The golden lotus light of the Heavenly Demon-Slaying Formation lasted for roughly the time it takes an incense stick to burn before slowly fading, the lotus blossoms finally dispersing and dissolving into the heavens and earth.
All fell silent.
Only the cold, pristine silver light of the full moon poured across the land, while countless stars glittered in the sky, illuminating this desolate place and revealing the full extent of its devastation.
Cough. Cough. Cough.
People began struggling up from the scattered sand, tumbled rocks, and deep-buried mounds of earth, staring blankly at everything around them. Seeing the demonic energy purified and cleansed away, feeling not the slightest trace of that demon lord’s presence remaining, they could not help but rise to their feet, searching out those who had survived, leaning on one another.
They gazed upon this ravaged land, breathing in the scorched and charred smell left by the demonic energy’s erosion, mingled with the stench of blood. Every face bore grief and bewilderment, and a sorrow that could not be dispelled.
“Did we… win?” Someone murmured, their tone carrying a hint of uncertainty and the faint, fragile joy of those who have survived a catastrophe.
Liu Xiu, covered in bruises from head to toe, weakly wiped the dark blood from the corners of his mouth and laughed bitterly. “We won.”
The righteous path had won.
This great calamity upon all living beings had come to an end.
Yet they had paid a terrible price. Countless fellow cultivators had perished in this catastrophe, their very souls scattered to oblivion. Even the light of the righteous path — Lang Jiuchuan, the sole Core Formation Zhenren present — had vanished without a trace.
Even so, they still clung to a thread of hope, looking around in every direction, trying to find that one figure. But no matter how they searched, she seemed to have vanished along with those lotus blossoms, returned to nothingness, leaving not the faintest breath of her presence.
Someone began to weep softly — for those who had survived this calamity and lived to see the world after, for the fellow cultivators who had given their lives to uphold the Dao, and for that venerable one who had dared to offer herself upon the altar of the Grand Dao.
“Lang Jiuchuan!” A thunderous roar of rage rang out, shaking the hearts of all who heard it.
Everyone turned to look. A spectral figure burst out from the void, the space around him rippling with faint distortions, as though resisting his sudden intrusion.
Behind him, another powerful ghostly shadow appeared, steadily channeling ghostly power to shield that spectral form.
“It’s the Lord of Feng Ya!” Gong Tinglan — battered and disheveled, his breath wan and faint, his cultivation having fallen back by an unknown amount — brightened at the sight. He watched Feng Ya sweep toward the main peak’s formation core and said, “Let us go search as well.”
Search for whom — search for Lang Jiuchuan. Perhaps she would not be found, but what if she could be? As long as she had not truly perished and had her soul utterly scattered, even if only a fragment of her soul remained, it was something. Through long years of cultivation, who was to say she could not rise again?
Feng Ya’s divine soul was fading — the backlash of having forced his way through the suppression of this realm’s heavenly will. Those eyes of his, perpetually cold and indifferent, now churned with an urgency and panic unlike anything he had ever shown before.
“You little wretch — don’t let me lose respect for you!” he ground out through clenched teeth, the cold curse on his lips betraying something that the ghost general following behind him, shielding his soul, could plainly hear: worry, and a tremor beneath the words.
Feng Ya drew a deep breath. His gaze sharpened to a blade’s edge as he swept every corner of the area, his divine sense landing precisely on the formation’s heart at the main peak — the place where the Azure Dragon Imperial Seal had been placed.
Suddenly, his breath caught. He swept swiftly forward.
At the bottom of the deep pit at the formation’s core, a faint, barely-there thread of soul-breath — nearly indistinguishable in frequency from the ambient spiritual energy of heaven and earth — was clinging to the Azure Dragon Imperial Seal with great difficulty.
Beyond the seal, a sacred beast’s spiritual consciousness and a layer of ghostly power bearing traces of the merit accumulated through battle had wound around it layer upon layer. This had kept the seal from shattering; more than that, spiritual energy circulated within it, sustaining that slender thread of soul-breath.
Feng Ya personally dug the seal out from the earth. With a sweep of his hand, he brushed away both the spiritual consciousness and the ghostly power wrapped around it. As the ghostly power dispersed, a remnant soul surged forth — it was the dormant spiritual consciousness of Fu Qi and Jiang Che.
The ghost general channeled a thread of ghostly power toward Fu Qi. Fu Qi’s remnant soul solidified slightly. Weakly, he bowed toward the general, then looked at the seal, his eyes carrying a glimmer of relief and release.
