Chapter Index

    Chou Bodeng, clad in white, advanced with his sword. He moved without haste. There was no killing intent, no sharpness; the sword in his hand was held simply, its edge concealed. A gentle breeze stirred the hem of his clothes and his long sleeves, as if he were not heading into a battle of certain death, but boating on the Qin River or strolling along the banks of the Reed River. Yet, where he passed, the houses and pavilions built of white bones and wreckage vanished without a sound, the streets formed of putrid mud and rotten flesh evaporated without a trace, and the Wilderness Emissaries who had betrayed the mortal realm were erased from existence.

    Wherever he went, not a speck of dust remained. A wide, clear path was slowly wiped clean through the Netherworld City.

    The black shadow sneered. It raised its arms in a gathering motion, and in an instant, countless streams of black mist surged wildly from all directions, like giant snakes of all sizes returning to their nest, all absorbed by the black shadow. Its form suddenly swelled, then contracted violently, compressing into a tall, thin, humanoid shape with a blurred face. As its corporeal form solidified, the black shadow no longer remained in place. Its figure streaked through the air, creating a jet-black, malevolent path to meet the unhurried advance of the white-robed Divine Lord.

    The distance between them vanished instantly. The black shadow thrust its palm. Chou Bodeng raised his wrist. A palm strike, a sword point. The collision rang out like a bell. The surviving Wilderness Emissaries and Gui Guzi on the altar felt as if an unprecedentedly massive bronze bell had tolled in their minds, the shock causing them all to spit up blood. Their bodies were thrown backward uncontrollably, crashing heavily into the mire of rotten flesh and blood, creating deep pits.

    Tens of thousands of black qi streams shot up from the point of impact, then twisted down from high above like evil dragons. The clear radiance was instantly shattered into tens of thousands of fluttering snowflakes. Thousands of clear qi streams burst forth from the ink-blackness, like a line of cold light streaking for a hundred li. The dense ink was instantly split in two, pushed aside to the left and right. The two once-distinct lines of clarity and turbidity became completely chaotic. In the very center, a great void, devoid of clear light, appeared.

    Dong, dong, dong.

    The black shadow’s form did not waver as it stepped back to dissipate the force of the collision. Its footsteps were even heavier than Gui Guzi’s had been when he charged into the city. Each step shook the corrupted ground, which had been accumulating for who knows how many tens of thousands of years, causing it to rise and fall like the surface of the sea. In just three steps, it stabilized itself, standing in the middle of the great void. The void was quickly filled with blackness, like a giant inkwell.

    Chou Bodeng landed on the edge of the void, his white robes billowing, like the flickering flame of a copper oil lamp. He formed a line, cutting off the tide of foul qi that surged toward him, creating a crescent-shaped gap. Before the aftershocks of the first exchange had even dissipated, Chou Bodeng once again floated forward. The tip of his longsword dragged a long, cold line across the inkwell-like void.

    This time, however, the black shadow did not advance to meet him. If it had a face, its expression would have been quite complex. In this world, no one knew Chou Bodeng’s true situation better than it did, and no one feared him more. Therefore, even knowing that the current Chou Bodeng was not the same Divine Lord who had once severed Incomplete Mountain with a single sword strike, it had still gone all out in its initial probing attack. The result of that all-out attack brought it a sense of relief.

    On the surface, it seemed that Chou Bodeng had gained the upper hand by being the first to attack after their initial clash. But in truth, this was a desperate act, knowing it was a one-in-a-hundred-thousand chance of survival. If Chou Bodeng were still the Divine Lord of Cloud Center, he would never have been pushed back to the edge of the void in that first exchange. Instead, both sides would have formed their own realms, two circles in a standoff. The black shadow had envisioned countless scenarios for a fight with the Divine Lord, but now, none of them were of any use. Since one side was facing certain death, the fight could no longer be considered a battle of equals.

