Wang Tian POV:

'I moved silently through the forest, the familiar scents of damp earth and pine guiding my way to the shrine. It was a place of solace and peace, and today, it would become a pivotal point in my quest for ultimate power. He had something I needed—Heavenly God's eyes. I had long desired this power, and now it was finally within my grasp.

As I approached, I saw a small boy kneeling in prayer, his small hands clasped together in earnest devotion. The boy was small and delicate, his frame slight and fragile, like a sapling in the forest. His skin, pale and soft, seemed almost translucent in the soft light filtering through the trees. His hair, a tangle of dark curls, framed his face in an unruly halo.

Though his eyes were closed, there was a calmness in his expression. His fingers were slightly curled, as if still grasping at hope. His face, so innocent and serene, made my heart momentarily soften, but I had long learned not to let emotions sway my purpose. The boy’s blindness was tragic, but it was also an opportunity—one that I would seize without hesitation.'

Wang Tian had spent countless hours in his previous life researching the effects and origin of the Samsara Pearl. During this quest for knowledge, he encountered Jing Yu. In his previous life, Jing Yu had reached the Firmament Cloud Master level of cultivation and was affiliated with the Heavenly Sword Sect. He was the very figure responsible for elevating the sect's status and halting its decline in the face of other powerful sects.

After slaying the Empyrean ancestors of his enemies, Wang Tian sustained severe injuries and sought refuge at the nearby Heavenly Sword Sect to recover. There, he met Jing Yu and noticed his Heavenly God's eye. Wang Tian, whose knowledge was unrivaled across the Vast Sky Continent, immediately recognized its significance. Jing Yu, blind from birth, possessed the Heavenly God's Eyes—a talent so rare that it was only seen once in an epoch. An epoch spanned ten million years, though some lasted even longer. These eyes, once fully awakened, could pierce through the fabric of reality and reveal hidden truths.

Yet Wang Tian did not claim the Heavenly God's Eye for himself. There were two main reasons for this. First, the eyes required Celestial Qi to function, a resource that was impossible to obtain in Wang Tian's previous life. This scarcity of Celestial Qi was also why neither he nor any other Empyrean cultivators could break through to the legendary Celestial Realm. Second, even if by some miracle he acquired Celestial Qi, there was no time to transplant the eyes as he was already at the center of the world's attention.

But this time, Wang Tian could claim the Heavenly God's Eyes. The solution to the first problem has been found. When he self-detonated, leaving only a wisp of his soul inside the Samsara Pearl, something miraculous occurred—his soul fused with the Samsara Pearl. What did this mean? It meant that he could now awaken the Heavenly God's eyes.

The Samsara Pearl was one of the Eight Heavenly Profound Treasures, existing since the Primordial Beginning and born from chaos itself. Since everything originated from chaos, Wang Tian could now harness Chaos Qi in place of Celestial Qi. And because Chaos Qi was even more powerful than Celestial Qi, he now had the means to fully utilize the Heavenly God's eyes.

.....

'I positioned myself carefully, ensuring I did not disturb his peaceful state. I lit the herbal roll, its fragrant smoke curling through the air. I could see him inhaling deeply, his body relaxing as the sleep-inducing herbs took effect. His breathing slowed, becoming rhythmic and deep. The boy was succumbing to the slumber I had intended, and I had only moments before he would be completely under my influence.

I watched as the boy’s head slowly drooped, his tiny frame gradually relaxing into a state of deep slumber. My heart was steady, and my focus was unwavering as I placed a hand on his shoulder, ensuring he was comfortable. Gently, I laid him down on the soft earth beside the shrine. His face, once etched with the subtle strains of his life’s burdens, was now serene and untroubled.

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As he slept, I stood up, my mind already shifting to the next steps of my plan. I had made certain that the shrine would remain a place of tranquility, at least for this fleeting moment. The boy’s sleep was a necessary part of the process. With the boy now deeply asleep, I set to work. My hands were steady, and my heart was resolute. The procedure was delicate and required precision. I reached into my pouch and drew out a small, sharp blade, crafted for such a task.

