Chapter 430: Sword Reaches Ancient Radiance

A funeral for the True Dragon...

The ghost-like figures' chilling cries echoed in the wind. Faceless specters held jade tablets, touching them to their foreheads as if in prayer. From their faces grew horrifying, whisker-like protrusions, resembling a dragon's beard and hair.

The other twelve disciples, meditating silently, were oblivious to this terrifying scene.

Liu Junzhuo quickly calmed herself. She realized that her ability to see and communicate with them was entirely due to the remaining power of the Ruined Kingdom within her.

Could it be that only beings with divinity could see them?

A True Dragon. Liu Junzhuo's first thought was the Candle Dragon.

When many ancient gods died, their collapsing corpses would transform into numerous low-powered spirits. These spirits would then perish after completing the funeral rites for their own physical forms.

It seemed these ghost-like officials before her were no different.

Wait...

Liu Junzhuo narrowed her eyes. She noticed that when she gazed at the wall with her divine sight, numerous strange symbols appeared on it.

Liu Junzhuo stared at the symbols. At first, she thought they were murals, but upon closer inspection, she realized they appeared to be some kind of spell.

She stretched out her hand and pressed it against the wall, meticulously drawing out a wisp of the spell, which she then examined closely between her fingers.

“Puppetry?”

Liu Junzhuo's delicate brows trembled slightly, her eyes flickered, and her lips parted. Numerous thoughts flooded her mind.

There were many types of puppetry, but despite their variations, they all shared one core principle: control.

It was like a person controlling a puppet with strings, or controlling others with various mental illusions.

Though these spells were extremely complex, Liu Junzhuo's keen insight allowed her to discern their true nature at a glance.

Puppetry...

What was Master planning? What did he intend to control with these ghostly puppets? A deceased True Dragon, perhaps...

As Liu Junzhuo pondered, Ning Changjiu's words flashed through her mind.

If Master was a demon, if he had been deceiving them all along, then these puppets... these fourteen puppets...

No, they weren't the puppets!

If Ning Changjiu hadn't been mistaken, then it was highly probable that she and the other disciples were the true puppets!

These ghostly figures, steeped day and night in a corridor filled with puppetry secrets, were the ones pulling the strings. And she, along with her unsuspecting junior brothers and sisters, could very well become puppets controlled by them without ever realizing it!

Liu Junzhuo stared at the ghostly figures moving along the ouroboros-shaped ancient corridor. The thoughts in her mind, like uncontrollable devils, slowly surfaced from beneath the water, revealing their fanged, grim faces.

How could this be?

Liu Junzhuo stared blankly at them, and at her junior brothers and sisters who remained oblivious. Her lips moved, unsure whether to voice the thoughts in her heart.

She couldn't accept her own conjecture.

If her conjecture was correct, then they could all be Master's sacrifices. As for what Master intended to sacrifice them for... it was likely related to the Candle Dragon, but by then, they would probably have lost their sanity.

Liu Junzhuo closed her eyes, the heroic spirit in her beautiful features slowly crumbling.

She stumbled back to her meditation spot, gasping for breath, her dark hair falling loose around her, looking utterly dejected.

She even wished she had remained ignorant, never having glimpsed all this through her divine sight.

But now that she had seen it, how could she pretend not to know?

After a long while, the disheveled woman slowly raised her head. Her gaze swept over the tranquil figures of her junior brothers and sisters. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and a resolute light gradually ignited in her pupils.

“I won't let you die.”

Liu Junzhuo looked at them, making her promise.

No one heard her.

In the Divine Kingdom of the Golden Crow, Baizang, resembling a tabby cat, lifted her head, looked at the proud sun in the sky, and let out a meow.

Siming said, “She said I could take her place.”

Shao Xiaoli scoffed, “If you were a dog, maybe you could stay and guard the house, but as a cat, just curl up and roll away.”

Baizang meowed incessantly at Shao Xiaoli.

Shao Xiaoli paid no mind to what she was saying, merely taunting, “Little white cat, you should know, the only reason you're alive is that your meat isn't tasty.”

Baizang's spirits drooped a little.

She quietly moved aside, lay down listlessly, and licked her paws.

As she licked, she looked up at the Xihe statue in the center, and a look of ancient weariness appeared in her eyes.

