The entire Xiān Gōng Sect suddenly fell into an unprecedented silence. Even cultivators across the world stood frozen at that moment. Countless fragments of memory, both familiar and strange, flooded in. Mu Hanyang stood there without a word, unable to regain his senses for a long time.
Everything felt like a nightmare.
The scenes from his previous life that he had once dreamed of, those he believed warm and perfect, now seemed like the deceptive prologue of a nightmare: the unreal beauty laid out at the beginning, only to plunge him sharply into despair.
And now, as the truth was laid bare before him, all that beauty was shattered completely, as an indescribable regret tore straight through his heart. For one instant, the pain was so overwhelming that Mu Hanyang could no longer even feel the agony from his severed limb.
Only after a long while did he realize, almost numbly…
In that past life, until the final day before his death, Feng Qingyun had still broken off a new branch for the new friend Mu Hanyang had saved… only to end up dying alone when the heavens collapsed.
And the letter he had dreamed of was no illusion. It was the blood-soaked truth, Feng Qingyun’s final, irrevocable severing of all ties with him, even in death.
Even though the Demon Emperor never came to steal his bride in that past life, Mu Hanyang had still been blind, spending an entire lifetime never realizing that the person beside his pillow was the one he truly loved. As for the married life he had yearned for, in reality, it would only have meant Feng Qingyun guarding the Xiān Gōng Sect alone, while he himself wandered freely between heaven and earth.
Even though Feng Qingyun had been perfectly obedient to him in all things, the countless letters written were ultimately reduced to ashes by his own hand, without leaving behind even a single word.
All of it stabbed into Mu Hanyang’s heart like awls, yet at the same time seeped into him like the finest poison, leaving him in unbearable torment.
And not long ago, he had still sworn to Feng Qingyun that “it was a good life, a perfect life.”
How utterly ironic.
Overwhelming pain and regret wrapped around Mu Hanyang completely. He regretted it so deeply that he wished he could kill his former self with his own hands.
Why was it that the affection he now longed for beyond reach had once been so easily within his grasp in that past life… yet once obtained, he had ignored it and cast it aside like worn-out shoes?
He madly envied that ignorant former self who had squandered everything so recklessly. Yet soon, amid the dual agony of body and spirit, Mu Hanyang suddenly realized something else.
The immortals had once told him that in ancient times, the Heavenly Dao had cherished a single blood-rose seed. Each day, it watered that golden seed with its own blood, hoping it would sprout, yet in the end, the Heavenly Dao never lived to see it bloom.
According to the immortals, they had long monitored that seed. For ten thousand years, it failed to sprout until it fell into Mu Hanyang’s hands. Only after being watered with his blood did it suddenly break through the soil.
From that moment on, many immortals’ gazes had settled upon Mu Hanyang. It was also because of that clue that Zhong Yulan detected the anomaly, suspecting that immortals might truly exist within their world.
It was a matter that Mu Hanyang had once taken pride in. Because of it, he became firmly convinced that he himself was the incarnation of the Heavenly Dao, and even more convinced that Feng Qingyun had always belonged to him.
Therefore, his unshakable belief lasted for a long time.
It filled him with boundless anticipation, imagining how happy he would be when Feng Qingyun recovered his memories and returned to him, reconciling as before.
Until now, when the dream had shattered.
Everything he had once taken for granted now seemed like the greatest joke in the world. For that from beginning to end, that rose had never belonged to him. He had merely been a despicable thief, one who could only steal the fruit of another’s labor, yet in the end, lacked even the ability to keep it.
From start to finish, Feng Qingyun had never once truly looked at him.
As for why Feng Qingyun had tolerated him after leaving instead of turning against him outright, Mu Hanyang had once believed it was proof that Feng Qingyun still harbored lingering feelings. He had even secretly rejoiced and thought to use it to control him.
But only now did he realize…
The reason Feng Qingyun had endured the disgust without killing him… was simply to let him die in Long Yin’s place. Indeed. Every act of “forgiveness” Feng Qingyun had shown him in this life had merely been to nourish his arrogance, so that he would willingly step forward to die for Long Yin.
If there existed anything in this world more humiliating than watching the one you loved elope with another before your eyes…
…it could hardly surpass this.