    The enemy that had once been a thorn in its side had been reduced to this state. While relieved, the black shadow also felt a strange sense of disappointment… You had a perfectly good Cloud Center to stay in, but you had to descend Incomplete Mountain and walk into this mire, only to be dragged down to this state by those lowly, useless ants. If that’s not stupid, what is?

    Disappointment aside, the black shadow had no intention of holding back. Without any visible movement, countless streams of dark red, viscous, putrid earth shot up from the edge of the inkwell. The putrid earth descended from above like a closing blood-red flower, enveloping the advancing Chou Bodeng. A river of blood hung upside down, and the putrid earth pressed down.

    “Rise!”

    Chou Bodeng suddenly shouted softly. The longsword, which had been hanging low, flicked upward, creating a bright, silver line that streaked across the sky. The inkwell formed of foul qi was split in two by this sword light. The countless shattered streams of clear radiance that had been scattered before now rose with this sword strike—large and small, fine and dense, piercing vertically through the inkwell. It was like a downpour. A rain of swords. As the clear radiance fell and the silver line advanced, the black shadow was greatly alarmed. It was too late to retreat. Tens of thousands of sword lights formed a cage, sealing off all its escape routes. In that moment, the tide of battle turned. The inkwell shattered with a roar, the blood-red color instantly receded, and a vast expanse of light was once again torn open in the putrid earth.

    One sword shatters, ten thousand are born. A place of certain death, a sword of no return.

    “You!”

    The black shadow staggered back. This time, it did not retreat step by step, as steady as a mountain. The sword Chou Bodeng had flicked out had pierced its shoulder, tearing a large hole there. Strangely, no blood flowed, and no wound was visible, only a viscous black mist that continuously seeped out, only to gather again. In addition, countless fine sword glints, like tiny bolts of lightning, coursed through the black shadow’s corporeal form.

    “You madman!”

    The black shadow’s voice was sharp and shrill. Chou Bodeng landed not far away, in the spot where the black shadow had just stood. On his body, too, were many fine sword glints like tiny lightning bolts rolling across his robes. The sword rain from before had not only pierced the black shadow but had also passed through Chou Bodeng’s own divine soul, leaving him with injuries no less severe than the black shadow’s. The black shadow could hardly believe its eyes; it could hardly believe someone would do such a thing.

    It had been so certain when it asked Chou Bodeng if he truly wanted to die because it knew that after bestowing the Dao upon the world, Chou Bodeng had been burdened with a body full of karmic obstruction ever since. However, the excessive karmic obstruction in the Great Wilderness could not aid Chou Bodeng. Because his soul was essentially divine, it would instead constrain him at every turn. Once he used too much of his divine soul’s power, the two would clash violently. This was the most ridiculous joke in the world: the most powerful Divine Lord, burdened with karmic obstruction that was not his own, had to enter the Great Wilderness to slay demons and evil spirits, and every slash of his sword would injure himself. It was often said that in a life-or-death struggle, one might kill eight hundred enemies at the cost of a thousand of one’s own. But his situation was far worse than that. It was practically self-immolation. The only way out was for Chou Bodeng to fall completely to evil, and that was what the black shadow was waiting for.

    —As long as he fell to evil, the black shadow had a way to completely devour him! Because in the Great Wilderness, all evil spirits, all monsters, all dead souls, were under its control, to be manipulated by it.

    Because…

    “You are the Great Wilderness.”

    These five simple words fell like countless claps of thunder in the void, causing the boundless black miasma to boil and surge.

    ***

    Layers upon layers of black miasma, like thousands of ferocious giant beasts, like thousands of towering waves, surged past the boundary between the mortal realm and the Great Wilderness. At this moment, if a child were to draw a rough map of the three realms again, the mortal realm, which originally took up less than a tenth of the paper, would have to be drawn even smaller, pitifully so. Because the black miasma had already reached the coastlines of the Twelve Continents from all directions. The Thirty-Six Islands, which originally surrounded the Twelve Continents, had no defensive measures. The black miasma passed between the islands unimpeded, surging majestically toward the continents of the mortal realm.

