Chapter 122: Great Sun Tathagata Breaks the Long Night

Under the cover of Jiuyu, Ning Changjiu and Zhao Xianger originally thought they could stall until Lady Bai’s divinity was exhausted and her body disintegrated. After Lady Bai’s death, Zhao Xianger would then use Jiuyu as a sword to directly cut open this crumbling world, allowing them to leave first. This would maintain the balance of Fengdu, preventing its destruction. Then they would find a way to destroy Fengdu from the outside, allowing the surviving people inside to see the light of day again.

However, all of this was disrupted by Lady Bai’s subsequent series of frantic actions.

In the sky, devoid of any light, that fiery stream lit up.

It was the sword-fire from her body-turned-sword, and also the corpse-fire blazing on her skeletal form.

By the bank of the Yellow Springs, the maiden in plain clothes, her eyes blindfolded with a black cloth, forced herself not to look at the fiery descent from the sky. She covered her ears, terrified, and could not help but cry out a name: “Han Fu.”

That was the name of Black Wuchang.

The maiden in plain clothes had initially thought their connection was like a broken long bridge, and they would eventually meet again. But at that moment, she was unaware that her godfather’s soul had been scattered, and the fear of the city’s imminent destruction overwhelmed everything.

From the crevices of the stones by the Yellow Springs, countless flowers bloomed. Their petals were very thin, only slightly thicker than a strand of hair, delicately curled, slender and fragile, easily broken by a gust of wind.

They were Red Spider Lilies.

At this moment, the deathly aura of the city’s impending doom condensed into their vibrant petals. Their existence was solely for the city’s funeral, their bloom and destruction merely a fleeting moment.

Just as rain falls when dark clouds gather, and thunder follows lightning.

When that red flame sliced through the sky, even the most frail old woman in the city knew that the city was doomed.

They wouldn't even have time to perform any rituals before the city was instantly annihilated.

On the bed, Ning Xiaoling struggled to prop up her injured body. She, too, felt that aura of destruction. Without even stopping to put on shoes, she ran out barefoot, shouting Ning Changjiu’s name. Guided by their unspoken connection, she frantically rushed towards a certain direction.

In the darkness, a hand grasped her.

“Senior Brother!” Ning Xiaoling cried out, pulled forward forcefully.

Ning Changjiu saw her and breathed a sigh of relief. He turned to Zhao Xianger, asking urgently, “Is there still time?”

He was asking if Zhao Xianger could still cleave open a spatial rift and take them out of the city, which was on the verge of destruction.

Zhao Xianger lifted her head, her gaze incredibly calm. She shook her head, “No time.”

Ning Changjiu clenched his fists and nodded in silence.

They had both made up their minds.

The already oppressive darkness now felt even more profound. Zhao Xianger ran her fingers over the surface of the ancient umbrella and suddenly said, “When Mother gave me this umbrella, she told me its name was Allure, and this sword was called Devastation.”

Saying this, she stepped out of the shadow cast by Jiuyu and beckoned to the sky.

Lady Bai, like a meteor trailing a long fiery tail, slightly adjusted her trajectory and plummeted towards Zhao Xianger’s position.

“This umbrella is called Allure,” Zhao Xianger repeated.

Ning Changjiu understood her meaning.

This was the Empress’s expectation of her.

Now that the city was about to fall, how could she stand idly by?

This was her city.

All of Lady Bai’s consciousness had been obliterated. At this moment, she could be a young maiden, an old man in a reclining chair, or an old woman weaving lanterns—no matter which, she would ultimately transform into a sword.

Intense death-energy burned into the red lotus flames of hell, turning the horror of death into an unparalleled beauty.

She now resembled a feathered serpent, her burning body like a moth in flames.

Zhao Xianger opened the red umbrella, channeling all her spiritual power onto its surface.

Ning Changjiu extended his hand and also gripped the umbrella handle. Ning Xiaoling, too, reached out with her still-scarred hands, holding it firmly together.

They raised the umbrella towards the direction from which Lady Bai, transformed into a sword, was descending.

Boom!

It was like a colossal thunderclap exploding within the city, or the gates of hell suddenly shattered. The harrowing scenes of all evil and suffering in the world unfolded and were then obliterated by the scorching wave of fire.

The surrounding houses were instantly leveled by the enormous shockwave. The living and the deceased souls within them vanished in an instant.

