Junior Brother Jianghe…

Jian Chou found this somewhat unexpected. First, even with her cultivation level, she hadn’t detected how he had appeared beside her. Second, she didn’t understand the deeper meaning behind his words at this moment, or what they truly signified.

Yet in the depths of her being, a strange and compelling urge to comply arose.

As if the words he spoke were absolutely correct.

Among the many disciples under Yashan’s gates, what kind of existence was Eighth Junior Brother Jianghe? From the very day she entered Yashan, he had maintained this appearance of a small youth. He looked slightly plump, never seeming to grow up, and even his cultivation had always remained at the Golden Core stage, as if he had never participated in the Zuosanqian Minor Assembly.

When the junior brothers were present, he was there too.

When the junior brothers laughed and jested, he laughed along with them.

Occasionally mischievous and clever, but mostly peaceful and quiet, he carried about him a natural harmony with Yashan itself, as if he had experienced the deep and shallow passage of years together with that mountain.

But…

His age was clearly not that great.

In this moment, having no time to pursue the meaning hidden in his words, Jian Chou was simply worried. But before she could take any action, Jianghe had already raised his palm!

With a push of his palm wind, a fierce gale rose from the ground!

Just as she had sent Zuoliu out of danger with a single palm strike, Jianghe’s palm also forcefully lifted Jian Chou’s form with its wind, sending her out of the battle formation!

Flowing wind stretched for a thousand feet, swirling around her body.

Rising on the wind, flying across layers of clouds.

Despite Jian Chou’s current strength as a Void Refining great cultivator, she found herself unable to break free from this palm wind’s embrace. Her eyes widened in alarm as she gazed at Jianghe remaining in the midst of the ten-thousand-strong army formation. Her heart suddenly turned cold, and an ominous premonition arose!

“Junior Brother Jiang—”

“Junior Brother Jiang…”

A form of address that had accompanied him for nearly four hundred years.

Jianghe looked at her from afar, murmuring the name once, and in the end, with a somewhat indescribable sigh, he smiled.

Qin music surrounded him, powerful enemies flanked him.

He stood in the encirclement of thousands upon thousands of ghost cultivators, alone, yet his face showed not the slightest trace of fear.

Turning his gaze toward the countless soul puppets before him, the light in his eyes was utterly serene.

Gone was the joking manner he had with fellow disciples in days past, and gone too was the childish innocence of that ordinary little fat boy. Though he still possessed the same body that never seemed to grow up, whether it was the expression between his brows or his gestures and movements, all had been stained in an instant with the heaviest marks of time, acquiring a decrepit old age completely at odds with his appearance.

He was very old, wasn’t he?

Jianghe himself could no longer remember how many years it had been. Having mingled with the young juniors of Yashan for nearly four hundred years, he had almost completely forgotten.

The era of his birth should have been over a thousand years earlier than even Luye Laozu.

That was still the ancient times, when the strong roamed freely and reincarnation still existed.

But when he tried to recall, everything was muddled and forgotten.

It was probably eleven cycles ago when he perished in that battle between the Yin and Yang realms, his soul scattered and severely damaged, causing him to lose those periods of time that had constructed his life.

The clearest scene preserved at the very beginning of his memory was nothing more than the banks of the Underworld River, where blood flowed in reverse torrents, washing over the flesh and blood bodies of a thousand Yashan cultivators, transforming living people into white bones, tearing living souls into wisps of smoke, allowing dulled swords to travel across ten thousand miles of firmament, rising into the gloomy heights, passing through the ghost gates covered by three thousand peach blossoms of the Eastern Pole, knocking on the great doors of Yashan’s armory, and falling upon those eternally frozen plains!

But what returned was only the sword.

Among all the fallen bodies, those souls who died for the Way were ultimately unable to break through the barrier between the two realms, blocked by the vast chasm of reincarnation!

Only that extremely strong, inextinguishable obsession gathered together like sparks, and in some fortuitous moment, reassembled his scattered soul, casting it in reverse toward the lands of Jiushijiu Zhou!

