His destiny contained a sword, and he even added “Jian” (sword) to his name. Now the silver dust had dissipated, leaving only a broken sword.

“How unfair, Xian Jian Chen. You’ve departed with such grace, leaving me to clean up this mess,” Song Qian Ji murmured. In the blink of an eye, two teardrops fell.

It must be the swirling sand and wind blurring his vision.

He picked up the broken sword. The intricate patterns on the blade had been washed repeatedly with fresh blood, becoming increasingly vibrant, like red flowers slowly blooming, dripping with beauty. They resembled the flowers Xian Jian Chen often wore on his lapel.

He couldn’t help but wonder how beautiful this sword must have been two hundred years ago when it was complete and radiant.

Is it inevitable that when something reaches the pinnacle of power, it begins its descent toward destruction? When beauty reaches its peak, is it destined to shatter?

When they were playing chess with the Chess Ghost and Calligraphy Saint, what was Xian Jian Chen thinking? Was he also observing his death?

Song Qian Ji put away the broken sword. As he rose, he bumped into something hard behind him.

It was cold, rough on the surface, and slightly damp—like a living wall. Xian Jian Chen had been leaning against this wall.

He suddenly realized what it was—

The trunk of the Sky-Supporting Tree.

It wasn’t Xian Jian Chen who had been emitting the death energy, but the Sky-Supporting Tree.

The Sky-Supporting Tree was deep red. Because its body was so enormous, it was impossible to see its entirety through the thick fog, let alone the crown supporting the heavens and its dense foliage. Only the incredibly wide trunk was visible, like a copper and iron wall connecting to the sky.

“So this is the edge of the continent, this is the Sky-Supporting Tree,” Song Qian Ji thought.

He had been rushing toward this place for two lifetimes. This was the shore he had failed to reach in his previous life. On countless nights during his journey, he had often imagined what the edge of the continent would be like.

It turned out there were no brilliant flowers in full bloom, no singing birds or auspicious clouds. Standing beneath the tree and looking up, he felt no excitement, only his insignificance, like an ant standing at the foot of a giant.

The tree crown was so vast that the light from the sun, moon, and stars couldn’t reach beneath it, so this place was forever shrouded in mist, extremely cold and gloomy.

Song Qian Ji didn’t understand why he was always desperately running, and always toward a place so difficult to reach.

Even after returning via the Three Lives Stone, he still had to escape to Self-Sacrifice Cliff and jump off, or ride a silver crane across the Dead Sea racing against the sun.

Perhaps this is why he preferred “land”—perhaps he liked the feeling of tilling the soil with his own hands, staying grounded.

The earth embraces everything without discrimination.

The sky, though beautiful, is not suitable for long-term residence. When living in the “Heaven beyond Heaven,” surrounded by emptiness in all directions, overlooking mountains and rivers, commanding the four seas, one actually cannot hold anything in one’s hands.

Just like this moment. This place had nothing.

Only a vermilion wall separating heaven and earth. Two enemies who could not coexist.

Countless thoughts flashed through Song Qian Ji’s mind, though it only took the time to pick up the sword and turn around.

Ten steps forward, through the white mist, he saw that person.

After bidding farewell along the way, continuously gaining and losing, he had finally arrived here, standing before the one who started it all.

If he won this final battle, he would never need to run again.

Xian Jie was rapidly regaining vitality. His sunken cheeks became rosy and full, his gray-white hair returned to dark black, his skeletal body was now covered with well-proportioned muscles, and his entire being radiated a powerful sense of confidence and pressure.

Looking at him, Song Qian Ji could easily imagine what Xian Jian Chen had looked like in his youth.

Xian Jie said leisurely: “He told you some things from the past, didn’t he? In his story, he must be a loyal and righteous good brother, while I’m a treacherous and vicious evildoer who commits all manner of atrocities, right?”

“I don’t want to hear your story, nor do I want to talk to you. I’m here to kill you.”

Shadowless, Spring Autumn, Just Stay, Crossing River, Waning Moon, Evil Cutting, Breaking Illusion, Spilled Water, and Solitary Journey—nine swords glowed brilliantly, circling and dancing around Song Qian Ji like predators poised to strike.

Holding deadly blades, killing intent naturally arises.