He had done it.
All the merit and karmic fortune stored within his soul — every last measure of it — had been forged from his cultivation of the ghostly power of battle and transformed into the power of faith and vow, shielding her soul and carving out that one tiny sliver of a chance at survival.
Each action in life brings its own recompense. Back then, she had been so weak, yet she had still carried him and three thousand soldiers of the Fu family army through their passage. Now he had poured out everything to shield her in return. Was this not simply the completion of a bond of fate?
All of this was karma — the cyclical law of virtuous affinity.
As Fu Qi grasped this truth, the remnant soul that had been on the verge of dissolving instead grew steadily more solid, and wisps of spiritual energy began to gather around it.
The ghost general glanced at him, and the cold, grim set of those eyes softened just a fraction. All things move in cycles; cause and effect are never false. To have grasped this — it was also his own good fortune.
Feng Ya held the seal, and the taut knot in his mind eased slightly. He could sense Lang Jiuchuan’s divine soul — faint as it was, it truly existed.
Gong Tinglan and the others supported one another over in haste. Seeing this scene, he asked in shock, “Lord Feng Ya — the Zhenren, is she…?”
“Ha.” Feng Ya gave a low laugh — restrained at first, then carrying with it the wild, frenzied joy of one who has survived catastrophe, and an ineffable tenderness laced with pain. “You madwoman. Did you truly think you could deceive everyone? That you could even deceive heaven and earth?”
He cradled the seal, his voice roughened to a rasp. “Got yourself into this wretched state, left behind nothing but scraps of a shattered soul — less than a freshly dead wandering ghost. Be careful you don’t get devoured by one.”
The crowd heard this and erupted in jubilant relief.
She was still here!
The faint light of the soul clinging to the Azure Dragon Imperial Seal flickered, and then a voice came through — weak beyond measure, yet still carrying that distinctive cool detachment and stubborn pride — reaching directly into the minds of all present, halting and broken: “Better than some people, who can barely count as scraps themselves, forcing their way through realm boundaries. Your own remnant soul — how much better off is it than mine? The pot calling the kettle black.”
Those who heard the voice went limp with relief, tension draining completely from their bodies. At first they had been holding back, but then they burst out laughing — heads thrown back, laughter ringing to the sky — and more than a few punched the air.
The righteous path had truly won!
Feng Ya stared for a moment, then was provoked into laughter himself, though the corners of his eyes went faintly red. He let out a derisive huff. “Only you could be like this — even reduced to this state, that mouth of yours is still so unyielding!”
His words said one thing, yet his hands moved with the utmost care as he pressed gently against the seal, attempting to warm and nourish that remnant thread of soul with the original power of his own soul — only to be pushed away by a gentle yet resolute intent. He frowned.
“Don’t waste your soul-force. You’re in no better condition than I am. This realm won’t hold you long. Once your original source is depleted, the heavenly will of this land will grind you into dust. And then who would I have to talk to? No — let there be an ‘after’ first, before we speak of such things.”
Feng Ya stilled. “What do you mean by that?”
He had a bad feeling.
What was this reckless girl scheming up now?
The others were equally bewildered. They had won — yet from the sound of Lang Jiuchuan’s words, it seemed as though matters were not yet finished. What was going on?
“The Demonic Tome that Demon Dao Kong Jin forged, and that Blood Soul Lamp of his, are not so simple. For Kong Jin to have become what he was, there must have been a source — he could not have taught himself from nothing. This demonic corruption is not merely something that arises when one suffers a severe blow and falls to darkness; it has a root origin, a traceable beginning.” Lang Jiuchuan’s voice was thin with exhaustion. “Before this, Tantai Wuji tried to summon the Demon Ancestor. I had already sensed a trace of demonic energy unlike anything from this realm. Had I been even slightly slower, I fear he would have succeeded.”
“Your meaning is that this demonic energy was never ordinary?” Gong Tinglan followed her analysis. “That there is another demonic source?”
“My guess is that it is the lingering intent of some great demon from ancient times — which Kong Jin obtained as a transmission, allowing him to forge a vile artifact like the Blood Soul Lamp. He and Tantai Wuji fell upon each other like dogs, and it was only in defeat that Kong Jin allowed Tantai Wuji to be consumed by a true demonic form. Tantai Wuji was no mediocre talent either — he too was able to further comprehend the power of the Demonic Tome. In so short a time he caused all of Da Dan to be eroded by demonic energy, plunging all living beings into catastrophe. The scale of his destructive power speaks to his extraordinary comprehension.”
