He was once the Martial God of Ten Thousand Realms, a legend who shattered heavens with a single strike. But betrayal sealed his divine soul into the frail body of Lin Feng—a scorned, beaten son-in-law of a crumbling clan. Mocked as trash, humiliated by his wife’s family, and cast aside like a broken tool, he endured it all with a smile. Why? Because beneath his ragged exterior burns the heart of a god, waiting to unleash chaos on a world that forgot his name.

Divorced and discarded, Lin Feng walks away from the Lin Clan’s sneers, his steps leading him to the downtrodden Ye Clan—a family of outcasts clinging to survival. They see a wanderer. He sees a canvas. With cunning sharper than any blade and secrets deeper than the abyss, he begins to mold them in the shadows, turning weaklings into warriors, paupers into kings. Every insult fuels his resolve. Every enemy becomes a stepping stone.

But the seal on his power is cracking. Ancient foes sense the tremor of a god’s return. Arrogant young masters, ruthless sects, and even the heavens themselves will tremble when the Shadow Patriarch rises. From a forgotten village to the celestial thrones, Lin Feng—Zhan Tian—will carve his name in blood and fire, proving one truth: those who scorned him will kneel, and those who dared to challenge him will break.

Cultivation? Unmatched. Revenge? Ruthless. Destiny? His to rewrite. The world thought it buried a nobody. It awoke a nightmare.

The Ye Clan estate trembled beneath a dawn sky cloaked in silver stillness and tranquil strength, the air thick with a resonant hush that smothered the fading wrath of the Fierce Inferno's retreat. The courtyard pulsed with unease, the fire dimming low as Ye Hua gripped a patched cloak, her gray eyes wide with awe at the rift where a figure in silver stillness emerged, its qi a boundless calm of infinite power casting waves of serenity that stilled the earth into eerie quiet. Ye Qing braced his spear at the gate, his grizzled face taut with strain, his voice a rough shout as he waved Ye Jun and Ye Mei behind the barricade, their small forms shivering under the silver veil. Ye Chen crouched by the western wall, his ward-stone gripped tight, his twisted leg steady as the ground hummed with a force of unshakable peace. Ye Ling prowled the gatehouse, her dagger a restless glint, her braid swaying with each tense step, her breath quick with defiance and suspicion.


Chapter 54 - The Eternity’s Silence