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Chapter 72: Returning to His Side

A brilliant golden sun rose up from between the sea of clouds, its gentle warmth seeping into his cold body, driving off the faint, lingering chill that kept seeping through his spiritual sea.

Chen Moqing lowered his eyes, and saw his own faintly glowing, ice-cold body—his physical form utterly destroyed now, reduced entirely to a state of pure spirit.

His whole cultivation had scattered away like flowing water, plummeting all the way back down to early Qi Refinement.

Once again, all his past cultivation had come to naught, and yet he felt no discouragement at this—instead, a quiet, unexpected joy rose up within him.

So long as he could survive, there was still hope; he still stood upon the path of climbing toward the great Dao.

"Young friend, your journey has carried you far, why not sit a while, and have a cup of tea first?"

The gentle voice drifted into his ear; Chen Moqing raised his head, and found the crane-robed old man before him still smiling at him.

Long ago, he and his Demon Emperor had wandered through the void, chanced upon a lost, forgotten hall, and personally witnessed the old affairs of Tianshu Sect—and so, naturally, he remembered the face of this old man before him now—

The Grand Elder of Changyao Sect, who, during this world's very first descent of the Demon Abyss, had led his fellow elders in using their own bodies to seal away the Demon Abyss, falling for the sake of the whole world.

Chen Moqing clasped his hands together, bowing low: "This one pays respects to the Elder."

The crane-robed old man lifted his palm slightly, and a gentle breeze drifted in a slow circle around Chen Moqing, lifting him up; then he gathered two wisps of white cloud from the sea of mist, transforming them into two teacups, the pure white cups rising high, facing the sun directly, letting the sunlight sink into the bottom of each cup, settling into a pale golden tea liquid, releasing a faint, drifting fragrance.

"This tea is called Floating Light Upon the Sea of Clouds, a brew I created myself."

The crane-robed old man said this with no small measure of pride, lifting the teacup in one hand, yet not drinking from it directly; instead, he held it before his nose, letting it drift there slowly, as faint wisps of mist seeped out from the pale golden tea liquid, drifting of their own accord into his lips and tongue.

Chen Moqing did the same, and felt an indescribable, refreshing fragrance spread out between his lips and teeth, coursing through every meridian in his body, sinking straight into his spirit-platform, and a surge of powerful spiritual energy descended upon him at once.

His vision cleared before him, and a sudden insight struck him—his attainments in the sword path, the talisman path, the array path, and the soul path all rose at once!

A single small cup of tea, and yet it contained within it the resonance of several great Daos all at once!

Chen Moqing's spirit stirred with excitement, and a thought drifted unbidden through his mind: if Mimi were here, he would surely love this too.

The teacup dissolved into drifting mist between his fingers, and he said softly: "All the great Daos, contained within a single cup, wondrous beyond words."

Across from him, the crane-robed old man's eyes showed an unconcealed flicker of surprise, along with a measure of genuine admiration: "Such keen insight—rare, truly rare... Oh? You cultivate four Daos at once, no less! Hahaha! It seems the later generations have no shortage of talent, far surpassing this present age!"

He laughed heartily, and poured Chen Moqing another full cup of tea.

Chen Moqing cupped the teacup in both hands, his gaze flickering faintly—so it was true, this Grand Elder of Changyao Sect had seen through him at a single glance, recognizing that he was not of this era at all.

Without thinking, he opened his mouth, meaning to warn the Elder to be wary of the Demon Abyss, but the very instant the thought arose, his already-weakened spirit form shuddered violently!

It was as though some unseen, overwhelming pressure descended from every corner of heaven and earth at once, transforming into the heaviest of shackles, crushing down upon him, leaving him utterly unable to move, unable even to utter a single word.

——Cause and effect, bound to him!

Words of cause and effect, meant to be spoken, heaven and earth would not permit it, the laws of this world would not allow it!

Chen Moqing's spirit form froze, remaining motionless for a long while, then suddenly swept his sleeve upward, knocking the teacup from his hands.

The cup fell into the sea of clouds, and did not dissolve back into mist—instead, it shattered into several pieces.

The crane-robed old man's gaze sharpened slightly, watching the shattered cup, then slowly raised his head, taking in every detail of the young traveler's expression before him; for a long moment, he simply stroked his beard and smiled.

"The cause and effect of this world is like the life of a single tree. It sprouts from a seed, grows into a towering giant reaching for the sky. Standing beneath its canopy, to try and find that original seed again is simply an impossible task."

"And of course, should a storm sweep through and break that great tree apart, looking out at the withered leaves scattered across the ground, could you truly go back and tell that very first seed to beware of the coming storm?"

