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Chapter 71: Waiting

Beyond the boundless void lay a realm of chaos, lightless and sunless, and yet not pure darkness either—rather, a murky haze formed from countless colors of heaven and earth all blended together; throughout all the ages, only a bare handful of beings had ever set foot in this place.

The chaos stretched onward, and suddenly a chasm of extraordinary size appeared, its length unseeable, its depth unfathomable, stretching who knew how many tens of thousands of li across, as though it encircled the entire Nine Thousand Prefectures, utterly severing this world from all others.

"Where the boundary wall once stood is now reduced to nothingness as well."

Ling Wankong flew above the chasm, looking down at the bottomless drop below, and found himself, for a moment, struck by a certain wistfulness.

Had Heavenly Dao still remained, a towering barrier would have been raised along this chasm, stretching on without end, the most magnificent, awe-inspiring sight this world had to offer.

Whatever world one spoke of, all were bound by the very same law. The boundary wall could not be crossed; so long as that wall remained, even though the Netherworld Realm sat above the Nine Thousand Prefectures, its strength enough to crush several Nine Thousand Prefectures over, it still could never truly breach this world, only ever able to find the occasional gap over the span of hundreds of thousands of years.

Fortunately, this world's Heavenly Dao was flawed and incomplete, which was precisely why the Netherworld Realm could always find some crack in the boundary wall to exploit, and it was from this that the Demon Abyss had come.

Just as Ling Wankong and Yu Bai were about to cross the chasm laterally, the space all around suddenly shook violently; a surging tide of spiritual energy welled up from the depths of the chasm, unceasing, as though the deep sea itself were rising, stirring up towering waves, filling the chasm in an instant, then piling upward still further, as though about to build a wall so high its peak could not be seen.

Even Ling Wankong, for all his vast experience, found his expression shifting slightly at this: "The boundary wall is rising again?"

"Someone has mended the flawed, incomplete great Dao! Was it that Demon Emperor?"

He glanced back at Yu Bai, and the two of them immediately quickened their pace, transforming into twin streaks of rainbow light, surging across the chasm.

——No sooner had they landed than a boundless barrier rose up behind them, the rebuilt boundary wall soaring to the very heavens, like some giant of a primeval age holding up the sky itself—truly the most magnificent, awe-inspiring sight this world had to offer.

Once across the boundary wall, they were utterly severed from this world's original great Dao; a wish he had held for many years had finally been fulfilled, and yet Ling Wankong's expression did not look pleased at all.

The Nine Thousand Prefectures' Heavenly Dao had already fled, this world's fate plain to see, sooner or later, it was destined to fall as a dependency of the Netherworld Realm; but with this newly-risen boundary wall, that once-settled certainty had been utterly shattered.

Everything had returned to square one; the Netherworld Realm's twelve Dao Sovereigns could no longer descend upon the Nine Thousand Prefectures, and hundreds of thousands of years of careful scheming had, in the end, fallen short at the final step.

Ling Wankong's gaze settled on the darkness ahead, and he spoke, his voice utterly without emotion: "So it seems, we underestimated that Demon Emperor after all."

He heard no response from Yu Bai beside him, and glanced over, only to find this world's former Immortal Elder gazing up deeply at the sky-reaching boundary wall, as though he had glimpsed something within it.

Another sound stirred behind them. Ling Wankong turned, and behind the two of them, a length of charred, scorched wood hung suspended in the air, which in the next instant transformed into a gaunt, withered body, a black robe settling down over it.

One of the Netherworld Realm's Twelve Dao Sovereigns—Zhe Zhu.

"Who was that human who cultivated both talisman and sword paths at once?!"

Meeting him again, Zhe Zhu seemed in rather poor condition. His body beneath the black robe trembled violently, his voice hoarse, dense black vapor spilling from his mouth with every word he spoke, corroding even the air around him.

"To think he actually received Huan Chen's inheritance! That such a tiny, insignificant lower realm could truly give birth to one with the bearing of a Dao Sovereign! Damnable, that he wasn't born in my own Netherworld Realm, damnable!"

Hearing this, Ling Wankong's expression shifted once more, and beside him, a faint, quiet voice spoke up: "Chen Moqing. Born with all twelve sword-path spiritual roots. The foremost master of the sword path in all the Nine Thousand Prefectures."

Ling Wankong turned his head, and saw that Yu Bai, having finished speaking, had fallen silent once more, his face still wearing its same expressionless look.

"Twelve spiritual roots?!" Zhe Zhu's voice shot up sharply, "With talent like that, why didn't you snuff him out sooner! Or simply send him straight to my Netherworld Realm!"

He fixed Yu Bai with a cold stare, but received no answer from him; instead, Ling Wankong gave a short laugh: "By the time that one stood before a Dao Sovereign, he had already died and been brought back to life for the second time."

