When the sky collapses and the tall ones are crushed beneath it.
When crisis descends and resistance proves impossible.
When even the powerhouses you revere perish without burial.
When heaven and earth shatter and retreat offers no path.
…
Where lies our road?
…
When the ground beneath your feet crumbles away.
The only choice remains to press onward, to fight, to grow stronger, to become the spine upholding heaven and earth. No other way exists.
When the eaves tumble and shelter vanishes. We must rise, take our steps, face the chill wind and rain head-on. For cowering with arms over your head, curled upon the ground, changes nothing. The storm still lashes your form.
Chi Yao said, “Ten kalpas ago, the Immovable Wisdom King Great Venerable pursued the undying immortals and vanished from the mortal realm.”
“Three hundred thousand years ago, the heavenly legions waged war, three returned, celestial bones buried in foreign soil, no shrouds to wrap the fallen.”
“One hundred thousand years ago, calamity rent heaven and earth, realms blazed, the saint realm crumbled.”
“And now, war erupts once more between the hell realm and the heavenly court of ten thousand realms!”
“Zhang Ruochen, in truth, from the moment the Sumeru holy monk chose you, your fate stood sealed. To survive, to escape destiny’s woes, you must grow stronger. Stronger even than the Immovable Wisdom King Great Venerable. That is what the Sumeru holy monk desired.”
Zhang Ruochen had recovered from his stifled mood. He said, “Did the Sumeru holy monk not choose you?”
Chi Yao fixed him with a cold stare, deeming him feigned ignorance.
Zhang Ruochen added, “Those were your very words just now! Moreover, you cultivate the perfected technique, while mine remains flawed. Clearly, the holy monk placed all hope upon you. He entrusted this era to you.”
Chi Yao saw no further point in concealment, nor any need for it. She said, “You truly do not grasp the ‘Thirty-Three Heavens’. With such a peerless genius as the Immovable Wisdom King Great Venerable, even he could reach only the twenty-seventh heaven.”
“What does that signify?”
“It signifies that no single person’s power, not even with your current foundations, could ever attain the thirty-three heavens.”
“Two must cultivate together. One the real, one the illusory. Real and illusory mirror flesh and soul in a person. Only their union achieves true completion.”
“Furthermore, those cultivating the real and illusory scrolls of the ‘Thirty-Three Heavens’ must be one yang to one yin, one man to one woman. And one must sacrifice, yielding perfection to the other.”
“So that is how it stands.” Zhang Ruochen murmured to himself.
Chi Yao had at last revealed the technique’s secret, the very puzzle Zhang Ruochen had long sought to unravel.
Yet without goading her, without forcing her, without leaving her heart cold and ashen, she would never have uttered it, not even unto death. For to speak it would render nearly two millennia of deception meaningless.
To her, at least!
To Zhang Ruochen, grasping this cleared every lingering doubt.
It all stemmed from the technique, from the oppression of that unknown, potent force. To endure, a powerhouse must emerge, shouldering heaven and earth.
To forge such a figure required the ‘Thirty-Three Heavens’, demanded surpassing the Immovable Wisdom King Great Venerable.
This might well be the sole path to salvation the Sumeru holy monk could envision!
At very least, he had conceived such a method, while other gods, in the wake of that cataclysm one hundred thousand years past, cowered in panic and dread.
Whether activating the sundial or selecting Zhang Ruochen and Chi Yao from the future, it proved the Sumeru holy monk unbowed by peril, a man of vast heart who confronted the falling sky. Even at the cost of himself!
Indeed.
The Sumeru holy monk’s choice encompassed not merely Zhang Ruochen, but Chi Yao too.
Had it been another woman, would she consent to self-sacrifice for him?
Would she divulge so much to him?
Likely, at the peak beneath godhood, she would have struck from ambush, slaying him to claim all, perfecting herself.
From age fourteen to now, Chi Yao’s heart had never wavered. That alone was rarity enough.
