As Ling Yi cautiously breached Lan Xiaobu’s ninth-level defensive divine array, an abrupt voice rang out, “You’re here.”
Ling Yi jolted. He was confident his array mastery surpassed Lan Xiaobu’s, and he hadn’t triggered any restrictions while breaking in—so how had he been detected?
This was bad. The tone of “Lan Xiaobu” suggested the man had been waiting for him all along. Whether or not he could fathom how he’d been spotted, Ling Yi retreated frantically. The Cosmic Dimensional Model mattered, but his life mattered more.
*Boom!* A powerful force surged from behind—an ambush from a void killing array? Ling Yi’s heart raced with dread. Without a second thought, he swung his long saber to strike back. But in the next instant, Lan Xiaobu’s fist came crashing toward his face.
Caught in a pincer attack, panic gripped Ling Yi. He had no desire to fight Lan Xiaobu head-on here— even if he did, he’d retreat from this shattered meteor first. Yet as he stepped back, he realized his mistake. He shouldn’t have retreated. Before he could react, an overwhelming dao intent enveloped him.
Under Lan Xiaobu’s fist, the void transformed. It was no longer empty space but a vibrant world, a realm of fleeting mortal joys…
A cool autumn breeze brushed past, and Ling Yi shivered instinctively. He should add a layer—this crisp fall weather was melancholic.
No—this was an intent-based divine ability! Ling Yi snapped awake, but the fist, carrying an endless tide of desolate autumn intent, had already locked onto his mind.
*When the fist stirs, the autumn wind blows; when autumn fades, life wanes, and grass turns to frost!*
Beneath the Feather-Slaying Intent, Ling Yi’s heart turned cold. He burned his essence blood frantically, aiming to cleave through the autumnal shroud with a single slash. But before his saber’s divine ability could form, the mountain-like fist shattered his saintly domain.
*Splatter!* Blood sprayed as Ling Yi’s body was blasted into fragments by the punch. Before his primordial spirit could disintegrate, intricate spatial laws bound him. He watched helplessly as his world was pried open.
“Don’t kill me, I’m Ling—” His plea cut off as Lan Xiaobu stripped everything from his world and tore his primordial spirit apart. Simultaneously, a void vortex swirled above the shredded soul, dragging countless soul fragments into it amid anguished screams until they vanished.
Lan Xiaobu felt no thrill, only a sigh. He’d used less than a third of his prepared traps, yet this wasn’t what he wanted.
A Fifth-Turn Saint resorting to such elaborate measures against a Fourth-Turn Saint—it highlighted the problem.
Erasing all traces of the arrays, Lan Xiaobu summoned the Chaos Unicorn. “Taichuan, take control of the Samsara Pot. I need to derive my Dao.”
“No worries, Big Brother,” Taichuan replied. Having reached the ninth-level divine beast realm, it had no desire to stay cooped up in the Cosmic Dimensional Model or Eternal Realm. Piloting the Samsara Pot let it experience the vast void’s dao laws, aiding its growth.
As Taichuan steered the Pot, Lan Xiaobu didn’t retreat inside. He sat at its prow, gazing into the infinite void, his mind sinking into the depths of his Eternal Life Art.
Was there a flaw in the Eternal Life Art? Was it the mightiest Dao? Could it lead him to greater heights? Could the Eternal Realm grant him immortality?
Countless questions swirled in his mind, one after another.
If not the Eternal Life Art, what should he cultivate? The Imperishable Dao? The Second Canon? The Samsara Dao? Or the Spatial Dao?
He’d derived the Eternal Life Art himself. Denying it—wouldn’t that negate all his prior dao convictions?
Since resolving Earth’s crises, his ultimate pursuit had been eternal life. Cultivation was about following one’s heart. If eternal life was his goal, what was wrong with the Eternal Life Art?
His unease stemmed from the fact that much of the Art’s mysteries—parts he couldn’t unravel—had been deduced by the Cosmic Dimensional Model. Did that limit its potential?
If the Eternal Life Art was flawed, what of his proofs through space, samsara, fortune…?
These were post-primordial dao scrolls, tied to a realm’s fortune, derived from others’ arts. Why did the Model-resolved Eternal Life Art feel less than top-tier?
An answer hovered just out of reach, like a thin sheet of paper he couldn’t pierce.
