Lan Xiaobu was speechless. This Reincarnation Saint was truly all reputation and no substance. Every time they crossed paths, the guy was either being hunted or hiding out in his territory.
Still, since the Reincarnation Saint had gone to help him find the Seven Realms Stone Banner’s location, he had to rescue him. He just hoped the guy had already located the fourth banner; otherwise, he’d have no qualms about teaching him a lesson for wasting his time.
Wait, something felt off. Lan Xiaobu suddenly realized a strange detail. His message could reach the Reincarnation Saint because he’d mastered the Great Dao of Space—distance between planes couldn’t block his transmissions.
But the Reincarnation Saint was different. He cultivated the Dao of Reincarnation, borrowed from the Great Thousand Cosmos’ version, far inferior to Lan Xiaobu’s own. Even piggybacking on Lan Xiaobu’s spatial rules, the Reincarnation Saint shouldn’t be able to send a message across planes.
The only explanation was that the Reincarnation Saint was in this same plane.
Most people couldn’t pinpoint a location from a message, but Lan Xiaobu could. He quickly locked onto the Reincarnation Saint’s position, and the Reincarnation Pot transformed into a streak of reincarnation rules, speeding toward it.
Even with Lan Xiaobu’s current mastery of the pot, nearing teleportation speeds, it still took him half a month to arrive.
Before him stretched a void sea. The first time he’d seen one, Lan Xiaobu had been awestruck by the cosmic wonder. But after seeing many, they’d lost their charm. This void sea, however, was different—boundless and vast, the largest he’d ever encountered, bar none. Despite its size, it lay still as a mirror. Though in the void, most seas generated wind rules and waves, but not here.
Standing at the edge, before even stepping in, Lan Xiaobu felt a powerful suppression of divine sense and divine energy.
Ordinary cultivators, even Ninth-Turn Saints, would likely have their strength reduced to a tenth here. Lan Xiaobu, though, was unaffected. His Dao stemmed from himself; this place could dampen some of his divine sense, which was impressive enough, but suppressing his full sense, energy, and cultivation? Impossible.
Though his strength held firm, Lan Xiaobu sent a message to Shan Bu’ang. This void sea was in the same plane as Li Zhou Star, and he wanted to know whose territory it was.
At that moment, Li Zhou Palace was holding a sect assembly. The mood was somber. Though the palace had survived, the losses were steep—several elder-level proven cultivators dead, and their greatest asset, the Time Tree, gone.
Shan Bu’ang spoke slowly, “From today, Zhi Yi is our third palace lord.”
No one dared object. The former third lord, Gou Sheng, had been a stretch, but Zhi Yi? Her friend was Lan Xiaobu—the one who’d crushed Beast Soul Dao, Holy Desolation, Huang Quan Holy Path, and Tian Mo Hall.
Seeing no dissent, Shan Bu’ang nodded, pleased. Lan Xiaobu’s strength had clearly instilled awe, proving his choice to ally with him was wise.
Just then, his wrist’s communication bead lit up. The hall’s occupants glanced over, puzzled—Shan Bu’ang usually stowed it during meetings. Only Chen Jutian understood, knowing only one person’s message would trigger it: Lan Xiaobu.
Sure enough, Shan Bu’ang grabbed the bead eagerly, etching a few quick replies. His shock grew. Lan Xiaobu had left less than half a month ago—had he reached Yong Ye Lan already?
At the void sea’s edge, Lan Xiaobu hadn’t expected Shan Bu’ang’s reply so soon after his message.
His first thought wasn’t the message’s content but its speed, relying on spatial rules for such swift delivery.
If he could match that speed…
A flash of insight struck. Stepping forward, he crossed a million miles in one stride.
Another step, and he was back at the sea’s edge.
“Haha…” Lan Xiaobu couldn’t help laughing. He’d been sitting on a treasure trove without realizing it. He cultivated the Longevity Dao, built entirely from his own rules. Plus, he’d proven the Dao of Rules.
He’d only thought to use ruleless array flags against foes, not that rules were everywhere. Messages zipped through spatial rules—wherever rules existed, transmission couldn’t be stopped.
So why couldn’t he travel the same way? With rules, he could teleport billions of miles, far faster than his Reincarnation Pot. Even without rules, he could do it, having proven the Ruleless Dao too.
If he moved via rules, even a true Eternal Saint might struggle to catch him.
In high spirits, Lan Xiaobu checked the bead. Shan Bu’ang’s urgent voice came through, “Dao Lord Lan, that’s Yong Ye Lan—don’t enter! It suppresses all cultivation, blocks divine sense and energy. Its master, the Yong Ye Saint, is the closest to eternity in our plane, unmatched. Rumor says anyone stepping in uninvited gets turned into a rule of Yong Ye Lan. Its waves can devour everything…”
Yong Ye Lan? Lan Xiaobu frowned at the vast sea. It looked like an ocean—why call it a “lan”?
Ignoring Shan Bu’ang’s warning, he summoned the Reincarnation Pot and entered unhurriedly.
If he couldn’t face Yong Ye Lan, how could he take down the Great Cosmos Saint? The Land of Eternity wasn’t just home to one foe—it was a den of eternal powerhouses.
As the pot plunged in, the calm sea erupted into violent waves. Looking back, his entry point had vanished, but his divine sense easily traced it.
Waves rolled in like his own halberd strikes, one after another, carrying the vast will of the cosmos, pressing down.
Lan Xiaobu understood Shan Bu’ang’s dread. For a typical Ninth-Turn Saint not proven by their own Dao, these wild waves would crush their cultivation and strength. Worse, they carried a devouring aura targeting divine sense and energy.
Though they couldn’t touch his, for ordinary saints, it was another story. No wonder Shan Bu’ang said the waves swallowed everything—this was what he meant.
Lan Xiaobu stowed the pot, relying on his rule mastery to use evasion techniques.
At first, the fierce waves slowed him, but soon he flowed with them, merging into Yong Ye Lan’s rhythm without a hitch.
Fully attuned to its wave rules, he decided to send another message to the Reincarnation Saint. If he got a reply, he could pinpoint the exact spot.
Before he could, a savage devouring force swept in, endless waves wrapping around him.
About to tear them apart, his divine sense caught a seabed star-world. He let the waves pull him down instead.
“Boom!” Lan Xiaobu hit the ground, carving a hundred-meter trench.
Looking back, he marveled inwardly at the ingenuity of this dojo. Solid ground beneath his feet, his divine sense—though limited to a ten-thousand-mile radius by restrictions—told him this place rivaled Li Zhou Star in size.
Above, his sense swept the “sky”—Yong Ye Lan itself. The water world domed over the land like a lid, an artificial ocean exhibit.
Within it hung a sun and stars.
Rather than break the restrictions, Lan Xiaobu pulled out 108 Dao Cocoon array flags and set them up.
He was almost certain the Reincarnation Saint was here. Per Shan Bu’ang, this was the Yong Ye Saint’s turf. Since he’d entered someone’s domain, he’d prepare his own array.
If the Yong Ye Saint was reasonable, fine. If not, he’d have no qualms razing this seabed star to nothing. Destroying it wouldn’t weigh on him one bit.
