Chapter 310: Destiny and Heavenly Ranking

In winter, just after New Year's Eve, the fireworks and night sky had given way to dawn, leaving only the relentless sweep of wind and snow.

Ning Changjiu rode his sword alone above the clouds.

He stood on his sword, the wind howling in his ears. His gaze pierced through the vast wind and snow, overlooking the land. The entire human realm appeared as a mere embellishment on a boundless white scroll, stretching infinitely into the distance.

The Ancient Spirit Sect was already far behind him.

Last night's intoxication still churned in his mind, making him feel a little dizzy. The cold wind washed over his face, gradually bringing clarity. He recalled the events of the previous night, a self-mocking smile playing on his lips as he muttered, "What a ridiculous mess."

Last night, they had jointly tied Siming in the room, teased her, and forced her to admit her faults with embarrassing words. After that, the three of them reconciled and gathered around the fireplace, drinking and chatting. Lu Jiajia, being the least tolerant of alcohol, quickly became tipsy, but she bravely insisted on challenging Ning Changjiu and Siming to a drinking contest.

None of them were frequent drinkers.

Although Siming had a good tolerance for alcohol, she didn't enjoy it. She considered alcohol a vulgar stimulant, a means for mortals to forget their sorrows. Immortals, she believed, should only taste it lightly; it wasn't worth heavy drinking. Ning Changjiu's reason for disliking alcohol was even simpler: in his previous life, his Second Senior Brother often messed things up when drunk, leading to both of them being scolded by their First Senior Sister.

So, while he and Siming seemed to be competing in drinking, they were secretly trying to discreetly pour out their wine. They poured and talked, clinking cups back and forth for dozens of rounds, talking themselves hoarse, their lips nearly chapped. Yet, by the time the jar was empty, neither of them had actually taken a single sip.

This was another form of playful defiance.

Lu Jiajia, drinking with them, was oblivious. She couldn't understand how their alcohol tolerance was so good, but she didn't want to lose face, so she stubbornly kept drinking cup after cup. Finally, her consciousness gave out. She leaned close to Ning Changjiu's ear, murmured something indistinctly, then rested her head on his shoulder and fell asleep.

Ning Changjiu carried Lu Jiajia to the bed to rest. Then, under the pretense of tidying up and closing the windows, he casually flicked the tight, small beads of condensed wine, gathered in his sleeves, out the window.

Siming, using her authority over time, instantly evaporated all the hidden wine.

The scent of wine filled the room like a mist.

The two of them sat down, understanding each other without words, and chatted about past events and future plans. Siming, as a divine official, possessed vast knowledge. Under the influence of the wine, she spoke of ancient secrets, though most of those matters were untraceable memories of a bygone era.

"Are you truly going alone tomorrow?" Siming asked as dawn approached.

Ning Changjiu nodded and said, "Yes."

Siming asked, "Can you tell me why?"

Ning Changjiu replied, "It's a secret."

Siming smiled faintly, "I guess it's related to your sect."

Ning Changjiu thought for a moment and said, "Perhaps."

Siming pressed, "Your sect hasn't contacted you for so many years. Have they forgotten about you?"

Ning Changjiu shook his head, "They wouldn't forget."

Siming considered, "You're right. With your talent and cultivation realm, you'd be a top-tier existence anywhere in the world. I even think that given a hundred years, even a Sword Saint might not be your match. It would be quite interesting if you returned to your sect one day and found yourself to be the strongest among them."

Ning Changjiu smiled, knowing Siming had misunderstood. Siming believed his Daoist temple was merely a formidable reclusive sect. But Ning Changjiu still didn't know where the Unobservable View was hidden in the world. And where was that desolate place where his soul had been imprisoned for so long after his Master killed him with a single sword stroke?

He had pondered these questions for a long time.

Ning Changjiu smiled faintly, "I don't need to be stronger than my sect. Being stronger than you is enough."

Siming's face instantly darkened.

"Then you're dreaming," Siming said coldly. "I will eventually become a divine official again. By then, slave marks will be child's play to me. Unless you can become the Master of the Divine Kingdom, you'll never be able to defeat me."

Ning Changjiu smiled and shook his head.

Siming looked at his self-mocking smile, and her expression softened somewhat. She raised her wine cup, swirling the contents, and said, "I know what you're scheming. You have a broken divine kingdom hidden in your Golden Crow, don't you? Heh, but do you know that restoring a kingdom is harder than building one, especially when the true sunlight has already been obscured?"