The sharpest swords in the world were all in his hands, and the killing intent in his heart had reached its peak.

Song Qian Ji waved his sleeve, and the nine swords shot forth simultaneously, like nine dragons emerging from the sea, stirring up fierce winds at the edge of the continent.

Xian Jie stood still, his sleeves fluttering: “In Blood River Valley, I played a game of chess with you. Do you remember?”

“I won that game,” Song Qian Ji said.

As soon as he spoke, the nine swords were blocked by countless blood-colored vines, suspended in mid-air.

These vines broke through the frozen soil, growing densely from underground, swaying like seaweed, making one’s scalp tingle even through the thick fog.

On the snow plain, Song Qian Ji had used the Immortal Spring to draw out the roots of the Sky-Supporting Tree, where the roots were withered, shrunken, and struggling in their death throes.

But at the edge of the continent, these roots were abnormally vibrant in color, strong and full. They were controlled by Xian Jie, lashing out at Song Qian Ji with long whips and sharp swords.

Song Qian Ji had to control his swords to slash and cut, clearing a path.

Blood shadows flew out in all directions, and warm fluid splashed onto him, sticky like fresh blood but emitting a fishy-sweet scent.

In the forest of vines that blotted out the sky, Song Qian Ji’s figure appeared and disappeared. The nine swords were like scythes harvesting a wheat field, cutting through large patches of vines wherever they went.

Sword light flew in all directions, blood shadows flickered, and the shrill wind sounded like screams.

The vines interwove to form a throne, slowly lifting Xian Jie high into the air.

Like a high and mighty deity, he looked down at Song Qian Ji through the thick fog: “You may win every game, but you cannot overcome fate.”

Song Qian Ji couldn’t hear what he was saying at all.

The mournful cries of the nine precious swords drowned out all other sounds in his ears.

The passing of their original master had sent them into a frenzy, and they needed a great battle to unsheathe and drink blood.

Song Qian Ji fought with increasing vigor, feeling that each sword was as natural in his hand as his life-bound sword.

The roots of the Sky-Supporting Tree were cut off, and their juice sprayed everywhere, releasing rich spiritual energy that filled the space between heaven and earth. This spiritual energy continuously poured into his body, like rain filling a pond.

The “Spring Night’s Welcome Rain” technique operated, along with the blessing of his golden aura of destiny, and the protection of the Immortal Spring—his cultivation level grew rapidly.

Song Qian Ji approached the throne in the sky step by step. He had never fought such a smooth battle, with no pain from injuries, no guilt from harming others, only the exhilaration of fierce combat.

Which cultivator wouldn’t enjoy such a battle?

Everything was surprisingly smooth. His swords were incredibly handy, his enemy was hiding everywhere, about to be cut down by his blade.

“Come down!” Song Qian Ji shouted.

The Spring Autumn Sword shattered the throne with one strike, and the energy of the Crossing River Sword flowed like a long river, blocking countless vines.

Xian Jie fell downward, into a cage formed by six swords, with no way up to heaven or down to earth.

Song Qian Ji held the Solitary Journey Sword, its tip pointing directly at the enemy’s throat.

But he stopped.

“Didn’t you want to kill me?” Xian Jie asked.

The swords hummed discontentedly, also urging him on.

“You deliberately let me increase my cultivation,” Song Qian Ji said. “Why?”

Who would provide supplies to the enemy during a great battle?

The edge of the continent was a place where yin and yang were separated. Under the shelter of the Sky-Supporting Tree, no tribulation lightning descended.

His cultivation had increased without limit, breaking through to Divine Transformation, reaching the extreme.

“Song Qian Ji, who has survived a hundred battles, with these nine swords, is now invincible. How could I defeat you?” Xian Jie was injured, with the Solitary Journey Sword pointing at his vital point, yet he wore the smile of a victor.

Song Qian Ji seemed to sense something. His heart stirred, and he suddenly looked up.

In an instant, countless vines returned to the ground, and a powerful gale swept in, dispersing the thick fog to reveal the brilliant starry sky above.

In the night sky, countless stars slowly rotated, and numerous rays of starlight fell on Song Qian Ji, forming a powerful gravitational pull, drawing him toward the sky.

Song Qian Ji’s robes were blown up by the fierce wind, and he had to summon spiritual energy to resist the enormous force descending from the heavens.

