Deep within the Celestial Academy, atop an immense altar, rested a warship, its surface gleaming with a metallic sheen, suffused in an eerie green hue.
A group of children stood upon it—the descendants of the “Sinful Blood.” No longer clad in tatters, they now wore fresh, clean garments, their young faces scrubbed free of grime.
The great war had ended, a symphony of blood and bone, the curtain falling on the frontier.
They were to depart with Shi Hao, embarking on a new life—a journey fraught with nervousness, anticipation, and uncertainty.
“Goodbye!” The children waved from the warship, bidding farewell to those who had come to see them off.
“Take care,” Shi Hao spoke, offering his own farewell.
Beyond the altar stood many—Zhe Xian, Da Xu Tuo, Princess Yao Yue, even Wang Xi. Among them were also Chang Gong Yan, Cao Yusheng, and the Heavenly Horned Ant, their eyes stinging with unshed tears. This parting might well be their last.
Shi Hao had chosen seclusion, descending to the lower realms. Once he stepped into that cage, returning would be near impossible. And judging by his state of mind, he had no intention of ever emerging again. From this day forth, they would be worlds apart, with no hope of reunion.
“Why must you leave?” The little rabbit wiped her tears, her voice trembling.
“One day, I’ll come to the lower realms to find you. Though I hope that day never comes—because meeting you again might mean you’ll bury me,” Cao Yusheng rasped, his voice hoarse.
He had never forgotten his master’s prophecy. He had long suspected that the one foretold might be Shi Hao himself.
“After I’ve wandered the Nine Heavens, I’ll return to the Three Thousand Provinces. Stay safe,” Chang Gong Yan said.
Indeed, many planned to return to the Three Thousand Provinces, but for now, they lingered in the Nine Heavens, exploring its sects and famed landscapes.
Once they descended, returning would be difficult.
Shi Hao gazed toward the horizon. A great host had once journeyed from the Three Thousand Provinces, yet now, only a handful remained.
Teng Yi, Zhen Gu, Feng Wu—they still lived. But the others? All had perished, their bones buried in foreign soil.
“What a pity I never had the chance to fight you properly. Even in defeat, I would have been happy,” the Ten Crown King lamented, his bearing regal, like a young emperor.
“You freak, waving that broken tree around—who’d want to fight you? Just toss it out and you’d flatten a crowd,” Cao Yusheng teased.
Of course, it was jest. Everyone knew the Ten Crown King would never use the sapling of the World Tree against Shi Hao.
Suddenly, a loud wail pierced the air.
The Heavenly Horned Ant was grief-stricken. “Shi Hao, you promised to take me to kill He Wushuang. Yet we didn’t even slay his descendants! I can’t accept this—my brothers and sisters died by his hand. I hate this! I hope you don’t fade into obscurity. One day, rise again, break free from that cage, and march with me into the foreign realm!”
These were words of sorrow, but also of encouragement.
Yet they darkened the faces of all present. The war was over. None wished to return to the frontier, where so many heroes had fallen.
Compared to past eras, fewer had died this time. Had the Imperial Pass fallen, the carnage would have been unimaginable.
At the last moment, even those who had clashed with Shi Hao—the Little Heavenly King of the Immortal Academy, the Nine Nether Hound—came to see him off. A shared cup of wine buried old grudges. After this, they might never meet again. What grievances remained?
Shi Hao’s heart stirred. He retrieved a suit of azure armor. “Little Heavenly King, this is yours.” With a flick of his wrist, the armor flew forward.
“A fraud. Claimed to grant an extra strand of immortal energy, but by the mid-stage of the Severing Self Realm, it was useless,” Shi Hao chuckled.
This armor had been hailed as a priceless treasure, capable of bestowing an additional wisp of immortal energy. At the time, it had stunned Shi Hao, who seized it from an Immortal Academy challenger.
But reality proved some laws of heaven and earth unbreakable.
“Keep it. Give it to those children, or pass it to your disciples,” the Little Heavenly King said, pushing it back.
“Very well.” Shi Hao accepted without pretense.
**Boom!**
The altar blazed with light, radiant as life itself, preparing to open an ancient path straight to the Three Thousand Provinces.
This time, they would not traverse the Imperial Pass or the frontier. A group of ancient beings had personally arranged this route, solely for Shi Hao.
