The next morning.
The secluded cliff jutted out from the midpoint of a mountain range along the border of Liuhua Continent. Thanks to the unique conditions deep within the cliff, a small spiritual spring had formed. It nourished the surrounding flora, making the vegetation especially lush. Large patches of fiery red trumpet creeper flowers bloomed brightly across the rocks.
Lin Fuqing bent down, plucked a flower, handed it to Fang Zhiyuan, and said, “Try it. The nectar’s sweet.”
Fang Zhiyuan crossed his arms, his foul mood written all over his face. “Did Ji Na taste this too, in your last life?”
Lin Fuqing sighed. “No. Really, he didn’t…”
He gently tore off the flower’s stem and leaned closer to Fang Zhiyuan’s lips, speaking with reluctance, “Look at you. I told you not to come, but you insisted. And now that you’re here, you’re just making yourself miserable.”
Fang Zhiyuan’s brows twitched. He snatched the flower and sucked on it with the tip of his tongue. It was sweet.
Lin Fuqing fought back a smile. “Feel better now? Next time, I’ll make wine with this flower for you.”
In his past life, Lin Fuqing had come here alone.
He had always lived freely. During the previous Golden Osmanthus Challenge, he made sure to find time to do as he pleased. When he saw the cliffside trumpet creepers in full bloom, he thought about mixing their nectar into wine for a taste.
That day, Ziwei Pavilion’s millet boat happened to dock nearby.
When Ji Na stepped off the boat, he saw a young man in white lying amidst the red flowers, half-drunk, smiling, and holding a wine cup.
Back then, Immortal Lord Lin truly had nothing better to do. Spotting someone as extraordinary as the Saint of Ziwei, he took advantage of his tipsiness to strike up a discussion about Taoism.
Lin Fuqing was brilliant, bold in thought and speech. Even Yin Changxin sometimes couldn’t answer his questions and would wave his whisk at him in frustration.
Though Ji Na was talented and intelligent, he had spent most of his life secluded, raised strictly by elders. Cold and old-fashioned, he was no match for Lin Fuqing’s wit.
After several rounds of sharp exchanges, Ji Na gave in. However, by that point, he had begun to view Lin Fuqing as a good friend. Once the challenge ended, he personally took Lin Fuqing to Ziwei Pavilion.
Everything that followed was dark and bloody.
Lin Fuqing didn’t want to think about the past anymore.
The only thing he still knew with certainty was that, across two lifetimes and a hundred years, he had never once regretted the choice he made that night on the Mountain, Sea, and Star Terrace of Ziwei Pavilion.
That was why he had come today to see Ji Na again.
Fang Zhiyuan bit the flower and said offhandedly, “Ziwei Pavilion’s nothing to admire.”
Lin Fuqing gave a helpless smile. “I never said it was. It’s terrible, completely terrible, okay?”
Fang Zhiyuan asked again, “Is the Saint of Ziwei really that important to you?”
Lin Fuqing sighed softly, repeating the same words for who knew how many times, “Nothing is more important than you.”
Fang Zhiyuan choked and snapped, “I’m not jealous!”
Lin Fuqing replied calmly, “No one said you were, Immortal Sovereign Fang.”
Fang Zhiyuan fell silent.
…What a non-confession that was.
“Oh you,” Lin Fuqing sighed, tilting his head. He glanced sideways and caught a glimpse of the man’s profile, tense with suppressed emotion as he turned away.
Truthfully, Fang Zhiyuan had every reason to hate Ziwei Pavilion.
If an elder of Ziwei hadn’t branded him a cursed star fated for destruction, the Fang family’s later cruelty might have never happened.
Lin Fuqing thought to himself: If not for my sake, this short-tempered man wouldn’t be standing here now, waiting with me for Ziwei Pavilion’s millet boat
Just then, the wind shifted, its flow turning chaotic.
A dark shape loomed below the cliff, casting shadows over the trees and flowers. Distant rumbles echoed through the sky like a thunder chariot rolling across the clouds.
Lin Fuqing said, “They’re here.”
The two men looked up in unison, gazing toward the sky.
Clouds churned, wind howled, and a colossal ship slowly emerged from the heavens. Its slender frame glowed with violet light, six or seven times larger than the ships used by most immortal sects. From afar, it resembled a mountain soaring through the air.
