A thread of celestial gold, a forgotten pathway between realms, descended slowly, the earth no longer ascending to meet it.

The lower realm, its strength waning, could only fall further. Yet, at brief intervals, where heaven and earth met, a blinding burst of stardust erupted, divine ripples spreading outward like tidal waves upon the azure sky. These celestial tides stirred the unseen river of time, scattering countless fragments of gold, each a tiny spark of fading divinity, like golden snowflakes swirling in the wind, each flake shimmering with iridescent light.

The realms breathed as one, like bellows drawing in air.

If the scattering of the Three Sages’ essence had brought unending rains to many a world, this, this was a world shrouded in golden snow.

But then, a new path to the heavens opened, a golden thread of burgeoning divinity. The earth, in a surge of power, reached upward to meet the sky, toward the new Celestial Court, ruled, for now, by a single, supreme being.

Where the first descent was a struggle, a tug-of-war with moments of rise and fall, this second was a swift, unhindered passage, a shining sword cleaving the very heavens.

Only the Fourteen Realms and those ascendants, the peaks of mortal cultivation, could glimpse the truth of this celestial dance.

Yet none dared claim certainty, none could truly understand the reasons of “before” or the outcome of “after.”

Yu Xuan, enthroned amidst the celestial river, his divine form dimmed, continuously performed calculations with trembling fingers, sparks flying, wisps of smoke curling upward. Desperate for an undeniable truth, he pushed his calculations too far, his sleeves catching fire. He shook them frantically, muttering, “Enough, enough!”

Yu Xuan glanced toward Dragon Tiger Mountain, where a ten-tailed fox huddled, a soft, snow-white mass, protecting the “young Daoist” who had lost both his celestial sword and seal.

Grief-stricken, yet slightly relieved, Yu Xuan sighed, “At least, he has not fallen into immediate dissolution.” Ignoring his own depleted state, Yu Xuan summoned his remaining strength and etched a talisman in the air. With two fingers joined, he traced a line, and the talisman drifted toward Dragon Tiger Mountain, a desperate attempt to fortify the mountain’s fortune, preventing its collapse.

As for Fallen Phoenix Mountain, the cost was far greater, the losses more profound. Yu Xuan lacked the strength to offer aid. Yet, with the transformation of the First Daoist of Humanity seated there, guarding the mountain gate, he could only hope that this day would pass without further calamity.

In the first celestial connections, both the heavens and earth had sought a swift and decisive victory. But with their power largely matched, they each invoked their hidden strengths, the heavens seeking to rapidly take root in the mortal realm. Since matters had reached this point, with Chen Ping An outmaneuvering them, forcing a confrontation in the narrow alleyway, the heavens sought to inflict a mortal blow, trading death for grievous injury, granting the Three Sages a chance to bring order to the world.

Zhou Mi, however, embarked on a gamble. He would strike down the “callow youth who dares hold a blade in the alley,” using that moment to forge a new path between the heavens and the mortal world, building a new platform for ascension. Thus, the Three Sages would lose their grip on the world, their joint seal rendered useless. Indeed, if he could accomplish this, “walking through the alleyway,” he could turn the tables on the scattered Sages, rendering the Temple of Ancestors irrelevant. What future source of cultivation for the mortal realm could surpass these four elements?

The earth, meanwhile, sought to hinder the heavens, to diminish their divinity. The earth, its mountains, rivers, and all living creatures, be they ghosts, spirits, good or evil, would become vessels for the divine “gifts” of both sides. Their very capacity to endure would be a triumph over Zhou Mi, Lord of the New Celestial Court, and the divine Chen Ping An. As the common saying goes, “I may be but a peasant, but I dare drag the Emperor from his throne!” Was this not, perhaps, Chen Ping An’s very purpose?

Was this a victory, or a defeat?

In countless schools, young children gazed up at the beautiful display in the sky. “It’s like New Year’s!” they cried. “Imagine the size of those firecrackers!”

Jiang Zhao Mo, broken in martial arts and spirit, returned to the Purple Qi Tower. He glanced at Yu Dou, who sat enthroned in the Three Purities Hall. “It seems my private vendetta against you will remain unavenged.”