I began the incision with careful movements, the blade slicing through the skin with practiced ease. I could feel the boy’s warmth as I worked, but my focus was on the task at hand. I extracted the boy’s eyes with precision, handling them with the utmost care. They were precious, holding the immense energy that I would soon possess. Once I had removed them, I felt a surge of anticipation. The procedure was not finished; now came the moment of truth.

I carefully removed my own eyes. The pain was sharp, a familiar sting that I had long endured. But it was necessary, and I did not falter. My vision faded as I removed my eyes, replaced by darkness. But I had prepared for this. I placed the boy’s eyes into my own sockets, feeling the intense, electric sensation as it began to fuse with my body. A miniscule amount of Chaos Qi surged within me, wrapping around the eye and beginning the process of fusion. The agony was immense, as if my soul were being torn apart and remade at the same time.

Gritting my teeth, I endured the searing pain that shot through my entire being. The Chaos Qi within me grew more intense, swirling around the eye like a raging tempest, binding it to my very essence. But I held on, knowing that this was the price I had to pay for the power I sought.

Slowly, the pain began to subside, replaced by a strange warmth that spread through my body. For a moment, I was plunged into darkness. But then, slowly, the world began to come into focus. The darkness receded, replaced by a vision so sharp and clear that it took my breath away. Everything was sharper and more detailed.

I could see everything—the trees, the shrine, the sleeping boy—each detail more vivid than anything he had ever seen before. But it was more than just a sight. I could feel the flow of energy in the world around me with a depth and clarity that transcended ordinary sight. It was as if I could peer through the very fabric of reality itself, unveiling secrets that had previously been hidden.

I looked down at the boy, who was still peacefully asleep on the ground. I finished the procedure by sealing the boy’s eyelids with a delicate weave of qi, ensuring that his body would accept the new eyes without issue. My own eyes would give him sight— a sight that would allow him to see the world in a way he never could before.

Without hesitation, I turned and left the boy behind. Walking back into the shadows where I belonged, I felt nothing but a fierce, unyielding determination.

An unfair exchange, some might say. But fairness or unfairness was not my concern. In the end, what mattered was not their judgment but the power I now held. This was the path I had chosen.

In this world, where strength is the only law, the concepts of good and evil are nothing more than illusions, fragile constructs built by the weak to comfort themselves in the face of power. They whisper to themselves that their righteousness, their so-called virtues, hold value in the grand scheme of things. But I have lived long enough and seen enough of this vast and cruel world to know the truth: morality is a chain that binds those too feeble to break it.

The weak cling to the idea of good because it gives them hope. They brand others as evil because it gives them a sense of superiority, a way to feel powerful without ever having to be powerful. But in the end, these are just words, just labels that can be twisted and turned to suit anyone's narrative.

This world does not reward the weak. It does not care for intentions, only for outcomes. In the eyes of the world, you are only as good or as evil as your success. I've seen countless people fall, clinging to the illusions of morality, unable to make the hard choices. They forget that this path is not for the faint of heart. It's for those who are willing to cast aside everything—morality, relationships, even their humanity—for the sake of ultimate power.

Only power is absolute. It is the only truth in this world, the only thing that matters. Those who wield it define what is good and what is evil. To the powerless, I might be a demon, a monster who takes what he wants without regard for others. But to those who see clearly, I am simply a man who understands that the only thing worth pursuing is absolute power. I would do whatever it took to reach the summit. The boy’s eyes were a step on that path, nothing more.

Good and evil—they are meaningless when compared to the pursuit of power. If an action brings me closer to my goal, then it is the right action to take, regardless of what others might call it. If being a saint will help me reach the peak, I will become a saint. If becoming a demon will get me there faster, I will become the very embodiment of evil. In the end, only results matter.

There is no higher purpose, no grand design that dictates what is right or wrong. There is only power and the will to use it. And I will use it, no matter the cost. In the end, the world will only remember the one who stands at the summit. Whether they see a hero or a villain when they look at me is of no consequence.'

All that matters is that I will be there, at the absolute peak of existence.