At the epicenter of the fire wave, the ground sank several zhang. The red umbrella plunged downwards forcefully, with either chilling or scorching flames churning on its surface, as if all time itself was gradually slowing down.

The city shook violently, the dams of the Yellow Springs cracked, and shattered stones rolled into the river, quickly dissolving and disintegrating.

The nearby Red Spider Lilies were completely crushed by the violent fiery waves, ending their brief bloom.

The red umbrella’s surface remained unbroken, yet the bone-sword had already torn an opening, its tip pressing downwards, inching forward. If Zhao Xianger were to look up, she would see the sword’s point aimed directly at her glabella.

Even though they poured all their strength into it, the red umbrella’s spiritual essence was rapidly being depleted. Its surface grew thinner and thinner, like a paper screen about to be punctured at any moment.

As death approached, people’s minds seemed to race, all layered memories overlapping in a short span of time, a flurry of images flickering past.

Zhao Xianger looked at the fiery stream visible through the umbrella and instinctively recalled the fire-like dress behind the layers of curtains.

She knew that most of the time, Mother was not truly present; most of the time, what accompanied her was merely an illusory shadow.

It wasn't that Mother ignored the world, but that she existed outside of time.

Only once, three years ago, when she was watching the sunset as usual, she was startled by the noise outside the door. The three thousand shimmering reflections of the Western Kingdom in her eyes shattered like bubbles. She was furious, opened the door, and beat everyone up. The last person, who wielded a sword, seemed quite formidable; she only shattered his scabbard. But deep down, she knew that if that person dared to bother her again, she would, and indeed could, kill him.

Seeing that they no longer bothered her, she spoke from the heart: “I was watching the sunset with His Highness. Why must you disturb me?”

That day, she returned to the room, and Mother called her behind the curtain. Her clothes were still dirty from the fight, but Mother didn't mind at all. She reached out and lovingly stroked her head. She would forever remember that feeling: from within the intricately patterned, fire-like red dress, that fair hand felt like the gentlest breeze in the world, slowly ruffling her long hair.

She looked up and saw Mother’s face—a face she could no longer recall, no matter how hard she tried.

But she always remembered the amazement and shock she felt when she looked up that day, so much so that many times afterwards, looking at her own reflection, she would wonder why she, like an ugly duckling, wasn't as beautiful as Mother.

As memories rapidly flickered through her mind, she opened her eyes slightly, gazing at the young man who was struggling alongside her. She quietly wondered, “Mother, is he the fiancé you chose for me? If it’s him, why didn’t he come to see me before I turned sixteen? If not, why does he keep pestering me like a persistent ghost?”

No sooner had this thought arisen than another voice in her mind asked, “What if he’s the one you chose yourself?”

On the red umbrella, the intense fiery glow reached its peak. Zhao Xianger’s eyes suddenly snapped open, her body forced onto one knee. She bit her teeth tightly, her bones trembling incessantly, and her dashing male attire fluttered wildly in the gale. She stared fixedly ahead, the sword’s tip aimed directly at her glabella, drawing closer and closer, as if in the next moment, it would pierce through the umbrella and shatter her skull.

The tiles on the ground had long since shattered into dust. She bit down hard, her voice barely a whisper through clenched teeth: “Hmph... if I chose him myself, is my taste really that bad...”

Ning Changjiu, too, recalled many things.

He thought of his years of cultivation in the small Taoist temple, of his Senior Sister who immediately rapped him on the head the moment he entered the mountain gate, of his quite easygoing Second Senior Brother whose saber intent could level mountains and suppress seas, of his Third Senior Brother whose sword strokes painted magnificent landscapes, and of his Fourth Senior Sister who was rarely on the mountain, spending her years hunting demons in the outside world. He thought of so much...

And the painters, artisans, a crazy old woman, and a dark-skinned girl who fished for a living in Dahe Town below the small Taoist temple. That little girl often gave him a fish she had caught, telling him to release it in the Taoist temple’s pond to accumulate merit.

The final image froze on his sixteenth birthday: he sat by the cloud cliff for an entire afternoon, watching the sea of clouds, imagining the appearance of his fiancée, who was far away.

His Senior Brother had told him that the girl was extremely beautiful, possessing much of his Senior Sister’s charm from childhood.

Ning Changjiu greatly admired his Senior Sister, so this remark didn't make his heart flutter. Instead, it made him feel that accepting the marriage contract would be disrespectful to his Senior Sister.