Yu Dou smiled. “That fool. He is a hero in both past and present lives. His actions today may surprise the Five Cities and Twelve Towers of Jade Capital, but they do not surprise me.”

Chen Ping An’s earlier visit, seemingly intended to sow discord between Jiang Zhao Mo and Yu Dou, the Purple Qi Tower and the Jade Capital, had struck true.

Jiang Zhao Mo stood at the railing of the Purple Qi Tower, raising a hand, ordering the Daoist officials of the Jiang clan to leave him in peace, to spare him their empty pleasantries.

“Yu Dou,” Jiang Zhao Mo said in a voice only Yu Dou could hear, “if, if there is ever a chance for another duel, do not seek to grant me a graceful exit. If you do not agree, I will join forces with the Questioning Swordsman and lead the entire Purple Qi Tower in rebellion against the Jade Capital.”

Yu Dou nodded. “Very well.”

Jiang Zhao Mo of the Purple Qi Tower was much like the mink-hatted girl at Chen Mountain Lord’s side, or the Xiao Xun of the Wildlands. None could predict their next move.

Earlier, Ning Yao had left the divine platform atop Gathering Spirit Peak, descending with a graceful sword flight, embracing the mink-hatted girl who had endured “two instances of essence scattering.”

The girl, having fallen to the Jade Purity Realm, hid her face behind the mink hat. It was unclear whether Bai Jing felt useless, or if Xie Gou simply dared not witness the sacrifices Little Mo was making to fill the void.

Drifting back to Fallen Phoenix Mountain, Xie Gou composed himself and stood beside the Mountain Lord’s wife, slowly raising the mink hat, revealing only a sliver of his eyes, peering cautiously at the sky.

Ning Yao said softly, “Now that you are at the Jade Purity Realm, you cannot see clearly even if you strain your eyes.”

Xie Gou bristled at this. He yanked the mink hat back down, tugging at it, shaking his head. “Ning Yao, why must you always speak such comforting words? The Mountain Lord is clearly lacking in his wits to have chosen such an ungentle wife.”

Ning Yao reached out and ruffled the mink hat, which had become more and more askew with each tug. She smiled. “I may lack empathy, but if there is anyone in the world who truly believes in him, you cannot compare to me.”

Then, the Fourteen Realms of the Vast Lands, those who had emerged from the “pre-rain” and “post-rain,” acted. Little Mo shattered his natal flying sword, “Lotus Thread,” and was escorted by Celestial Master Zhao Tianlai away from the “gap,” to Dragon Tiger Mountain in the Central Continent.

Xie Gou breathed a sigh of relief, scratching his cheek. Ning Yao said, “At first, I worried that you deliberately ascended first, intending to lure Little Mo to fill the void, so that you could pass him the sword, achieve your aim, and flee.”

Xie Gou grinned, admitting, “Before ascending, I did have such thoughts. But in the end, I abandoned them. As for why, I cannot say.”

After a moment of silence, Xie Gou clapped his fist into his palm. “The last time I traveled with the Mountain Lord through the lands of Willow Leaf Continent, we walked and stopped, and the Mountain Lord spoke of many things that stirred his emotions. Two of them, I think, he spoke intentionally for my benefit.”

Ning Yao asked curiously, “What were they?”

“One was the Buddhist saying that all sounds, whether uttered or held within, resonate like drums. Emptiness is also fullness, and fullness is also emptiness. All are human, yet some are enlightened, while others play deaf and dumb.”

Xie Gou continued, “The other was that when viewing others from below the mountain, one should judge their actions, not their hearts. But upon ascending the mountain to cultivate, one must judge both heart and actions. The Heavenly Dao, the Human Dao, and oneself – to know who one truly is lies in the moment after countless hesitations.”

Ning Yao nodded. “He spoke these words for Bai Jing to hear, so that one more Xie Gou might appear in the world. And Chen Ping An spoke them for himself.”

Xie Gou frowned, hesitant, glancing at Ning Yao, but ultimately saying nothing, for she was a meritorious second seat. He was concerned about unsettling the Mountain Lord’s wife’s Dao heart.

Ning Yao smiled knowingly, raising her hand and drawing a line in the air, a line that seemed straight at first glance, but was, in fact, curved. She explained, “It is him, and also Bai Jing, or Xie Gou.”

