In his previous life, Song Qian Ji had traversed Blood River Valley seven times, accumulating rich experience, along with the information provided by the laboring souls in this life trying to earn bonus points. Even though the situation was sudden and he didn’t know where Miao Yan had taken him, after some exploration, he could quickly find his direction.

Song Qian Ji headed toward the deepest part of the secret realm to find someone.

According to True Person Huawei’s personal experience, he had been pursued by enemies, seriously injured, and fallen off a cliff, suddenly coming upon a lake.

The Three Lives Stone was submerged at the bottom of the lake. On the night of the full moon, one could observe the “past” and “future” in the lake.

Today was still three days away from the true full moon.

“How many avatars is this for you, and how many do you have left? Why not bring them all out to meet me?”

The spirit bead in Song Qian Ji’s sleeve glowed red as he reached the dangerous cliff and summoned the Shadowless Sword.

Dense fog enveloped the cliff. The rays of the morning sun couldn’t penetrate the clouds and mist, only illuminating vague shadows.

The figure opposite was hidden in the mist, only its voice coming through:

“How did you know I was here?”

It was the clear voice of a youth.

Accompanying the voice from the mist was a crisp “click” sound, like pearls falling onto a jade plate.

“I guessed,” Song Qian Ji walked step by step closer, his posture relaxed. “Blood River Valley is vast, but truly important places are few. If you wanted to control the overall situation and stir up trouble, you would likely use the power of the ‘Three Lives Stone’ to peer into the future.”

Master Wuxiang first appeared on the Red River bank, where a great flood dragon slumbered in the river.

The second time he appeared was in the ice cave, where chaos was sealed below.

If there was another place in Blood River Valley that was most special or could cause massive destruction if damaged, it would be the deepest part of the secret realm, since the “Three Lives Stone” lay at the bottom of the lake beneath the cliff.

Song Qian Ji weighed the Shadowless Sword, swinging it casually like a hiking staff.

“Aren’t you afraid?” Master Wuxiang asked.

“What should I fear?” Song Qian Ji asked.

“Not afraid that I deliberately lured you here?”

“Click, click.”

The sound suddenly intensified, like drumbeats on a stage urging action, or weapons clashing on a battlefield.

Song Qian Ji smiled: “At this moment, I’m alone. What more is there to fear?”

For normal people, staying in a crowd gives a greater sense of security. Being alone might make one fear ambushes or danger if not loneliness itself.

But for Song Qian Ji, the situation was exactly the opposite.

“This time, what choice will you force me to make?” Song Qian Ji asked.

Whether at the Red River or the underground palace in the ice cave, the other party excelled at using others’ lives to create dilemmas, trying to force him to make choices.

Master Wuxiang sighed: “You’ve killed me twice, and I’ve lost twice, proving that my previous methods don’t work on you. Why would I waste effort again? If this body dies, I’ll only have one avatar left. You needn’t worry—after suffering such heavy damage, I won’t be able to create more without at least ten years of recovery.”

Having changed to a youthful voice, his tone and choice of words changed accordingly, like a sixteen or seventeen-year-old.

As his words fell, the mountain wind rose, slightly dispersing the thick fog. Light pierced through gaps in the clouds, illuminating the cliff.

Song Qian Ji saw only a white-robed youth sitting cross-legged under a bodhi tree.

Before he was placed a black wood Go board, the battle of black and white stones just beginning, with only about a dozen pieces placed, not yet forming any significant pattern.

So the earlier sounds, sometimes slow, sometimes rapid, crisp as pearls, weren’t weapons clashing but stones being placed on the board.

The Go board appeared ordinary, with crude craftsmanship, no lacquer, retaining clear wood grain. But from the moment Song Qian Ji saw it, he stared at it without blinking, not even looking at Master Wuxiang anymore.

“Would you like to play?” Master Wuxiang asked.

Song Qian Ji raised an eyebrow: “Last time I said, no matter how far you flee, I would execute you with my sword. Do you remember?”

“Of course. I also remember that after you left ‘Three Star-Plucking Calamities’ on Star-Plucking Platform, you never truly played against anyone again.” Master Wuxiang lightly tapped the Go board with his finger. “Don’t you want to come closer and look at it?”

Song Qian Ji stepped forward and sat opposite the youth.

The other was right—playing with Ji Chen was just teaching, not truly competing.

Just as before entering the secret realm, he hadn’t encountered a real enemy that required him to pursue with all his might across a thousand miles.

Song Qian Ji pressed one hand on his sword, laying the Shadowless Sword horizontally across his knees, while with the other hand, he picked up a cold Go stone, looking down at the board.

“White is at a disadvantage in the opening. Why choose white?” Master Wuxiang asked.

“I excel at reversing desperate situations,” Song Qian Ji said. “Thousand Channels was once a dead land too.”