That light, gentle laughter struck like a great stone shattering a frozen lake, cracking through the ice sealed over the flowing water beneath; Chen Moqing's consciousness shuddered, and in an instant, understanding dawned clear within him: "...Is the Elder trying to tell me that cause and effect cannot be reversed, that even the vast span of time itself cannot be undone, and so, the one standing here now is not, in truth, one who has truly returned to this moment in the past?"

The crane-robed old man's eyes gleamed with even greater admiration, his smile mild and unhurried, as he offered him a third cup of tea: "How do you know that this place is truly the one you think it is? Perhaps the one you see before you now is not the true me at all, but merely a reflection cast across the vast span of time by my true self."

"Perhaps this old one, too, has some unfinished wish of his own, which is why this avatar lingers here, waiting... waiting for some fated young friend to come along..."

That long, drawn-out sigh drifted into his ear; Chen Moqing's spirit trembled, and he fell silent for a long while, simply lowering his head quietly, his gaze seeming to pierce through the sea of clouds, searching for that distant sect below.

And yet, all he saw was a sea of clouds, frozen and unchanging.

The crane-robed old man said nothing more, only smiling as he poured himself tea and drank, quietly watching the young traveler sink into silence for a long while, before the young man raised his head once more to meet his gaze, his eyes showing no trace of confusion or despondency, only a clear, settled calm: "Might this one ask the Elder, is there a realm that transcends even Ascension?"

The crane-robed old man lifted the green bamboo rod at his feet, casting the line once more into the sea of clouds: "There is."

"But the world we find ourselves in is a frail, newly-born world. No such being has ever appeared in it, nor has any living creature, even in the other, far more ancient great realms, ever taken that step."

Chen Moqing sat quietly beside him, listening as that aged voice swept across the layered clouds on the long wind: "Ascension is to break through the heavens, to shatter the shackles of Heavenly Dao itself, and journey onward to a mightier world."

"What lies above Ascension is Heaven's Redress, the power to turn back a collapsing heaven with one's own strength, to correct the great Dao itself. The laws of this world, too, rest within one's own hand; a world destroyed with a single snap of the fingers, a world born again with a single turn of the palm!"

As his voice fell silent, the sea of clouds churned violently, a million li of mountains and rivers trembling as one! It was as though a single utterance had stirred the great Dao itself into resonance, drawing the very gaze of Heavenly Dao!

Even Chen Moqing, hearing the weight of the great Dao contained within those words, found himself shaken to his very core for a long while after.

Even an immortal who had Ascended remained bound by the laws of this world. The Nine Thousand Prefectures was a newly-born world of the Dao, its strength still somewhat weak, unable to contain an Ascended being within it, and so the very first immortal to climb to the heavens could not remain, and had to journey onward to another, mightier realm.

The Netherworld Realm was an ancient, mighty realm, home to twelve Ascended beings, and yet even it could not, in turn, breach the Nine Thousand Prefectures—for the laws of this world restrained the strong, and protected the weaker realms.

And the realm of Heaven's Redress, which lay beyond Ascension itself, had already transcended every law entirely, standing above all worlds, its very self was cause and effect, was law itself!

No wonder this Grand Elder of Changyao Sect could declare with such certainty that no such being had ever existed, for the moment Heaven's Redress emerged, all worlds would shift and change, and the laws of existence itself would never permit such a thing.

Chen Moqing slowly closed his eyes, his spiritual sea surging as he absorbed the weight of this revelation. When he opened his eyes once more, he heard the crane-robed old man, still fishing in the sea of clouds, murmur softly: "Perhaps, only when every world has fallen into its final age, when every world stands upon the brink of its final day... only then might such a being be born, one who could truly turn back a collapsing heaven, and redeem every world at once."

No sooner had these words fallen than, in Chen Moqing's eyes, the sea of clouds, which had settled calm until then, began to churn once more, pure white waves of cloud sweeping across the hem of the crane-robed old man's robe, rising like a swelling tide, gradually creeping up past his legs, as though meaning to swallow them both whole.

He realized something at once: "Elder—"

The sea of clouds rose into towering waves, transforming into a boundless, flowing river; he fell into the river beyond his own control, the icy water closing over his head, sweeping him downstream.

In that instant, Chen Moqing found himself unable to move, unable even to breathe—not because the water blocked his breath, but because an overwhelmingly vast aura of time itself came pressing in from every direction, burying him whole.

His spirit settled and steadied. Chen Moqing relaxed his spirit form, letting the transparent water pass straight through him, realizing that this was the long river of time, given form by the laws of this world itself.

