Chapter 113 – Three Thanks to the Mortal Realm
Foul wind carried bloody flames. The pitch-black Great Wilderness welcomed an unprecedented celebration, here in this land of no seasons, where the Torch Dragon did not shine. One Netherworld City, one hundred thousand fallen wanderers, all sang a grand sacrificial ode in the same elegant language of the Twelve Continents, in the same tone as the songs from its various cities and pools. Their voices were filled with ecstatic joy. No one hated the divine fire in the city more than the Desolate Attendants living in the Netherworld City.
“Oh, divine one, god who protects the world,
Give up your soul, to forge our city.
The wind howls with joy,
Knowing not of the soul’s death…”
The existence of the divine fire was like a mirror, constantly reflecting their own ugly faces. So long as the sages do not die, the great thieves will not cease. If the bright god does not die, how will the demons and devils cease? Finally, after waiting in the Great Wilderness for over a thousand years, they had reached the day of the god’s death. As long as there was no bright god in this world, as long as everyone was a demon or devil, then there would be no demons or devils in the world.
The entire Netherworld City was ablaze. The massive skeleton of the Cloud Whale raised its head amidst the rotting flesh and putrid blood, letting out a soundless cry. The Wilderness Emissaries, treading ancient steps, shook their banner bells in the roaring fire. Their faces were blurred by the dark red light, leaving only distorted black shadows, like countless demons and devils celebrating with song and dance.
Joy, oh joy, the god is about to die!
Using the city as a furnace and blood as fire, the process repeated ninety times. The remnant divine fire at the center of the high platform grew dimmer and dimmer. As the light faded, the remnant soul gradually took on a form as thin as a paper cutout, its robes and sleeves fluttering, constantly shedding specks of golden embers like fine dust. Each time the furnace fire circulated and tempered it, the white robes would flutter once. It was like a piece of paper about to burn itself to ash.
He did not succeed. Countless dense silver threads pierced through the soul, enveloping him like a spider’s web. Every time the fire was about to ignite, the silver threads would tighten and extinguish it. Xie Yuan, who had changed his name to “Mister Xi” after defecting from the Heavenly Works Mansion, had proposed this method after successfully forging three evil weapons—to collect the dead souls born in the three thousand years of darkness and use them as a catalyst to temper Soul Threads.
In that great calamity, too many City Gods, too many demons, and too many people had died. Not all people and demons were as fortunate as the Mountain Spirits and Goblins of Chao City, who had the Divine Lord’s jade tablet to protect them. Many more were swallowed by the miasma fog before they could even react. All memories of their lives were forgotten, leaving only the tragic bewilderment of the disaster and the pain of being devoured alive. By forcibly pouring the wails and suffering of those dead souls into the Divine Lord’s remnant soul, the one who sought to save the world had instead triggered a world-ending catastrophe. The one who wanted gods, demons, and humans to live in harmony had instead caused them to fight endlessly… What could be more ironic, more agonizing for a Divine Lord who had dedicated his life to the common people?
“…Oh, divine one, god who protects the world,
Give up your soul…”
The Wilderness Emissary presiding over the refinement wore a pure white ritual robe, imitating the oracle masters of Cloud City in their sacrifices to the Divine Lord. With each step, each kowtow, and each bow, he meticulously recreated the long-lost ancient rites of Cloud City, perfect and standard in every way. Yet, every detail exuded a wild joy completely opposite to the solemn reverence required for a sacrifice. It was the same ecstasy as that of Ge Qing, the former City Diviner of Fu City, when he schemed for the Fu Spirit. Both were spiders grinding their fangs and sucking blood. But unlike Ge Qing, who wanted to break free from the constraints of his City Diviner identity and use the Fu Spirit to forge a pair of invincible evil weapons, the purpose of refining the Divine Lord’s remnant soul in the Netherworld City was to create an indestructible foundation for the wilderness city.