Xie Gou understood. “I see. How profound!”

Ning Yao asked playfully, “Do you truly understand, or are you merely pretending?”

Xie Gou rolled his eyes. “Ning Yao, this second seat is not on par with Gan and his ilk. You and I are geniuses of equal intellect. Who do you think you’re looking down on?”

The mink-hatted girl hooked her fingers, and along that line, like a channel in the earth, appeared golden “flowers” that sprang above the surface, and golden “seeds” that sank beneath. And from those flowers and seeds, yet another line of gold emerged, entwining and binding them to the first.

Ning Yao nodded. “You truly understand.”

Xie Gou folded his arms and laughed. “Little Mo would be completely lost!”

Ning Yao asked, “Then why do you still like Master Mo so much?”

Xie Gou scoffed. “This body knew no sorrow, until it chanced upon tenderness.”

The mink-hatted girl wiped her mouth. Ah, she was doomed for a Daoist partnership. It would be best to consummate the union tonight! Why bother with such formalities? She’d casually exchange the mink hat for a red silk veil, tie up Little Mo, toss him onto the bed, lift the veil, and cackle, *Hehehe*…

Yet, deep down, the desire to compete with the Mountain Lord and his wife for the title of “First Daoist Couple of Humanity” had become rather complicated.

Ning Yao smiled. “Little Millet has hinted that you are plagiarizing.”

Xie Gou sighed. “Master Zhu said that reading scholars do not plagiarize, but “borrow.” One can be original within constraints, and learn from many masters.”

Xie Gou asked telepathically, “What should we do next?”

Ning Yao said, “Pass him the sword.”

Xie Gou was stunned, cupping his hand over his mouth, lowering his voice. “I can’t defeat the one at the mountain gate, not anymore.”

Before them, that seemingly straight yet subtly curving line of the channel was “Chen Ping An,” or “Xie Gou.” It was the nature of humanity and divinity, the path of the Great Dao. It was impossible to truly separate them. No matter who was in control, they would ultimately speak and act in similar ways. Yet, at times, certain thoughts and actions, seeds, flowers, and fruits interacting, would be expressed, creating actions and words that defied outside understanding, actions and words of one who lives apart from others – either a god or a beast.

Cui Chan had inverted the order of importance, but had not entirely separated guest from host. Before the mountain and river were inverted, before the appearance of the Cave of Creation, the “Lord of Humanity” had traveled the mortal realm. During the Lake of Books event, he had led Chen Ping An from self-righteousness toward boundless disappointment and despair beyond his capacity to bear. What had shattered then was not merely a golden literary gall, but the divinity that had grown alongside Chen Ping An since leaving the small town of his hometown, Li Zhu Cave – shattered along with his human heart. This had created a deep pit, a “Lake of the Heart,” that Chen Ping An could never fill.

Mistakes and regrets were destined to remain, permanent fixtures. You can endure the aftermath of mistakes, but the missing pieces of the heart would follow like shadows, for the rest of eternity.

Cui Chan’s cruelest act was to tell Chen Ping An, in his letter, akin to a death warrant, that the fates of those who had died unjustly in the Lake of Books were not bad.

On the surface, he was reassuring Chen Ping An that, if one only considered the end result, the Lake of Books would have remained mired in turmoil and the ugliness of humanity had it not been for the accountant.

But in reality, he was robbing Chen Ping An of the chance to personally correct the errors and make amends.

In short, he would never grant Chen Ping An the opportunity to believe himself to have acted with utter benevolence and to be free of guilt.

Even if you become the Grand Tutor of Great Li, wielding immense power, how much can you really do for the mere speck of land that is the Lake of Books? Would the unjustly slain be brought back to life? Even if you possessed godlike powers, transcending into the Fourteenth or even Fifteenth Realm, capable of reversing the flow of time, as long as you were unwilling to deceive yourself, you would have to endure this guilt. Especially if you did ascend into the Fifteenth Realm, could Chen Ping An possibly deceive himself?

Emerging from the Cave of Creation, crossing the sea, he was akin to a “Divine Lord” drifting through the world like a piece of flotsam.

