In the cultivation world, possession is an unforgivable crime. To possess someone, one must devour their soul and blood like livestock, replacing everything—their physical body, memories, and identity. Those who commit possession invariably become cruel, and without other miraculous encounters or the ability to ascend, their tainted souls dissipate into the cosmos when their lifespan ends.
The disciple’s spiritual space had become a gray void filled with malevolent energy. Nan Yan experienced the agony of having her soul consumed. The tearing of one’s soul wasn’t painless; on the contrary, the sensation was intensely clear. Nan Yan tightly shut her eyes as her Buddha-infused soul blood was gradually drained. The maddened person biting her neck seemed to regain a sliver of sanity from the Buddhist energy. Between laps of her soul blood, he whispered in her ear:
“Why… aren’t you resisting?”
Even in his demonic state, he maintained a composed demeanor, showing no signs of frenzy except for the insatiable hunger in his eyes.
Nan Yan nearly lost consciousness, but his weakening demonic energy gave her a glimmer of hope.
“Continue,” she urged.
The pure Buddhist energy seemed to temporarily restore some of Ji Yang’s rationality. He also sensed the weakening life force of the soul he held.
“No, I can’t…” He swallowed hard, trying to push her away, but Nan Yan refused to let go, forcing out more of her soul blood.
“I won’t resist. Devour me if you must… You must live on. Walk the righteous path if you can, or the demonic path if you must… No matter how far you go or how deep you fall—be it in the thousand-zhang-deep Yellow Springs or the eighteen palaces of the nine hells—wait for me. Even if I can’t achieve enlightenment or save all beings, I will save you!”
—So, who are you? I survived, but what about you?
The trickle of Buddhist energy couldn’t withstand the demonic force unleashed by a near-divine being. From the start, there seemed to be no hope.
Nan Yan, driven by an unknown stubbornness, forced out more soul blood than she thought possible. Meanwhile, Ji Yang’s demonic energy invaded her being through his spiritual essence.
The sensation was like falling into intoxicating lava—searing pain and unbridled desire exploded simultaneously, igniting her three hun and seven po souls. But as it reached her heart, everything suddenly stopped.
A faint white flame burst from her heart, devouring the rampant demonic energy like fuel. Nan Yan felt the world brighten abruptly. In the dim space, she suddenly heard the rustling of wind-blown leaves.
With her last bit of strength, she looked down to see a small Bodhi tree sprouting from her heart. It seemed as if countless ancient Chan masters were chanting softly. The demonic energy enveloping them vanished like snow under the sun.
Impervious to all demons, with the bones of Buddha and the heart of Chan.
As Nan Yan softly uttered its name, something locked away in her mind shattered along with the resounding crack of mirror shards.
…The Dao Patriarch’s Dharma assembly, Nan Fangzhu, Ying Zewei, Ji Ming, the Ascension Gathering…
So that’s how it was.
The missing chapter of history is finally pieced together with Ji Yang’s past. As their eyes met, Nan Yan managed a pale, bitter smile.
She placed her hand on Ji Yang’s still-confused brow, where another mirror shard gradually appeared—the final witness to this lost history.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take it out. The unfinished business after this… the world will eventually know.”
Ji Yang watched in a daze as Nan Yan turned and walked into the flames behind her. As she extracted the mirror shard from him, his brief memories of her quickly faded.
When he regained consciousness, the doors of Minquan Hall finally reopened. Ji Yang opened his eyes, watching indifferently as the Dao Sheng Tian people took away his original Dharma body.
“…What did the Venerable One say about how to deal with him?” The backlit figures discussed, some mockingly, some regretfully.
“He’s this generation’s master of the mountains and seas. As long as his Dharma body remains, he can still serve Dao Sheng Tian’s great cause. As for this possessed body, given his stubbornness, even a thousand years of imprisonment won’t make him admit his wrongs. Better to throw him into the Minghe Heavenly Waterfall to wash away his memories.”
“Tsk, this is what happens when you refuse to walk the great path and willingly throw yourself into hell. Who else can he blame?”
The young Ji Yang no longer cared about any of this. Only when the waters of the Minghe Heavenly Waterfall soaked his entire being did the taste of that soul blood that had calmed his mind finally dissipate.
Three sunsets later, he gazed at the unyielding Dao Sheng Tian from the bottom of the waterfall. As daylight faded, all hatred and attachment scattered like spent fireworks.
The Treasure Qi Tathagata, temporarily visiting Dao Sheng Tian, sensed the unusual Buddhist energy lingering in this unfamiliar youth at the lower reaches of the waterfall. After rescuing him and considering the recent news of the Dao Sheng Tian emperor’s demise, he vaguely discerned the youth’s identity.
“The world is full of vicissitudes. This poor monk will send the emperor to the mortal realm.”
“…”
“Emperor?”
The innocence and sharpness of youth had completely vanished. His reserved demeanor, tinged with a cruel smile, eerily mirrored Ying Zewei’s usual expression.
“…I will return. I want to see this place fall from the heavens, shattered and beyond salvation.”
…
In the Hall of Mountains and Seas.
Nan Yan walked through a shattered space. Broken mirror shards formed a pathway of fractured light. With each step, tiny fragments behind her flew into her palm. As she pieced together each shard, a leaf from the Bodhi tree in her heart merged into the ancient mirror. As the mirror gradually became whole, a sense of spiritual connection emerged in her consciousness.
…Is this the Reverse Samsara Mirror?
Nan Yan raised the ancient mirror, sensing its power—it could make anyone acknowledge the past. By activating it outside, everyone would learn what Dao Sheng Tian had done.
