There was nothing wrong with his Eternal Life Art—it was indeed a top-tier Dao. However, when constructing it, Lan Xiaobu had relied on the Cosmic Dimensional Model to deduce many aspects he couldn’t comprehend, weaving in cosmic dao laws that weren’t his own insights.
If that were all, it might have been fine. But later, when he proved fortune, merit, and rules, those were confined to the universe of the Great Desolate Divine Realm. This made him invincible among peers within that realm, but beyond it, he’d blend into the crowd.
Moreover, his proofs through the Samsara Dao and Spatial Dao were similarly limited to that one universe. Samsara was a supreme Dao, an ultimate cosmic path. Yet even his Six Paths principles were derived from the rules of that specific universe.
It didn’t stop there. After proving these Daos—samsara, space, and others—he’d unconsciously fused their laws into his Eternal Life Art.
Thus, while the Eternal Life Art seemed to grow in rank, it drifted further from him—or rather, less and less of it was truly his creation. Because of this, no matter how refined it became, it could never be a top-tier technique. Without a top-tier technique, how could he rival top-tier powerhouses?
Lan Xiaobu now knew what he had to do. His first step wasn’t to abandon the Eternal Life Art—doing so would mean discarding his own Dao, which was unthinkable.
Instead, he needed to strip away all the dao laws in the Eternal Life Art that didn’t belong to him. Beyond that, he had to peel away the samsara, spatial, and other dao laws he’d already proven. Stripping wasn’t discarding—he had to re-prove these Daos within his own framework, transforming these vast cosmic paths into laws built solely from his own Dao. Only then would the Eternal Life Art have a fresh start.
Otherwise, whether it was the Samsara Dao, Spatial Dao, or any other primordial Dao, anyone could prove them. What would make him stronger than the rest?
Take this Tai Xu Tomb plaza, for instance. It wasn’t his domain, so he couldn’t even enter freely. To get in, he’d need to buy a jade token—permission from others. It was like acquiring a primordial dao scroll, a mere entry pass.
Even if he entered Tai Xu Tomb, he’d remain under others’ control. His Dao was the same—proving samsara or space still left him beneath those dao scrolls, under others’ rules. Whether “others” meant a person, the Heavenly Dao, or the primal cosmos made no difference.
“Heh, pulling such petty tricks here? You really don’t know the heights of the heavens or the depths of the earth,” Jiang Sen sneered at Lan Xiaobu before casually sending a message.
Lan Xiaobu instantly realized the man was summoning Tai Xu Tomb’s guards to haul him away. Once taken, his fate would no longer be his own.
Having grasped his Dao’s flaw, Lan Xiaobu didn’t hesitate. He summoned the Eternal Life Halberd, unleashing a torrent of violent halberd energy.
Jiang Sen never imagined Lan Xiaobu would dare strike—nor did anyone in the plaza.
When he reacted, Jiang Sen’s first instinct wasn’t fear but fury. Without a second thought, he reached for his treasure, intent on counter-killing Lan Xiaobu.
Fighting was forbidden in Tai Xu Tomb plaza, but self-defense was permitted if attacked. Given his status here, how could a mere ant like Lan Xiaobu compare?
Then he sensed something wrong. Forget drawing his treasure—his domain shattered inch by inch, and a terrifying aura of death bore down on him.
The opponent’s domain was too overpowering, his dao strength crushing Jiang Sen’s. Terror flooded his mind. He tried desperately to warn Lan Xiaobu off, but under Lan Xiaobu’s domain, he couldn’t utter a word. The next moment, he felt his skull split apart.
Yet that wasn’t the worst of it. What horrified him most was his soul being sucked into a void vortex. Moments later, the soul fragments he’d left outside were dragged in too, shredded to nothing in the swirling abyss.
Jiang Sen’s despair faded with the halberd’s final twist, plunging him into eternal darkness without even time to regret.