    “You really did choose the Great Wilderness.”

    Ye Anxue, his hemp clothes stained with blood, said softly. The surface of the Cangming Sea was already engulfed by the unspeakably foul black miasma. Layer upon layer of Dead Souls and Wild Ghosts surged past the Taiyi Sect elders like flowing water, like mist. Their faces constantly shifted, changing into many faces familiar to the elders. If it were an ordinary cultivator here, their attachments would have long been triggered by the formless dead souls, and they would have become lost in the darkness.

    However, the Taiyi Sect elders calmly reformed their formation. Only thirty-two of the eighty-one peaks remained. The clear clouds once again parted to the east and west, still stretching from Zhunan in the east to Minglong Bay in the west. Within a thousand li, clouds surged and white mist poured into the sea, once again raising a towering wall that blocked the path of the Thirty-Six Islands. Although the million-plus demons of the Thirty-Six Islands had also suffered more than half casualties, with the help of the dead souls that came with the black miasma, their numbers had not decreased but increased. Despite this, none of the remaining thirty-two Taiyi elders retreated a single step. Each one stood against ten thousand.

    “Yes,” Mu Di, having transformed from a soaring dragon back into a black-robed, white-crowned human form, replied indifferently. “Since the Twelve Continents are the mortal realm of you cultivators, why can’t we demons choose the Great Wilderness?” With that, he gave a mocking smile. “We demons are not all like you humans, only able to cower behind city walls.”

    Ye Anxue frowned. Indeed, many demons could live in the miasma fog. It was just that the longer they lived in it, the more ferocious and violent they became, eventually being completely controlled by their instincts, just like the Gu-Carving Vultures and Azure Batfish that had once been expelled by the Mountain Sea Pavilion. The terrible relationship between the Thirty-Six Islands and the Twelve Continents was also related to this characteristic of the demon race.

    In the late Primeval Era, too many demons were affected by the miasma fog and became increasingly bloodthirsty and ferocious. At that time, the Divine Lord had already fallen, and there was no one to restrain them. The ferocious demons attacked cities more and more frequently, devouring living people. After the teachings of Incomplete Mountain, the cultivators, who now had the strength to resist, drew their swords and sabers for their kin. As the conflict escalated, the war between immortals and demons erupted. When the war broke out, the only one who could control the situation, the Divine Lord, was gone. The situation spiraled out of control.

    Life-and-death battles engulfed all demons and all humans. The piles of bodies grew higher, the hatred grew deeper. In the end, the great demons who loved the sun and moon and had gentle temperaments remained in the Twelve Continents, becoming “City Gods,” while the great demons who hated the Divine Lord and the cultivators went far overseas and established the Thirty-Six Islands.

    “Do you know why we hate him?”

    Mu Di suddenly asked.

    “The ones who killed you were the immortal sects, and the ones you have a feud with are also the immortal sects. It is not him you should hate. If he were still around then, he would not have sat by and watched the demon race be exiled from the Twelve Continents.”

    “Yes, he wouldn’t have,” Mu Di replied softly, then burst into loud laughter. “What we hate is that he wouldn’t have!”

    “Did he ever think about it? That in the conflict between humans and demons, only one can survive?!”

    He laughed and swung his saber, his laughter filled with so much hatred, yet so weary and powerless, so empty. The edges of his sleeves billowed with black waves; he was like a fish in water in the miasma fog. His long saber clashed with Ye Anxue’s longsword, stirring up furious waves. The sparks from the friction of saber and sword illuminated his human-like youthful face, and also the scales on his forehead.

    “Eating people is my nature. What crime is there in that?”

    The original Kongsang was just a long dream. Now, the Thirty-Six Islands have awakened. He swung his saber horizontally, the blade’s light leaving a distorted streak of lightning in the black miasma.