Return—

Return to Yashan!

Thus, as a soul’s existence, he pierced through the closed and isolated barrier between the two realms, enduring the punishment of heavenly tribulation’s descending rules, dissolving ninety percent of his cultivation, and finally, after traveling ten thousand miles, emerged from the ghost gates on the Eastern Sea islands to crash onto Yashan’s swaying iron chain bridge.

The water of Nine-Headed River flowed on—the most beautiful sound in the world.

The peak of Huanshao faintly visible among the layered clouds—the most beautiful scenery in the world.

In his heart, he called out: “Yashan, I have returned!”

Then mountains, rivers, and peaks all echoed with countless layered responses: “Yashan, we wish to return!”

That was not his voice—that was the voice of the thousand cultivators who had fallen in the polar regions!

Their obsession of wanting to return but being unable to return forged his soul body, became part of his spirit, supporting his candle-like lifespan that seemed about to be extinguished in the wind, allowing him to once again walk the treacherous paths of Yashan with the identity of a disciple under Yashan’s gates!

Four hundred years passed in the blink of an eye.

Could he still remember those faces filled with endless sorrow and unwillingness from that day’s battle at the polar region’s Underworld?

Could he still hear the unceasing sad songs and calls echoing within his renewed body?

Jianghe closed his eyes to listen. The hundreds of attacks falling toward him all vanished into nothingness the moment he closed his eyes, as if they had never appeared.

The shouting and killing sounds of the battlefield, the flowing qin music, the worried calls of his fellow disciples…

Every sound entered his ears, yet none left the slightest trace in his heart.

He continued to listen, continued to search…

Only when he had excluded all the cold or passionate sounds of this world from his ears did he finally hear it—hear the voice that had once constructed his very existence!

“Yashan…”

“Yashan, we wish…”

“We wish…”

“We wish to return!”

“We wish to return!”

“Yashan, we wish to return!”

“Yashan! We wish to return!”

At first fragmented, barely audible.

But when the first voice rang out, it was like a spring striking against a deep ravine, echoing in the mountains, layer upon layer, collision upon collision, growing louder and louder!

They tore at his soul, struck at his spirit!

In the moment when this sound became deafening, Jianghe finally opened his eyes, tears streaming down both cheeks!

Though the faces of these thousand cultivators before him had become strange, even becoming completely different existences from those of the past, becoming puppets manipulated by others—

He would still fulfill the oath of those days!

Bring them back!

Leave this grim and forbidding polar region, return to Jiushijiu Zhou, return to the Central Domain, return to that Yashan where souls could hardly find their way home!

“Bang!”

Like a star exploding, in this instant, Jianghe spread his arms wide, opened his chest, allowing that blazing ball of light to explode within his embrace!

Nearly a thousand soul puppets raised their sinister wind, forming a great formation!

Countless blood threads, each carrying fierce and malevolent energy, traced brilliant arcs as they fell toward him!

Yet he neither dodged nor avoided, simply opening his arms wide, allowing these countless blood threads to pierce his burning chest, his beating heart!

In this instant, heaven and earth stood still!

Even the qin music stopped.

In the whimpering wind, Zhong Lanling stared in shock, feeling as if every part of his body no longer obeyed his commands. They overflowed with an emotion that made him feel great pain, as if many voices were emerging from his body, but not from his tongue and throat, but from his limbs, his five organs, his six bowels…

The cast blood threads filled his vision, suspended in the void, unable to be withdrawn. Like blood vessels, they connected “them” with him in what seemed like a symbiotic relationship.

Just as on the day they had fallen…

Placing all those obsessions that could never be dissolved, those longings that could never be fulfilled, upon the scattered souls, hoping he would return to Yashan, and hoping he would bring them back to Yashan…

“Junior Brother Jianghe!”

“Junior Brother!”

“Uncle Master Jiang—”

Many people called his name. Jianghe heard them all, and also remembered the evasive, unclear manner of those two juniors Fudao and Zheng Yao when Jian Chou had initially brought back various news about the polar regions.