Shao Xiaoli's gaze also fell upon the statue of the goddess, thinking, *Is this the founder of Xi Fan?*

In the blink of an eye, old acquaintances had become figures of antiquity.

Siming also looked over. She had a premonition that it wouldn't be long before she saw Zhao Xianger again. Ever since their parting in Lonely Cloud City, she often recalled the girl's exquisite and proud demeanor. She found it somewhat hard to imagine what it would be like if such a proud girl were to be bullied by Ning Changjiu one day.

Though she somewhat anticipated that scene, Ning Changjiu was her husband after all, and she shouldn't be having such thoughts...

Thinking this, Siming's face became impassive and cold. She gazed indifferently at the Xihe statue, as if it were her sworn enemy.

Shao Xiaoli, however, let out a soft "Eh?" “Sister Xueci, why is your hair red again?”

This time, Siming's eyes, as she looked at the Xihe statue, truly showed annoyance.

Above the divine temple.

Lu Jiajia was holding Ye Changong, sunbathing.

The enormous sun blazed with fire. Lu Jiajia's sword body reacted, becoming equally hot, while Ye Changong calmly reached her hand into the flowing flames, her gaze utterly steady.

Lu Jiajia could feel that Ye Changong's inherent coldness counteracted the burning heat of the red sun, yet she remained cold in the end.

Not only that, but wherever her palm rested, thin ice miraculously began to form on the red sun.

“Your body is very hot,” Ye Changong said.

Lu Jiajia asked, “Master, can't you feel the warmth?”

Ye Changong gently shook her head, saying, “It's a little warm, but only a little...”

Lu Jiajia showed a look of pity.

Ye Changong, however, said, “There's no need to feel pity. It's been this way for thousands, tens of thousands of years. Warmth is an illusory thing to me; there's no need to feel regret or joy for something nonexistent.”

Lu Jiajia couldn't help but ask, “Has Master always been like this? Even thousands of years ago, when you were with Changjiu?”

Ye Changong nodded slightly, “Always.”

Lu Jiajia asked, “Can you not feel strong emotions?”

Ye Changong lowered her head, like a child who had made a mistake. She softly said, “I've been trying hard to express my emotions.”

Lu Jiajia was at a loss for words.

Ye Changong's moving voice remained devoid of emotion: “The moon hangs in the sky; it's a sphere. But in human poetry, it's described simply as a jade plate, an icy wheel, a jade mirror... In people's eyes, the moon should be a flat surface without thickness, shouldn't it?”

As the poem also implies, she was born slender; the waxing and waning were merely celestial phenomena, not her joys or sorrows.

Yet, this was all she could manage to express, despite her efforts.

Ye Changong spoke softly, then suddenly slipped from Lu Jiajia's embrace and leaped into the scorching sea of fire.

The flames engulfed her robes and her tranquil face.

Ye Changong immersed herself in it, and after a long while, finally felt a slight, unusual sensation.

Is this warmth...?

Ye Changong instinctively recalled past events when she had slain demons with Yi.

In a vast valley, a demon god was pierced through the heart by an arrow. She stood before its grotesque head, using dreams to disturb its mind. The young man on the clouds, with his bow slung across his back, drew a long blade, descended through the air, and with a single strike, severed the demon god's head.

To them, this was an ordinary sight.

“Another one slain. More than half of the demon gods from the Six Gods of Primordial Chaos lineage have withered,” Yi said.

She nodded gently, absorbing the demon god's power using 'life' as a medium.

“It's hot. This demon god's resentment is heavier than the others,” Yi said, as he extracted its core from its heart, observing the large amounts of white vapor gushing forth.

“Hot?” Ye Changong descended beside him, reaching out towards the scorching white vapor emanating from the blood.

She gently shook her head. She could feel the wailing resentment, but was entirely unaware of the supposed heat.

“You still can't perceive it?” Yi asked.

“No,” she said.

“Then why can you perceive cold?”

How can one know cold without knowing heat?

“Because...”

She hesitated for a long time, then told the truth: “I don't actually know what cold is, but a lady told me that saying you're cold makes you seem fragile and can evoke a desire to protect. I guessed she was right, so I occasionally say it to you.”

“So that's how it is...” Yi extracted the inner core, cleansed it with spiritual energy, then, like cutting a fruit, sliced it in half, giving one part to each of them. “Which lady corrupted you?”