At that moment, the Samsara Pot halted. Lan Xiaobu opened his eyes, his divine sense sweeping outward. Before him sprawled a boundless void plaza teeming with people.
Seeing him stir, Taichuan said eagerly, “Big Brother, we’ve reached Tai Xu Tomb. That’s the void plaza.”
Lan Xiaobu had imagined Tai Xu Tomb as a desolate expanse, not this bustling hub.
Standing, he stowed the Pot and eyed Taichuan, hesitating whether to tuck it into the Cosmic Dimensional Model. Noticing its reluctance, he paused and said, “Taichuan, you’re a variant Chaos Unicorn. I’m certain the moment we step onto that plaza, people will target you. There are too many powerhouses here—even a Fourth-Turn Saint outpaced me earlier. If someone I can’t handle appears, you might be enslaved. If you’re not afraid, I’ll take you as is.”
“I’m not scared, Big Brother,” Taichuan replied firmly.
“Alright, let’s go.” Lan Xiaobu didn’t press further. The Dao followed the heart. At the Fifth Turn, cowering and hiding even his beast companion would cast a shadow over his spirit.
Not just him—Taichuan, a ninth-level divine beast one step from proving its dao, shouldn’t remain confined to his world either.
The plaza’s restrictions allowed free entry. As Lan Xiaobu and Taichuan landed, countless gazes locked onto Taichuan, followed by divine senses probing Lan Xiaobu. Clearly, many here recognized Taichuan’s value.
Ignoring the scrutiny, Lan Xiaobu looked up at the three characters hovering above: *Tai Xu Tomb*. His divine sense then detected a Tai Xu Hall and an entrance to the Tomb itself.
Yet a weight pressed on his heart. A top-tier entrapment-killing array enveloped this place, and he stood within it. If triggered, he’d have no control over his fate.
Approaching the entrance, he was about to ask if it led to Tai Xu Tomb when a voice interrupted, “Fellow Daoist, where are you from?”
Though phrased as a question, a powerful domain enveloped Lan Xiaobu, signaling the speaker’s intent to dominate him.
Lan Xiaobu turned. Before him stood a tall, burly man with disheveled long hair cascading over his shoulders. Potent dao charm flowed around him, a faint killing aura hinting at countless lives taken.
“What’s it to you where I’m from?” Lan Xiaobu replied coolly, heading toward the Tomb’s entrance. A Sixth-Turn Saint didn’t faze him. Even if his Dao wasn’t top-tier, ordinary saints didn’t warrant his concern.
Though this long-haired man was a Sixth-Turn Saint, Lan Xiaobu was certain his dao clarity fell short of the Fourth-Turn Saint who’d ambushed him.
“Heh, you say it’s unrelated, so it’s unrelated?” The man chuckled. “That beast pet—I lost it out there. Since you found it for me, I was going to reward you. But if you don’t want it, don’t blame me for being rude.” His domain surged toward Lan Xiaobu without hesitation.
Caught in the domain, Lan Xiaobu stumbled back, landing pale-faced at the Tomb’s entrance. Pointing at the man, blood trickling from his mouth, he trembled, “We’ve no grudge—why attack me?”
The domain hadn’t suppressed him at all. Even if it were several times stronger, it couldn’t have moved him. He could’ve countered with his own domain effortlessly, making the man suffer. But unsure of the plaza’s rules, he feigned injury first.
If fighting was allowed, he’d eliminate this long-haired man instantly. If not, he’d avoid striking first.
This plaza was locked by a formidable restrictive array. Breaking its rules could trap him here.
“I didn’t attack,” the man replied, his expression unchanged, tone flat.
Could he fight or not? Lan Xiaobu frowned.
A voice transmitted to him, “New here, huh? That’s Jiang Sen. He can strike here, but you can’t. If you do, you’re dead.”
Ignoring Jiang Sen, Lan Xiaobu asked a guard at the entrance, “How do I enter Tai Xu Tomb?”
“You need a jade token from Tai Xu Hall,” the guard replied indifferently.
“A jade token?” Lan Xiaobu asked, puzzled. Tai Xu Tomb was a void relic—shouldn’t it be open to all?
“Heh, this is our turf. Of course you need a token,” the guard sneered.
Lan Xiaobu’s heart jolted. In that moment, he suddenly grasped what his Dao lacked.