Zhang Ruochen sighed, “To sacrifice oneself for another, who could truly bear it?”
Chi Yao rose, divine radiance surging across her form. The blood-glow of her blood-dripping sword bathed the darkness in crimson. She said, “Precisely. None can resist the lure of supreme might in the world. Thus, empress offers you fair chance. Let battle’s verdict seal life or death.”
“Wait.”
Zhang Ruochen said, “One thing baffles me. Why must we pursue the thirty-three heavens?”
“Have I not made it plain enough?” Chi Yao replied.
Zhang Ruochen nodded. “Crystal clear! In the Pool of Destiny, you saw me perish beneath an infinitely vast hand. Thus, this clash needs no staging. I triumph! Then I absorb your cultivation, forge the complete ‘Thirty-Three Heavens’, only to fall slain untold ages hence. Just so?”
Chi Yao caught the sarcasm in his tone. She said, “When cultivation swells mighty enough, the future bends to will. What the Pool of Destiny reveals need not be inexorable, merely the gravest likelihood. Should you lack such might, then aye, the future seals true, escape from fate impossible.”
Zhang Ruochen advanced step by step, summoning the ancient sword Shen Yuan. Murderous intent dawned in his gaze. He said, “You speak true, yet I deem this bout needless.”
“For once divine war ignites, its ripples spread far, drawing countless uncanny beasts. We would both perish in the abyss of darkness. Thus, why not… yield to me?”
The pair stood amid the void, scant ten-odd paces apart. The auras spilling from them clashed already.
Seeing Zhang Ruochen thus, Chi Yao could scarce credit such words from “brother Chen”. Her heart ached fiercely, more than all pains amassed these years.
In her mind flickered images of Zhang Ruochen with Bai Qing’er, with Ji Fanchen. The ache deepened.
For an instant, she yearned to swing her sword, cleave toward him.
Yet in that same instant, myriad thoughts assailed her. She recalled standing with him before the Sumeru holy monk, recalled Chi Kunlun and Chi Kongle, the beautiful years once held.
“You have changed!” Tears welled in Chi Yao’s eyes once more.
She realised each time she wept, it was for Zhang Ruochen.
Zhang Ruochen said, “All change with time. To expect me still the innocent youth of sixteen taxes me unduly. Yet I vow this: should my cultivation one day reach fulfilment, I shall honour the Sumeru holy monk’s hopes, fulfil my duty to this era, and cherish you lifelong in gratitude. Depart in peace. I shall tend Kunlun and Kongle well, keep from them the secret of your slaying by my hand, spare them sorrow and torment.”
Slowly, Zhang Ruochen raised the ancient sword Shen Yuan.
Sword qi pierced the heavens.
Chi Yao’s tears gushed like a spring. She longed to lift her blade, clash with him till skies overturned and earth sundered. Yet now, even that strength eluded her.
When a heart dies, no power, however vast, avails!
Chi Yao shut her eyes. Her final sight was Zhang Ruochen’s face, cold and ruthless, sword arcing down in a cleaving stroke.
“So be it! At last, release. At least I betrayed not the you of sixteen.”
Boom!
A piercing blast resounded!
Chi Yao felt agony lance her arm. The blood-dripping sword, gripped moments prior, flew from her hand.
She opened her eyes, saw it sundered away by Shen Yuan.
In the next breath, a pair of long, warm arms enfolded her, holding tight.
Chi Yao jolted as from lightning, limbs gone numb. Bewilderment seized her an instant, then the scant strength remaining fled. Her body softened to melting in his embrace.
Afar, the crimson blood-dripping sword and ebon Shen Yuan entwined, like twin sword-dragons wheeling about them in flight. Dulcet sword-chimes pealed forth, joyous beyond measure.
Zhang Ruochen inhaled the faint fragrance from her temple tresses, felt her soft, fevered form. Never had he sensed her presence so vividly, so acutely.
“You ought have known. Though all else shifts, the heart that loves you endures unchanging. Even in deepest hate.” Zhang Ruochen, eyes closed, murmured low beside her ear.