Ning Changjiu confidently stated, "Defeating you won't require sunlight."

Siming felt there was a hidden meaning in his words and simply responded, "You're just like Lu Jiajia, so stubborn."

Ning Changjiu said, "After I leave, you're not allowed to bully Jiajia."

Siming smiled faintly, "I will treat Jiajia very well."

The fragmented memories of last night were somewhat hazy. As morning approached, Ning Changjiu held Lu Jiajia for a short sleep, then woke up and gave Siming some instructions. Afterwards, he visited the somewhat aggrieved Little Ling in the small black room and discussed matters of collecting authorities. Having done all this, he rode his sword and set off towards the Heavenly Ranking.

Ning Changjiu did not use spiritual energy to protect his body, allowing the cold wind to sweep across his face and billow into his white robes, carrying away his warmth and freezing his body like a block of ice.

He closed his eyes. From the Sea Kingdom until now, his numerous accumulated insights from cultivation condensed above his Sea of Consciousness, turning into ice crystals that swirled into a blizzard within.

The coldness of his physical body startled the Golden Crow in his Purple Mansion. It chirped and flapped its wings, soaring above the Sea of Consciousness, melting the fragments of those memories.

On the Sea of Consciousness, the snow turned into rain. In the rain curtain, the sword shadows of Qiu Ziguan and Li He shifted, gradually fading and becoming one with him.

This process would usually be called "enlightenment" by ordinary cultivators.

But Ning Changjiu relied not on enlightenment, but on "refinement." He treated all the experiences, techniques, and residual influences from battles left in his Sea of Consciousness as truly existing substances, using his powerful mental energy as fire, aided by the Golden Crow's divinity, and his Sea of Consciousness as a furnace, to absorb, refine, and assimilate them for his own use.

A thousand li passed by sword: the insights from playing chess in the Sea Kingdom melted away.

Two thousand li passed by sword: the insights from the ambush outside Luoshu Tower melted away.

Three thousand li passed by sword: the insights remaining from the five Grand Cultivators in Luoshu melted away...

Ning Changjiu's mind became increasingly clear.

Temperature slowly returned to his body.

He opened his eyes, the golden light in them gradually fading.

These rare insights were priceless treasures for ordinary cultivators, but for him, they were merely the icing on the cake, at most helping him advance half a realm further.

Moreover, no matter how profound the insights, they were still just insights. To truly integrate them into his physical body, he would still need thousands of battles and experiences.

Ning Changjiu quieted his mind.

He knew it would still be a long journey to the Heavenly Ranking.

Now that his mind was calm, he suddenly realized that his lifespan seemed to be less than nine years remaining.

Before Ye Chu exposed his destiny, Ning Changjiu did not believe in fate.

In his perception, destiny was merely an integration of countless choices. So-called immortals, high above, manipulating human fate, were nothing more than forcing people into choices that seemed accidental but were actually inevitable. But immortals were also human; such manipulated fate was still human fate and could be forcibly reversed and changed.

However, Heavenly Destiny was an intangible thing.

No matter how absurd or bizarre the choices one made on life's countless crossroads, one could still fall into the rut of Heavenly Destiny, ultimately arriving at the same outcome.

Fate not being swayed by choice was its most terrifying aspect.

So, were the shackles of destiny on him laid down by his Master as "human fate," or were they "Heavenly Destiny" constrained by some intangible entity?

Ning Changjiu had largely stopped thinking about these questions. But in the deep winter snow, with the vast and distant world, and while riding his sword alone, the monotonous colors continuously brushing past him, his thoughts couldn't help but touch upon these matters again.

"Master, are you watching me?" Ning Changjiu looked up, speaking to the sky.

The Unobservable View.

Towering pavilions and divine halls reaching into the clouds, beneath the myriad shadows of gods, buddhas, and asura golden bodies, a celestial wind seemed to sweep through, causing thousands of snow-white veils to flutter silently, making the figures within them appear ethereal and elusive.

The two largest statues of divine buddhas held a compass and a square, one measuring the four seas, the other weighing mountains and rivers, each representing precision and balance, with solemn divine expressions.

Golden light and candlelight merged into an untouchable stream of light, which spilled onto the white veils. Between the endless veils, the silhouette of a woman was cast.