Overwhelming humiliation mixed with unbearable regret and fury, twisting Mu Hanyang’s mind nearly beyond reason. Yet at the moment, he was not the only one who had recalled the past life.
All under heaven had remembered.
Within the Xiān Gōng Sect, countless indescribable gazes fell upon Mu Hanyang, almost enough to burn him alive where he stood. Even his own disciples, after regaining their senses, looked at him in disbelief, their eyes filled with uncertain and complicated emotions.
And among all those countless gazes, only one person looked at him with nothing but disgust, and not the slightest hint of surprise.
That person was his Junior Sister.
In a flash, Mu Hanyang understood everything.
Bai Ruolin had long known he was not the true incarnation of the Heavenly Dao. Yet she had said nothing, resolutely choosing to stand with Feng Qingyun. And at that instant, Mu Hanyang suddenly remembered something else. From the very beginning, it had all stemmed from a single sentence of his Master, Zhong Yulan.
She also knew the truth all along, yet still chose to deceive him. Just like in the illusion, where she had burned him to ashes with her own hands, in reality, she too had pushed him onto the stage, watching as he fell from the heights.
In essence, he was still no different from that unloved prince of years past.
His mother would rather clutch that half-demon bastard and weep herself senseless than spare him a single glance. And even on his deathbed, his imperial father had never once thought of passing the throne to him.
After so many years, no matter how carefully he disguised himself, he was still someone others would rather cast aside.
At that moment, the cultivators present finally understood everything as well.
No wonder… no wonder Feng Qingyun in this life had chosen without hesitation to leave with Long Yin. Anyone who had endured such a humiliating marriage, if granted another life, would hardly refrain from flaying the other alive.
In his previous life, Mu Hanyang had married Feng Qingyun into his home only to ignore him completely. When outside, he told everyone that the marriage had been something Feng Qingyun begged for, that he himself was not inclined toward men, and that he had only held the Dao companion ceremony out of pity for his Junior Brother’s devotion, presenting himself as deeply affectionate.
Yet in this life, when Feng Qingyun truly abandoned him, he instead played the part of the resentful, forsaken husband, desperate to use any means necessary to bind Feng Qingyun back to his side.
The contrast between his former and present behavior was so stark that it made one’s hair stand on end. Yet the disciples of the Xiān Gōng Sect could not mock Mu Hanyang as freely as most others, for they had remembered more than ordinary people.
When the heavens collapsed in the previous life, Feng Qingyun had been the very first to step forward without hesitation, standing before the people of the Xiān Gōng Sect. And among them, most had treated him then just as they did in this life: as though he were nothing.
Many felt their faces burn with shame. One after another, they lowered their eyes, too ashamed to look toward that distant figure again.
Wei Fang stood where he was, his head throbbing as if about to split, swaying on his feet. Not long ago, he had only just heard the so-called “truth” from Yue Jinshu; now he was forced to face the brutal reality of his past life as well.
He stared almost disbelievingly at his severed-armed Master, his eyes filled with the despair of shattered faith.
In that previous life, how could his Master abandon his Miss Yu in the illusion… and then turn around to feign such deep devotion before all under heaven for so many years?
He had been the one to personally send her away… so how had he managed to appear so affectionate?!
Liu Wu also lowered his head in silence, saying nothing, while Hua Ying clenched her hands tightly, biting down hard on her lower lip.
But while the Xiān Gōng Sect, especially Mu Hanyang’s three disciples, sank into heavy silence, the danger did not lessen in the slightest because of their shame or shock.
The immortals, existing within their little world, were naturally bound by its laws. Therefore, only at this moment did they fully recall the events of their previous lives as well. Yet those who could ascend to immortality, even if their methods were vile and dangerous, possessed a strength of will far beyond that of untempered cultivators. So they were among the first in the entire assembly to recover their senses. Still, they only prepared to act, not daring to move rashly, because…
Someone had recovered even faster than they had.
Bai Ruolin gripped her Changle Sword, raising tearful eyes toward that familiar back. In that moment, the final glance in her memories overlapped with reality. Feng Qingyun stood there just the same, holding the Linshuang Sword, expressionless as he blocked the immortals’ path.
Alone, he was enough to halt a thousand armies.