“The Luo River Goddess,” she said.

Yi smiled and ate half of the inner core.

She ate the inner core in small bites, recovering her spiritual energy, and then suddenly asked, “Why is the sun hot, this star (earth) hot, yet only the moon is cold?”

Yi thought for a moment, then explained, “The sun can split off high temperatures, which makes it hot. This blue star receives sunlight and also has an atmosphere that acts like clothing, trapping warmth, so it's also hot. The moon has no clothing... so when the sunlight recedes, all its warmth seems to vanish as if it were an illusion, rapidly diminishing.”

She lowered her head, thought carefully for a moment, then pursed her pink lips and said, “So, I'm the one without clothes.”

Yi froze, unsure if she genuinely didn't understand, or if she harbored some subtle thought.

But she raised her head, a faint smile gracing her exquisitely beautiful face: “I... am so cold.”

Within the sun, Ye Changong, reflecting on the past, instinctively opened her arms, but embraced nothing.

She lingered there for a long time before finally being lifted out by a worried-looking Lu Jiajia.

“Master, where are your clothes?” Lu Jiajia held her close, gazing at the girl's exquisitely beautiful face, and asked, “Did the sun eat them?”

Ye Changong's voice held a childlike innocence: “The moon never had clothes, you see.”

Lu Jiajia frowned, saying, “Why does that sound so much like something Ning Changjiu would say?”

Ye Changong said, “It was him.”

“Oh dear...” Lu Jiajia chuckled helplessly, saying, “Master, don't believe his nonsense.”

“Okay.”

With that, Lu Jiajia called over Shao Xiaoli and Siming to help Master choose new clothes.

“Next time, only bathe in the sun *with* your clothes, otherwise you'll get burned,” Shao Xiaoli said.

“Okay,” Ye Changong nodded.

“It's fine. These clothes were stolen from the Nine Netherworld anyway, so it's not Jiajia's money this time,” Siming said with a faint smile.

“What do you mean 'fine'?” Shao Xiaoli retorted. “These fabrics are precious! We couldn't even wear them in Sundered Realm City, Lady Xueci. Can't you be a little more appreciative of things?”

“Yes, Xiaoli is right. Even a vast fortune shouldn't be squandered carelessly,” Lu Jiajia said.

With this support, Shao Xiaoli put her hands on her hips, her demeanor more assertive. “Exactly! Little girls should listen to adults, or they'll get a spanking.”

The 'little girl' she referred to was, of course, Ye Changong.

After she spoke, the atmosphere subtly froze. Shao Xiaoli, realizing she had gone a bit too far, quickly covered her mouth.

Lu Jiajia and Siming simultaneously turned their gazes to her: “How dare you speak to Master like that?”

Just as Shao Xiaoli was about to apologize, she saw Ye Changong hop down from her chair. Now dressed in a black skirt and snow-white cotton socks, she stood gracefully, curtsied, and, as if playing the part of a child, softly said, “Yes, I'll be good and listen.”

The three of them watched their Master, so dainty and perfectly poised, and held their breath slightly.

“Oh, Sister Xueci, your hair...” Shao Xiaoli exclaimed in surprise.

“My hair...” Siming lifted a lock of her hair, paused, then exclaimed in exasperation, “Xiaoli, I'm not as agreeable as Master.”

“Aww, Xiaoli's wrong...”

Baizang lay by the doorway, listening to their playful banter, and silently yawned, feeling out of place in this world.

With a great enemy looming, the playful banter was only temporary.

Soon, they began to discuss the battle plan for Guhuang.

They didn't hide anything from Baizang, so she quietly listened from the side, dragging her dragon bone chain, occasionally meowing a few times to offer her opinions.

Generally, human armies might emphasize formations in warfare, but for a true clash between top-tier opponents, victory or defeat could be decided in a single sword stroke.

Against a fading Ke Wenzhou, they naturally had no fear. But what they truly faced now was the Dark Lord, who transcended the Divine Kingdom.

Shao Xiaoli, only just entering the fifth realm, would naturally not participate in such a battle. She would instead cooperate with others to intercept any potential Sword Pavilion disciples, while the true confrontation with the Sword Saint would fall solely to Ning Changjiu and his Divine Kingdom.

