Chapter Index

    The Taiyu Clan Head’s expression suddenly froze. The Taiyuan Manor disciples under the fire flag felt their pupils constrict. The purple-gold Maitreya image in mid-air trembled, nearly dissipating from shock, and the red silks unfurling in the valley wind came to an abrupt halt. Boundless dread, boundless horror, and boundless shock exploded in their minds all at once, leaving them reeling.

    Shi Wuluo.

    He had appeared out of nowhere a thousand years ago, walking out of the Southern Borderlands alone, and had cut a bloody path across the Twelve Continents of the Central Lands with a single scarlet saber.

    Nominally, he was the Head of the Ten Shamans, but in reality, the divine arts and techniques he practiced had no connection to the Witch Clan. He had no master, no bloodline, no family or friends, nothing he loved, and nothing he was tied to. Be it the Immortal Sects or Kongsang, no matter how much effort they expended, they could never uncover his origins. He seemed to be nothing more than a pure madman, slaughtering wantonly, making an enemy of the world.

    For a thousand years, countless sects and clans had roared the same questions over and over: Who was he? What did he want?

    No one knew.

    Kongsang had once beseeched the High Gods, but even Heaven Beyond Heavens could not provide an answer.

    It wasn’t until the Nine Cities of Zhunan, when Shi Wuluo appeared before the public for the first time, broke through the cage, and spirited away the red-robed Chou Bodeng, that the past finally found its answer: everything had been nothing more than a long revenge and a patient vigil. But the mist had not completely dispersed. Everything related to the former Divine Lord was a story from a time long, long ago. Yet, the Records of Ancient Stone Steles held no mention of his figure, and the celestial shrines had never been inscribed with his name.

    In the era belonging to the Divine Lord, there was no trace of him.

    The grudges, love, and hatred had nothing to do with him.

    On what grounds was he doing all of this?

    The more people knew, the more baffled they became. It wasn’t until Yue Mu’s hysterical laughter that the final veil of mist was shattered—but no one had expected such an answer.

    It was an answer too absurd, too ironic.

    A dead silence fell over the area.

    “What’s wrong?” Yue Mu giggled, the corners of her eyes a deep blue. “Why has everyone gone silent?”

    “Nonsense! The most absurd joke under the heavens!” The Taiyu Clan Head suddenly snapped back to reality, his face twisted into a ferocious mask of disbelief and extreme fear. He pointed at Yue Mu and berated her, heedless of his image, “How dare an evil demon like you, who has sided with the Great Wilderness, spread such bewitching lies here!”

    His words were followed by a great uproar from all around.

    To walk the Heavenly Mandate and protect the common people—this was the orthodox lineage that both the Immortal Sects and Kongsang claimed as their own.

    It was because of this orthodox lineage that cultivators could walk between heaven and earth without confusion or doubt. No one was willing to believe Yue Mu’s words, and no one was willing to accept the fact that the Heavenly Dao did not care for the common people—otherwise, wouldn’t the very foundation of their faith become a joke?

    “Do you really believe the words of a mad demon?” The Taiyu Clan Head looked around, his voice unnaturally high as he tried to incite Xiaolian Mile and the others to agree with him.

    However, it was precisely this unnaturally high-pitched voice that caused some of the clamoring Heaven-Herding Clansmen from Kongsang to turn pale and fall silent. The Heaven-Herding Clansmen who were able to participate in this siege in Yong Continent were all elites among the Hundred Clans. As such, they knew a little more than the average person, such as… not long ago, the sun and moon of Ru City had been altered by someone from outside the Hundred Clans!

    “You don’t recognize it?” Yue Mu had stopped laughing at some point, and her voice suddenly became exceptionally ethereal. “That Shamanistic Nuo Mask, you should have seen it before…”

    The Taiyu Clan Head’s voice died in his throat.

    He slowly, stiffly, turned to look at the Witch Clan.

    Wu Luo knelt before the head of the Zheng Beast, respectfully raising a wooden box above his head. The deep black, gold-lacquered mask flew out of the box and into Shi Wuluo’s hand.

    The Taiyu Clan Head suddenly began to back away, step by step.

    …That mask!

    He had indeed seen that mask before!

    Or rather, all the clan heads of the Kongsang Hundred Clans who inherited the bloodline of a High God should have seen that mask. Under the Fusang Divine Tree, there was an extremely secret ancient sacrificial chamber, accessible only to the heads of the great clans, which preserved some murals related to the history of the Primeval Era. One of them depicted the Divine Lord, with wide, flowing sleeves, wearing a deep black mask while boating on the Qin River.

    The clan heads of Kongsang had seen that mural more than once.

    But before this moment, none of them had discovered the secret hidden within.

    The Primeval Era was too long ago, too far away. In the secret scrolls of Kongsang, which were never shown to outsiders, some habits of that white-robed Divine Lord were recorded. Compared to the other gods in Cloud City, he particularly enjoyed descending from Incomplete Mountain to walk among the rivers and mountains, sometimes singing and drinking with the city’s inhabitants, or playing with spirits and monsters. In one or two fragmented anecdotes, it was said that sometimes, to avoid being recognized, he would wear a mask, just like a mortal.

    “He carved that mask with his own hands…” Yue Mu gazed at the deep black, gold-lacquered mask, her emotions unreadable. “Mortals use Shamanistic Nuo to communicate with gods. So what about gods? Who do gods communicate with using Shamanistic Nuo?”