“Ten thousand years ago, the Heavenly Dao, stirred by the vitality of life, manifested into the world,” Feng Qingyun began, speaking into the deathly stillness. “This world received the Heavenly Dao’s gift. Heroes rose together, and hundreds of great powers contended to ascend. Yet this also brought calamity. Countless immortals descended, severing our path to ascension, provoking war. Even the workings of heaven were cut off, and the Heavenly Dao ultimately self-detonated and perished.”
“To this day… ten thousand years have passed.”
Each word Feng Qingyun spoke struck the hearts of countless cultivators like boulders crashing into water, sending up towering waves.
“Now the Heavenly Dao has returned to its rightful place, and the immortals stand gathered here.” With that, Feng Qingyun suddenly swung his sword, its radiant edge pointing straight at them, before continuing, “Today’s battle permits no retreat, life or death, nothing less. We have no road back. I ask you all to act, and together, uphold all under heaven!”
His words rang out with mountain-shaking force, stirring the very heavens and earth.
Countless cultivators immediately snapped back to themselves as their spirits surged; before the face of life and death, all prior grievances vanished. Someone in the crowd raised an arm and shouted, “The Sword Venerable speaks true! In today’s battle, if our Dao does not endure, then so be it! We die!”
Hearing that, Feng Qingyun looked over and saw it was the young cultivator who, back at the inn in Fengdu, had been the only one to speak up for him and Long Yin.
But in the next instant, countless others responded, and thousands of magic treasures rose one after another. Though far dimmer than immortal artifacts, the light of fireflies, when gathered, could still rival the morning sun; when ignited, it could burn heaven and earth.
The immortals’ expressions tightened at the sight, and Lian Ziqing suddenly lifted his gaze toward the heavens. The Heavenly Dao had only just returned, and the path to ascension had not yet opened.
It was clear they would soon be trapped like turtles in a jar.
In desperation, a ruthless glint flashed through Lian Ziqing’s eyes as he raised his hand and cast several immortal seals. Whatever message the other immortals received from him, they all raised their heads toward the sky at once. In the next instant, dozens of immortals leapt upward simultaneously…
With the little immortal power they had left, they intended to smash open the ascension path directly while the Heavenly Dao had just returned!
More than a hundred dazzling immortal artifacts shot into the sky, their momentum swallowing mountains and seas. However, Feng Qingyun merely held his sword and said calmly, “My thanks to the Mistress of the Underworld for lending aid.”
The moment his words fell, the Yellow Springs rose again, as towering waves of Huangquan water surged up from beneath the earth, nearly blotting out the entire sky.
The cultivators who had just released their treasures were struck with terror. The hellish vision before them, identical to the one at the time of heaven’s collapse in the previous life, instantly awakened the fear etched into their bones.
Yet in the next second, the waters swept past them and surged straight into the heavens, engulfing the foremost immortal entirely. Together with the immortal artifact he had just released, he was swallowed whole and dragged crashing downward.
The remaining immortals blanched in shock, abruptly halting midair.
Feng Qingyun lifted his eyes toward the heavens. His tone softened visibly, yet the words he spoke were drenched in blood: “Long Yin, if your consciousness has not yet faded, then wait until we have slain every remnant immortal in this world before opening the heavenly path, to face the enemies beyond!”
At his words, everyone was stunned.
The cultivators were shocked because eliminating the remnant immortals of this world alone was not enough; there were still immortals beyond the heavens waiting to descend!
And the immortals were shocked because the Heavenly Dao’s consciousness had not fully dissipated, and it truly obeyed Feng Qingyun’s words, forcibly closing the heavenly path that had been about to open. In a flash, the immortals instantly realized how sharply the situation had turned. Faces pale, they withdrew at once. Without a single word exchanged, they all reached the same decision:
To flee in every direction and seek another escape.
Feng Qingyun’s expression darkened immediately.
The opening of the path to heaven was a natural consequence of the Heavenly Dao’s return. At present, Long Yin’s consciousness could still suppress that instinct. But once his awareness gradually faded into the sky, the heavenly path would inevitably open completely.
If they failed to seize this chance to eliminate all the remnant immortals, then once the path opened and outside immortals descended along it, matters would become far more difficult.
Realizing that, Feng Qingyun’s face turned cold, and without hesitation, he struck.