He paused briefly as he spoke, then continued: "Though, the next time a Dao Sovereign comes in true form, that child will surely be put to death."

Zhe Zhu fell silent for a long moment at this, then let out a low, eerie laugh: "The next time I come, I'm afraid you won't find him here any longer..."

"To defy Heavenly Dao in a mortal body, to take on an immortal's mandate, up to that point, one could still survive."

"But, to use one's own body to mend a broken, incomplete great Dao, to patch the boundary wall whole, to overstep and take on Heavenly Dao's own responsibility, even for a Dao Sovereign, there would be only one path left: the body destroyed, the Dao extinguished."

"From this day forward, there is no more Chen Moqing in this world. What a waste, truly, of a sapling with the bearing of a Dao Sovereign, squandered on such a backwater, barbarous lower realm as this..."

Hearing this, something like a ripple seemed to pass through Yu Bai's eyes for the briefest instant, before settling once more into stillness.

Zhe Zhu glanced at him, his black robe swirling as he turned away.

"Enough of that. Come along with this one. From this day forward, the two of you shall be disciples of my upper realm's... Youxu Academy."

"Academy disciples?" Ling Wankong's eyes narrowed slightly, "Is the Dao Sovereign suggesting that the two of us, each the head of our own sect, should go and become some sort of junior novice disciples?"

"Heh, the two of you, having grown up in a world with incomplete laws, have spent your entire lives learning nothing but a flawed, broken version of the Dao. Once you enter my Netherworld Realm, you'll naturally have to start from the very beginning again, did you really think that Youxu Sacred Academy was some rundown little sect like the ones in your backwater world?"

"Don't worry, there are no end of students there older than the both of you, with one monstrous prodigy after another besides. Cultivating for several thousand years, only to return and still be a mere entry-level disciple, now there's a fine story to tell, hahahaha!"

Having finished laughing, Zhe Zhu shook his head, looking rather pleased with himself despite Ling Wankong's now-darkened expression: "Ah, ah, this one really is the most good-natured of all the Dao Sovereigns. If any of the others had heard that nonsense you just spouted, they'd have slapped you dead on the spot already, shouldn't you be thanking this one instead?"

"……"

...

In the depths of chaos, in a lightless place bordering the void, a faint glimmer of light—one that had not appeared in several hundred thousand years—drifted quietly.

It was a ball of light no larger than an infant's palm, pure white and flawless, yet terribly faint, flickering on and off like a candle guttering in the wind, as though it might be snuffed out at any moment by a single startled gust.

But around that tiny ball of light, three points of light lingered faintly, forming an outer ring of protection, shielding that faint glow as it drifted through the boundless, endless chaos.

After some unknowable span of time, a consciousness stirred awake from within it.

...Who am I?

The newborn consciousness was utterly dazed, looking around, and yet seeing nothing at all.

I feel like I've forgotten a great many things, and... someone very important, too.

The ball of light suddenly dimmed, coming to a stop, motionless, not a single glimmer left, as though it had grown terribly sad.

Just then, from among the three points of light circling it, one of verdant-gold color drifted free, moving in close, touching gently against the top of that round little ball of light.

The consciousness within the ball of light stirred, startled.

I remember you... you're... a sword?

The verdant-gold point of light drifted slowly up and down, saying nothing, for of course, it could not speak.

The ball of light turned in place once, then looked at the other two small points of light as well—a crystalline, flawless lotus blossom, and a freshly-bloomed, pale green sprout.

Was there anything else?

What else had he forgotten?

It seemed to be... someone even more important, someone he could never let go of.

The ball of light fell still once more, but this time, it did not stop there—instead, it flew forward, flying out into the boundless chaos.

He would find everything he'd forgotten.

The chaotic expanse stretched on, distant and boundless; the faint ball of light pressed onward, never once pausing even as weariness set in, as though climbing the highest mountain in all the world, refusing to stop until he reached the very summit.

After some unknowable span of time, he saw a hazy, faint glow rising up ahead, and drifted toward it without the slightest hesitation; as he drifted closer and closer, that faint glow suddenly expanded, spreading out, transforming into a boundless radiance.

——It was a vast expanse of clouds, churning like the sea, soft and pure white.

The ball of light plunged straight downward, passing through the clouds, and saw the sea of clouds part to either side, revealing a vast, distant, boundless continent, at the center of which stood a grand, ancient sect, resplendent and magnificent, like a sun descended from the heavens.

Just the sect's mountain gate alone soared nearly ten thousand zhang high, rising straight up from the earth, piercing directly into the clouds above. The ball of light struggled to fly for what felt like half a day before finally reaching the top of the mountain gate, where, among jade stones carved with dragon patterns, he saw three great characters etched in bold, forceful strokes.

Changyao Sect.

Three simple characters, and yet containing within them an overwhelming, supreme resonance of the Dao.

The ball of light hovered among the clouds, trembling faintly, as though some memory had risen up within him, calling to mind a few hazy, half-formed scenes of the past.