The long river flowed on and on, sweeping past countless uncountable years; he was no more than a floating leaf upon that river, unable to stir even the faintest ripple, carried helplessly along with the current.

At the edge of his vision, that crane-robed old man, his form already growing indistinct, sat composed at the river's upper reaches, raising his teacup, pointing it toward him from afar.

"The past has already drifted away like smoke; what is yet to come remains unknown. You and I share a fated bond, so, consider yourself a disciple of Changyao, now. Go on, then..."

A single star of light leapt up from within the teacup, crossing the long river of time, coming to hover before Chen Moqing.

It was a single lotus seed, gleaming with brilliant golden light.

In the span of a single instant, Chen Moqing's consciousness shook violently; a crystalline, flawless snow-lotus bloomed forth from the space between his brows, its nine petals slowly unfurling, and that lotus seed, drawn by some unseen pull, sank into the heart of the lotus flower.

Nine lotus seeds, nine points of brilliant starlight, condensing together into a single, full moon!

The long river of time shuddered violently; a pure white, flawless lotus blossomed forth, wreathed in flecks of golden light like scattered stars—and upon closer look, each and every petal was ringed with its own stars, sun, and moon; as the petals opened and closed, the aura of the great Dao poured forth without the slightest restraint, even stirring up a corner of the long river of time, sending spray and waves flying!

——The Lotus of Samsara and Nirvana!

A tenth-grade immortal lotus!

Chen Moqing's eyes were lit up, bathed entirely in the brilliant glow of the immortal lotus; he saw a tall, upright figure in a blue-grey robe drift down from above the lotus, as light and unbound as the very first immortal who had ever climbed to the heavens, and beyond that immortal, at the upper reaches of the long river of time, he saw the crane-robed old man slowly turn, dissolving into a single wave upon the river, vanishing from heaven and earth entirely, from that moment on.

He slowly closed his eyes, and spoke quietly within his heart: thank you.

Within the boundless, endless chaos, the illusion of the long river of time had vanished entirely; only a single young spirit-form remained, drifting quietly within the void.

Chen Moqing gazed ahead, as though waking from some great dream, and upon waking, found himself once more parted from someone dear to him.

After a long moment, he pressed two fingers together, and with a single stir of his consciousness, a single immortal lotus bloomed once more between his brows; at the same instant, two streaks of flowing light appeared at either side of him—a verdant-gold longsword, and a freshly-sprouted green shoot.

The immortal lotus. Ran Cang. The transformed Withered Wood Spring Revival Decree.

Chen Moqing's gaze swept over each of them in turn, finally settling on Ran Cang. His eyes flickered faintly, his pale fingers brushing across the verdant-gold blade, and he said softly: "He forged you from the blood of his own heart, didn't he?"

He had already recovered his memories now, recalling that final moment—how he had exhausted every last scrap of his strength to rebuild the boundary wall, his body ground away by the great Dao, his soul swept away and devoured, carried to this place—beyond the void, the border between the Nine Thousand Prefectures and the other great worlds beyond.

This strange, special realm was not nearly as peaceful as it appeared on the surface; rather, it was steeped in a cold, deathly aura of law, and every living being who fell into it would be directly erased by the laws of this world, their very soul annihilated, never to enter the cycle of reincarnation.

That he still stood here at all was precisely because these three treasures had shielded his soul—for even an immortal at the Ascension realm, though unable to rise above the laws of this world, still retained a measure of strength to resist them.

And it was only now, in this very moment, that Chen Moqing truly came to understand just how special Ran Cang was.

Both the immortal lotus and the Withered Wood Spring Revival Decree were relics left behind by immortals; Ran Cang was no immortal artifact, and yet it gave off a strikingly similar aura, which meant that his Demon Emperor must have offered up something of the utmost importance to him, in the very act of forging this blade.

——The blood of his own heart.

And more than that, this could never have been just a drop or two of his heart's blood—judging by the depth of its power, Cang Shun must have poured his heart's blood into it for however long he spent in seclusion forging it, all so that Ran Cang could carry the weight of the great Dao and be recognized by the laws of this world.

None of this had Cang Shun ever told him.

Hearing Chen Moqing's words, Ran Cang swayed up and down, its hilt drifting forward, touching gently against the space between his brows.

Chen Moqing fell silent for a moment, a faint, quiet smile surfacing: "I know."

"I need to get back to him quickly, otherwise, he'll be heartbroken."

The words came out soft and low, spoken to Ran Cang, and at the same time, spoken to himself.