    “No… impossible…”

    The Taiyu Clan Head’s face was deathly pale as he muttered to himself.

    He finally realized what an astonishing secret he, Kongsang, and Heaven Beyond Heavens had missed all these years.

    And within the thousand-mile grand array, aside from Kongsang’s Hundred Clans, there was another immortal sect that remained silent—the Xuanqing Sect. The Xuanqing Sect did not excel in saber and sword combat, but specialized in divine worship and formation arrays. After Incomplete Mountain was severed and the upper and lower realms were separated, they most often used sacrificial rituals to have the High Gods from Heaven Beyond Heavens descend.

    Communication between mortals and gods was difficult, hence the need for a “God’s Descent.”

    In the ritual of divine descent, the Shamanistic Nuo Mask was a medium to connect the upper and lower realms. In various cities, Oracle Masters and Oracle Maidens would also don masks to allow City Gods to possess them or to briefly borrow the City Gods’ power. Mortals use Shamanistic Nuo to communicate with gods. So what about gods?

    Gods use Shamanistic Nuo to communicate with Heaven and Earth!

    “…Impossible! Impossible!” the Taiyu Clan Head shrieked. “There are countless High Gods, and so many of them wear armor that covers their faces! If one could communicate with Heaven and Earth through Shamanistic Nuo, why didn’t my God Taiyin tell my clan! Absurd! Absurd!”

    Yue Mu looked down on him from above, as if watching a buffoon struggle.

    “Taiyin?” Her voice was filled with indescribable contempt. “What is Taiyin?”

    Indeed, what was Taiyin?

    Shi Wuluo gently ran his thumb over the new dot of crimson in the center of the mask, gazing at it for a long, long time.

    Countless gods, teeming demons, and mortal masses.

    Other than the Divine Lord, who was still clad in white at the time, no one else would have discovered it. That was the ancient of ancients, the true Primordial Chaos before it was sundered. At that time, not even the Twelve Continents had been built, the corners of the world had no islands to anchor them, and the darkness was boundless. The first city between heaven and earth was built by his own hands.

    Only he discovered it.

    And it could only have been him who discovered it.

    Shi Wuluo’s silver-gray eyes reflected the golden patterns on the deep black mask.

    Vaguely, he once again saw the small hut hidden deep within the woods. The white-robed Divine Lord, with a lighthearted smile, was using a brush dipped in gold lacquer to paint beautiful patterns on the mask. This was the first request the nascent Heavenly Dao had made after hearing the Divine Lord speak of all the myriad things in the world.

    “Can I touch it?”

    Can I know what it feels like when you touch the flowers, the trees, and the birds?

    “Let me think.”

    The white-robed Divine Lord looked up under the shade of a Qionghua tree. A gentle breeze blew past, and pale red blossoms fell upon his shoulders, then softly rolled off.

    At that time, there was only one city on the land, and there were many things he still did not understand.

    Noticing his silence, the Divine Lord smiled. “What are you thinking about? There’s definitely a way. Just give me a few days.”

    “Alright.”

    A few days later, the Divine Lord had indeed figured out a way.

    After the last stroke of gold lacquer was painted, the Divine Lord brushed away the driftwood and placed the mask on his own face.

    “How is it?” It was the first time the Divine Lord had allowed the Heavenly Dao to possess him through a Shamanistic Nuo ritual, and he seemed particularly intrigued. He eagerly asked about his feelings while slightly adjusting the mask to sit straighter. “Can you feel it now?”

    The impression of wood grain on his fingertips, the sensation of a light breeze brushing past his sleeves.

    The world suddenly had form.

    He remembered the warmth of blood and the breath of a god.

    At that time, he did not yet know a phrase called “parting in life and death.”

    Until the Divine Lord fell from the clouds.

    The Divine Lord tossed the well-protected Shamanistic Nuo Mask high into the air and uttered an apology no one understood. He had promised to give him a peaceful and beautiful world, but in the end, he could only give him a broken mortal realm. He had promised to go boating and drink wine together, but in the end, he could only leave him with the hope of touching the world with his own hands…

    There were still too many things left undone.

    There were still too many promises left unkept.

    The red robe fell, becoming a thousand streams of fire.

    He could not touch it.

    He could not catch it.

    Shi Wuluo gently closed his eyes.

    …At the moment of his fall, the Divine Lord had no regrets, no resentment, only apology and worry. Did he feel he couldn’t keep his promise? Did he feel there were too many things he hadn’t had time to teach him? Was he worried that he would be confused and lost when he walked into the mortal realm himself one day?

    That was the first time he truly understood emotion on his own.

    —After the god who taught him what “emotion” was had died.

    Shi Wuluo opened his eyes.

    He held the deep black and gold Shamanistic Nuo Mask in one hand and placed it on his face.

    The net of lightning composed of sabers and swords hanging over everyone’s heads trembled violently.

    Countless auras, vast and ethereal, surged. The eight winds within the formation showed signs of reversing, and the flags suppressing the four directions fluttered endlessly. The sun and moon within the formation swayed, their light distorting every face into a twisted painting. Space seemed to freeze, leaving only the high, cold voice of the young man in black with a scarlet saber.

    “He was willing to forget, willing not to resent or regret, but I am not.”

    Hatred blotted out the sky, and killing intent shrouded the land.

    “I have come to ask on his behalf—”

    “On what grounds?!”

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