“Yes, many call her the Blue Moon Fairy,” the white-robed man nodded.
The woman was of unparalleled grace, radiant and enchanting, with a blue moon glowing behind her head, illuminating all realms. She resembled a deity from the era of creation, gazing down upon the world.
Every smile, every frown, was breathtakingly beautiful.
The Blue Moon Fairy was serene and flawless, embodying the demeanor and aura she must have had in life. Even when facing the master of the forbidden land, she remained composed.
“She appears peaceful and tranquil, but she was proud,” the white-robed man chuckled, his eyes dimming as he added, “But she too is dead. She fell at the end of the Immortal Ancient Era.”
Shi Hao’s heart surged with turmoil, unable to calm down. He was truly shocked. The earlier figures he had never heard of, but the last one—how could he not know of her? He had even seen the legacy she left behind—that blue moon!
The Blue Moon Fairy’s inherited spark had been obtained by Qing Yi!
That flame, those runes, had long since merged with Qing Yi.
Some even speculated that the Blue Moon Fairy and Qing Yi shared some connection—perhaps even a reincarnation—though it was impossible to confirm.
Naturally, Shi Hao was astonished. The Blue Moon Fairy, a legend of the Immortal Ancient Era, was connected to this man?
“Was she your disciple?” Shi Hao asked.
“In a way. I taught her the Great Dao,” the white-robed man nodded.
Shi Hao fell silent. Just how powerful was this man? He had taught eight beings, each of them world-shaking figures. From the Blue Moon Fairy alone, one could infer the others’ transcendence.
This master of the forbidden land was unfathomable—undoubtedly a peerless figure. From his words, he had been teaching disciples since the dawn of the Immortal Ancient Era.
Ao Gu, from the Chaos Clan, was the first to arrive here, born at the beginning of the Immortal Ancient Era.
One could only imagine how ancient this forbidden master truly was!
“All dead,” the white-robed man sighed softly. A breeze stirred his robes, making him appear desolate.
“If I drink this tea, then…” Shi Hao spoke cautiously.
He had no intention of dying mysteriously. Everyone who drank this tea perished—an ill omen indeed.
“You are the tenth. I have waited an entire era to meet you,” the forbidden master said.
Shi Hao felt a headache coming on. “I don’t want to follow in their footsteps.”
The white-robed man shook his head. “I won’t force you onto that path. In fact, I once opposed their premature attempts. Yet some still ventured forth and fell.”
What kind of path could drive them to such desperation, risking everything to explore?
“They knew they had reached their limits, unable to advance further. So even knowing they would fail, they still went. Alas!” the white-robed man lamented.
“I understand. They revered me as their master and wished to fight for my sake,” he added.
Shi Hao was puzzled. Did the forbidden master have a great enemy? Why didn’t he go himself?
The white-robed man waved his hand lightly—the heavens split, the universe tore apart, and a serene yet eerie scene unfolded.
“That place is…”
Shi Hao was shaken to his core.
He had been there before, glimpsing fragments of the truth. Now, the forbidden master parted the void to reveal it once more.
This was likely just an image, not a true return.
A dam stretched endlessly, ancient and eternal. Faintly, the sound of waves echoed from beyond it.
The sky was dark, shrouded in mist.
The place was enigmatic, its secrets obscured.
Yet Shi Hao could see—a figure lay on the dam, bloodied, exuding immortal aura. A true immortal, fallen there.
Further along, more corpses of immortal-level beings hung, lifeless on the dam.
Shi Hao had been there!
After leaving the Immortal Domain with San Zang and Shen Ming, they had crossed a lightning abyss and eventually reached that dam.
There, he had found traces of the Willow God—she too had entered the world beyond the dam.
And a faint line of footprints, from an unknown era, seemed to guide all who followed.
The path the white-robed man spoke of—was it beyond that dam?!
How could Shi Hao not be shocked? He had never imagined this!
Suddenly, his heart clenched. In the vision, he saw a figure.
Clad in spotless white, transcendent and untainted, standing on the dam before stepping forward.
It was the forbidden master—he had ventured deep into that realm!
Shi Hao was stunned. Could anyone who crossed that dam return alive? All signs pointed to it being a path of no return, with no survivors bearing meaningful news.
He had seen the remains of immortals scattered there!
**Boom!**
Soon, he heard violent sounds from beyond the dam—like roaring waves, or perhaps a great battle—fading into the distance.
Days passed. Years.
Time fragments swirled in the vision. How long had it been? Months? Years?
Until one day, a bloodied hand clawed at the dam, shattering the vision’s tranquility.
The hand struggled, pulling with immense effort. Soon, a head emerged—disheveled, face smeared with blood, eyes lifeless.
The figure was drenched in red, riddled with wounds, his brow cracked, his body pierced with countless holes.
His battle robes were tattered, soaked in blood.
Staggering, he fell, rose, and fled—finally escaping the dam.
Shi Hao recognized him—it was the forbidden master.
Once pristine in white, now his robes were ruined, dyed crimson. His former glory was gone.
The vision rippled, then vanished.
Shi Hao snapped back to reality, staring at the forbidden master before the hut. Even someone as mighty as him had barely survived that place?
And his disciples—had most of them perished there?
“Most who drank this tea died beyond that dam,” the white-robed man said.
“What lies there?” Shi Hao asked, still reeling. Even the forbidden master had nearly died—what horrors awaited?
“They too wanted to know. They went, one after another, and all died,” the man sighed.
Then he looked at Shi Hao. “Do you still wish to know? Would you dare to go?”
For any other place, Shi Hao might have hesitated. But not here. He nodded without pause.
“I will go. I must.”
If only for the Willow God, who had crossed that dam—he had no choice. He would go, once he was strong enough.
“But first, you must teach me the divine arts—everything you taught the others!”
His eyes burned with desire. Techniques like the Immortal-Slaying Art, the Dragon-Subduing Divine Skill—their names alone spoke of immense power.
“After the Immortal Ancient Era, I waited an entire era for you. You are one of us. But this time, I will teach you nothing,” the white-robed man said.
“Why?”
Shi Hao was frantic. From Ao Gu to the Blue Moon Fairy, each had inherited unparalleled arts from this man.
“I taught them supreme techniques, made them stronger. Yet none forged their own path—they merely followed my shadow.”
“Even if they matched me, what use is another me? I seek one who surpasses me,” the man said.
“Then what will you do?” Shi Hao’s heart pounded.
“After an era of waiting, I will guide you—to walk your own path, to become truly invincible.”
“How?” Shi Hao could barely contain his excitement. A monumental opportunity lay before him.
Or perhaps, it was all an illusion.
He still yearned to learn those arts, to fuse them before forging his own path.
“Take this jade tablet. Leave now, and return when your worldly affairs are settled,” the forbidden master said, his voice warm once more.
A glow flashed—Shi Hao now held an ancient piece of jade.
“Go,” the man waved.
Shi Hao bowed in farewell.
But when he raised his head, he froze in disbelief.
The hut, the plants, the cosmic lake—all were gone. The land was barren, the distant herb fields withered.
Only a few crumbling mountains remained, lifeless.
Then he saw it—a skull, white as jade.
The jade tablet in his hand was gone. Instead, it lay near the skull, alongside a broken teapot and a half-shattered cup.
Shi Hao stood stunned.
Where was he? Who had he been speaking to?
Soon, he spotted two more skulls—cracked and dull—behind the pristine one.
“The forbidden master… and his two attendants…” Shi Hao’s voice trembled.
A scene of utter desolation.
How had such a peerless figure met his end? Was this how he buried himself?
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