Silver star charts were carved across its hull, and massive iron wings spread from its sides, parting the clouds with ease.
Atop the vessel stood a three-story purple-gold pavilion, sparkling so brightly in the sunlight it was nearly impossible to look at directly.
It was Ziwei Pavilion’s millet boat.
“No.” Fang Zhiyuan suddenly stepped forward, face sharp and voice cold. “Why isn’t the millet boat slowing down?!”
The millet boat thundered toward them, winds whipping around in violent gusts. In the blink of an eye, it loomed overhead.
If Ji Na planned to stop here, he would need to start descending now.
Before Fang Zhiyuan had finished speaking, Lin Fuqing’s face had already turned pale.
Something unexpected had happened.
He could clearly see that the boat showed no signs of docking. Could it be that this time Ji Na wasn’t planning to stop here?
But why?
Ziwei Pavilion had always been a secluded place, and the Saint of Ziwei was strictly forbidden to engage in worldly affairs. The rebirth of those people shouldn’t have affected Ji Na’s behavior.
Unless…
Could Ji Na also have…?
Lin Fuqing suddenly lowered his head, a bitter smile curling his lips. “…Maybe the Holy Son is watching from the heavens and saw the suffering of the three realms in our past life. Maybe he realized I’m not someone he can trust.”
“What nonsense are you saying?!” Fang Zhiyuan snapped, his voice sharp with anger. “You stayed behind in Liuhua Continent and endured all that hardship for him just to keep your promise! Now you’ve risked your life to come here, and he… I…”
His gaze turned cold, and he spat the words through gritted teeth, “I’ll kill that ungrateful bastard myself.”
“No, no!” Lin Fuqing immediately regretted what he had said, sweat beading on his forehead. “There must be another explanation. Why are you jumping to conclusions?”
Fang Zhiyuan sneered, his jaw tight. “Shige, are you still lying to yourself? If you have a heart, can’t you see it for what it is? That person standing on the boat, if Ji Na truly remembered the past, how could he treat you like this?”
He grew more agitated as he spoke. Lin Fuqing regretted opening his mouth and spent a long time coaxing him before barely managing to suppress Fang Zhiyuan’s murderous intent.
Still, the boat did not descend.
“It’s fine,” Lin Fuqing finally said, shaking his head. “I won’t be leaving Liuhua Continent soon anyway. I’ll find another way to meet the Holy Son. Sorry to have dragged you along on a wasted trip. I’ll head back now.”
Fang Zhiyuan pursed his lips. “…Fine. Go back.”
But Lin Fuqing had only taken a few steps before stopping again, glancing back with unwilling eyes. After a moment’s hesitation, he murmured, “Forget it. The boat hasn’t passed yet. I’ll wait a bit longer.”
Fang Zhiyuan didn’t respond.
Lin Fuqing tried to coax him again. “Don’t stand here sulking. Go on ahead. I won’t wait long, I promise.”
Still no reply.
Lin Fuqing continued, “Be good… Maybe it’s not Ji Na’s fault. Maybe it’s the interference of another reborn soul. I’ll check it out and come back soon.”
Fang Zhiyuan’s expression darkened, his clenched fingers cracking with fury. Without another word, he turned, lifting the hem of his black robe, and strode away.
Soon, only the white-robed figure remained on the cliff, solitary and strangely desolate.
Lin Fuqing stared at Fang Zhiyuan’s fading silhouette, heart filled with uncertainty.
After his rebirth, this was the first time the Demon Lord felt genuinely lost.
The boat flew straight past—without stopping.
Its shadow blanketed the cliff.
Lin Fuqing rubbed his temples. A dull ache had begun to spread behind his eyes.
If Ji Na really had been reborn…If Ji Na…
No. Ji Na had died too early in his last life. Far too early. By all logic, the forbidden rebirth technique shouldn’t have touched him.
But if Ji Na hadn’t been reborn, who could have orchestrated such a drastic shift?
A strange wind stirred Lin Fuqing’s black hair.
Suddenly, the spiritual energy of the heavens and earth began to shift unnaturally.
Lin Fuqing looked up. His eyes caught the gathering darkness overhead, and a familiar chill prickled across his skin.