This was what Shao Cang initially sought, unaware that he was a crucial part of the mirror’s causality. In the end, it resonated with and incorporated the Buddha Bone Chan Heart.
Buddha Bone Chan Heart—it was from her mother and… father.
The word “father” felt both foreign and bewildering to Nan Yan. Despite much evidence, she dared not assert it conclusively.
Never mind. She wondered if Shao Cang had returned to his original Dharma body in the Hall of Mountains and Seas.
As Nan Yan pondered this, the Reverse Samsara Mirror released a light portal, gradually absorbing her as it had before. In an instant, her consciousness appeared beside the altar where she had started.
Before she could react, a series of explosive sounds erupted from the altar. Daoist arrays, sword shadows, and demonic light pressed down simultaneously. Had Nan Yan’s transfer been complete, even she might have perished.
“I knew the Hall of Mountains and Seas couldn’t be so simple. To think the final opponent would be you!”
Nan Yan’s consciousness swept the area in shock. All who had entered the hall and survived were now at the altar—Mo Xingzheng, Song Zhu, Li Chi, and cultivators from Hai State. Everyone’s gaze focused on one person.
The bone throne cast a dim light. Nan Yan saw a familiar delicate face, about fifteen or sixteen years old, unscathed amidst the onslaught of Daoist attacks. His pupils were completely stained with the same gray as Ying Zewei’s. Though he lacked Ying Zewei’s Five Decays of Divinity cultivation, he was still beyond all the prodigies present.
“You’re not worthy of my reward yet,” he said, sitting askew on the bone throne, toying with a nine-pendant imperial crown on his knee. The crown, carved with mountains and seas, emanated an aura similar to the Reverse Samsara Mirror in Nan Yan’s hand.
Without explanation, Nan Yan knew it was the Crown of Mountains, Rivers, and Seas.
“Mo Xingzheng!” Li Chi roared. “You never said the final challenge would be him! How can we possibly defeat such a monster?!”
Mo Xingzheng, his mind in turmoil, had no time to respond. He frowned, “I’m not stopping you from using your jade ring to teleport out.”
Enraged, Li Chi flung a dense cloud of purple needles at Mo Xingzheng, only to be blocked by Song Zhu’s intricate sword qi.
Song Zhu maintained a swordsman’s pride: “Those who flee from battle are unworthy to stand with us.”
“What did you say?!”
Mo Xingzheng stepped forward. “Senior Brother, if you’ve returned, come back to Dao Sheng Tian with me. We’ll clarify everything!”
The youth looked at him quizzically, shaking his head. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
Song Zhu transmitted secretly, “Are you sure this corpse still has consciousness?”
“My Senior Brother always keeps his word. If he said he’d reclaim his original body, he’ll do it,” Mo Xingzheng gritted his teeth, staring at the youth. “But Dao Sheng Tian has always excelled in Dao techniques. Who knows if they sealed this particular soul’s consciousness before sending him here? If Senior Brother can’t break the seal, his soul might scatter. We need to stimulate him somehow.”
This posed a challenge for Mo Xingzheng. When Ji Yang’s incident occurred, he had been assigned away by his sect. Upon returning, he was simply told the emperor had passed away, leaving him more confused than anyone about the cause and effect.
Li Chi said, “Mo Xingzheng if you have a plan, act quickly. It’s been too long; once other cultivators’ city defenses arrive, things will get even messier! And you, Mu Zhanting, you’re the one who should be sitting on that throne. It’s time to use whatever trump card Chen State gave you.”
Hu Rui, disguised as Mu Zhanting trembled internally. Being the focus of everyone’s attention was unbearable. As a Confucian cultivator, he knew none of Chen State’s techniques. Swallowing hard, he reluctantly produced a brush: “Actually, I’ve been focusing on Confucian arts lately—”
To his surprise, everyone immediately backed away as soon as he took out the brush.
A nearby demonic cultivator trembled, “Friend Mu, please calm down. We’ve thought it over, and it’s not time for you to act yet!”
Hu Rui was shaken. He hadn’t interacted much with Mu Zhanting before, only hearing that he excelled in poetry and had once left Yun Nian speechless. Not daring to underestimate him, Hu Rui reluctantly waved the brush, casting a Confucian ice spell—much to everyone’s surprise.
The youth seemed to notice something. His previously indifferent expression brightened. Even as the ice spell grazed his shoulder, tearing his clothes, he didn’t dodge. He casually set aside the Crown of Mountains, Rivers, and Seas and walked directly towards one side of the altar.
“You’re back.”
Where he walked, space suddenly split open. Mirror shards gradually flew out, and simultaneously, Nan Yan’s weakened figure stumbled into view, immediately collapsing forward as if unconscious.
As the youth caught her, he sensed that her soul’s essence had been reduced by eighty percent. His brightened eyes suddenly darkened, and a strange mix of helplessness and fury surged within him.
“Who did this?!” The youth whirled around, spotting the floating shards in the air. These shards had a peculiar effect—everyone who saw them instantly knew their purpose.
They were fragments of memory, recording past events.
The youth, desperate to know what had happened to Nan Yan, reached out and grasped one shard. Mo Xingzheng rushed forward and managed to snatch the others.
Facing the youth’s rising killing intent, Mo Xingzheng hurriedly merged the shards into his consciousness. “It’s all the truth from back then. Why not share a piece with your junior brother?”
However, Mo Xingzheng’s forced calm demeanor completely crumbled after seeing the contents of the shards.
He suddenly clutched his head, his bloodshot eyes filled with devastation. “Master…”