    ***

    The humans and demons on the Cangming Sea were swept up in a vortex of blood feuds. No one noticed that the darkness that should have poured into the continents had inexplicably stopped at the coastline. The awakening of the Great Wilderness, its full-scale invasion of the Twelve Continents, had been halted—at the very moment Chou Bodeng wounded the black shadow with his sword.

    You are the Great Wilderness.

    These five simple words fell, and all the Wilderness Emissaries who had struggled to crawl out of the river of blood and rotten flesh were struck dumb, as if by lightning. In contrast, Gui Guzi, who had returned to the altar earlier, took a deep breath, as if he had already had some inkling—since the mortal realm had a Heavenly Dao, it was naturally possible for the Great Wilderness to birth its own consciousness. But… for the Twelve Continents, this was truly terrible news.

    The black shadow stretched out its hand. Its palm passed over its own shoulder, and the hole was filled, though it was much more illusory than before. It did not deny Chou Bodeng’s words, but instead asked, “Do you know what the choice of the Thirty-Six Islands was?”

    Chou Bodeng held his sword horizontally, his eyes slightly lowered, his fingertips pressing against the blade. “Not hard to guess.” His tone was very calm, without the anguish the black shadow had expected. This disappointed it a little.

    “Huai Ning said that the original Kongsang was a beautiful place, where heavenly gods, earthly demons, and mortals had not yet started killing each other. But facts prove that was just a dream…” The black shadow began to swell and contract violently, like a mass of flowing liquid. At one moment, it was like a thousand-legged spider; at another, a twisted human form with hands and feet reversed, as if it were piecing itself together from all sorts of powerful limbs, or as if its true self were crawling out of a shell. Its form became increasingly bizarre, not quite human, not quite demon, not quite devil, not quite god. Just like the dead souls in the miasma fog, formless and shapeless, yet with ten thousand forms and shapes.

    A heavy pressure appeared along with its transformation. Within the Netherworld City, both Gui Guzi on the altar and the Wilderness Emissaries below felt as if they were a single boat in a sea of ink that encompassed all directions, about to be crushed. “Whether it’s Fu City or Ru City, the Fu Tree loves humans, and humans love the Fu Tree; the Divine Ru protects humans, and humans protect the Divine Ru; even the immortals and mortals of Zhunan protecting each other, are all just…”

    The dark red light of the blood river that had been illuminating the Netherworld City suddenly vanished. The moment the dark red light disappeared, darkness swallowed everything. Up and down vanished, left and right vanished, front and back also vanished! The hearts of both Gui Guzi and the Wilderness Emissaries jumped violently, seized by an instinctive fear. Because in that instant, the darkness from all directions suddenly constricted! Tightened!

    In the dim, obscure darkness, there was no earth, no sky. The black shadow stretched out its hand, grasping for its most feared and most coveted enemy.

    “A fool’s dream!”

    Without up or down, left or right, front or back, countless withered arms reached out simultaneously, all extending toward the gently fluttering white robes of Chou Bodeng. Each arm came from a different individual, as if the remains of all the gods, ghosts, demons, and devils who had died in the darkness since ancient times had been gathered together.

    Chou Bodeng did not retreat or evade. One man, one sword, like a crane spiraling. There was no dance more elegant, his wide robes and broad sleeves scattering a clear and resonant brilliance in mid-air, the body of his longsword flowing with watery ripples. There was no sword light more pristine, so pristine that it was unstained by dust… He had left all his vulnerability and struggles with another person, he had shaken off all the years of dust that had settled on his shoulders. Today, he was still the original Divine Lord. A body of solitary courage, unafraid of pain.

    In the most foul and turbid Great Wilderness, he used his sword as a brush, splashing out a full moon that had never changed since ancient times.

    The full moon of the primeval era, the full moon of today.

    “Then let me…”

    The withered arms reaching out from the darkness were ground to dust by the white moon, scattering from the moon’s edge like flying dust, like a wolf-hair brush saturated with clear water washing out a circle of brilliance in thick ink.

    “…dream again for three thousand years!”

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