Before long, that flickering, pure white ball of light flew forward once more, skimming over the long, sprawling plaza of the sect, passing by a towering peak wreathed in faint, drifting spirit-light.

Atop that peak, an old man with hair and beard all white, a crane-feather robe fluttering about him, sat alone at the mountain's summit, holding a green bamboo rod, fishing in the sea of clouds.

The ball of light drifted a little closer, silently, flickering on and off, giving off an even brighter glow. The old man paid him no mind at all, his full attention fixed straight ahead.

Suddenly, the old man leaned backward, the bamboo rod drawing taut, and from the sea of clouds a golden flood dragon, a hundred zhang long, leapt up—caught on his line!

Wind surged and clouds churned, blowing the round little ball of light tumbling backward several times over; the old man laughed heartily, lifting his wrist, and the golden dragon burst from the clouds, soaring into the air, stirring up a hundred li of cloud-sea, struggling to break free from that thin golden fishing line, yet unable to escape no matter how hard it thrashed, until the old man gave a single beckoning wave of his hand, and it came flying toward him.

The golden dragon's once-massive form, nearly a hundred zhang long, shrank rapidly, and by the time it landed in the old man's palm, it had become nothing more than a small golden fish, just a few inches long.

The old man held up this thrashing little golden fish, turning his head cheerfully, only then noticing the small ball of light that had been curiously chasing after the cloud-waves.

"Young friend, where have you come from?"

A single question shattered the chaos, and the spirit-platform blazed eternal once more!

In that very instant, Chen Moqing's consciousness awoke fully, returning once more to this world!

...

Jiugai Prefecture.

A Demon Abyss had reshaped the very landscape of Jiugai Prefecture. A place that had once been a rolling expanse of mountains was now, for a hundred li, flattened into level ground, with only a single enormous stone cliff rising up from the earth, like a sharp sword pointed straight at the heavens.

A crimson restriction shrouded the sky; within fifty li, no living creature was permitted to enter. No cultivator voiced any objection to this—only, in passing by this place, they would sometimes let out a quiet sigh.

This was the place where that immortal who had saved the Nine Thousand Prefectures had fallen.

——It was also the gravestone the Demon Emperor had raised for his own dao companion.

Xuanji came, as she always did, to the edge of the restriction, gazing from afar with her spiritual sense at that distant stone cliff.

"I'm afraid His Majesty means to bury himself in there as well," the Black Tortoise beside her said, "Shouldn't we go try to talk him out of it?"

"It's no use. Just think back to the Vermilion Bird, back then, and you'll understand." Xuanji sighed, her fox tails drooping, swaying once, low, "A demon chooses only one dao companion in all their life. Only... the two of them never even made it to their Dao Companion Ceremony..."

The faint sigh drifted off on the wind, scattered before it ever touched the ground.

In the stone cliff rising from the plain, a great cave had been hollowed out, pitted and uneven, ragged as though gnawed by a dog, a cold wind howling through its mouth, stirring up dust across the ground.

A great mass of dust-grey fur lay curled deep within the cave; the fur that had once been sleek and beautiful was no longer smooth, but matted with great patches of filth, dried blood caked dark and crusted, mixed together with the grime, tangled into unruly, knotted clumps.

The massive demon beast lay utterly still, as though every trace of life had drained out of him, only his dimmed demonic eyes still open, staring in the dimness, lifeless and unmoving, down at his own claws.

In his claws, he clutched a small cloth pouch, one that had once been filled with dried little fish treats, bought for him by that person.

On the front of the pouch was a drawing of a little fish, tail flicking, held in the mouth of a small, fluffy, startled-furred beast.

Cang Shun stared fixedly at that drawing, unblinking, and remembered, from very, very long ago—

A small, snow-white beast, curled up on a young human's lap, burying his head into a small cloth pouch, pulling out a dried little fish in his mouth, and then, a hand carrying a pleasant scent would come to rest on top of his head, gently stroking his slightly ruffled fur.

Then, that hand would pick up the little cloth pouch, turn it over in his palm, and a brush would appear between his fingers; with a few light strokes of those slender fingers, a little picture would take shape—'Mimi Pouncing on Fish'.

The little snow-white beast would leap up at once, mewling and crying out in a fuss, pawing at that person's sleeve without stopping, and hear him laugh softly, saying with utmost seriousness: "This is the Demon Emperor's ward against evil."

A spreading dampness suddenly bloomed across the little cloth pouch, spreading in layer upon layer, like a flower breaking apart in bloom—perhaps it was the rain outside, drifting in, soaking through the whole little pouch before long.

A fierce wind howled into the cave, hammering coldly at the stone walls. The filthy, grime-streaked Demon Emperor, clutching that little cloth pouch, curled up alone in the depths of the cave, and wept without a sound, lost in the endless curtain of falling rain.

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