It was true that the Great Wilderness had evolved its own cities, but these cities, built on skeletons and rotting flesh, were constantly seeping blood and slowly sinking. Thus, every so often, they had to find enough bones and flesh to re-lay the city’s foundation. If they could refine the divine fire and use it as a base, it would be completely different. It would be the best foundation, one that would never sink. The mortal realm would never know how much the Great Wilderness envied them, just as the living would never know how much the dead souls envied the spring breezes and summer days they took for granted… The mortal realm was so lowly and insignificant, yet it had the most powerful Divine Lord willing to shatter his bones for its mountains and rivers, while the Great Wilderness had to accumulate rot and malice over long ages.
It was so unfair. But it didn’t matter anymore. The Divine Lord’s time had come.
“…To forge our city!”
The chief officiating Wilderness Emissary chanted loudly. The Soul Threads instantly tightened, and the blood-fire soared into the sky, converging into a vicious dragon with blood dripping from its whiskers. The evil dragon wheeled in mid-air, opened its fanged mouth, and plunged toward the Divine Lord.
Dong—
The evil dragon’s descent veered off course, grazing the Divine Lord’s robes and crashing to the ground. Not only the dragon, but all the Wilderness Emissaries swayed; the entire city had abruptly sunk in that instant… No, it wasn’t just that one instant. The sound of thudding footsteps approached from a distance, drawing closer rapidly, as heavy as if a primeval Kuafu Giant was once again striding through the darkness. But the Kuafu clan had already died out by the end of the Middle Antiquity!
The chief officiating Wilderness Emissary turned to look in the direction of the footsteps. It wasn’t a Kuafu Giant. It was an old Daoist priest with frost-white hair and tattered hemp shoes. Gui Guzi. His common name was Lu Xun.
The moment Elder Mu He of Yongzhou used his body to open the Heavenly Gate, the expression of Gui Guzi, who was trekking arduously through the Great Wilderness, changed drastically. He directly took out seven peach wood nails, corresponding to the Birthdate Wooden Figure he had left on the Netherworld Road, and drove them into his seven orifices. In an instant, a roaring fire erupted from Gui Guzi’s body. He didn’t wait to die before guiding his soul into a lantern; he had set himself ablaze while still alive. A living man became a lantern.
It was also at that moment that Gui Guzi discovered a secret of the ten-thousand-li-long Netherworld Road—the power of all the Life Soul Lamps on this road was connected. That was why the Great Wilderness, despite its intense loathing for these lamps, had never gone to great lengths to clear them away.
Dong, dong, dong!
The footsteps were relentless, thundering like drums. Each step that fell was like an invisible heavy hammer striking the decaying ground of the Netherworld City. Each step spanned a hundred li, shaking the city and causing it to sink. With every stride, several Life Soul Lamps thousands of li away would burst into a roaring fire, exploding upon impact. In years past, the Divine Lord had lit bright souls for the mortal realm. Today, the mortal realm burned life lamps for the Divine Lord.
The grand sacrificial song was interrupted by the footsteps. The chief officiating Wilderness Emissary’s face was dark and grim. He flipped his hand and took out a four-sided bronze drum. The drum faces were six inches and seven fen in diameter, with white silk adorning the edges—it was a road drum. The Emissary struck all four drum faces simultaneously with a wooden mallet. The sound was loud, like the bellow of a great alligator. Amidst the drumming, the spinal bones of the Cloud Whale encircling the Netherworld City rose section by section, like majestic mountain ranges rising from the ground.
It is said: The thunder drum is for worshiping gods, the spirit drum for sacrifices to the earth, and the road drum for offerings to ghosts. He was using the drum to rouse the bones. Amidst the rotten blood and flesh, the Cloud Whale “surfaced.” Its massive white skeleton swam toward the charging Gui Guzi, its jaws wide open, attempting to swallow him whole.
