Beyond Qianshui Commandery’s city lay a vast ancient mountain, Cold Mist Mountain, the burial ground for the commandery’s royal clan, akin to Yunwu Commandery’s King Mountain.
Unremarkable and silent since the royal clan’s slaughter, it saw few visitors.
Ripples stirred the calm air, and Zhang Ruochen appeared within Cold Mist Mountain.
Learning from Lei Jing about Huang Yanchen’s words before her disappearance, Zhang Ruochen had considered rushing to Baichang Star’s Ghost Gate. With his current prowess, he’d likely gain entry.
Yet, he chose to visit Cold Mist Mountain first, to honor those who died because of him.
Previously, Lei Jing handled these rites. Now in the Eastern Domain, Zhang Ruochen would do it himself.
Before him stood hundreds of recent graves, mere years old.
Standing among them, guilt stirred within him. The Vampire Clan’s ruthless tactics against him had claimed these innocents.
He’d been too weak then to protect them.
“Swish.”
Zhang Ruochen produced a wine jar, unsealed it, and poured it over the graves.
After lingering, he spoke suddenly, “Come out. I know you’re nearby. Hiding from me is pointless.”
“Tap, tap.”
Soft footsteps crunched leaves.
A graceful figure approached, her black dress hugging her curves, long legs striding. Her noble, divine aura inspired reverence.
It was Prajna, one of the Infernal Realm’s Destiny Temple’s three goddess candidates.
Her presence here would shock Infernal cultivators. Why would the exalted Prajna face the fearsome Zhang Ruochen alone?
Zhang Ruochen turned, meeting her gaze.
Despite preparing himself, seeing Prajna—Huang Yanchen—stirred his emotions.
He’d come to Cold Mist Mountain partly hoping to meet her, seeking answers to his many questions. Having let go of much, he didn’t shy from this encounter.
“Should I call you Prajna or Huang Yanchen?” he asked, calming himself.
Prajna approached, aloof. “Huang Yanchen is gone. Only Prajna remains.”
Her words, echoing Lei Jing’s account, deepened his curiosity about her transformation.
“Are you okay?” he asked abruptly.
Prajna gazed at the graves. “Not really.”
Zhang Ruochen’s eyes gleamed. “If you’re struggling, come back. Let the past fade.”
“Back? To where? I’m a Destiny Temple goddess candidate, exalted. You want me to return?” she said coldly, with a hint of self-mockery.
Exhaling, Zhang Ruochen pressed, “Did Baichang Star’s Ghost Gate change you? Why join the Infernal Realm? Did Chi Yao orchestrate this?”
He suspected Huang Yanchen’s drastic shift hid a profound secret. She wasn’t the first Kunlun cultivator to enter the Infernal Realm—Thousand-Bone Empress and Elder Xuanji preceded her, vanishing into the underworld.
“I can’t answer that, nor do I need to,” Prajna said. Pausing, she added, “Instead of my affairs, worry about your own. Can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead,” Zhang Ruochen said, staring into her eyes, trying to read her.
“I hear Yan Wushen captured Chi Kunlun. You know who he is, right? Why are you so indifferent?” she asked.
Zhang Ruochen’s expression shifted. “Chi Kunlun with Yan Wushen? Impossible.”
He recalled seeing Chi Kunlun in the Endless Abyss’s second gradient, Blood Queen’s domain. Yan Wushen couldn’t have taken him from there.
“Ask Yan Wushen, not me,” Prajna said.
Zhang Ruochen pondered, his heart sinking.
“Is she deceiving me again?” he wondered, suspecting a trap by Prajna, Yan Wushen, or Infernal Realm elites, using Chi Kunlun as bait.
“Trust Blood Queen or her? Can I trust her?” he sighed, unable to fully let go.
Irrationally, he chose to believe her once more. If deceived, their past would end definitively, meeting as enemies henceforth. If true, it suggested Prajna’s Infernal allegiance hid deeper motives.
In the Endless Abyss, he hadn’t truly interacted with Chi Kunlun. Prajna’s claim might hold.
Why would Blood Queen fake Chi Kunlun to lure him? Zhang Ruochen couldn’t fathom.
Yan Wushen likely knew Chi Kunlun was his and Chi Yao’s son—a dire revelation.
Prajna sensed his skepticism but showed no offense. Deception’s cost was lost trust.
Her heart ached, but her face remained impassive. “Yan Wushen values Chi Kunlun’s True God Body and Spatial Controller status, aiming to mentor him.”
“Yan Wushen’s volatile. Chi Kunlun’s unsafe with him,” Zhang Ruochen frowned.
Had he known in Luoshui, he’d never have let Yan Wushen go.
“How well do you know Yan Wushen?” Prajna asked.
Sensing a secret, Zhang Ruochen said, “We fought once. I know little.”
“The Yan Wushen you fought wasn’t the true one—just a part,” Prajna said gravely.
Zhang Ruochen frowned. “What does that mean?”
“Yan Wushen is two—or rather, one split into two: good and evil. You defeated the evil one. The good one took Chi Kunlun.”
Zhang Ruochen’s composure wavered, stunned by the revelation.