The crowd fell silent. However reluctant they were to admit it, Tantai Wuji had indeed been a person of brilliant natural gifts and uncommon perception. A pity that he had walked down the wrong path.
“The demonic energy has already been purified. But the living creatures that have been eroded by it — whether human, animal, or plant — need to be bathed in light as well, to truly restore their vitality. If they are not, the residual Blood Demon energy that lingers will cause changes in the life-force of their bodies — decay, corruption, extinction.” Lang Jiuchuan said, “Go and look at the survivors of this catastrophe, and you will understand.”
Again, silence fell. In truth, they did not need to go and look — they had only to survey the devastation of the surrounding hundred li, the shattered earth, the fouled rivers, the withered vegetation, the bleak desolation left in the wake of something that had felt like the end of the world. Even they, cultivators all — though their Dao paths remained intact — could not say how many years of cultivation it would take to restore themselves to what they once were, or even whether that day would ever come. What hope then for ordinary mortals, whose lifespan was already so short?
They had slain the demon and brought peace to the realm — that they had accomplished. But the demon’s blight lingered on. For all things under heaven to recover their vitality, what lay ahead was not merely a span of long years, but the question of spiritual energy itself.
This was what it meant to say that a hundred things lay in ruins, awaiting renewal.
“The source of the demonic power has been destroyed, yet the demon’s blight endures. All living beings need a rain of grace, descending from heaven, to restore and gather life.” Lang Jiuchuan’s voice carried a deep and profound compassion.
Feng Ya’s heart plummeted. His face darkened. “What are you planning to do? Lang Jiuchuan, you have already done more than enough! In the state you are in, who knows how many years it will take you just to recover. If you recklessly stir your soul-force again, you will truly…”
Before he could finish his warning, Lang Jiuchuan spoke again: “This is also my own selfish desire.”
Without waiting for the others to guess at her meaning, she said, “When I offered myself to the formation, I was actually exploiting a gap — using the Azure Dragon Imperial Seal’s vast power of vows and karmic fortune to preserve what remained of my soul intact. To put it in a favorable light, I was clever and cautious, and had prepared a contingency. To put it less favorably, I deceived the heavenly will, and did not give my full effort. But in the end, I won — I protected the living beings of this world and prevented the laws of the heavenly Dao from being severed. Surely that merits a reward? I wish to use this seal as a vessel, drawing on the vow-power and karmic spiritual energy of the millions of souls it still holds, with my own soul as the catalyst, to pray for blessings upon all living beings under heaven and seek a spirit mist and grace-rain to cleanse away the remaining demonic miasma.”
A sharp intake of breath ran through the crowd.
This… such an act was conceived for the greater good, and would be a deed of immense virtue and merit.
If Lang Jiuchuan were still the Core Formation Zhenren she had been before, they would have had nothing to say. But after the battle to destroy the demon, she was now in a state where even her divine soul could only sustain itself by relying on the karmic energy of the seal. If she were to draw upon the power of her soul and spirit, one misstep would truly mean her soul dispersing beyond all recovery.
The aura around Feng Ya turned frigid. He was furious — furious at someone’s disregard for her own life.
Gong Tinglan pressed his lips together and said, “Lord Feng Ya is right. You have already done far more than enough. As for the fate of all living beings — the Dao will see to that in its own time.”
“Yes, yes!” The others all chimed in agreement.
Cultivators were people too. They had no regrets about having saved the world, but having already done all that they had, their conscience was clear. Surely it was not necessary to truly lay down one’s life at this point?
Lang Jiuchuan laughed, faint as a breath of air. “I am not truly motivated only by selfless compassion and the wish to be some sort of saint. As the saying goes, when one is placed in a desperate situation, one finds a way through. If I can bring about a grace-rain of spiritual energy, we ourselves will not necessarily be without benefit. Such a rain, cleansing the demonic miasma, could also nourish our own wounded divine souls — that is surely better than the stumbling, laborious path of cultivation we would face otherwise.”
The hearts of those present stirred.