“But I can send you away,” Xian Jie opened his arms, his gaze startlingly bright, revealing a sense of madness. “How does it feel to have your cultivation surge? How does it feel to control everything? Xu Yun, He Qing Qing, and everyone else in this world—who can resist obtaining power?!”

Song Qian Ji gritted his teeth, staggered a step, and supported himself with his sword.

Silver starlight from all over the sky gathered on him, making his entire body shine silver-white.

A force weighing thousands of pounds pulled at him, trying to send him straight to heaven.

Xian Jie laughed loudly: “Your power has exceeded the limit, and the world’s origin is rejecting you. Go, ascend! The affairs of this human world no longer concern you.”

Without breaking through limits, one cannot reach a powerful enemy; having broken through the limits, one must “ascend.”

There was no way to break this pattern.

Song Qian Ji struggled to resist the gravitational pull of the stars, forcibly diverting a thread of consciousness to control the Solitary Journey Sword: “Before I leave, I will kill you.”

Xian Jie shook his head: “That person opened the sword forest domain, which could level the entire snow plain. Do you think he still had old feelings, not wanting to kill me? He couldn’t kill me, he didn’t dare kill me!”

The Solitary Journey Sword was within reach, yet he didn’t retreat a single step: “The Sky-Supporting Tree seed? Ha, look at what it is!”

“Swish!”

The Solitary Journey Sword pierced his chest. He cried out in pain and suddenly tore open his front collar.

Song Qian Ji was stunned.

Xian Jie’s chest had a gaping hole.

It was empty, with red bones visible, and no heart.

“I was sealed beneath the Sky-Supporting Tree for two hundred years. That place was dark and cold, the seal impossible to break. So I thought of a way to find life amid death. I dispersed my flesh and blood, merging my will with the Sky-Supporting Tree. A hundred years later, the tree bore fruit, which became my new body. The tree seed you obtained is my heart. I live and die with the old tree, and the new tree will also be born from me. Do you dare kill me?”

He walked forward, step by step approaching Song Qian Ji, looking directly into his eyes: “Can you kill me?”

“Ah!” The gravitational pull of the stars distorted Song Qian Ji’s face. In his field of vision, there was nothing but the blindingly bright silver starlight.

The blood-red Sky-Supporting Tree seed appeared, flying toward Xian Jie.

“A cultivator seeks nothing but to ascend beyond the sky, to go to other worlds, to live as long as the stars. You should thank me.” Xian Jie’s laughter rang out.

The eight swords lost control, and their formation collapsed with a rumble. The Solitary Journey Sword in Song Qian Ji’s hand was also gradually slipping away.

Had he truly lost?

Could he not fight against fate? Was this world destined to be destroyed? Would the land he had cultivated, the flowers and plants he had grown, all turn to nothingness?

Was the ending of the journey to the Western Heaven that the master and disciples all became deities and Buddhas, sitting on lotus platforms with flowers and smiles?

Xian Jie watched as the blood-robed youth floated away with the starlight: “Xian Chen couldn’t defeat me, and neither can you.”

“Is that so?” Song Qian Ji asked softly.

Xian Jie suddenly felt a pain in his heart: “You!”

Song Qian Ji began to laugh, revealing a mouth full of fresh blood: “I don’t believe it.”

With his last strength, he reclaimed the tree seed, actually chewing and swallowing it, like a blood-thirsty demon.

At the same time, the purifying bottle flew out, and the Immortal Spring washed over his body, making him shine brilliantly, like a sacred deity.

Song Qian Ji’s flesh and blood began to gradually disperse, starting from his limbs, like a candle melting continuously.

The stars went out one by one, and the starlight descending from the sky became gentle, the irresistible gravitational force gradually weakening.

“You!” Xian Jie’s pupils dilated. “You’re insane!”

In an instant, nine swords pierced through his body. He didn’t even have time to look down at his wounds before falling backward with a crash.

He could not rest in peace, with countless regrets and questions that would never be asked.

Song Qian Ji watched as his physical body transformed into a piece of withered wood, then was shattered into dust by the nine swords:

“If you can do it, why can’t I?”

“Boom!”