Thereafter, “Chen Ping An” became so cunning, so calculating, unhesitatingly scattering the merits that all of his senior brothers had accumulated to mend the earth’s flaws. Upon becoming Grand Tutor, he immediately prepared all sorts of contingencies. He was dissuaded by Song Yushao, permitting Rong Dezhi to live rather than slay him… During the Mountain Peak Debate, even Yu Xuan admired him, calling him “Fellow Daoist Chen” with sincere admiration. In Lotus Root Blessed Land, he was more omniscient than the heavens themselves, meticulously plotting every move… intending to aid a certain Emperor of Great Li in vying for the position of “Lord of the Human Dao,” a position encompassing not only Vast Lands, but all of humanity.

This was the potency of divinity in “control.” The exceptions were all acts of humanity that escaped its grasp. Within the Landscape of the Heart, multiple barriers restrained the “faceless” humanity. The “face” of humanity, however, was located within the Hall of Spiritual Enlightenment, the final fragment crafted by Cui Chan from the shards of his natal porcelain, “Chen Cong.” The two merged, divinity and humanity unified, the complete Chen Ping An walking together through the complex human world.

The very array used to restrain the human Chen Ping An was a path connecting to the future Daoist Chen Ping An’s heart in the Hall of Spiritual Enlightenment. It was a slender “riverbed” that Cui Chan had secretly carved out of the Azure Heavens during the scattering of the Three Sages. Thereafter, human hearts flowed like water, constantly moving, never ceasing. During that time, when the “Young Chen Cong” drifted between sleep and wakefulness on the Daoist dorm, had he not spoken certain words?

Yet, no matter how ruthless Cui Chan was, he was ultimately the First Disciple of the Literary Sage, Chen Ping An’s eldest senior brother. Taking advantage of this opportunity, he had gifted Chen Ping An a carefree “childhood” and “youth.”

The scenery seen by the Young Chen Cong, flowers blooming on either side of the riverbed, was likely similar to the River of Flowers that Chen Ping An sought to create in Willow Leaf Continent.

There were countless scenes in the human world, all of which could be summed up in two words: “Beautiful.”

If the world had not gifted you with beauty, your eldest senior brother would force its creation.

Earlier, on the high platform, the Daoist Shi Zhou used the words childhood and youth to mock, pity, or belittle Chen Ping An, because his Dao strength was too weak and his calculations too poor. The Daoist did not understand Cui Chan’s actions. Perhaps this was why Zheng Jūzhong went to the platform but did not bother to say a word to the Daoist. They had nothing to say.

The great demon Chu Sheng, who had created the “Hall of Heroes” in the Wildlands, ultimately perished within its walls.

Xiao Xun and Zheng Juzhong were not sentimental, harboring no reservations about joining forces. Xiao Xun did not fear being caught in a struggle between a sandpiper and a clam, only to be seized by a fisherman, just as the Great Li Earthly Branch lineage did not fear being instantly killed upon seeing Wu Zhou. Xiao Xun understood that while the demon Zheng Juzhong acted in unfathomable ways, his methods were not base and his schemes were not dependent on treachery. Since they had agreed to establish a new lineage and claim themselves as ancestors, even if it was only a verbal agreement, Xiao Xun trusted him.

Chu Sheng exhausted his every means, yet he could not overcome the confluence of heaven, earth, and humanity that lay against him. Xiao Xun, who had refined the entire Hall of Heroes, was particularly brutal. Not only was she unconcerned about Zheng Juzhong swallowing and refining their battle’s Dao, but she had even unleashed a natal flying sword, the origin of whose power few knew.

Adding Zheng Juzhong’s contribution, the great demon Chu Sheng was slammed against the stone wall by Xiao Xun’s fist, causing the formation of a “burial site,” a grotto.

The ancient demon looked at Xiao Xun outside the grotto. One of her goat braids had been severed, and her somewhat childish face was covered in blood. She reached up and peeled away some of the skin from her face.

Chu Sheng sat in the grotto, flicking his sleeves, his expression complex. “If the Vast Lands occupy the Wildlands, creating a world in name and reality, how will you conduct yourself?”