They simply didn’t want him to know about everything that had happened in the polar regions.

But how could they hide it?

He was also an old fox who had lived for thousands of years—how could he not see through such petty schemes?

So although he possessed only the unshakeable Golden Core cultivation, he had also come to the polar regions, and then during the battle at the Ghost Gate Pass, he had glimpsed the truth and also glimpsed his own destiny.

He existed for them. Four hundred years of waiting, only for today’s reunion, to fulfill the promise he had made in the past, to bring them home…

And only he could do this.

Because he was originally formed from the deepest longing of these countless souls as they perished, connected with them.

“My life for your destruction; as I perish, you shall return!”

When he spoke, it was with an aged and resonant voice—the heartfelt words that had been suppressed in his heart for nearly four hundred years!

“Old friends of Yashan, I have come to fulfill my oath!”

In such a moment, all of Zheng Yao’s words stuck in his throat, unable to utter a single sound. The several great cultivators who heard this aged voice revealed somewhat dazed expressions, as if they had retrieved the former appearance of this voice’s owner from the depths of memory. Jian Chou, carried by the palm wind, in this moment remembered all the various anomalies related to this “Junior Brother Jiang.”

It was also in this moment that the Yashan sword pierced through Song Emperor’s neck.

The face full of old age still bore an expression of shock and terror that had not yet been withdrawn, completely frozen in utter despair and panic!

Ghost cultivators who had surpassed the Dharma Body realm would gradually cultivate their own “golden bodies,” so when slaying them, the sensation was no different from slaying living people.

With a turn of his wrist, the stone sword sliced horizontally.

Surging sword energy cut horizontally through Song Emperor’s neck, actually severing his head with brute force and casting it to the ground!

Qu Zhengfeng’s cold face bore not the slightest trace of expression, only the ghost blood that gushed forth like a spring had splashed across his entire body and stained his eyes, causing those pupils to transform into an eerie deep crimson under this firmament shrouded in darkness!

Old friends of Yashan, I have come to fulfill my oath!

The rolling sound waves, like descending thunder, continuously echoed across this wasteland and battlefield, seeming to reverberate between heaven and earth!

One layer, another layer, yet another layer!

Zhong Lanling’s qin strings snapped, Lord Zhuanlun’s form flying to intercept and kill Jianghe was blocked midway, and the thousand cultivator soul puppets gathered together were like glass shattered by the sound waves—”crack, crack, crack”—in an instant, fissures actually appeared on their soul bodies!

His Golden Core cultivation suddenly vanished without a trace.

Jianghe’s entire shell seemed to burst into flames, his cultivation actually climbing steadily upward—to Nascent Soul, to Out-of-Body, to Worldly Entry, to Void Refining, all the way to Bounded!

The formidable aura unique to great cultivators dominated heaven and earth!

“Old friends, return home…”

Raising his hand and pointing forward, heaven and earth shed their original forms in his eyes, becoming merely a space bound by rules that could be manipulated at will.

So he pointed forward with his fingertip!

Within the forward range, where those thousand cultivator soul puppets were located, everything actually shattered like a mirror! That entire area of ground instantly turned to dust, countless cracks appeared in the void, and the ghost cultivators within were like reflections in a mirror, rapidly crumbling!

“They” were originally puppets, without emotion or sensation. When they crumbled, they didn’t even emit half a scream, their faces even showing a kind of bewilderment, not knowing what had happened.

The qin broke its strings, bodies lost their form.

Zhong Lanling raised his arms, looked down to see the cracks in this space extending to his own body, shattering his qin, his robes, and his limbs…

The sensation in this instant was extraordinarily wonderful.

Clearly crumbling, yet without half a trace of pain.

Because every part that constructed his body gave him no feedback of pain, as if what was happening at this moment was exactly what they wished to see. So there was no pain in his spirit, while his body fell into another level of joy.

What was it like?

Like a dormant volcano suddenly erupting, tremendous destructive force bursting forth countless particles of ash; like a toppling jade statue smashing to the ground, shattering into countless snow-like fragments; like a star exploding in the galaxy, illuminating all the surrounding stars!