The Sky-Supporting Tree withered rapidly, the heavens swayed on the verge of collapse, and the earth trembled violently.

The moment of the end had arrived.

Song Qian Ji closed his eyes, allowing the fierce wind to blow and the mountains to shake. Through the sound of the wind, he heard every root, every stem, every leaf of the Sky-Supporting Tree pouring out its pain to him.

The Sky-Supporting Tree was like a colorless crystal—whatever color of light you shone on it, that’s the color it would be.

You could use it, you could also harm it. It sensed all the kindness and malice in the human world and faithfully reflected them.

“Leave it to me,” Song Qian Ji said.

The dying Sky-Supporting Tree sensed his intention and used its flying red leaves to say thank you.

Even in death, Xian Jie couldn’t understand why Song Qian Ji, on the verge of ascending in broad daylight, about to leave this doomed world, would give up ascension.

Who would give up ascension, using all their cultivation and flesh as nourishment, planting themselves as a tree?

Song Qian Ji shouted to the heavens: “From this day forward, I will support this sky!”

“No!” An extremely angry voice rang out.

Song Qian Ji was stunned. At this moment, in this ghostly place, there were still people.

A fireball was seen flying from the direction of the snow plain, with three figures wrapped inside.

Wei Zhen Yu’s eyes were redder than the Endless Fire: “Song Qian Ji, stop!”

“Elder Brother Song!”

“Brother Song!”

Meng He Ze and Ji Chen followed closely, running wildly toward him.

Song Qian Ji suddenly recalled fragments from the river of time. Various scenes from past and present lives rose from the river bottom, linking together to form a complete picture.

He suddenly smiled: “You didn’t want to leave either back then, did you?”

In the previous life, there had been no winner. The stories of the child of destiny and the savior were just surface appearances.

Under the irrigation of the Immortal Spring, “Song Qian Ji” sprouted and grew upward at an unimaginable speed.

His skin turned golden, his features became blurred, countless roots deeply planted in the ground, countless branches soaring into the clouds.

He reached above the cloud layer, overlooking the entire world.

He saw a sea of people, sweeping across the snow plain.

Cultivators rushed through the passage opened by Ji Chen, braving the wind and snow, coming toward the edge of the continent.

He saw countless familiar and unfamiliar faces.

Song Qian Ji murmured: “So many people came. It’s not like they’re attending a temple fair. Is it necessary?”

Strange, though he had already grown into a tree, why did he still want to cry?

The cultivators rushed to the edge of the continent, seeing only the old tree withering, red leaves flying everywhere, falling like a rain of blood.

They had come to help Song Qian Ji win the final battle, to protect the world, but they could only watch as Song Qian Ji sacrificed himself, planting himself as the new Sky-Supporting Tree.

What a shocking, unimaginable sight!

A golden tree rooted and sprouted, rising from the ground, its trunk soaring into the clouds like a sword.

Using a human body to reverse fate.

“Song Qian Ji!”

“Elder Brother Song!”

“Song Wang!”

Song Qian Ji heard countless calls, shaking heaven and earth.

The human world he could not return to was trying to keep him. But he could only strive to grow toward the sky.

“All my life, I’ve been planting trees. I never thought I’d do it for the last time in this place. But this place is not suitable for planting trees.”

With his final voice, he shouted: “The box!”

The crowd was confused and didn’t understand.

A black shadow flew out. A jade box opened in mid-air, and soil poured out from it, falling like rain.

This was the most fertile soil from Thousand Channels. Before entering Blood River Valley, he had filled a storage jade box with it and carried it with him to comfort his longing for the fields.

For a farmer, what is most important?

The land.

He had entrusted the box filled with soil to a friend, intending to ask them to hold back and serve as Thousand Channels’ trump card at the final moment.

The fertile soil from Thousand Channels covered the frozen earth at the edge of the continent, giving wings to the new Sky-Supporting Tree, allowing it to reach the heavenly barrier.

Song Qian Ji gradually lost his vision, and everything before him turned black.

“If you dare not come back, I’ll go to the Western Sea and become a great demon!”

He heard Meng He Ze’s voice and thought, don’t bluff, in this life all your relatives and friends are here. You won’t be able to return to the Western Sea. Just go back to Thousand Channels to hunt. I’ll be relieved if you just stop fighting with Wei Zhen Yu.