Lan Xiaobu had acted so swiftly to kill Jiang Sen that no one—not even Jiang Sen—could’ve anticipated it. Killing here was tantamount to suicide. Who’d be mad enough to court death?
The moment the crowd processed it, Lan Xiaobu grabbed Taichuan and bolted for Tai Xu Tomb.
Like his Dao, once he acted, why enter under others’ rules? He’d forge his own path into Tai Xu Tomb. Life or death—it would be his own affair.
The Tomb’s entrance had a protective array, but with people constantly coming and going, it wasn’t locked. There was no need to toggle it often—who’d dare storm Tai Xu Tomb? If breaching it carried no consequences, no one would’ve refrained until now.
Inside Tai Xu Tomb, no one could survive longer than ten years. After that, they had to leave for a respite before returning—hence the plaza’s existence. Without it, the plaza would be pointless.
Exiting required the designated exit. Even with realm-splitting or position-breaking talismans, one had to leave via the plaza.
As Lan Xiaobu and Taichuan vanished into the Tomb’s depths, the plaza’s cultivators snapped out of their daze, inwardly shocked at the outsider’s ruthlessness and audacity.
Nearby, a tall, lean man stared at Lan Xiaobu’s retreating figure, stunned. He’d transmitted a warning to Lan Xiaobu—don’t court death; hand over the beast pet to survive. Yet Lan Xiaobu had acted decisively, killing and charging in.
Only now did the plaza’s alarms blare, and several cultivators with thick, formidable auras descended upon the scene.
…
Lan Xiaobu knew none of this. He’d already left the entrance behind. Killing Jiang Sen had been so rushed he hadn’t even looted the man’s world.
“Big Brother…” Taichuan began, but a flash of blood erupted. Lan Xiaobu’s arm was severed as easily as slicing tofu.
With a flick of his hand, Lan Xiaobu reattached the limb. When he landed, his face was deathly pale.
“Big Brother, something’s off with the space here,” Taichuan said, voice tinged with panic.
Swallowing a few pills, Lan Xiaobu said gravely, “There’s definitely a problem. Void travel’s impossible. The cosmic rules here—space, time, everything—are utterly chaotic. We got lucky just now. If we’d been less fortunate, it wouldn’t have been just an arm—I could’ve been shredded. I suspect we can’t stay long either. Linger too much, and we might be torn apart. No wonder they don’t fear people rushing in.”
He left one thought unsaid: though he’d proved the Spatial Dao, it felt rigid—borrowed from others. Otherwise, that spatial distortion, however strong, shouldn’t have severed his arm.
“What do we do?” Taichuan asked.
After a pause, Lan Xiaobu replied, “Follow behind me. We’ll find a spot to seclude ourselves. I need to refine my Dao first. Without that, leaving is a death sentence.”
“Big Brother, I want to explore on my own,” Taichuan said promptly upon hearing of seclusion.
As a ninth-level divine beast, it had finally escaped confinement. It didn’t want to sit idle while Lan Xiaobu secluded himself—his retreats offered it no growth.
To advance to saint beast status, it needed to seek its own path.
Even if Taichuan hadn’t spoken, Lan Xiaobu would’ve suggested it. Taichuan’s strength would only aid him if it grew. Secluding himself to refine his Dao could take an unknown stretch of time—keeping Taichuan by his side would stifle it.
“Alright. Take this jade token and this ring with some cultivation resources—you’ll need them,” Lan Xiaobu said, handing over a jade token and a ring.
“Big Brother, what’s the token for?” Taichuan asked, taking them curiously.
Lan Xiaobu explained, “As long as you’re in this region, within this realm, activating the token will summon a teleportation vortex to bring you to me instantly. But listen—don’t use it unless it’s life-or-death. Tai Xu Tomb’s space is unstable, its rules erratic. Teleporting risks being shredded by a spatial vortex.”
This was only possible because he’d proved the Spatial Dao—otherwise, crafting such a token would’ve been beyond him.