Chen Moqing raised his head, gazing out at the starless, moonless, boundless expanse of chaos above, fully aware that even with these immortal treasures to rely on, he had no way to leave this place.

This realm was like a prison cage; no living being of the Nine Thousand Prefectures could ever find it, nor enter it. And if he himself wished to break free of this cage, there was only one way, to cleave this very world open with his own hands.

And yet, having fallen all the way back to Qi Refinement now, he would have to cultivate from the very beginning once more.

He let his consciousness drift faintly outward, and quickly drew it back in again, finding nothing at all.

This realm held nothing but the annihilating laws of the world itself, its spiritual energy thin and sparse, falling short even of the lower prefectures of the Nine Thousand Prefectures, the single worst place imaginable for cultivation.

Realizing this, Chen Moqing's spirit remained utterly unshaken, his gaze deep and still, without the faintest ripple.

However high his cultivation had once been, all of that now belonged to the past, never to be looked back upon. Whatever trials lay ahead now were nothing more than another tempering of the great Dao.

He simply settled into quiet meditation where he sat, the three immortal treasures circling around him, shielding him.

His consciousness sank into his spiritual sea, and the moment he began to circulate the Qi Refinement cultivation method, his body gave a faint, sudden start.

He felt a surge of... merit and virtue from Heavenly Dao itself, originating from his own being!

This fresh store of merit was even vaster than the one he had received before; he had no idea when it had settled upon him, only now made manifest as he began to formally cultivate once more, transforming into a faint layer of golden light, enveloping his body.

So that explained it...

Chen Moqing sighed quietly within himself.

He had wondered, earlier, why he had felt no trace at all of the pressure from this world's laws bearing down on him, even with the protection of these immortal treasures—it was because his own merit had shielded him as well, earning him recognition from the laws of this world.

With merit now cloaking him, free of every lingering concern, Chen Moqing sat in quiet meditation amid the void, his consciousness settling into deep stillness, feeling heaven and earth fall entirely silent around him. Every trial he had endured now became a stepping-stone beneath his feet, paving the way toward a single great Dao.

And now, once more, he set out upon the road to the heavens!

Above his spiritual sea, his consciousness looked up, gazing far into the distant sky, and seemed to see, somewhere along that long and distant road to the heavens, a figure still lingering, waiting there for him.

Wait for me.

...

The Nine Thousand Prefectures. The demon realm.

A single, lonely, waning crescent moon hung in the sky, its cold, clear light spilling down over a towering peak ten thousand zhang high.

A bird-clan demon beat its wings, climbing to the very top of the peak, dropping to one knee, bowing deeply: "Your Majesty, the unrest from the other day has been investigated. It was the doing of some of Qingfen's former subordinates, attempting to use the human race as a pretext to stir conflict between our two races once more..."

"Kill them."

The low voice was cold as the deepest glacier in all the world, without the faintest trace of warmth.

A single word, and yet it had already pronounced the harshest sentence of death; that very night, at least a hundred more demons and humans would lose their lives because of it.

The bird-clan demon who had come to report, upon hearing this, lowered his head even further, not even daring to let his peripheral vision brush against the hem of that voice's owner, and answered with a respectful "As you command," before silently bowing and retreating several steps, then leaping off from the height of the peak.

Atop that peak, ten thousand zhang above the world, a biting, knife-sharp wind cut through the air, the barren ground, devoid of a single blade of grass, blanketed entirely in frost—impossible to tell whether it was moonlight or crystallized ice.

In this cold, desolate, forsaken place, only a single bright moon hung high above, seeming so close, as though it could be reached with a single outstretched hand.

But it was only ever "as though".

Beneath that moonlight, a single frost-white longsword hung suspended in silent stillness, its sharp blade reflecting half of a handsome, ice-cold face.

The sovereign of the demon realm sat quietly atop the mountain peak, alone, with only a single sword, gazing up at an incomplete, waning moon.

"It's been ninety-nine years now."

His voice was very low, low enough to sink into the frost crusted over the cracked earth beneath him.

"Has he given up on me?"

Only the howling wind answered him atop the peak, along with the cold, clear moonlight reflected off the frost-white sword's keen edge.

"...He wouldn't give up on me."

Cang Shun said this to himself.

"He only ever liked me. From the very first moment we met, he was the one who picked me up and kept me."

"He's just... unable to come find me, for now."

"I'll wait for him. I'll wait until he comes back here, and picks me up all over again."

A hundred years, two hundred years, five thousand years, ten thousand years...

None of it mattered.

He would surely wait until his human returned to him again—wait for his moon to descend from the vast sky, and come back to his side.

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