“Brother Song, I’ll wait for you right here. You’ll come back, right?” This was Ji Chen’s voice.

Song Qian Ji thought I’m not worried. You still have a sister to take care of at home. Sooner or later, you’ll have to return to Thousand Channels. Just remember not to play matchmaker randomly and arrange blind dates for Ji Xing.

“If this is your choice…” Child of Midnight Manjusri’s words were not finished.

He planted the Snow Blade into the soil, knelt on one knee, and channeled his spiritual energy into the new Sky-Supporting Tree.

Song Qian Ji felt the cool energy of the Ice Soul technique flowing into his roots and wanted to persuade Child of Midnight Manjusri to stop, but could no longer make a sound.

He couldn’t help but feel sad. I’m sorry, Child of Midnight, really sorry. When I made that promise, I truly believed I could return.

Had I known this would happen, I would have let you practice your Ice Soul technique properly, be the warden of the Emotionless Institute. Without friends, you wouldn’t feel sad for friends, right?

Even if you give me all your spiritual energy, it’s just a drop in the bucket.

“Song Qian Ji, don’t go, don’t go.”

He heard Wei Zhen Yu’s crying, feeling the warm energy of the Endless Fire flowing into his roots.

If he could speak, he would scold him. A man’s tears should not fall easily. Crying and stammering—what kind of appearance is that? How come you haven’t learned any of my spirit of finding joy in suffering?

Following this, he felt various kinds of spiritual energy pouring into his different roots, like small streams converging into a sea.

Thousands of golden leaves rustled, like a heroic zither melody.

Song Qian Ji’s tens of thousands of attachments to the world, he could no longer express any of them.

His branches extended endlessly, embracing the swaying heavenly barrier.

The earth was still trembling. Could this newborn Sky-Supporting Tree support heaven and earth?

“Song Wang gave up ascension and sacrificed himself to save the world. My cultivation is meager, but I am willing to do my best!” Chen Hong Zhu planted the Hundred Flowers Killer into the soil, and like the Thousand Channels cultivators and Song Academy disciples, channeled spiritual energy into the Sky-Supporting Tree.

Someone else said: “What Immortal Alliance, what thousands of years? If this world is destroyed, who can live alone?!”

“Song Wang is gone. Whether we can survive this crisis depends on us!”

Countless cultivators knelt at the edge of the continent, and more people were still coming from the snow plain.

At this moment, everyone forgot hatred, prejudice, anger, and pain, focusing their minds and giving their all.

The will of humanity was gathered here.

The roots of the Sky-Supporting Tree broke through the soil around everyone, forming new trunks.

Ten trees became a hundred, a hundred became a thousand. The new trees, compared to the Sky-Supporting Tree, appeared very slender and weak, yet they grew upward determinedly, surrounding the enormous Sky-Supporting Tree.

From the edge of the continent to the Ice Chasm plain, thousands upon thousands of trees sprouted branches and leaves.

From this day forward, what supported heaven and earth was no longer a single Sky-Supporting Tree, but a forest reaching from earth to sky.

…

Song Qian Ji didn’t know how long he had slept.

It was as if he had not yet been born, sleeping in a darkness as soft as clouds.

Until he was awakened by a familiar voice.

“Hey, wake up! Can you hear me speaking?”

“Are you… the… the narrator?” Song Qian Ji opened his eyes but saw nothing. “Did I die this time or not?”

The narrator cleared his throat: “Don’t you remember? You gave up ascension and planted yourself as the new Sky-Supporting Tree, thus gaining recognition from the world’s origin will. Although your physical body perished, your soul was protected, nurtured within the Sky-Supporting Tree, retaining a thread of life.”

As past events gradually surfaced, the cries of thousands still echoing in his ears, Song Qian Ji’s foggy mind began to slowly function: “I’m not dead?”

The narrator sighed: “Who would have thought that you would break free from the script, using your strength to reverse the fate of the entire world? Here, have an iced grape, your favorite!”

Song Qian Ji refused: “I’m a bit cold right now.”

The narrator eagerly offered: “Then have a cup of hot orange juice. Hot orange juice should be fine, right?”

Song Qian Ji gulped down a cup, and couldn’t help but exclaim: “Still the familiar taste.”