With a single sword stroke, vast sword Qi surged forth like mountains and rivers, joining the raging Yellow Springs waters to form a chasm across the sky, sealing off the immortals’ escape.
Some immortal artifacts that could not halt in time slammed straight into the sword Qi and were shredded on the spot into twisted lumps of scrap metal. The immortals stopped abruptly, surrounded on all sides. Before them lay only a dead end, yet a trapped beast still fights.
Driven into desperation, the immortals’ ferocity surged.
One of them, nearest the ancestral demonic clans and certain he would die, immediately prepared to self-detonate. But in the next instant, the fox Patriarch’s nine tails burst forth, piercing straight through his chest. Blood streamed down along the fox’s tail, dripping onto the Xiān Gōng Sect’s pristine white tiles.
The other immortals who had also been about to self-detonate were struck with horror.
Those left behind immortals had already been weakened by the ancient war. Their only true advantage had been their immortal artifacts, but now, ordinary treasures turned to scrap the moment they touched the Yellow Springs waters. Those immortal artifacts, drenched by the flood, might not be completely destroyed, yet their rank was greatly diminished.
Before cultivators at the Golden Core stage, they no longer held their former superiority.
At that instant, the remaining cultivators within the Xiān Gōng Sect who still possessed fighting strength struck almost simultaneously.
Sword Qi, spiritual Qi, demonic Qi, and deathly Qi suddenly blanketed the Heavenly Gate. Then the immortal artifacts shattered, and immortal blood poured down upon the earth, gleaming beneath the sunlight in a golden crimson sheen.
Of the nearly a hundred remaining fallen immortals, more than half were slain or wounded. The few dozen who survived were reduced to a frantic, disgraceful flight, utterly stripped of their former immortal bearing.
Not long ago, Lian Ziqing had still been seated in the place of honor, wearing an innocent expression as he gazed down upon all living beings. Now his face was streaked with blood, his expression savage beyond anything before. Grinding his teeth, he cleaved apart the artifact blocking his path, ignoring the Yellow Springs water clinging to his shoulder, exhausting every last ounce of strength in his desperate attempt to escape.
Yet just as he reached that utter dead end, a sudden chill ran through him.
In a flash, he twisted around and hastily raised his golden bell to block a sword strike. With a sharp clang, the final immortal artifact in his hand shattered on the spot.
Lian Ziqing froze for a moment, then looked up in shock and fury.
The one who had ambushed him was none other than Mu Hanyang, holding the very pearl he himself had gifted!
However, immortal artifacts recognize their Master, and that pearl had originally belonged to Lian Ziqing. Though it was now in Mu Hanyang’s hand, Lian Ziqing still sensed a trace of its disturbance and narrowly avoided what would have been a fatal blow.
Mu Hanyang gritted his teeth, bracing himself on the sword with his left hand as he struggled to remain standing, glaring venomously at Lian Ziqing.
His hatred came not only from the betrayal of this life, but from the previous one as well. For in his former life, he had not died during the collapse of the heavens, but by this man’s hand.
Now unarmed, Lian Ziqing nevertheless sneered coldly: “You?! And you think you can kill me?!”
Though all his immortal artifacts were gone and he no longer had any protection, he was still ruthless. Driven to the brink, he had grown vicious to the extreme and would never allow Mu Hanyang to claim victory so easily.
Mu Hanyang, however, did not grasp that logic. Hearing his words, he merely gave a mocking laugh and raised his treasured sword, thrusting toward him. But just as the blade was about to fall upon Lian Ziqing’s throat, Mu Hanyang suddenly shuddered violently.
A terrible pain surged from the depths of his heart, so intense that his mind went blank. Only after a long moment did he realize what it was.
The Heart-Piercing Curse?!
Those immortals had somehow planted a Heart-Piercing Curse upon him!
It was said that the Heart-Piercing Curse was a kind of ancient gu technique left from antiquity, reputed to be among the most vicious curses in existence.
And now, the rumor seemed confirmed.
The agony of ten thousand gu insects piercing the heart was enough to render a Golden Core cultivator instantly incapable of movement. The Hanyang Sword fell from his hand with a ringing clang as it struck the ground, releasing a sharp cry of steel.