So, that day, he folded the marriage contract and handed it back to his Senior Brother.

Yet, at the same age of sixteen, his fiancée, who had once only existed in his imagination and regrets, was now right before his eyes. They held the same umbrella, resisting the same sword. They could see the exhaustion, sweat, burning killing intent, and unwavering resolve to fight to the death on each other’s faces.

Zhao Xianger didn’t know.

But he knew she was his fiancée.

He felt he should like her.

However, except for the night he woke up from his unconsciousness and saw her in her boudoir, he had never truly spent peaceful time with her. Even now, for an entire month, though they were only separated by one room, their daily routine involved him being knocked down with a few punches and then repeatedly beaten on the ground.

Even if all this was part of the plan.

They were constantly walking on the edge of life and death, a world apart from their previous life of peace and tranquility.

The immense pressure on the umbrella surface forced him, Zhao Xianger, and Ning Xiaoling to their knees. Ning Xiaoling, whose injuries were the most severe, swayed precariously after kneeling and could barely hold the umbrella handle steady.

Ning Changjiu supported her.

His own strength was also rapidly draining. He looked at Zhao Xianger, thinking that if they died here together today, it would count as a joint burial. Before dying, he had to tell her everything, even if she didn't believe him.

They knelt opposite each other, gripping the umbrella handle tightly.

They opened their eyes and exchanged a glance, both knowing they were at their wits’ end.

Yet, the sword continued to pierce down, inch by inch, and the surging fiery waves showed no sign of dying out.

They were almost certain that even if they perished, they wouldn't diminish even half the power of that sword.

To make matters worse, Lady Bai’s divinity was also being incinerated in the Red Lotus Hellfire. Although she was still a sword, she was transforming back into Lady Bai.

Thus, the rules of Fengdu accommodated her.

All the highest-realm individuals in the city were now gathered on the west side of the Yellow Springs. The already tilting city, unstoppably, collapsed further to one side. In less than ten breaths, even without Lady Bai’s sword strike, the city would have completely toppled.

Zhao Xianger and Ning Changjiu opened their eyes, and a faint smile finally appeared on their faces, pale as gold paper.

This was the moment they had been waiting for.

It was also the outcome envisioned by one of their initial plans.

Although the process had become much more complicated and perilous due to unforeseen changes, thankfully, the outcome deviated little from their expectations.

It was all part of the plan.

Ning Changjiu released his grip on the umbrella handle. Points of light appeared around him as he reached out, drawing a reversed Sky-Flying Formation.

He had previously left a new formation there, intending it for Zhao Xianger to use to come over, but a sudden anomaly had disrupted the subsequent events.

And now, he was connecting to that very formation.

Zhao Xianger let out a clear cry, using her last bit of strength to hold up the ancient umbrella. She looked up, her features flushed crimson by the red waves, the sword tip hovering within an inch of her glabella.

In a blink of an eye, on the other side of the Yellow Springs, the formation’s light flared, outlining Ning Changjiu’s figure in the glow.

At this moment, the heavens and earth tilted, and everything began to fall towards the west.

And Fengdu, before its destruction, would try to save itself by desperately seeking a vessel in the eastern part of the city to pour all its power into, attempting to temporarily maintain balance and prevent its own annihilation.

Ning Changjiu was this vessel.

His body had been tempered countless times by Zhao Xianger over the past month; every punch was meant to better prepare him to contain these powers today.

He understood: his body also had a shackles, firmly locking down his cultivation realm.

In his previous life, when he entered the temple, his Senior Sister had opened this shackles by rapping him on the head.

But in this life, he had to rely on himself.

The entire month in Fengdu, all their efforts had been for this moment.

He intended to use the power of the entire city to break open the shackles on his body!

The darkness between heaven and earth surged into his body like a torrent.

He opened his eyes, looking at the fire on the opposite bank, at the pitch-black night. His entire body felt as if it were being torn into countless fragments. Inside him, something familiar broke free, roaring aloud.

He roared along with it.

He stretched out his hand, pointing directly at the sky, his eyes gleaming with pure golden light.

This world had no moon; it needed a crimson sun to emit boundless light and tear apart all darkness.

Now he saw that sun.

Within his sea of qi, the Violet Palace finally opened, presenting that brilliant crimson sun, radiant with golden edges.

That was his innate spirit, and the light that would break through the long night.