He was only three hundred li from the Netherworld City. Gui Guzi did not stop. With a flick of his tattered sleeve, a Bone Tablet flew out. It transformed in the wind into a phantom figure wearing a lotus crown, which met the white whale skeleton. If Half-Diviner were here, he would have recognized the phantom as bearing a striking resemblance to a portrait in the Ghost Valley ancestral hall. It was, in fact, one of the past masters of Ghost Valley.
When each master of Ghost Valley died, they would extract a wisp of their vital spirit and seal it in a Bone Tablet. Through this method, they left behind a spark of undying life force for Ghost Valley. The original intent was that if Ghost Valley faced a crisis, they could lend their strength one last time. He never expected that today’s Ghost Valley Master would bring them all into the Great Wilderness. He found it absurd.
The past masters of Ghost Valley had schemed and plotted, seeking to protect their sect even in death, yet while they were alive, they had been unwilling to step into the Great Wilderness to fight for the common people, for the benefactor to whom they owed the Great Dao! Everyone only swept the snow from their own doorstep, only lighting a hundred lamps when darkness fell. What use was such protection? Was it to raise a bunch of hypocrites who only cared for themselves? Because they had to protect the sect, they couldn’t enter the wilderness to light a lamp—it sounded so helpless. But what use were disciples who could only hide under the protection of their ancestors?
Every generation brings new talent to the world! In the end, it was all just about wanting their own sect to dominate the others, to gain an advantage in the struggles between immortal sects. But when the Divine Lord went north to his death, when had he ever considered himself? As a youth, Lu Xun was famous for being “greatly unorthodox.” From the bottom of his heart, he disliked the Bone Tablets and statues in the valley’s ancestral hall. When he was still just an elder, he had already schemed that one day, when he became the sect master, he would find an opportunity to let these ancestors, who divined heavenly secrets but refused to bear the Mandate of Heaven, die when they ought to die. Rather than dying to gain an upper hand in the struggles between immortal sects, it was better to fulfill Ghost Valley’s true mission in the Great Wilderness: to “Walk the Heavenly Mandate, Herald the Heavenly Dawn.”
Thus, Gui Guzi, who had been a great rebel in his youth, did something shocking when he entered the Great Wilderness alone—he packed up all the Bone Tablets and memorial plaques from the ancestral hall and took them with him. Repay the grace you have received. That is a truly worthy death. As for himself, he was already a dead man the moment the peach wood nails entered his seven orifices.
He threw out the Bone Tablet. Gui Guzi didn’t stop, continuing to charge toward the blood-and-fire-shrouded Netherworld City. The lotus-crowned ancestor he had “invited out” looked at the current Gui Guzi with a mixture of helplessness and a sigh. “How shameful…” How shameful that I, too, was once a master of Ghost Valley. I spent my life divining heavenly secrets, yet I weighed my options and hesitated, never daring to enter the Great Wilderness. I was so full of indecision, not nearly as brave as my descendant.
The lotus-crowned ancestor floated forward, opening his arms to meet the whale skeleton. Every generation brings new talent to the world, so he, an old man, couldn’t lose by too much. A brilliant, clear light exploded in mid-air, transforming into a light cloud that managed to bear the weight of the mountain-carrying whale skeleton. The whale, carrying a mountain, hung suspended in mid-air for a few breaths before crashing heavily back into the mire of flesh and blood, sending up a wave of filth. By this time, Gui Guzi had already reached the gates of the Netherworld City.
The black shadow, which had been watching from the sidelines, finally moved. It appeared bizarrely behind him and stretched out a grayish-white hand. Gui Guzi didn’t look back, but flicked both his sleeves. Swoosh, swoosh. Bone Tablets flew into the air one after another, transforming into illusory Daoist figures. The ancestral masters appeared in the dim Great Wilderness. A yellow-robed Daoist with a grim expression glanced at the advancing Gui Guzi and snorted, “Audacious.” Another Daoist with a furious face waved his sleeve and shouted, “Where do you place the millennia-old foundation of Ghost Valley!”