Chi Yao knew he had toyed with her like some fool moments before. Fury blazed within, yet oddly, her heart sweetened as if laced with honey.
She said, “Did you not claim hate fled, and with it love too?”
“Who decrees two lovers must harbour hate? With hate banished, knots untie, love alone abides.” Zhang Ruochen replied.
Divine energy stirred in Chi Yao’s frame. She broke from his hold. “In any case, you always find words to suit. You have changed indeed, grown formidable. Not merely in cultivation.”
Zhang Ruochen knew pique must churn within her. His prior barbs had cut deep, assailing her pride and affections.
His eyes locked upon hers. He said, “In the Pool of Destiny, what I beheld was you.”
Chi Yao’s frame quivered faintly. Those words mended every wound in her soul.
Yet fury swelled the more.
“In truth, I hated you then. Seeing you in the pool laid bare why the hate ran so profound: from love too deep.”
Zhang Ruochen pressed on, “What I did earlier aimed to wring truth from you. But also to impart a lesson. No matter the cause, wounds from one’s deepest beloved sting worst. Do you grasp now the pains I bore these years?”
Chi Yao fell silent.
She could not deny it. Never had she viewed matters from his stance. Always she deemed her deeds sacrifices, all for him.
Yet was such manner truly right?
Zhang Ruochen continued, “Kunlun and Kongle deserved joyous childhoods. You should not have named me their foe. Know you how it wrenched me when they sought vengeance upon me? Far worse than your earlier torments.”
“So you sought reprisal on purpose?” Chi Yao said.
Zhang Ruochen replied, “No intent to reprisal. I sought merely to reason.”
Chi Yao said, “Very well, let us reason! I shattered not their childhoods, yet could not pluck any man to father them. Then who was their father to be?”
“You razed the Lingxiao Heavenly King’s mansion. How many of the Chi clan kin did you slay? The imperial bloodline bore you blood-deep grudge. Kongle and Kunlun, raised among them, long viewed you as enemy.”
“Upon attaining godhood, I contended not only with consolidation of cultivation and mending of wounds, but strife with myriad powers. Naught left for their care. Gods may not meddle in mortal affairs, thus I contrived cause to send them to you. Let you dissolve their hatreds and tend them.”
“Only in beholding you, hearing truth from your lips, could their confusions and rancours truly fade.”
Zhang Ruochen pondered deeply a spell, then said abashedly, “In sum, your methods erred.”
Chi Yao knew her own missteps, knew how profoundly she had wounded him once. Thus she ceased contention, her voice softening. “What did you see in the Pool of Destiny?”
Zhang Ruochen said, “I have never trusted fate.”
“What was it, good or ill? I can bear it. I shall deem myself already slain by your sword. What could prove worse?” Chi Yao feigned nonchalance.
Zhang Ruochen gazed heavenward. “Unless you vow first: no matter what befalls, we shan’t pursue the ‘Thirty-Three Heavens’.”
Chi Yao’s gaze deepened. “You mean this truly? Such a course betrays the holy monk’s hopes in you.”
“Even should it betray the holy monk, I refuse to betray you.”
Now Zhang Ruochen aped nonchalance. He said, “Who claims the thirty-three heavens demand dual cultivation? Who says my lone strength cannot claim those domains? Besides, the so-called thirty-three heavens stem from conjecture alone. Even Pool of Destiny visions are but forecasts. Why not live the now? With effort enough, we alter what comes.”
As Chi Yao pondered.
“Enough. I shall first ascend to godhood, dash your fancies utterly.”
Zhang Ruochen withdrew Shen Yuan, unfurled golden wings upon his back, became a streak of gold light, and flew toward the abyss of darkness’s egress.
What Zhang Ruochen knew not was this: from the moment he drew her into his arms, from when old grievances dissolved between them, from when he uttered those words “deepest beloved”, Chi Yao had lost all will to die!
