Finally, the excitement subsided and people dispersed.
Lin Fuqing huddled alone on a chair in the empty hall, eyes half-lidded, as if he was half asleep.
Having spent up the accumulated energy he’d gathered, he really couldn’t move.
He didn’t know how long he was unconscious until he heard empty footsteps and reluctantly opened his eyes.
Lin Fuqing saw the tall figure of the Thunder Sky Immortal walking towards the door against the light.
Lu Kuifu walked up to him, looked at the fallen table and said, “I’m sorry, I should have come earlier.”
Lin Fuqing moved his lips weakly.
He wanted to laugh, because he thought that the Immortal Sovereign would never have expected that he was the one who overturned the table
But he didn’t have the strength, so he simply gave up laughing and said with his eyes downcast, “…I know why the immortals are so emotional.”
“A catastrophe is imminent, and all five continents of the Immortal Realm will suffer. With their cultivation, they are more than capable of protecting themselves, but they are powerless to save the tens of millions of lower-level cultivators… They are enraged and confused because they still care about the sentient beings of the Immortal Realm.”
Lu Kuifu silently looked at the indifferent and pale face of the young man in front of him. The child was too young and should not have carried such a heavy burden. This was at least a job that could only be undertaken by his master’s generation.
A bleak wind blew in from the open door, and the papers on the ground rustled and rushed backward.
Lin Fuqing gathered his robes, his eyes blank. “There’s really no other way, is there?”
Lu Kuifu said nothing.
Three years ago, the astronomical chart predicted a catastrophe, saying that a crack would appear in the northwest corner of the sky, and none of them said it couldn’t be repaired.
Even if there are some minor mistakes, no matter how wide the crack in the sky is, even if it is a hundred feet wide, it can be repaired by using all the spiritual stones accumulated by the Golden Osmanthus Palace; even if it is a thousand feet wide, it can still be repaired by gathering the manpower and resources of all the immortal sects; even if it is ten thousand feet wide, it can barely be repaired by sacrificing the lives of several tribulation-crossing experts.
But now the whole sky is cracked, how can we repair it?
Lu Kuifu said in a deep voice, “Immortal Lord Lin, you should leave.”
“For the last three years, you have endured countless questions from the immortals, and I can see that you are truly planning the Three Realms.”
Lu Kuifu relaxed his brows, squeezing Lin Fuqing’s shoulder, and said comfortingly, “Leave. Immortal Lord Lin, you’ve done enough. You don’t owe Holy Son Ji anything. Go back to Taiqing Island and your master will protect you.”
Lin Fuqing thought to himself in a daze: No, I owe him.
It had nothing to do with Ji Na, but I owed him a lot.
He asked quietly, “Isn’t the Immortal Sovereign leaving?”
Lu Kuifu shook his head, and light flowed in his hands. In the blink of an eye, they took the shape of a pair of giant axes.
The man laughed, revealing a rare wildness that he rarely showed in front of others. “This is my Liuhua Continent. As long as I am alive, I cannot let even one more person die here.”
The tall figure walked out of the door with axes in hand. The gorgeous robe belonging to the immortal was bathed in dazzling golden light, reflecting a few traces of the tragic hero who would never return.
Lin Fuqing watched Lu Kuifu leave.
Then he closed his eyes weakly and lost consciousness.
….
Lin Fuqing was awakened by the rumbling sound of the collapse.
There was no sunset, but it was dark as night everywhere.
Looking out the window, the bright light in the sky had been squeezed out by the crack and had shrunk to a tiny dot.
The yin energy cracks had spread to the horizon, like a giant, terrifying eye suddenly opening in the sky, coldly watching over the world.
Faint screams and cries could be heard from afar.
Lin Fuqing staggered out of the main hall and rushed down the long steps. He was in a strange state; his five senses were all blurred, and his heart was pounding.
In the darkness, the chill seeped into his bones. He opened his eyes and looked around, finally fixing his gaze on the enormous “eye” that stretched from the east to the west above his head.
He knew that the final moment had arrived.
He should go and face his end.
The clouds churned like waves, and the eighty-one spirit pagodas lost their luster, cracks spread all over them, and they trembled and cried out violently.
Every now and then, fragments would fall, crashing into the alleyways and collapsing roof beams and tiles, sending up billowing black smoke and flames. People huddled together, crying and running, but they didn’t know where to escape to.
Everything was crumbling little by little.
Lin Fuqing raised his palm and summoned Tunan, then flipped over and stepped onto the snow-white sword, suddenly rising into the air.