Lang Jiuchuan said coolly, “Our fellow cultivators who stood for the destruction of this demon — how many died? How much vital energy and spiritual power was consumed? We survived nine brushes with death to eke out a narrow victory, preventing this realm from collapsing entirely. In truth, if the heavenly Dao is a real, existing thing, it ought to have sent down grace on its own initiative, without waiting for me to petition it. Now I petition it with my soul as the catalyst — consider it a way of mending the gap I exploited. There is also the old saying: if you want the horse to run, you cannot expect it to do so without being fed. How could there be such a good deal in this world? Even a great general who wins a battle is rewarded!”
This… this sounded like a threat. Highly irreverent.
And yet — infuriatingly — it also made a great deal of sense.
Feng Ya laughed again, driven by exasperation rather than amusement. “Listening to you now, you do not seem faint at all — you have quite the vigor about you. What need do you have of any grace-rain!”
“My mind is made up.”
What more could be said?
Feng Ya was furious yet helpless, for that Azure Dragon Imperial Seal erupted with a surge of cyan spiritual light, lifting itself into the air of its own volition to hover and rise.
Well. She had learned to act first and seek permission never.
In this place, so close to the boundary that it seemed to align naturally with the heavens, the Azure Dragon Imperial Seal soared upward, transforming as it rose into the likeness of a nine-clawed azure dragon, leaping skyward. And upon the back of the dragon, there was a faint, flickering shadow.
Feng Ya’s heart clenched.
“Heaven above, the mortal world has suffered, the demonic miasma yet lingers. Today, with my remnant soul, Jiuchuan, as the catalyst, and the Azure Dragon Seal as the vessel, gathering the vow-power of ten thousand souls, I pray to heaven and earth for compassion — to cleanse the demonic miasma and nourish all living things…”
Lang Jiuchuan’s gentle voice carried nothing of the thundering authority with which she had destroyed the demon. Instead, it blended into the laws of heaven and earth in the manner of rain soaking into soil without a sound, reaching all the way up to the highest heavens.
With each line she spoke, her already shattered remnant soul began to burn of its own accord, dissolving into countless fine, dust-like motes that shimmered with the profundity of the Dao’s rhythm — golden characters, like ten thousand fireflies, drifting slowly upward into the sky.
This was true, absolute burning of the divine soul. Nothing held back.
“Lang Jiuchuan, stop right now!” Feng Ya cried out in alarm, moving to intervene — only to find that a vast and gentle field of vow-power had already formed, sealing him outside.
The golden soul-characters grew ever more dense, spreading across the entire sky. They intertwined with what remained in this world of the vow-power born of countless lives yearning for peace. They resonated with the karmic fortune still remaining in the seal, sending up an ardent prayer — beseeching the celestial officials to bestow their blessings.
When Lang Jiuchuan’s remnant soul was fully spent in flame, transforming into a golden dragon that plunged into the heavens, the seal fell from the sky — all its spiritual radiance extinguished. As everyone cried out in shock, the sky began to change.
As the hour of sunrise drew near, countless seven-colored propitious clouds bloomed and billowed, swirling with a dreamlike, luminous radiance. Within those clouds, pure white spirit mist — carrying within it infinite vitality and the power to cleanse — gathered thread by thread, strand by strand, until at last it transformed into a spirit rain that fell in cascading sheets, nourishing all things under heaven.
Countless people throughout the world witnessed this incredible miracle, felt the ease spreading through their bodies and the peace settling in their souls. Unbidden, they sank to their knees, tears streaming down their faces, prostrating themselves from the depths of their hearts, praying with sincerity — and the vast power of their vows rose skyward.
Even this desolate land of the Eight Trigrams City began to stir back to life. Everyone felt the abundant spiritual energy and the restoration of their cultivation foundations — yet the one person they sought could not be found.
She seemed to have become a great whale. With a resolute finality, for one last time she leapt clear of the sea’s surface, let out a long, mournful cry, sent up countless cresting waves of gold — and then, without a sound, sank beneath the water, never to be seen again.
A whale falls.
All things are born.
Everywhere in this mortal world was the gift she had left behind.
Feng Ya, Gong Tinglan, and their fellow cultivators stood motionless for a long, long while. Their fists were clenched tight. Their eyes were fixed, unblinking, on the east as it slowly brightened, filled with longing and expectant hope — all of them waiting for the true light.
The glow of dawn lit the horizon in brilliant splendor. The morning sun, blazing like a wheel of fire, rose slowly, slowly, until it had cleared the edge of the earth entirely.
The sun rose as it always did, its light pouring across ten thousand li.
And there — someone came walking toward them against the light.