The altar shimmered with auspicious mist, vibrant as a blooming flower.
“Coming?” Shi Hao asked Shi Yi, who stood below. They hailed from the same land.
“No.” Shi Yi shook his head. He chose to remain, never to return to the Eight Regions of the lower realm.
**Whoosh!**
A passage tore through the heavens.
The warship hummed, lifting off and entering the rift.
Shi Hao cast one last glance behind him, his gaze sweeping over familiar faces. He spotted Qing Yi, flying from afar, waving and calling out words lost to the roaring divine light.
Then, in an instant, Shi Hao and the warship vanished.
Within the spatial tunnel, the azure-gold warship sailed steadily. Through the boundary walls, the children glimpsed the blurred outlines of stars and the boundless dark cosmos.
The Ten Earths of the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths were not celestial bodies but ancient continents, each vast beyond measure, separated by endless starry seas and veiled by barriers.
The distances were so vast that ordinary cultivators could fly for a hundred lifetimes without reaching another continent.
As for the Nine Heavens, they were shielded by barriers, each existing within its own mysterious space, where the Great Dao thrived in terrifying completeness.
“Look! A ship!” a young boy suddenly cried out.
Far ahead, an enormous black vessel, stained with blood, drifted silently through the void.
Shi Hao’s heart lurched, his expression shifting.
**Whoosh!**
Then, in another region, immortal light blazed. He saw endless rain of radiance—someone was ascending to immortality. The spectacle was dazzling.
“An immortal ascension?!” a little girl gasped, her rosy cheeks alight with wonder.
Shi Hao was stunned. How could they witness such an event?
**Rumble!**
A grand hall emerged, wreathed in chaotic energy, majestic and solemn, floating in the distance.
Shi Hao’s face turned grave. This was no ordinary occurrence—it was something profoundly ominous.
A bloodstained black ship, a hall exuding chaotic qi, and the spectacle of an immortal ascension—these were the three most dreaded phenomena in spatial travel.
Since ancient times, none who encountered even one had survived.
Yet today, Shi Hao had stumbled upon all three. How could he not tremble?
He activated his Heavenly Eye, scrutinizing the scene. No—these were not real. They carried the aura of time, echoes of the river of history.
“Historical imprints? Traces of time?”
He relaxed slightly. If these were truly the three ancient omens, bringing doom to countless mighty figures, their situation would be dire.
**Boom!**
In the distance, a river of time surged past. It had stirred these remnants of the past.
“Hmm?”
Shi Hao felt as though he were peering into a fragment of history. But then he stiffened—a blurred figure was disintegrating, splitting into six bloody parts that shot off in different directions.
A self-imposed sealing? Why so violent?
Next, he glimpsed the Refining Immortal Pot, a massive tomb, and a vast sea.
All flashed by in an instant, too swift for even his cultivation to grasp fully.
The children saw nothing. Only Shi Hao, with his profound insight, caught these fleeting remnants—fragments of time, echoes of bygone eras.
He fell silent. The frontier war had ended, its curtain drawn.
Yet he sensed a growing tension in the world, as if something cataclysmic loomed on the horizon.
**Boom!**
The warship shuddered, emerging from the spatial tunnel into its destination—the Three Thousand Provinces.
“Uncle, are we here?” A six-year-old boy looked up, his face a mix of nerves and hope.
“This is a waypoint. But soon. We’ll rest here for a few days,” Shi Hao replied.
He needed to seek out certain ancient clans, to learn the path to the lower realms.
“Three Thousand Provinces… I’ve returned,” Shi Hao murmured.
This land was boundless, a tapestry of grudges and entangled fates. He remembered his first arrival in the upper realm—a mere teenager then.
Years had passed. Now, he stood as a figure capable of overlooking an entire domain.
“Assassins of the Heavenly Nation, the Demon Sunflower Garden, the Netherworld, the Immortal Palace, the Celestial Clan—how fare you all?” His gaze was icy.
Once, these factions had sought his life.
“When the frontier was in peril, you were nowhere to be seen. Now that peace reigns, will you emerge again?” Anger simmered within him.
Yet this ancient continent held secrets. Somewhere within, immortals might still linger—frail, but alive.
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage