"Not everyone who dies is reborn.
Not everyone whose Dao is destroyed gets a chance for a new Dao.
But if someone whose name was erased by all realms steps out of nothingness...
Then, who truly rewrites heavenly fate?"
The woman from the Void Realm – carrying the residual image of an era erased from history.
She appeared without a sound.
Her dark mask was intricately carved with ancient, lost runes.
Her dark brocade cloak did not ripple in the wind, as if existing outside of space.
With each step she took, the ground beneath Lin Mo's feet cracked into ash, as if unable to withstand the pressure from her very memories.
"I am no longer human. But I remember you."
She spoke – her voice deep, distant, as if echoing from another era.
"You... bear the ash Dao, right?"
"Then you too can... see me."
Lin Mo remained silent, his aura chaotic.
His Dao heart trembled for the first time – not from fear, but because...
the residual image in his blood... synchronized with her aura.
"Who... are you?"
She replied, her eyes as deep and swirling as an abyss:
"I am the last of the Dao of Anarchy."
"And also the one who once... defied the entire Heavenly Dao with an embrace."
Ancient texts tell that in the Primordial Samsara Era, there was a Daoist woman named Zi Xuan, who created a type of Dao... that did not distinguish between good and evil, did not measure cultivation realms, and did not require cultivation.
She only needed to see a person, to believe in a person, to be able to bestow a part of her Dao power.
A Dao "without rules," "without standards," "without balance."
"Anarchy – meaning: No longer bound by the ethics of Dao and law,
but only by the human heart."
Precisely because of this, she was betrayed by myriad sects.
All heavens condemned her as a chaotic heretic.
Finally... she was imprisoned in the Void Realm – a place without time, without reincarnation.
Zi Xuan looked down at Lin Mo.
Her hand gently touched his chest.
His ash blood vibrated.
"Your blood... is what I once dreamed of in my final moments."
"I cannot revive.
But I can... let a part of the old Dao live within you."
A massive surge of memories flooded Lin Mo's consciousness.
Within it:
A young woman in purple robes kneeling before tens of thousands of powerful cultivators, crying out: "Why categorize when all are human?"
An embrace – bestowing her entire cultivation upon a dying child.
A final glance – as her soul was shattered by the Thirteen Heavenly Lords, yet without resentment or hatred.
Each drop of memory merged into Lin Mo's blood.
A new Dao script appeared in his Dantian:
"The Second Dao – Anarchic Soul Link."
Her mask slightly dissolved.
Beneath the layer of dust, a visage of transcendent beauty emerged.
Not enchanting. Not demonic.
Just... sadness.
Those eyes looked at Lin Mo – as if entrusting everything:
"I lived a life for others,
but in the end... no one lived for me."
"If my Dao can live on...
then... give it a chance."
Zi Xuan approached – and embraced him.
Lin Mo's entire body trembled.
A second Dao heart circle emerged:
No need for sensing. No need for measuring.
Only connection.
A new realm was about to form:
Anarchic Illusion Realm – a realm that guides Dao through emotion.
The sky cracked.
A voice from beyond the heavens cried out:
"No! Do not let him complete the second Dao!"
"He will be the origin of the Chaotic Dao!"