Xiao Xun wiped her face, revealing bone. She flicked her wrist, scattering blood. “Old beast, you can die in peace. I have an irreconcilable hatred for the cultivators of the Vast Lands.”

Chu Sheng nodded, his gaze shifting. “I am curious. What is it that Mister Zheng seeks in his cultivation?”

In truth, the moment Zheng Juzhong had entered the Hall of Heroes with Xiao Xun, Chu Sheng had understood his fate.

Zheng Juzhong appeared beside Xiao Xun. “The Great Dao is vast, human paths diverge. You may not understand even if I told you.”

Xiao Xun licked her lips, eager to devour Chu Sheng’s body, slowly refining his Dao. If she could do that, her path, which veered from pure sword cultivation, would become significantly more powerful.

Her fear was that the great demon Chu Sheng would harden his heart and explode his golden core, nascent soul, and spirit together. If that happened, it would be a glorious fight, but an unprofitable one.

Chu Sheng smiled. “There is no need to hurry. You can devour me completely later.”

Xiao Xun patted her goat braids, appearing somewhat surprised.

Zheng Juzhong dispelled another sword light that had suddenly appeared in the Landscape of the Heart.

The Mist Spirit spoke, his tone as gentle as he could manage. “Zheng, that’s enough. Be careful Liu Xianyang doesn’t break the Bridge of Longevity, angering Chen Ping An and bringing the wrath of heaven down upon you.”

After a moment of silence, Chu Sheng placed his hands on his abdomen, his Dao gradually calming. “Mister Zheng, do you think my plans and schemes are laughable?”

Zheng Juzhong said, “Before the ascent to the heavens, the demon Chu Sheng was a hero. Before the union of heaven and earth, the Chu Sheng of the Wildlands was a tyrant. In short, the great demon Chu Sheng is a hero of the demon race.”

Chu Sheng’s eyes suddenly brightened. “Mister Zheng, do I, Chu Sheng, truly deserve such praise?!”

Zheng Juzhong nodded. “You are worthy.”

Chu Sheng laughed loudly, repeatedly saying the word “good,” as if in a moment of radiant revelation. “Zheng Juzhong, Xiao Xun, fellow Daoists, the demon race of humanity, the Wildlands – I leave them in your care. I am grateful for your efforts.”

Chu Sheng cupped his hands. “I thank you in advance. It has been my pleasure to meet you both. I, the Daoist Chu Sheng, have no regrets.”

Zheng Juzhong returned the gesture. “It has been a pleasure.”

Zheng Juzhong kicked Xiao Xun, forcing her to reluctantly clasp her hands together, offering a promise. “Fellow Daoist Chu Sheng, as for care and effort, I, Xiao Xun, make no guarantees. But as for making the cultivators of the Vast Lands suffer, that is certainly my duty.”

Chu Sheng smiled knowingly. “Fellow Daoist Xiao Xun, you are a rare cultivator of the Dao. I will only share a piece of my heart with you. Good and evil are judged by others, but the path of cultivation is long and boundless. One must find anchors to prevent one’s Dao heart from drifting like duckweed in the wilderness. Let us strive together.”

Xiao Xun was taken aback, speaking with sincerity. “Fellow Daoist Chu Sheng, I will not devour your true form.”

The great demon Chu Sheng closed his eyes, his loud laughter echoing through the grotto. “Devour it! Why not devour it? This body is merely returning to humanity. I am so, and so are my peers…”

The first heavenly connections, the two golden lines, the heavens descending to the mortal realm. The line from the earth was ultimately futile, disappearing completely.

In the end, Zhou Mi was left with only nearly thirty percent of his pure divinity. Had he not been unable to devour the God of Fire, Ruan Xiu, as his true self departed the new Celestial Court, he could have retained more.

It wasn’t that Zhou Mi hadn’t had the time to do so, but that he was incapable of it. Of the Ancient Five Supremes, the sword-wielding one had chosen to recognize Chen Ping An as her master. Her transcendent killing power remained, but she had been “erased.” Ruan Xiu was the only one of the Five Supremes who held her same position both old and new, continuing to sit upon the Fire God’s throne. Before Zhou Mi ascended, he had to bring Ruan Xiu, having swallowed all of the Water God Li Liu’s divinity. After ascending, he could not find a way to assimilate Ruan Xiu’s divinity and Dao without harming the new Celestial Court.