“This is…”
In a flash, the sky changed. Light dimmed as black clouds surged forward, catching up to the magnificent purple-gold boat.
Weeds were torn from the ground, branches snapped, and dust rose like a whirlwind.
Lin Fuqing lifted a sleeve to shield his face, his calm expression completely gone. He murmured in shock, “Yin monsters?!”
As if in response, the black clouds split apart, like ink splattering across the heavens.
And from that inky darkness, crimson-eyed, clawed monsters surged out—wailing, grinning, emanating waves of demonic malice.
“Jie——!!!”
“Hehehehe——!!!!”
Their piercing screeches echoed through the sky.
The cliff was suddenly blanketed in a wave of decay, and vegetation withered in seconds.
Lin Fuqing sucked in a cold breath.
No, this wasn’t a typical yin monster ambush!
The sheer number of them, and the density of their yin qi—this was deliberate.
His heart sank. Could it be…?
Lin Fuqing spun around, looking up sharply. His gaze swept the cliff, where a torrent of yin qi was surging upward like a broken dam. It wasn’t a random attack. It was being drawn, irresistibly, to a single point.
And at the very top, a lone figure in black stood, wind whipping his robe.
Fang Zhiyuan, who should have already left, now knelt with one knee on the ground. His hair was tousled, covering his closed eyes. Both hands gripped Zaiya’s hilt, its tip embedded deep into the earth.
Spiritual energy surged from his dantian, racing through his meridians and pouring into the world around him. The immortal blade Zaiya trembled slightly in his hands, resonating with its master’s will as the surrounding aura grew wilder.
There was a reason the world hated and feared the Star of Calamity.
Even at just the Golden Core stage, Fang Zhiyuan’s released spiritual power could lure yin monsters equal to the Nascent Soul stage.
In his past life, whenever he broke through a realm on Xuyun and his spiritual energy overflowed, it would draw in waves of yin monsters that would torment in kind.
Without the Heaven and Earth Gathering Formation to suppress the yin qi, the Four Peaks of Xuyun would have long been devoured, bones and all.
And now, reborn and tempered by tribulation, Fang Zhiyuan’s soul had reached a terrifying level of control far beyond any average cultivator.
If he truly wished, he could draw in every yin monster on this continent and annihilate the land in a single mutual death.
But he wouldn’t do that.
He wasn’t a cruel man.
After all, he was still the “little calamity star” that his senior brother once praised as “cute,” wasn’t he?
Today, he just wanted to act a little rashly and do what he wanted.
“Saint of Ziwei…” Fang Zhiyuan raised his head to look at the millet boat in the sky. Fury still lingered in his eyes, and his thin lips curled into a faint, almost crazy smile.
“Come down.”
In the next instant, he pulled Zaiya from the ground and charged toward the sky.
……….
Atop the millet boat, on the highest level of the Ziwei Pavilion—
A quiet, graceful young immortal sat in silence.
The Holy Son, the Saint of Ziwei, sat with his eyes half-closed, dressed in a loose crimson-purple robe embroidered with stars and hexagrams.
His beautiful face betrayed no sadness or joy, only a faint trace of compassion. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting golden light across him like a bodhisattva enshrined in a temple.
Ji Na was the sole true disciple of the late Saint Master Ruan Mingtong. He had broken through to the Golden Core realm at fifteen and awakened the Purple Star Astrolabe at seventeen. An extraordinary genius, he was the undisputed number one among the younger generation of the cultivation world.
That spring, the Saint Master of Ziwei Pavilion, Ruan Mingtong, had passed away suddenly. The cultivation world lost a great figure who had been on the verge of transcending tribulation.
Ji Na had mourned deeply, but had ultimately deemed himself too young and inexperienced to succeed his master. He refused the title of Saint Master. For now, the elders managed Pavilion affairs under his temporary leadership, and his disciples continued to call him “Holy Son.”
Below the Holy Son, four Star Guardians of Ziwei Pavilion stood silently on either side. Each had a cultivation base above the Golden Core realm. The slightly stooped elder standing at the center was the only Nascent Soul powerhouse among them.
Ji Na lowered his gaze to the elder who had stepped forward. His pupils, clear as glass, flickered with light. “The stars revealed that my destined person is nearby. Why did Elder Wang refuse to let me stop the ship?”