Only then did he see the panicked crowd surging towards the Golden Osmanthus Palace, with flying magical artifacts frequently colliding, exploding, and catching fire. Amidst the smoke, he saw familiar figures who had been standing in the council hall not long ago—the powerful figures from the immortal sects were still struggling to control the situation, but all they could do was a drop in the ocean.
Yin qi was more harmful to cultivators than to mortals. Faced with the threat of death, everyone went mad.
Lin Fuqing went against the current.
The light of the immortal sword was as clear as moonlight, carrying him across the cries of sorrow and dust on the earth, across the eighty-one spirit towers that were about to collapse, and across the defensive array formed by the spirit towers.
He left behind all the turbulent times.
Lin Fuqing, clad in a blue and white robe and wielding a snow-white sword, ascended alone to the heavens.
The higher he went, the stronger the chill and the deeper the churning darkness. Overflowing yin qi billowed everywhere, and the air seemed to be filled with billions of icy threads that constrict and sting every inch of his skin.
Lin Fuqing endured the pain and stopped in front of the crevice, facing the enormous creature face to face. His eyes suddenly reddened, he gasped for breath, and a surge of anger rose within him.
Ultimately, they were unwilling to admit defeat.
Lin Fuqing formed a hand seal with his fingers. The sword light shone brightly, illuminating the southern sky with a frost-like radiance, vast and dazzling.
As it rushed toward the torrent of yin qi, it resembled a comet that never turned back.
The comet disappeared into the darkness at the edge of the universe.
In a certain city on a certain continent in the mortal world, inside a certain earthen house, a moth flew towards the flame of a candlestick.
The child inside blinked and pointed to the sky. “Mommy, Mommy, it just dawn, how come it’s dark again?”
…
——Snap!!
A crack appeared on the indestructible Tunan sword.
Blood dripped from the corners of Lin Fuqing’s lips, and severe pain spread from his heart to his lungs.
He heard two crackling sounds at similar frequencies: the distant one, Tunan’s, and the closer one, the bones of his hands shattering as he wielded the sword.
Flesh and sinew were twisted and tangled with broken bones.
Blood and sweat flowed down his snow-white wrists and arms, and as his body trembled uncontrollably, drops of blood and sweat scattered everywhere, spreading across his white robe like red plum blossoms growing amongst snow.
An overwhelming feeling of pain and powerlessness swept over his entire body. Lin Fuqing blinked hard. Although he wasn’t crying, the image of Tuanan in front of him gradually became blurred.
…About half a year ago, a letter came from Xuyun.
He unfolded the letter on an afternoon when the sun was so warm that it made him sleepy.
The letter paper was white rice paper, stained with the fragrance of lotus and grass, and Yin Changxin’s flamboyant handwriting was spread on it.
Fang Zhiyuan has broken through to the Nascent Soul stage.
If it were the Zhiyuan of the past, he would probably keep asking about his shi-ge’s realm and would be eager to pick up the knife to fight him.
He had defeated the little calamity star for seven years, but now he could no longer defeat him.
Three years ago, he had wasted all his cultivation. Although he had been trying to heal the damage to his meridians and dantian, he had never been able to rebuild his foundation.
Lin Fuqing’s current cultivation level was only the ninth level of Qi Induction, and he even had difficulty controlling Tunan. His former audacity to kill the stars and pluck the moon now seemed like a joke.
And his Xuyun…
His lake with swaying white lotuses, the small cave he had decorated with his own hands… his master, his fellow disciples, and the children from the outer sect he had adopted…
He would never see them again.
The thought of dying had been in Lin Fuqing’s mind since the moment he saw that the disaster was irreversible.
Only his death could completely cover up the truth of that year and free Fang Zhiyuan from his doomed fate.
It turned out that three years ago, on that ordinary autumn morning when he accompanied Zhiyuan on a millet boat to Liuhua Continent, that was their eternal farewell.
If he had known this, he should at least take a closer look at his Xuyun.
A crisp sound almost pierced his eardrums.
Tunan finally shattered completely, its gleaming fragments raining down around Lin Fuqing. Yin qi surged down from overhead like a flood, instantly swallowing up the last shred of light.
Lin Fuqing suddenly felt that this scene seemed familiar.
He was stunned for a moment, then quickly understood, and then a sad smile appeared at the corner of his lips.
With a faint gasp, he tapped his chest with his fingers and, using the last bit of his spiritual energy, performed a minimalist trick.
Who said that fate was unchangeable? Who said that destiny was predetermined?
Ji Na, Holy Son Ji, if you are still alive, please open your eyes and take a good look—
Lin Fuqing’s figure twisted and changed, the blood-stained white robe disappeared, and he turned into a handsome and sharp young man in black, looking up at the sky with empty eyes.