This figure was covered in a faint golden light, exquisitely beautiful, as if on a veil, a deity had exhausted all possibilities with billions of lines, then erased all the superfluous ones, leaving only the single most perfect line.

The woman seemed to be seated cross-legged on a lotus throne; only her cloud-like hair was visible in the shadow, not her true face.

She quietly bowed her head, gazing at a swirling reflection in the pool beside her.

In the reflection, a white-robed youth stood on a sword, looking up, his gaze meeting hers precisely.

The woman remained silent. Her hand gently rose, her sleeves fluttering as if uncontrolled by external forces, light and not sagging in the slightest.

"Since it cannot be observed, why look at me?" the woman spoke softly, her voice extremely faint, like a wind that had blown for a thousand years across a desolate land, turning into a lotus upon meeting water, into ashes upon meeting fire, existing between loneliness and dead embers.

The light and shadow dissipated, and the woman no longer looked at him.

After a long while, the door of the grand hall gently opened, and a man in red robes carrying a sword slowly walked in, traversing the golden shadows to stand before the veils.

"Greetings, Master," the red-robed young man bowed.

He was the Third Senior Brother of the Daoist temple.

He excelled in painting and swordsmanship, and the combination of the two made him peerless in the world. But he, who was usually so carefree, was very nervous today.

He couldn't recall how long it had been since his Master had summoned him. He knew that today, something significant was surely at hand.

The Third Senior Brother's demeanor was steady, meticulous. He kept his head bowed, unwilling to look at the silhouette cast upon the curtain, fearing that one extra glance would make him unwilling to pick up a brush to paint for years.

The female Abbot spoke softly, her immortal voice floating, "Your Junior Brother has already gone to the Heavenly Ranking."

The red-robed young man had learned of the Seventh Junior Brother's whereabouts from the First Senior Sister.

He didn't understand why, after more than a decade of searching and finally finding him, they didn't bring him back to the temple. However, since it was the Master's will, he did not press the matter.

"The Heavenly Ranking?" The red-robed young man frowned slightly. "What is Junior Brother doing there?"

The Abbot said, "You need not concern yourself with these matters. You only need to wait for him."

"Wait for him? Where should I wait for Junior Brother?" the red-robed young man asked.

The Master replied, "In your tower. When necessary, you may leave your tower to meet him."

The red-robed young man furrowed his brow. His tower... but that was clearly very far from the Heavenly Ranking. How could Junior Brother come there?

He did not ask further, bowing and saying, "Yes, Master."

The Abbot said, "Let me see your sword."

The red-robed young man replied, "I dare not display my sword before the Master."

The Abbot gently said, "It's alright."

Only then did the red-robed young man grip his sword and gently draw it from its sheath.

What he drew was not a sword, but a snow-white scroll.

The scroll was like fine, undulating waves, a ceaselessly flowing river.

The Third Senior Brother was truly a noble young master. His hair was tied up, his face refined and elegant, with red lips and white teeth, and his clothes were like fire. The way he drew his sword was like a performer in full costume gently unfurling a folding fan. As the sword light emerged and he swung his blade, this snow-white scroll continued to extend.

Wherever the scroll passed, colors immediately appeared.

The sword light swept over the desk, and the desk vanished, transforming into a pattern on the sword-energy scroll. The sword light swept over the candle holder, and the candle holder disappeared, its tiny flame flickering on the sword-energy scroll, becoming a vibrant painting.

This was true art.

Wherever the sword energy passed, there was no destructive force, yet everything silently disappeared, entering the painting constructed by his sword energy.

In the blink of an eye, the snow-white scroll circling his body had transformed into a portrait filled with lights, gods, and buddhas.

The scroll danced around the Third Senior Brother's red robes, making his features glow brilliantly, almost like a woman's.

"That's enough," the female Abbot said.

The Abbot only told him to sheathe his sword, without commenting on its quality.

The Third Senior Brother was slightly disappointed. He gently dispersed the sword energy.

The magnificent painting dissipated like smoke, and everything that had transformed into a painting within it returned to its original place.

His sword technique was a masterful application of the authority of space, but it walked a path diametrically opposed to Zhang Qieyu's painting.

The Third Senior Brother bowed and exited the divine hall.

As the Third Senior Brother departed, the First Senior Sister, in a green dress, slowly entered.

"Greetings, Master," the First Senior Sister bowed as usual.