If he hadn’t chosen to trust her, he’d suspect a fabrication.
“Two Yan Wushens?” he asked.
Prajna paused. “All beings have good and evil sides, even Buddhas. Hence, ‘one thought to Buddhahood, one to demonhood.’ No absolute good or evil—just dominance of one.”
“Buddism says, ‘Lay down the blade, become a Buddha,’ meaning good overtakes evil.”
“Long ago, a Buddhist saint created a perilous practice, amplifying good and evil—god by day, demon by night—exploring humanity’s depths, shifting between, to attain eternal Buddhahood.”
“This method, too dangerous, risks eternal demonhood, even for enlightened monks. It’s a Buddhist taboo, long forgotten.”
Zhang Ruochen listened, marveling at such a bizarre practice.
Falling into demonhood was easy; returning to Buddhahood, near impossible, even with strong will.
“Did Yan Wushen practice this taboo?” he asked.
Prajna shook her head. “He went further, splitting good and evil into separate entities, like yin and yang.”
“Yet, no purity exists. His good self isn’t saintly, just as yin holds yang, yang holds yin.”
“Unrestrained, Yan Wushen grasps insights others can’t. When merged, he’ll surpass mythic figures.”
A single self was invincible below Great Saint. Merged, Yan Wushen’s potential was unimaginable.
Despite his progress, Zhang Ruochen felt pressure. Defeating Yan Wushen required greater strength.
He admired Yan Wushen’s daring to tread such a perilous path, unthinkable for most.
“Both Yan Wushen’s selves are in Kunlun now, unprecedented. He may merge here, taking a critical step,” Prajna added.
Few in the Infernal Realm knew this, Prajna privy only through a Destiny Temple titan’s favor.
Unbeknownst, Hundred Dragons Bright Emperor Armor’s spirit, Golden Dragon, hid behind a rock, its stealth evading Zhang Ruochen.
Eager to eavesdrop, Golden Dragon was thwarted by Prajna’s interference, hearing nothing.
Frustrated, it munched on Saint King beast jerky.
After leaving Yin Burial Mountains, it had hunted plentiful Saint King beasts, but longed for Great Saint ones, settling for less.
“This boy’s a Zhang descendant, with strong blood. The Zhang Clan’s not doomed,” Golden Dragon mused, eyeing Zhang Ruochen.
“If he married thousands like Venerable Jie, the Zhangs would thrive. I miss those days!” it grumbled.
As the Zhang Clan’s supreme artifact spirit, Golden Dragon knew their bloodline well.
It yearned to approach Zhang Ruochen but, recalling Prajna’s words, refrained. Only a Great Saint could wield its armor.
Prajna fell silent, then said, “Leave. I want to be alone.”
Zhang Ruochen gazed at her, words unsaid, swallowed back.
Suppressing his thoughts, he said softly, “I hope we don’t meet on the battlefield.”
As enemies, they’d be foes in battle.
With that, he teleported away.
Prajna paused, a faint smile flickering, soon dimming as she sighed and shook her head.
“Swish.”
Golden Dragon appeared. “Who was that? Did you get the armor from him?”
Prajna ignored it, staring at the graves. Though reborn, past ties lingered.
—
In a remote Central Domain city, Yan Wushen and Chi Kunlun sat in a tavern, leisurely drinking, heedless of the world.
Since the Heavenly Palace’s Four Heavenly Kings retreated, Yan Wushen enjoyed rare peace, free from pursuit.
Suddenly, his eyes flashed. He stored Chi Kunlun in a spatial artifact and teleported from the tavern.
He reappeared on a hill outside the city.
Opposite stood his mirror image, differing only in aura—his good and evil selves meeting.
“The name Yan Wushen no longer means invincible,” the evil self said sharply.
“Someone defeated you?” the good self asked calmly.
“I fought Zhang Ruochen recently. We both took heavy damage,” the evil self said.
Others couldn’t see Zhang Ruochen’s state, but the evil self’s Origin God Eyes saw his injuries, a mutual loss.
The good self smiled faintly. “Zhang Ruochen? The spatiotemporal heir has grown. I look forward to facing him. I hope he doesn’t disappoint. Life without rivals is lonely.”
The good self, stronger and primary, wielded extraordinary treasures.
Zhang Ruochen’s draw with his evil self earned his interest.
Unaware of this, Zhang Ruochen returned to King Mountain, resolved to visit Ghost Gate to resolve his doubts.
He’d retrieved the spatial array to Baichang Star from Ao Xinyan, ready to depart anytime.
Intending to go alone, Xiao Hei insisted on joining, recalling their trip to Baichang Star with Huang Yanchen, its secrets known only to them and Chi Yao.
Ghost Gate’s mystery beckoned exploration.
“Don’t worry, I’ve fortified King Mountain. With that elusive old man, no one dares trespass,” Xiao Hei boasted.
Still, Zhang Ruochen left Moyin behind, distrusting the self-proclaimed Zhang ancestor.
Preparations complete, he set the array in the valley housing the World Gate Key.
“Ghost Gate, what secrets do you hold?” he mused.
“Hum—”
The array activated, a white light enveloping Zhang Ruochen and Xiao Hei, vanishing instantly.