In the night sky, Ning Changjiu stood atop the sword's tip.

The sword's tip glowed silvery-white.

All scenery beneath him receded at an unimaginable speed. The entire world, to the naked eye, appeared as colorful streaks.

The sword's tip pointed directly northwest.

“I still have a seventy percent chance,” Liu Xiwang said.

“Hm? Why only seventy percent?” Ning Changjiu asked.

“Because the closer we get, the more ominous my premonitions become,” Liu Xiwang replied with concern.

In the pure white sea of consciousness, she knelt on the water's surface, looking at her reflection, her eyes flickering.

Ning Changjiu gave a wry smile. “Weren't you so confident yesterday? Only one day has passed. In two days, will it be reduced to a mere ten percent?”

“Less sarcasm,” Liu Xiwang said. “A sword's power is only related to its master; what I say doesn't count.”

Ning Changjiu nodded, “Yes, as the master, I will do my best.”

Liu Xiwang gritted her silver teeth, feeling that this rogue was taking advantage of her again.

Above the Central Lands, the silver sword whistled away.

Within the Heavenly Scroll, the youth named 'Evil,' clad in black robes his whole life, walked out from a building, gazed up at the sky, his eyes devoid of vitality.

Ning Changjiu also cast a distant glance at him.

He understood that Evil's mind had been corrupted by the Dark Lord. He hadn't been truly killed because he was the God of Earth, his body spanning the entire world. For the Dark Lord to kill him, the entire world would have to be uprooted. So the Dark Lord merely divided him, giving him a sister who could be killed.

This sister became a threat to him. To ensure the survival of 'Poetry,' he could only reveal the secrets he knew to Ning Changjiu in the form of stories.

This was not only due to the deep-seated sibling bond in their bloodline; likewise, if his sister died, the earth would never be whole again. Even if the Dark Lord was repelled, the world would eventually wither.

“It was I who awakened you... I will bring them back, children of the stars, please find peace...”

Evil extended his hand towards the sky.

Tears streamed down the black-clad youth's cheeks.

He made this promise, though to whom, he did not know.

Time flowed swiftly. In the blink of an eye, the sun set in the west, and the sword's distant hum in the sky went unheard by mortals.

Soon, Ning Changjiu swept past the Sword Pavilion and the Eighty-One Cities.

The Eighty-One Cities were once immortal cities. Five hundred years ago, the Sage shattered the Immortal Court, which was devoid of immortals, and its fragments fell to the mortal realm.

Siming had once witnessed the appearance of the Immortal Court back then, in the Divine Kingdom of Yuanfu—countless hanging skeletons arranged as neatly as a lush wheat field.

Ning Changjiu looked down and saw two familiar figures seemingly standing beside the Eighty-One Cities.

Jiuling Yuansheng and Baize.

They also looked toward him.

Ning Changjiu opened his mouth to them, hastily yet earnestly uttering two words.

The sword continued its swift flight.

As he passed the Sword Pavilion, Ning Changjiu deliberately paused his sword and used his Eye of Lunar Yin to survey its interior.

He saw nothing there either.

The Sword Pavilion disciples must have left, otherwise, only divine artifacts of his own caliber could possibly deceive his Eye of Lunar Yin.

The sword swept past.

The entire continent was thus traversed.

Amidst the roar of the Northern Sea, Fourth Senior Sister Sili stood by the sea, her weapon case on her back. She held a long spear, a battle saber on her shoulder, and faced directly west. With a sudden movement, she swept away.

Baize and Jiuling Yuansheng also gazed into the distant northwest.

A small monkey accompanied them.

“Xiao Ru, Xiao Yi... they're gone...”

The little monkey swayed unsteadily, muttering to itself, as if suffering from lovesickness.

After Myriad Demon City, it returned to the mountains and forests, transforming back into a monkey. No one came looking for it.

It recalled many things, its birth... It was originally a divine pillar that anchored the sea, deep within the ocean. Later, when the world fell into chaos, the Sage pulled it out, no longer to steady the seas, but to stir up the winds and clouds of the world.

It saw mountains of corpses piled beneath its body.

Those corpses were smashed to pulp, with distorted faces, shattered bones, and chilling wails of sorrow. But at that time, its heart was as calm as a Buddha's. When held by the Sage, it was invincible. It listened to the wails of demon gods, the cries of monstrous beasts, and watched as salty seawater and torrential downpours washed the blood away, over and over again.