Elder Wang’s face was plain, his demeanor unremarkable. At that moment, he spoke gravely, “There is no one destined for the Holy Son here. Only your bloody disaster.”
As he spoke, a golden gleam flashed in his eyes. But the sun was high overhead, and his head was bowed so deeply that no one noticed.
“A bloody disaster?” Ji Na narrowed his eyes and shook his head slowly. “The star astrolabe wouldn’t—”
Before he could finish, the millet boat suddenly lurched violently.
The expressions of the four Star Guardians changed instantly. Behind them, the door burst open, and disciples of Ziwei Pavilion rushed in, panicked. “Holy Son, Elder! The yin monsters, they’re attacking! And their numbers—!”
Before the disciple could finish, the Saint of Ziwei had vanished from the high throne.
By then, the deck was already shrouded in thick, churning black clouds of yin qi, and yin monsters prowled across the sky.
Screams echoed through the chaos.
The millet boat carried not only elite cultivators like the Holy Son and law enforcement elders, but also ordinary disciples, servants, and maids. Though they possessed some cultivation, they were far too weak to withstand such a sudden assault.
The ship’s defensive formation had been activated, barely shielding them within its barrier.
Someone pointed toward the dark clouds overhead and cried, “It’s coming again. Again!”
A pair of red eyes, large as copper bells, opened in the darkness.
Sticky black claws extended from the yin-clouds. A massive demon emerged—six-limbed, its maw packed with jagged teeth. Black “saliva” oozed from its mouth, hissing into smoke before it touched the ground.
Those terrible crimson eyes scanned the group of prey, calculating and calm.
A Nascent Soul-level yin monster. One with a will, and far more dangerous than the others.
A purple robe speckled with stars fluttered high on the mast. The hem snapped in the wind.
Ji Na stood there, his expression cold as he watched the yin monster. After a moment, he frowned.
Strange. It wasn’t attacking. It was… searching.
Before he could sort out the feeling—
The monster moved.
It shrieked and dove, a streak of black light too fast for the eye. It hurtled straight for a deserted corner at the stern of the millet boat.
And then—
Another flash.
A blinding sword light burst upward from that same corner. It clashed with the yin monster mid-air in a thunderous explosion.
“What’s happening?”
“There’s someone else on board!”
“An intruder? Could it be an assassin?”
The disciples of Ziwei Pavilion shouted in alarm.
The two black lights collided, like thunder crashing, creating a wave of energy.
Boom!
The explosion flung nearby disciples to the deck. Smoke, splinters, and light surged outward. Part of the ship’s defensive formation cracked. The millet rocked wildly, on the verge of collapse.
Several Star Guardians rushed forward, immortal weapons drawn, faces furious. “Who’s there?!”
As the dust cleared, a lone figure was revealed, kneeling on one knee.
In front of him, the deck was caved in from the impact.
A handsome, cold face emerged through the fading black smoke, eyes sharp as blades. A fresh burn from yin corrosion marred one cheek.
The young man sneered and stood, dragging his blade behind him.
Murderous intent simmered in his eyes as he raised his gaze to meet the Holy Son’s.
“Xuyun’s Fang Zhiyuan,” he said slowly. “Here to exorcise yin monsters. My apologies for the intrusion, Holy Son.”
No sooner had the words left his lips than Fang Zhiyuan swung his sword once more. The blade howled.
“Stop!” Ji Na shouted, eyes widening.
But it was too late.
The yin monster shrieked again, leaping away and revealing the cockpit of the millet boat behind it.
The formation-guarding tool cultivators had already retreated to the inner barrier. Fang Zhiyuan’s blade swept low, exploding against the defensive dome in a burst of black smoke and sparks.
“Tch. Missed,” Fang Zhiyuan muttered.
The tool cultivators wailed, “Sir! Heaven help us, you hit us! You hit the flying formation!”
The next moment—
The millet gave a final shudder, and the formation completely collapsed.
The ship plummeted from the skies.
———————————–
Th Author has something to say:
Lin Fuqing (looking up at the millet boat): “Seems Ji Na doesn’t want to come down and see me. Let it be.”
Fang Zhiyuan (sneering): “He’ll come down. I’ll bring him down.”