I cannot go against the will of heaven for all living beings.
But at least I can change the fate of one person.
Lin Fuqing transformed into Fang Zhiyuan’s appearance. He stood in the void, looking small and vulnerable in front of the massive river of yin qi slowly approaching from above his head.
Those usually clear eyes were churning with boundless emotions. Relief and resentment were locked in a fierce struggle, grief and joy were clashing violently, and resolve and weakness were entangled in a chaotic mess.
As if desperately squeezing out the last embers of a dying spark, it flickered and scattered.
It was exactly the scene of the revelation of the Purple Star Ostrolabe three years ago.
The dark tide of yin qi was like a black dragon with sharp claws opened, swooping down wildly.
In an instant, it pierced through the youth’s chest!!
Lin Fuqing closed his eyes and fell, the yin qi swallowing him completely. He fell through the air as if into the deep sea.
It was the most tragic and desperate scene.
The qin qi violently broke through every meridian, instantly tearing apart his skin and flesh, blood splurting out.
Lin Fuqing became lost in the red mist that looked like the setting sun. He didn’t know whether this could barely be considered as killing the evil star for Zhiyuan.
…But at least.
Tears finally streamed down his face, and Lin Fuqing thought with boundless sorrow: At least, I didn’t let you fall into the sea a second time.
His back slammed heavily into the massive array formed by the spirit tower. With a cracking sound of a spine breaking, Lin Fuqing’s pupils constricted, and he coughed up a mouthful of blood.
The blood flew more than ten feet high, then slowly dripped down, covering his face and body.
The clouds were completely torn apart, and Lin Fuqing vaguely saw that it was a pitch-black waterfall streaming from the heavens, about to pour into the human world.
He was a dying ant, clinging to a rock directly beneath the waterfall, enduring the relentless pounding of the water.
It hurt, it was cold, it was suffocating, and it was unbearable.
Why wasn’t he dead yet?
Lin Fuqing kept spitting out blood, and perhaps some fragments of internal organs as well. His unfocused pupils weakly pushed upwards, and he looked as if he was about to completely lose consciousness but could not.
He thought to himself: Master, the sky is so vast.
The sky had fallen.
The collapsed sky pressed down on his chest.
And the Three Realms were right behind him.
It was at this moment, when life was hanging by a thread, that, amidst unparalleled torture, Lin Fuqing’s consciousness vaguely drifted into an extremely profound realm.
Suddenly, he faintly heard a sound near his ear. It was distant and indistinct, as if it came from afar through several layers of gauze curtains.
Those were the sounds of cicadas chirping in the deep mountains, the sound of flowing water, the swaying of trees in the wind, and the songs of young girls in the countryside.
The sound of falling snow, the sound of falling flowers, the chanting of sutras by immortal cultivators leaning on a bamboo staff, the howling of wolves before the cliff under the moonlight, and the sound of tiles being kicked by thieves in the city at night.
Fish leap out of the water, deer dart into the forest, the sound of a hunter drawing his bowstring, the roar of a tsunami, the sound of a storm, the sound of dust being wiped off scrolls of history, the sound of a mountain collapsing during an earthquake, the sound of thunder, and the sound of a young couple arguing with a mixture of anger and shyness.
The sounds of weeping surrounding the elderly as they passed away peacefully.
The laughter surrounding a newborn baby as it cries.
Gradually, the voices of all things in the Three Realms surged forth, completely overwhelming Lin Fuqing.
This was the sound of the human world.
Eleven years ago, in a corner of this world, a master in a gray Daoist robe and his young apprentice in white walked in the clear mountains, asking and answering questions.
“Master, what exactly is the Savior Immortal?”
“You’ll find out later.”
On the very day the celestial calamity struck, the carefree little lord immortal on Taiqing Island finally understood the second word of “savior immortal.”
Lin Fuqing came to understand what “loved the world” meant.
Just a moment before the world was plunged into chaos.
Finally, the thunderous black waterfall shattered the rocks, and the eighty-one spirit towers exploded instantly, turning into smoke in the flames.
A massive torrent of yin qi rushed toward the human world, and it was impossible to tell whether it carried away even a tiny ant.
Just as Lin Fuqing crashed to the ground, and the yin qi instantly swept across the three realms, everything here abruptly faded and froze.
This was enough for now, this illusion of inner demons.
=========
Beyond the illusion, the Demon Lord, who had already experienced this period of time, did not remain.
Time was precious, so his soul continued to descend, falling into a vast and profound sea of consciousness that offered him no resistance.
Lin Fuqing entered Fang Zhiyuan’s inner demon illusion.
The first thing he saw was himself.
Himself after becoming a demon.
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