A refined-looking Daoist who had blocked the black shadow’s strike, however, smiled and said, “Ancestral masters, it’s not quite right to scold my disciple like this, is it? I think he’s done a fine job.”
“A fine disciple you’ve raised!” Hearing this, a group of Daoists glared at him. “How did you act as a master?!”
The refined Daoist spread his hands. “Can’t be helped. My master taught me.”
The group of Daoists looked at the yellow-robed Daoist who had called Gui Guzi “audacious.” “How did you teach your disciple!”
The yellow-robed Daoist subconsciously replied, “I learned from my master.”
Nearby, another ancestral master immediately became uncomfortable. The refined Daoist shook his head, thinking to himself that what his young disciple had done was quite wicked, gathering all the ancestors in one place where any scolding could be traced up the line… If the son is not taught, it is the father’s fault; if the teaching is not strict, it is the teacher’s laziness. In the end, everyone was at fault, so no one could blame anyone else. Scolding was one thing, but the group of Ghost Valley ancestors, whether their expressions were pleasant or not, still surrounded the black shadow tightly. The unfilial descendant had already thrown out their Bone Tablets. What could they do but fight?
The refined Daoist smiled as he watched Gui Guzi crash through the city gates and face the hundred thousand Wilderness Emissaries. Back then, he had taken two disciples, Mu He and Lu Xun. Mu He was too steady, too wooden. Lu Xun was too rebellious and caused no end of trouble. In the past, after worrying about his elder disciple’s lack of worldly sense, he would have to clean up the huge messes his younger disciple made. He had often worried that his own brilliant reputation would be ruined by his two disciples. He never expected that in the end, one of his disciples would open the Heavenly Gate with his body, and the other would travel ten thousand li to welcome a god. Neither of them had brought him shame.
But still… The refined Daoist turned to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with his master, facing the black shadow with its bizarre aura. I can’t clean up your messes for you anymore.
“Lu Xun, go! Don’t look back!”
The one hundred and seventy-first master of Ghost Valley.
Martyred for the Dao.
His once overly rebellious young disciple, now the Gui Guzi who could be called the leader of the Daoist sects, did not look back. Countless Wilderness Emissaries trapped Gui Guzi, surrounding him layer upon layer, making it impossible to pass. The evil cultivators who had escaped the pursuit of the immortal sects and fled the Twelve Continents were all highly skilled. Even if they were far inferior to Gui Guzi, the leader of the Daoist sects, they could still be considered capable figures in their own right. At this moment, thousands upon thousands of sabers and swords were summoned, converging into torrents of murderous aura that rained down on the lone Gui Guzi again and again.
“Get out of my way!”
Gui Guzi roared. He raised his hand, and twelve lead pellets flew from his sleeve, transforming in the wind into twelve flying swords. A white light shot from their tips, blazing like a signal fire. The twelve flying swords shot forward. The first Wilderness Emissary in Gui Guzi’s path had no chance to react before exploding into a mist of blood. The swords continued unabated, killing an unknown number of emissaries in one go. The twelve flying swords, arranged in a single line, had carved a bloody path through the siege of ten thousand men.
Gui Guzi ignored the attacks raining down on him from the left and right, only pressing forward. His hemp shoes trod on blood. On the high platform, the chief officiating Wilderness Emissary, who was racing against time to activate the Soul Threads and blood river to complete the final step of refining the divine soul, heard the wind behind him. He was greatly alarmed and pushed the Soul Threads with all his might, wanting to use the remnant soul as a threat to make the intruder hesitate. The moment the Soul Threads were pulled, twelve white lights descended from the sky.
Zheng—
It was like the strumming of an ancient zither. The twelve flying swords fell simultaneously, nailing themselves into the ground around the remnant soul and severing most of the Soul Threads that pierced it. The flying swords formed a formation, like a city, like a wall.