The Abbot asked, "Shenyu, what is the outcome of the Lotus Heavenly Scripture's divination?"

The First Senior Sister replied, "The Lotus Heavenly Scripture has divined thirty-seven thousand times, and the outcomes are all unfavorable."

The Abbot remained silent.

The First Senior Sister asked, "Master, should the 'Hunt the Divine Kingdom' plan be abandoned?"

The Abbot stated, "The 'Hunt the Divine Kingdom' plan is currently the only feasible path."

The First Senior Sister nodded, "This disciple understands, but what we face is something that cannot be killed."

But she also understood that if that entity was not killed, it would devour everything.

The Abbot said, "The 'Hunt the Divine Kingdom' plan is feasible because someone once came close to it and left a wound on its body."

The First Senior Sister asked, "A Saint?"

The Abbot nodded, "Yes. The Saint is not truly dead."

The First Senior Sister asked no more questions, instead asking, "What about Junior Brother? He has not yet reached the Five Paths... With less than a mere ten years, I'm afraid it might be too late. Should I go directly and bring him back?"

The Abbot said, "No need. I have already sent Third and Sixth to wait for him."

The First Senior Sister asked, "Then, the 'Hunt the Divine Kingdom' plan?"

The Abbot replied, "The third 'Hunt the Divine Kingdom' plan will proceed as usual."

Ancient Spirit Sect, Nine Nether Hall, throne.

Ning Xiaoling lay sprawled on the throne, her nine cloud-like fox tails gently swaying.

The Blood Sword Shutu was plunged into the right side of her throne, and ten lamps were lit around her.

The flames in each lamp varied in color, like demonic eyes enshrined in a shrine.

The placement of the lamps perfectly matched a formation encircling the throne.

This was the formation taught by Nine Nether, named "Nine Nether Formation" after her.

This formation, which Ning Changjiu had meticulously crafted over the past few days, simulated a small-scale Ten Courts of Hell. This miniature underworld gathered the most concentrated authority from the human realm. These authorities would become dark lighthouses in the world of light, attracting other underworld authorities, symbolic of darkness, to cross the light and come to this place.

Ning Xiaoling sat upright, wagging her tails, exuding an air of dignity befitting a Nether Monarch.

Normally, Siming and Lu Jiajia would take turns keeping her company. She was happy when her Master came, but she was always listless when Siming left.

She only wished she could work hard to save the underworld, end all this soon, and live a peaceful life, cherished by her Senior Brother and Master.

Today, Lu Jiajia was with her.

Ning Xiaoling sat on Lu Jiajia's lap, pawing at a wooden box, showing off, "Master, look! These are the rewards Xiaoling won in the Spirit Valley Grand Competition. I found them all myself! Isn't that impressive? Oh, I had so much fun a few days ago that I forgot to show Senior Brother."

Lu Jiajia said, "Changjiu will surely be very happy to see them."

Ning Xiaoling said, "Yes, I've already planned which ones to give to Senior Brother, which to Master, and which to bribe Sister Siming with..."

Lu Jiajia smiled.

Ning Xiaoling continued, "Oh, Master, do you remember? When you were guarding the edge of the abyss, I told you that if Senior Brother returned, he'd definitely bring back another pair of sisters. See? Xiaoling was right!"

Ning Xiaoling was still smug about this, but Lu Jiajia's smile had frozen, and a gentle tap landed on her head.

Ning Xiaoling covered her head with her paws, looking at her Master aggrievedly. "Master, didn't you say back then that as long as Senior Brother returned safely, it wouldn't matter if it was two, or even ten or a hundred?"

Lu Jiajia said faintly, "I said that then because he hadn't returned. Now that he's back, of course it's different."

Ning Xiaoling meekly said "Oh" and added, "Master is truly wise."

Ning Xiaoling then asked, "So if Senior Brother goes to the Heavenly Ranking and brings back another little sister, Master..."

The little fox stopped speaking.

She looked up to see Lu Jiajia staring at her with a displeased expression.

"Master, I was wrong!" Ning Xiaoling immediately put her paws over her mouth, then wrapped her body in her nine large tails.

Lu Jiajia, however, smiled and reached out her hand.

Strange yelps from Ning Xiaoling once again echoed through the Nine Nether Hall.

After Lu Jiajia left, Ning Xiaoling lay limply on the throne. She looked up at the authorities floating in from all directions, like vassals coming to greet their monarch, and felt a bit too embarrassed to face them.

