisper. No sails billowed, no oars moved—but it glided eastward, driven by the unseen hand of the White Liches who once ruled between life and undeath. Lu Sang stood at the prow, his robes flickering as chill winds swept past. Around him, the dead whispered in forgotten tongues, bound to the vessel that only the dead—and those marked by them—could board.

Ahead, land rose. Not in jagged cliffs or sandy shores—but in a road of golden blood, glowing dimly in a rhythmic pulse. It stretched like a vein across the barren sea, ending at a colossal structure suspended between stars and time: the Temple of Reincarnation.

Lu Sang stepped from the ship, his boots silent against the glowing path. Every step echoed with ancient will—the will of Fallen Gods who once ruled this corner of the cosmos and had etched their judgment into reality itself.

Inside the Temple, space bent with every breath. Floating pillars shimmered in impossible geometries, and the air shimmered with the weight of unspent destinies.

A Siren sat in the heart of the sanctum, her lower body trailing into spectral mist, while her upper half remained elegantly humanoid. Her scales glimmered with starlight, and her long, fluid hair weaved itself into a living tapestry of souls. She flipped through a heavy tome bound in timeworn skin.

“That makes five hundred quarillion souls now,” she said without looking up. “Twenty percent bound to their gods’ domains. The rest? Cast across distant stars—reborn as beasts, men, dust, or something stranger.”

She raised her hand without ceremony and snapped her fingers.

Two portals opened.

In the first, Lu Sang saw Queen Pan Lian, dressed in full imperial black, standing beside a war table. Her face was unreadable, but her orders were clear.

“If Lu Sang does not return, bury him. Let him become myth. And prepare for war. We must not wait for Mei Lan’s mercy—we strike when a stronger general rises.”

The second portal pulsed with black mist, thick and shifting like oil. Lu Sang narrowed his eyes.

“What is that place?” he asked.

The Siren closed her book.

“That is where your title of Great Sage remains… but it will change. There, your soul is merged with a mechanized core—a creation engine. You will no longer command armies in the old way. You will create cards—each one a living being or force. You are now bound to an island in Universe 500, where the desperate cry out for a new god.”

Lu Sang’s brow furrowed. “These… cards. What are they?”

“Manifestations. Some born of soul fragments—5% of them will be reincarnators: intelligent, faithful, dangerous in both directions. The rest, 95%, will be created by the robotic essence that fused with you upon stepping into this realm. They will be loyal. But mechanical.”

Lu Sang looked at both doors. The first led back to a world that mourned and prepared for his loss, readying blades and vengeance. The second was mystery incarnate.

He stepped into the black-mist portal.

The world shifted.

When his vision cleared, Lu Sang stood on a vast island, floating in a sea of stars. Trees grew with silvery bark and glowing fruit, waterfalls streamed upward, and animals shaped like dreams wandered freely. A soft breeze carried whispers—wishes, prayers.

His hand twitched.

In his pocket, something pulsed.

He reached in and pulled out a single card—its surface shimmered with divine light.

Card: Divine Attitude
“Fulfill the wishes of those who desire blessings from the God of Blessings. In return, gain divine attitudes—manifest traits of godhood.”

On the back, more text appeared as if being written in real time:

1. Blessings are a must to form and create creatures, trees, miracles—anything that serves the desires of the people.
2. You alone are the ruler of this island.
3. All that you summon must protect Universe 500.

From the skies above, the Siren’s voice echoed one final time.

“You will be the only god here, Lu Sang. One of the blessings, not war. But beware… blessings always carry a cost.”

Lu Sang looked over his new realm, the card glowing in his palm.

He was no longer just a ruler of men.

He was a god of the blessed, builder of legends, and soon… a creator of armies born not from womb or forge—but from divine will and inked paper.

The stars above the island shimmered with divine calm, and the air carried a strange weight—as though the heavens themselves waited for Lu Sang to take his first step.

From high above, the Siren’s voice once more echoed through the skies, melodic and eternal.

“Use the Lord’s Cabin to begin creating your domain, Lu Sang. That is your anchor. That cabin responds to your memories—pulling its shape from your original universe.”

She paused. Then added cryptically:

“And by the way… the card you carry? It covers the island in something. Use it to find out.”

Lu Sang looked again at the shimmering Divine Attitude card in his hand. He exhaled once, then activated it.

Golden mist burst from the card like sunlight spilled from a broken heaven, pouring outward in every direction. It swept over the trees, hills, rivers, and valleys of the floating island—cloaking everything in a warm, celestial glow. The mist seemed to breathe, pulsing slowly with power, like the island itself had gained a heartbeat.

Then—beside him—a cabin emerged from the mist.

Old, wooden, familiar.

Its windows were stained glass, its porch creaked with memory. Lu Sang stepped closer and realized it was nearly identical to his childhood home, from the universe he left behind so long ago. The detail was uncanny, even down to the cracked tile near the back window and the herbal scent of his late grandmother’s kitchen.

“The Siren wasn’t lying,” he murmured. “This is... me.”

He stepped inside the Lord’s Cabin, finding a small desk, a map of the island slowly etching itself in gold, and several blank card slots built into the walls like bookshelves. The central chair—the Lord’s Seat—glowed faintly.

Lu Sang didn’t sit. Not yet.

He stepped back out and began exploring the island, letting the golden mist guide his path like a divine compass.

After a short hike through glowing foliage and whispering winds, he reached a clearing—and stopped in awe.

A massive deer, over 20 feet tall, stood in regal stillness among the trees. Its antlers stretched like ancient branches, etched with glyphs older than language. Around it, over 2,000 smaller deer, each half its size, grazed or rested in formation. None showed fear. None fled. Yet they moved with a strange unity—almost rhythmic.

Lu Sang narrowed his eyes. “What is with these deer?”

A soft whisper rose in his mind—not the Siren’s voice, but something deeper. His own soul’s echo in this realm of creation.

“Great Sage… in this universe, every creature without intelligence follows the will of the land. They live not in chaos—but in pack-life unity. Every beast, no matter how divine or mundane, operates as part of a system. A structure. A purpose.”

He watched as the large deer lifted its head, antlers shimmering in the golden mist. It didn’t speak, but something passed between it and Lu Sang. A recognition. A pact unspoken.

These are not mere beasts.
They are part of your blessings.

The Great Sage stepped forward slowly, realizing that the deer—like the island—were his to shape, but also his path to understanding.