The chief officiating Wilderness Emissary grabbed the ghost-offering road drum with one hand and the mallet with the other, then spun around abruptly. The mallet had just struck the drum’s surface when a terrifying force, as heavy as a siege hammer, struck him. Before he could even let out a muffled grunt, his entire chest collapsed into a bloody pulp.
Gui Guzi retracted his cracked left arm and stood firm on the altar. In the distance, the phantom images of the past masters surrounding the black shadow outside the city gates were dwindling. The Wilderness Emissaries who had been plowed through by the flying swords were also quickly rushing over. Staggering, Gui Guzi fell to his knees on the altar and began to draw a formation. His arms were dripping with blood, which conveniently saved him the step of cutting his flesh to draw blood. The first formation pattern, the second, the third… Blood flowed on the ground. In the distant Southern Borderlands, the Witch Clan had already set up an unprecedented soul-summoning grand array.
As long as he could gather the six trapped remnant souls of the Divine Lord in the Great Wilderness, the Witch Clan had a way to welcome the Divine Lord’s soul back to the mortal realm. The Wilderness Emissaries mounted the high platform. The first wave of attacks fell. A great fire erupted from Gui Guzi’s body, pushing out horizontally and blocking the first wave. Several thousand li away, another Life Soul Lamp shattered. The attacks were endless, the flames burned unceasingly. A life for a life. A soul to continue a soul. The final formation pattern was drawn.
Gui Guzi rose, spread his arms as if holding up the sky, and a desolate voice echoed over the entire Netherworld City: “Soul, oh soul, return! This place is not for you to stay! Soul, oh soul, return! Go to a place of peace! Soul, oh soul, return!”
The soul-gathering formation blazed with light. Five faint golden threads appeared, twisting like roaming dragons in the darkness, pointing in five directions. Those were the locations of the other five remnant souls, found based on the Qi aura of the one in the Netherworld City. As the golden threads sped away, five flying swords followed closely behind. In the past, the Taiyi Sword had guarded the coffin; today, flying swords guarded the soul. The remaining seven flying swords shone like horned dragons, soaring ten thousand li into the sky, illuminating the path for the soul’s return.
Outside the city gates, only one last phantom of an ancestral master remained. As the flying swords sped away, he, holding a wooden sword, shook his head and smiled. “The formation arts are good, but the swordsmanship lacks a bit of polish… That kid Yao Ding, he didn’t learn swordsmanship well himself and still misleads his disciples.” As he spoke with a smile, he tossed the wooden sword into the air and pointed a finger. “Go!”
The sword shattered, transforming into five streaks of light that, despite starting later, caught up to the five departing flying swords, enveloped them, and vanished in an instant. In the next moment, five flying swords descended upon the five soul-trapping locations. The last Ghost Valley ancestor’s figure disintegrated into a clear light and slowly dissipated. Whether willing or not, all had given their lives today.
The black shadow passed through the clear light and appeared directly in front of Gui Guzi. It extended a grayish-white palm, full of killing intent, and struck down at him. Gui Guzi took a deep breath and, instead of retreating, advanced, his hands slowly drawing a perfect, round Yin-Yang Dual Fish Diagram in the air. The dual fish pushed out horizontally to meet the black shadow’s palm. The supremely powerful palm strike landed on the diagram and was immediately dissipated by more than half. The Daoist art of using four taels to move a thousand jin. The black shadow sneered.
Using softness to overcome hardness, weakness to overcome strength, was indeed a profound divine art. But when the disparity between two parties was as vast as that between the clouds and the mud, using weakness to overcome strength was just a joke, like an egg hitting a rock. However, Gui Guzi didn’t need to overcome strength with weakness. He only needed to buy a moment’s respite. Five flying swords fell vertically. Guarding the souls on their return. The five balls of divine soul-fire, protected by the sword light, were drawn by the Qi aura and merged into the remnant soul on the altar. At the same time, a fierce wind swirled up from the great formation Gui Guzi had drawn with his blood. The wind formed a vortex, and from within it, the overlapping sounds of a soul-summoning song from the distant, wild lands of the Southern Borderlands could be heard.