She missed her Senior Brother even more.

Ning Xiaoling slowly pushed herself up. She looked at the small inscription on the left side of her throne. Her Senior Brother said it was the motto he wrote for her.

Ning Xiaoling read the motto on the left side of the throne aloud.

"To the nine heavens above, to the nine springs below. Among all servants of the underworld, I alone am supreme."

"Ugh, what an obnoxious motto," she thought. "Does Senior Brother really think he wrote it well?"

"Even if I become the Nether Monarch, I probably couldn't bring myself to say such words, could I?"

Ning Changjiu arrived at the Heavenly Ranking a month later.

The heavy snow had just stopped.

The Heavenly Ranking stood in the center of the Central Land, formed by countless assembled towers. At a glance, various tall buildings rose from the ground, resembling a jagged, tooth-like valley of strange rocks. In the center of this tower-formed valley, a majestic main tower soared straight into the sky. Its ancient walls were splendidly gilded, flowing with dazzling characters, while its windows and doors were uniformly a deep, profound black, appearing like countless dark holes at first glance.

Many people lived within this cluster of towers.

They were all servants of the Heavenly Ranking.

The Heavenly Ranking, like Luoshu, was almost a spiritual artifact that had flown from beyond the heavens, landing here and never moving again. It was like a natural sage, periodically issuing profound prophecies. The people in the various towers of the Heavenly Ranking were responsible for interpreting these omens. These prophecies followed certain patterns; they might signify disaster, or opportunity, or convey some unknown information.

Currently, the scholars in the various towers of the Heavenly Ranking were especially busy.

Because the Heavenly Ranking was about to announce the ten most powerful individuals in the Central Land once again.

Every year after the list was announced, it inevitably caused some trouble.

However, fortunately, the one currently overseeing the Heavenly Ranking was Xiao Qiu, a disciple of the Saint Pavilion, who had once refined the Sky-Devouring Destruction Pill. After his defeat by Zhandi, the eighth disciple of the Sword Pavilion, his realm had advanced another level, subtly nearing a breakthrough from the eighth to the ninth floor of the Purple Court. Some even believed that if Zhandi were to face the current Xiao Qiu, he might be defeated.

With him overseeing the Heavenly Ranking, it was unlikely that any reckless young people would dare to challenge the list, which would save a lot of trouble.

Xiao Qiu himself felt the same way.

He had come by his master's command. He had initially considered overseeing the Heavenly Ranking an honorable but boring task, until he encountered the Sword Pavilion disciple who had emerged from seclusion.

He regarded his battle with Zhandi as his glory and had replayed it tens of thousands of times in his mind, finding many possible ways to counter it, hoping that with further improvement in his spear techniques, he could fight the Sword Pavilion disciple again and reclaim his sect's reputation.

However, the only peer who could contend with him was that Sword Pavilion disciple.

Xiao Qiu sat in the Heavenly Ranking's battle chamber, meditating with lowered eyes, his spear standing upright beside him.

Only half a month remained until he was to leave the ranking and return to his sect. This should be a peaceful half-month... It was just a pity he wouldn't be able to see the ranking of the world's top ten immediately. He also wondered if his sect leader could maintain their sixth position.

Xiao Qiu opened his eyes after his customary meditation. He rose and walked out of the room, slowly stepping outside.

He stood on the roof of the Heavenly Ranking tower, gazing far into the distance.

Suddenly, his attention was drawn by something.

In the distant air, a violent yet suppressed vibration seemed to emanate. This vibration was caused by sword energy piercing through the air.

Xiao Qiu frowned slightly... He saw a black dot in the sky.

That black dot descended into the city, then slowly began to move towards this place.

As it drew closer, Xiao Qiu could finally make out that it was a white-robed young man.

He looked good, and his sword skills... seemed to be decent. It was just a pity he probably wasn't coming to the main Heavenly Ranking.

Aside from the Heavenly Ranking, there were many smaller, varied lists here, each governing its own area, and many smaller sects frequently fought tooth and nail over those lists.

When the white-robed youth entered the city, many people noticed him.

It was rare to have a newcomer, and the people in the ranking, despite their busy schedules, did not forget to open bets, wagering on which floor he would go to.

Everyone's gaze fell on him as he slowly ascended the steps.

He never stopped.