Countless, countless, countless fragments!

Some large, some small, some complete, some incomplete, some bright, some dim, some leaping, some dancing…

No soul puppets remained in heaven and earth.

Even Zhong Lanling was annihilated in that all-destroying spatial collapse, vanishing without a trace.

What existed before everyone’s eyes were only these countless fragments, emanating a familiar quality that moved one to tears…

Jianghe suddenly raised both hands high, and all the countless blood threads that had drilled into his chest gathered together. When he formed a complex hand seal, they actually interwove and shuttled through each other, constructing a blood mirror!

He blew forcefully, and this blood mirror rose toward the sky.

Rising higher and higher, growing larger and larger!

In the blink of an eye, it hung in the dark night sky like a blood moon, yet without half a trace of evil aura, only carrying a rich, poignant beauty.

“Open—”

From his hoarse throat came a hoarse voice.

A terrifyingly pure stream of spiritual power issued from Jianghe’s fingertip, like a jade ribbon of flowing spring water, continuously pouring into that blood mirror in the sky.

At the same time, his radiant body rapidly dimmed.

Spiritual power splashed across the blood mirror’s surface in ripples, causing it to slowly rotate. After three rotations, a massive golden beam of light came from the eighteenth level of hell beneath this polar region’s cursed earth, illuminating through the thick soil beneath their feet, shooting to the sky, pushing aside the surrounding gloomy darkness, and falling upon that blood mirror!

Faint fluctuations immediately appeared in the surroundings.

The blood mirror instantly turned golden-red, and on its surface actually appeared the reflection of mountains and rivers—three thousand zhang of solitary peaks piercing through the night, reaching for stars and moon…

It was Yashan.

In this moment, familiar energy enveloped most of the battlefield and also enveloped the thousand cultivator soul fragments floating on the battlefield!

Guided by this energy, they suddenly rose and ascended.

Fragments radiating light of various intensities floated into that light column emerging from the earth’s depths, swimming upward like fish in water, hundreds and thousands, thousands and tens of thousands, gathering together like a luminous river…

Flowing toward that blood mirror, flowing toward that Yashan.

In the darkness, that generous tragic song seemed to ring out again…

Enter our gates of Yashan, draw our swords of Yashan, become our people of Yashan!

With whole heart and courage, illuminating the dusty world!

Not wishing for eternal prosperity like the bright moon, only wishing my heart to be like the bright moon…

If we find good talent, we should love them, protect them, teach them, make them know the earthly affections and heavenly way, make them understand all worldly matters yet still preserve a pure heart, make them face thousands of difficulties and dangers with equanimity…

No need to remember much, only remember—

Draw swords, draw swords! Always draw swords!

In the polar region’s cursed earth, the river of broken souls flowed upstream; beneath Yashan’s earth, the heaven-spanning mirror turned downward.

When the first fragment of soul pierced through the blood mirror and disappeared from the polar regions, Jianghe’s dimming body also began to dissipate.

Originally existing through obsession, also departing as obsession faded.

When the thousand cultivators truly perished, it was also when he completely perished.

Yet he had not half a trace of regret.

In the swirling broken light, he only looked once toward the direction of Yashan on the battlefield, and as if all his heart’s desires had been fulfilled, he turned and cast himself toward that golden-red blood mirror!

In Jiushijiu Zhou, it was the middle of the night.

The golden light from beneath Yashan’s earth pierced through Lingzhao Peak, shining on those figures standing silently beside Guihe Well at this moment, and also on the withered old ancestor like a bundle of bones ahead.

They solemnly raised their heads, gazing toward the firmament.

The frosty white mountain moon concealed its form, vast stars shook down from heaven.

Eleven cycles—heroic souls have returned!

Cold wind blew bleakly, night rain fell softly.

Striking the surface of the cold river, striking the head of the iron chain bridge, striking the top of the sword-drawing platform, striking among the thousand cultivator tombs—raindrops splashed like teardrops…