Crack.
The Yin-Yang Dual Fish Diagram could no longer circulate. The black shadow flipped its palm and struck again. The diagram shattered completely. Dense, thin lines of blood shot out from Gui Guzi’s arms. He staggered back uncontrollably, his back hitting one of his own flying swords. The black shadow raised its hand again. Having been blocked twice by an ant it looked down upon, the black shadow was enraged to the extreme. With this palm strike, Gui Guzi, body and soul, would be annihilated, let alone have any hope of lighting a Life Soul Lamp in the Great Wilderness.
Gui Guzi’s hands could not be lifted, his feet could not be moved, yet he was more composed than ever before. A thousand years of cultivating the Dao passed like a single day. This journey was enough to comfort a lifetime. His only regret was that his life had been one of alternating wealth and poverty, and in the end, he had little savings left and hadn’t had time to pay back the debt he owed to Half-Diviner’s troublesome disciple. He didn’t know if that kid had figured out the true condition for the Star-Pushing Plate to recognize its master… A master and disciple for a time, but cultivation ultimately depends on the individual.
You must walk your path well. Your master is going to play chess with your senior brother. The third palm fell. Aiming for Gui Guzi’s cranium. Gui Guzi closed his eyes. Mu He is gone, so Lu Xun will come.
Just then, another stream of light fell from the sky. There were only six remnant souls of the Divine Lord in the Great Wilderness, but now a seventh had appeared. Chou Bodeng, who had traveled ninety thousand li of wind and dust, merged with the remnant soul on the altar. The originally illusory figure suddenly became clear. His white robes were like snow. He raised a hand and, with a palm strike of his own, met the one the black shadow aimed at Gui Guzi’s cranium.
The palms collided with a sound like muffled thunder. Gui Guzi opened his eyes in astonishment, just in time to see the after-wind lift Chou Bodeng’s sleeve, like a flurry of snow clouds. The moment he saw him clearly, Gui Guzi suddenly fell heavily to his knees, on the verge of tears.
“Divine Lord, you, you…”
Why did you have to come here?
“You actually dared to come?”
The black shadow fell back onto the Cloud Whale’s skull, its tone exceptionally strange. It finally understood a phrase Huai Ningjun had once said: “There is no easier Divine Lord to kill than him”… Even if the world was rotten to the core, as long as there was still a sliver of goodness and beauty, he could not stand aside. Such a Divine Lord, no matter how powerful, was destined to be dragged down to his death.
But the black shadow still didn’t understand. Did he truly not know how to protect himself? Since the Heavenly Dao was going to reclaim his destiny, and Ghost Valley was coming to send his soul back to the mortal realm, he should have just stayed put. As the saying goes, “trouble doesn’t come in threes.” His soul had been shattered twice, his body had died twice… Did he really want to die a third time?
Chou Bodeng said softly to Gui Guzi, “Lend me your sword.”
Gui Guzi nodded, then shook his head. He couldn’t utter a single word.
Chou Bodeng raised his hand and swiped it through the air. The twelve flying swords lined up in the air, then suddenly collided, forging into a brand-new sword.
“You really intend to bear the third great calamity for the mortal realm?” the black shadow asked with a laugh, seeing his action with a mix of shock and curiosity. “You really want to die, don’t you?”
Chou Bodeng didn’t answer him, only thanking Gui Guzi. “Divine Lord!” Gui Guzi’s face was streaked with tears as he kowtowed to the ground. “It is not you who should thank us, but we who should thank you.”
Chou Bodeng smiled, looked up in the direction of Yongzhou, and said softly again:
“Thank you.”
Thank you to those who came after for following me.
Thank you to heaven and earth for knowing and loving me.
Thank you for the absurdity of life and death…
No regrets in the end.
Chou Bodeng walked past Gui Guzi.
Sword in hand, he moved forward.