Many books later told their story.

But it knew the stories were false. It had raised a divine staff, swung it at the heavens, turning the world upside down, followed by five hundred years of suppression.

The people in the stories hoped it could curb its restless heart and instantly achieve Buddhahood.

But it knew that if given a hundred chances, the Sage would still, a hundred times, charge into that endlessly dark sky.

That brave heart belonged to the Sage, never to it.

Therefore, after the fall of Myriad Demon City, it quickly became lost, believing itself to be merely an ordinary monkey. To sever ties with its past self, it even personally cut its tail into three pieces.

From then on, it was no longer 'as desired'.

The storms of Myriad Demon City had passed, and the little monkey stood between the two lions, its expression still dazed.

“True freedom and wish-fulfillment reside within your heart,” Jiuling Yuansheng pressed down on its head and said in a deep voice.

The little monkey was lucid for a moment.

It looked up, gazing at the seemingly indestructible steel city stretching before them.

“Are we really going to do this?” the little monkey asked in horror.

Baize said, “If there's no other way, then let us be the devils who slaughter hundreds of thousands.”

The little monkey shook its head, saying, “If the Sage knew, he would surely rather die inside than come out.”

Jiuling Yuansheng sighed deeply, “Every human and demon who died back then possessed the courage of ten thousand men. Their worth far exceeded these mere Eighty-One Cities, but they all perished. If we don't continue, their deaths will be meaningless, and we will lose our future...”

The little monkey opened its mouth, at a loss for how to retort. It was the hardest divine staff in the world, yet without someone to wield it, it possessed a soft heart.

“No need to comfort ourselves,” Baize said, looking at Jiuling Yuansheng. “The rebels of that era, at their core, grasped their swords in outrage and forged a path for themselves because they saw the ugly bones of the Immortal Court. These people are different. They are merely the inhabitants of the Eighty-One Cities. While in a sense they are a means to restrain the Sage's benevolence, they themselves know nothing.”

“Exactly!” The little monkey nodded repeatedly. This was precisely what it wanted to express but hadn't known how to articulate.

But Baize quickly added, “So, we are the devils. If the warriors cannot dispel the darkness, then let the devils do it... Let it be us.”

The little monkey looked up, opened its mouth, and asked hoarsely, “Is there... truly no other way?”

Both lions remained silent.

After a moment, Jiuling Yuansheng finally spoke, “Was that your junior brother who just flew past?”

“Yes,” Baize nodded.

“What did he say to you?” Jiuling Yuansheng asked.

Baize was silent for a moment, then said, “He said, 'No.'”

The silver sword continued its onward journey.

Further ahead, there were no superfluous sights; as far as the eye could see, there were only cities and desolate mountain ranges.

Three days later.

November twelfth.

The silhouette of the Divine Painting Pavilion swept past. Third Senior Brother, clad in red robes, stood atop the tall building, his figure slender.

Unless it was truly a major event, he rarely left the Divine Painting Pavilion without permission.

The Divine Painting Pavilion oversaw the period of history from three to four thousand years ago.

“Third Senior Brother,”

Ning Changjiu stopped his sword before the Divine Painting Pavilion.

Ji Xuan looked at him and directly stated, “Ke Wenzhou is in Guhuang.”

Ning Changjiu asked, “Has he made any unusual moves?”

Ji Xuan said, “He is nowhere to be seen during the day, but at night, he wanders through Guhuang, acting like... a ghost.”

Ning Changjiu asked, “Are there any secrets within Guhuang?”

Ji Xuan replied, “I once investigated. The depths of Guhuang might contain the Candle Dragon's remains... but at most, it's just bones; there are no further secrets.”

“Then...” Ning Changjiu thought for a moment, then asked, “What is Ke Wenzhou's current cultivation realm?”

Ji Xuan said, “I've crossed swords with him.”

“And then?” Ning Changjiu pressed eagerly.

Ji Xuan sighed, saying, “My divine painting shattered upon encountering him, and not even a portion of Xuanye's primordial power could approach it. Junior Brother, you must be extremely careful.”

The setting sun fell, and night arrived.

From Guhuang, the sound of a sword being sharpened could be heard.