The Wildlands had accepted the traitorous Hidden Official, Xiao Xun, and Xiao Xun had indeed performed meritorious service during the war against the Vast Lands. The new Celestial Court also had to accept the God of Fire, Ruan Xiu, and Ruan Xiu had indeed not competed with Zhou Mi for the Dao, but had helped him share the impact of the scattering of the Three Sages and the rising of the Temple of Ancestors to fill the void.

Zhou Mi stood on the high platform, breathing in the long-missed scent of the mortal realm.

For today’s heavenly connections, Chen Ping An’s divinity and humanity had truly separated at the moment of his ascension.

At this moment, the divine Chen Ping An was like a self-proclaimed god of humanity. He had certainly lost, but humanity had won.

Zhou Mi looked at the “young man,” bathed in pure gold, hair disheveled, standing barefoot.

The first golden pillar connecting heaven and earth had settled.

The second golden line of connection had also gathered its infinite golden light.

In the new Celestial Court, the Three Sages acted. After ten thousand years, after two ascensions, they were finally putting an end to a chapter known as the Divine Path, an end that would penetrate “humanity” to its very core.

The Three Sages looked down upon humanity, and in that instant, the boundless void occupied by the new Celestial Court blossomed with a purple-gold lotus, its petals covered in the writings of humanity.

The Temple of Ancestors, holding the lotus, returned to the dark night of humanity, radiating light.

The Three Sages’ Dao converged, first severing Zhou Mi’s divine roots that remained within the new Celestial Court, then striking like a sword upon humanity, shattering the entire golden line.

The Temple of Ancestors also looked upon humanity for one last time, specifically toward a certain place in the Wildlands.

Zhou Mi, standing on the high platform, swayed unsteadily.

In the Wildlands, Zheng Juzhong had thwarted his plan to retrieve the corpses of the Sashes of Approval, Liu Bai, and Zhou Qinggao. With the loss of momentum, all was lost.

Moreover, even if the human realm had another Wildlands Literary Sea, as long as it could not instantly reach the Fifteenth Realm, it held no meaning for Zhou Mi, whose heart was set on recreating the heavens and humanity. Zhou Mi no longer wished to waste words with them, nor did he want to see the faces of the Daoist scholars of humanity. It was simply a matter of victory and defeat.

Ruan Xiu, sitting on the throne, supporting her cheek with one hand, raised the other, twirling a speck of golden light between her fingers, as if a piece had been chipped from a towering golden mountain.

But the new Celestial Court began to crumble, all because it had lost this insignificant speck.

During the previous heavenly connection, they had been like neighbors for ten thousand years, but Zhou Mi had never spoken a single word, nor had she.

One, a reckless youth blocking the road with a blade. The other, a schemer with deep-seated resentment. Perhaps both had wanted to kill the other before saying anything?

Zhou Mi looked at the crumbling new Celestial Court, shaking his head with a smile.

One day, Chen Ping An, you will either become the Yu Dou of humanity or the Zhou Mi of the heavens.

Zhou Mi dispersed his thoughts, arriving at a decision.

The remaining thirty percent of his divinity was enough to accomplish one thing.

He would meet the “sword light” of the Three Sages and the Temple of Ancestors head-on, leaving a gaping hole in humanity, a calamity for all cultivators, a surprise for all ordinary folk.

For the next hundred, thousand, ten thousand years, the spiritual energy of heaven and earth would converge “here.”

All cultivators of humanity, you must seize the opportunity from this day forward! Madly absorb spiritual energy from divine coins, magical treasures, mountains, rivers, and the “others”!

Every spell you cast, every treasure you forge, every strand of spiritual energy will return to this place.

Does not everyone possess divinity? From now on, let the entire human realm become a temple, its spiritual energy gradually depleted, but its incense offerings ever more abundant!

Haha, the nascent form of another new Celestial Court!

A sword light fell from the heavens.

Zhou Mi became “the earth.”

The third heavenly connection.

The two lines collided with a thunderous roar, creating a bottomless chaotic vortex, pulling the spiritual energy of the surrounding world into its depths.

The five worlds, the countless stars in the outer heavens, slowly tilted.

Chen Ping An, ascending with his sword, landed within the crumbling new Celestial Court, his body like a piece of porcelain on the verge of shattering. Ruan Xiu, enthroned, gazed back with indifference.

Chen Ping An flicked his wrist, twirling his sword. This time, it was his turn to “go to the heavens.”

He struck at the vortex with his sword.

At the peak of Fallen Phoenix Mountain, Ning Yao took the lead, joining two fingers together, cleaving a Dao mark between her brows. “Tear asunder this heaven and earth!”

As she spoke, the highest point of the barrier of the Five Colored World opened like a giant golden eye, heaven and earth echoing in harmony. “As you command!”

At the foot of Fallen Phoenix Mountain, the Daoist Xian Wei stood up, never to look at the earth again.

The “First Daoist of Humanity” left behind only a body for Daoist Xian Wei and a wooden hairpin devoid of all Dao, as if offering a silent farewell gift.

The first sword, originating from the Five Colored World, sliced open the vortex, but the vortex attempted to restore itself.

Another sword split it open further, scattering the sword-wielder’s form, his divinity drifting, his humanity following the Dao.

A blue figure waved a hand, smiling. “Hey, Mountain Lord, wake up. Wake up and then sleep again.”

Then the Daoist figure, smiling, said, “Do not be stubborn,” scattering the vortex with gentle gestures.

Zhou Mi narrowed his eyes, looking up at the magnificent scene, murmuring, “My life has come to an end. It has been a good show.”

Zheng Juzhong flicked his sleeves, unexpectedly taking the path of ascension along the aftershocks of the Great Dao, heading straight to the “old Celestial Court” that would exist from this day on.

He tossed the Mist Spirit and Liu Xianyang, who had sought to question him three times with his sword, from his sleeves.

Zheng Juzhong’s actions startled everyone.

After one wave subsides, another rises! What is Zheng Juzhong doing?!

Liu Xianyang turned to look at the familiar woman, waving, grinning. “Miss Ruan Xiu, long time no see. Why do you look thinner? Is there no meat to eat in this big bowl in the sky?”

Gu Can, afraid of complications, snapped, “Shut up!”

Unexpectedly, Ruan Xiu nodded with a smile.

Zheng Juzhong asked, “Is it so?”

Ruan Xiu nodded.

He and Lu Chen had both guessed correctly. The entire human realm was the manifestation of that ancient existence in the former Celestial Court, an extension of the Dao.

In short, everything, everyone, mountains, rivers, were, in a sense, one. Thus, it wasn’t only Lu Chen who was the One, everyone was the One.

The Buddhists say that everyone has Buddha-nature, and that is certainly correct. Thus, it goes without saying that everyone also possesses divinity.

Zheng Juzhong smiled. “Very well.”

Ruan Xiu left the throne, boarding the cypress boat. She did not look at the human world, but simply departed.

Liu Xianyang asked, “Old Zheng, is he alright?”

Zheng Juzhong said, “So-so.”

Without giving Liu Xianyang a chance to question him further, Zheng Juzhong had already returned to humanity, returning to the Wildlands.

Gu Can frowned slightly.

Liu Xianyang clicked his tongue, looking around. It was wonderful beyond words! He thought of the “inscription” he had written on the wall of the pavilion when he was a child. He had lived up to being high above, for real!

In any case, Zhou Mi was finally gone from humanity.

Whether this would lead to good or bad in the future, nobody knew.

Could they welcome a truly peaceful world where human hearts rise upward?

Perhaps not, perhaps, perhaps hope will be met with disappointment, disappointment will solidify into despair, perhaps hope will welcome more hope, perhaps a spark of hope will erupt from despair. Who knows what tomorrow will bring? Who can say with certainty?

Yesterday’s human world was full of heroes’ graves, today’s human world also has gentle embrace. Let us speak of tomorrow when tomorrow comes, and place our hopes for the future.

Between heaven and earth.

A leaf falls.

Drifting slowly.

Ning Yao embraced him. She said softly, “Let’s go home.”

The mountains of the human world all pay homage.

After the thunder, came gentle tenderness.

Wandering swordsman, come home early.