Mu Hanyang coughed blood, clutching his chest in unbearable pain, standing face to face with the equally disheveled Lian Ziqing. One had been the revered Lord Mu, the absolute ruler of the Righteous Path, admired by countless people. The other, a banished immortal, descended from the heavens.
And now both had fallen to such a state, a sight that was absurd beyond measure.
Before acting, the immortals had believed their plan foolproof, for they had placed the Heart-Piercing Curse upon the incarnation of the Heavenly Dao. Mu Hanyang, too, had believed everything certain. He had been confident that no matter what tricks these people played, once he reclaimed the authority of the Heavenly Dao, all would be futile.
Yet now, before the truth, both sides had become utter fools.
A chilling sword Qi tore through the dusk. Several immortals who failed to escape in time screamed as they fell, blood splattering and staining the setting sun with a cruel crimson glow.
It was almost a massacre.
Clad in white, the Sword God strode through the air against the sunset. The blood at the side of his face glimmered golden-red beneath the fading light, making him resemble a cold-faced Asura descending into the mortal world.
Lian Ziqing’s heart trembled in terror. With no road left, he seized Mu Hanyang by the collar and shouted: “Stop! This immortal commands you to stop! If you dare move, this immortal will kill him first!”
Driven mad by his desire to live, he truly believed Mu Hanyang alone could threaten Feng Qingyun. And in that moment, amid the bone-deep agony, even Mu Hanyang felt a faint flicker of hope arise.
But the next instant, Feng Qingyun did not even blink. He simply raised his hand and struck down with a decisive slash. In the midst of excruciating pain, Mu Hanyang’s eyes flew wide. Reflected in his pupils were countless strands of sword Qi, as though they would split heaven and earth apart.
First wounded by Zhuque’s fire, now suffering the torment of the Heart-Piercing Curse, even if a god descended, it would avail them nothing. But Lian Ziqing was also stunned beyond belief. In panic, he dragged the immobilized Mu Hanyang before him as a shield, as if praying for a miracle.
But no miracle came.
The sword Qi did not slow in the slightest as it pierced straight through Mu Hanyang’s body and struck Lian Ziqing behind him. With a resounding sword cry, both men were nailed together upon the jade wall of the Xiān Gōng Sect.
Even in death, Lian Ziqing’s astonished eyes never closed.
The life he had once exchanged for a broken branch of Feng Qingyun in the previous life…
Now, as fate turned, it was finally repaid.
Feng Qingyun slowly withdrew his sword. The sword intent piercing their chests dissipated beneath the setting sun, and the battered bodies of Mu Hanyang and the fallen immortal tumbled from the towering jade wall.
A height once trivial to them was now enough to smash their shattered bodies to pieces.
From the lofty clouded heights admired by tens of thousands, to plunging into the boundless dust below…
It required only a single instant.
Broken limbs, ruined flesh, riddled with wounds… At last, before death, Mu Hanyang experienced the suffering Feng Qingyun had once endured. As an immortal who had never truly belonged to their world, Lian Ziqing’s corpse disintegrated into motes of starlight, fading into the sky. Only Mu Hanyang remained, lying in a pool of blood, eyes wide as he stared upward in disbelief.
He seemed astonished at his own ending.
Since ancient times, the fall of a hero ought to be grand and resounding, yet his death resembled nothing more than a cruel joke. And even such a world-shaking joke failed to earn him so much as a backward glance from that person.
After sheathing the Linshuang Sword, Feng Qingyun did not spare him a single look. Instead, he turned and flew toward another fallen immortal attempting to escape. Within the vast pool of blood, Mu Hanyang lay alone, pupils slowly dimming as he gazed at the heavens.
In the final moment before death, the last image in his mind was of Miss Yu on their wedding night, eyes lowered as she allowed him to lift her veil.
Somewhere in the unseen, that image overlapped with Feng Qingyun at the grand ceremony, holding the golden incense, lips pressed together yet unable to conceal the faint smile at their corners.
It was like a fleeting dream.
All that he had spent his life striving for, exhausting everything to obtain…
He had already possessed it.
Only, that life had been one he had stolen from the heavens.
And now, like stars streaking across the sky, everything had at last been returned to the world.
All the way until nothing remained.
T.N: I got goosebumps (ó﹏ò｡)
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