Master Wuxiang nodded, actually smiling sincerely: “‘One bird dies, and a hundred cry out. One beast leaves, and a hundred are startled.’ You alone are enough to disturb the world. When the Huawei Sect sent you to Thousand Channels Prefecture, how could they have imagined today?”

As the white stone fell, Song Qian Ji’s fingertip touched the board and slightly hesitated.

Though an inanimate object, there was a mysterious vital energy within it.

The vitality emerged from the decaying wooden board, like a dying person traversing a desert, bursting with a powerful desire to live.

The “Undying Spring” in his elixir field trembled under the influence of this special energy as if wanting to irrigate the withered wood.

“What is this?!” Song Qian Ji’s voice turned slightly stern.

Master Wuxiang said softly: “It’s a withered root from beneath the Sky-Supporting Tree. That tree is beautiful—you love flowers and plants so much if you’d seen it, you would certainly have liked it.”

Song Qian Ji took out the dark red bead from his sleeve: “Xian Jian Chen told me this is a magic artifact you created, containing sap from the core of the Sky-Supporting Tree.”

“Correct. In this world, only I can forge artifacts from the Sky-Supporting Tree.” Master Wuxiang placed another stone.

Song Qian Ji’s heart stirred, suddenly recalling what Xian Jian Chen had told him before entering the secret realm: the calamity had come early.

He had already killed two avatars, but where was this person’s true form? Could it be within the Sky-Supporting Tree? Why hadn’t this happened in his previous life?

“The sap from the tree core, a withered root—what else do you have?” Song Qian Ji asked.

“I also have a seed.”

“A seed of the Sky-Supporting Tree? Can it grow into a new tree?”

“Correct.” Master Wuxiang smiled. “You’ve already shown me all your cards—the Dragon-Slaying Formation, the Seven Absolute Zither, the Spring Mountain Painting… Since we’re going to cooperate, I can show you that seed as a gesture of sincerity.”

Song Qian Ji found it absurd: “When did I say I would cooperate with you?”

Instead of answering, Master Wuxiang asked: “You’ve been in the secret realm for so long—don’t you want to know what’s happening outside? Don’t you want to see your vegetable garden?”

Song Qian Ji: “When I get out—”

Before he could finish, with a crisp sound, Master Wuxiang exclaimed:

“Look!”

A black stone fell into the center of the board.

The straight grid lines on the withered wooden board instantly dissipated, like a crystal mirror reflecting the blue sky, rising sun, sea of clouds, falling bodhi leaves, and the two young men playing Go.

The reflection on the board transformed rapidly. The faces of the two men disappeared, replaced by a butterfly flying past the corner of a eave, landing on a waterfall-like wisteria.

“My flower trellis,” Song Qian Ji murmured.

It was the time of riotous blossoming, with gorgeous purples and reds, all flowers competing in splendor.

In the garden, vegetables flourished, lush and glistening.

“You care more about your garden and vegetables than people, don’t you?” Master Wuxiang said softly. “Song Qian Ji, we are the same kind.”

The scene changed to a dimly lit mine shaft, where people with frenzied expressions wielded daggers, surrounding a root and chopping at it, using jade bottles to collect the bright red liquid.

“The roots of the Sky-Supporting Tree spread throughout the continent. Whenever cultivators dig up even one, they extract its essence to enhance their cultivation,” Master Wuxiang said. “Once people step onto the path of cultivation, they begin to plunder and encroach.”

A jade bottle rolled to the ground, spilling its contents. Several people argued incessantly, conjuring magical artifacts to attack each other. The mine shaft shook, and blood flowed like a river.

“People seek cultivation methods, transforming from mortals to cultivators, enhancing their fortune through offerings of incense and fire. But once people possess powerful strength, their greed increases. Human hearts’ greed, fear, and hatred are enough to destroy everything.”

Master Wuxiang’s voice became ethereal. Countless images rushed toward Song Qian Ji, flooding his vision.

Spiritual energy was exhausted, and the earth cracked. Vultures circled, corpses everywhere.

Rolling celestial fire fell, flames burning through villages and towns, mortals crying out in anguish.

“There should never have been cultivators or cultivation paths in the world. Such power should be returned to heaven and earth.”

“This world is destined for destruction. Even if you save it temporarily, it’s merely prolonging the inevitable! Only by breaking down and rebuilding can a new world be created, allowing everything to begin anew!”

“When the old world is destroyed and the new one established, you will be the only god!”

“Me?” Song Qian Ji asked.

His expression was dazed as if impacted by the rapidly changing scenes and the persuasive, bewitching words, unable to regain his senses.

“This time, I choose you,” Master Wuxiang said.

“No!” Song Qian Ji suddenly looked up, divine light shining in his eyes.

“Clack!”

A white stone fell!

The image shattered, and the Go board reappeared.