Chapter 1237: The Origin of Life and Death

Seeing this situation, the Asura Ancestor, desperate for a sliver of hope, would never let such an opportunity slip. His terrifying demonic form—with nine heads and a thousand eyes—instantly radiated an eerie brilliance, the flames covering his body blazing fiercely as the sensation of emptiness and weakness dissipated, replaced by an unnatural, overwhelming power.

In that instant, he activated a secret technique, releasing his half-divine, half-demonic form. In exchange for the rapid depletion of his remaining lifespan and the gradual disintegration of his body, he regained his peak strength.

Victory or death!

Either perish today or live on from this moment!

A flash of dark crimson, nearly black, and the Asura Ancestor followed closely behind Huangquan, plunging into the vortex formed by the Origin of Life and Death.

Meng Qi did the same. Ignoring the potential damage to Huangquan’s skeletal remains, he squeezed out every last drop of power lingering within each bone. His body wreathed in thick, blood-yellow mist, he soared through the air like a demon god and stepped into the eerie vortex where colorlessness shifted into monochrome.

After all, to him, this was merely an external vessel!

Behind him, a crimson glow pierced the heavens as the Blood Slaughter Daoist barely managed to enter the vortex before it contracted and the Origin vanished.

Thanks to the Asura Ancestor and Meng Qi acting as “tall shields” ahead of him, the Blood Slaughter Daoist had lost relatively little power to the Pure Land’s absorption. He still retained a certain level of strength, sparing him the need to employ secret techniques that would ravage his own flesh and demonic form.

The eerie vortex was both icy cold and strangely warm. Meng Qi felt as though he were traversing chaotic space-time, his surroundings alternating between stagnation, rapid flight, sluggishness, and turbulence.

Amidst these ever-shifting sensations, Meng Qi could hardly keep track of how many moments had passed.

Before he knew it, his “Huangquan True Body” shuddered, freeing him from the chaotic sensations as he truly entered the “Origin of Life and Death.”

What existed within the Origin of Life and Death?

Nothing!

To be precise, nothing that eyes could see, ears could hear, skin could feel, or the spirit could perceive!

All external concepts, all cognition—none of it existed here.

What was color? What were sound waves? What was divine sense? What was direction?

Concepts and words born of the mundane world, dependent on experience and physical senses—how could they describe this place so close to the Dao?

Yet Meng Qi had a subtle sensation: his lifespan was rapidly draining, his body and consciousness hurtling irreversibly toward death!

Unfazed, he let his old cognitive patterns recede like a tide, reconstructing them based on his new perceptions.

Suddenly, his surroundings transformed. Though still invisible to the eye, inaudible to the ear, and imperceptible to touch or spirit, he could now discern certain abstract qualities:

Coldness, silence, soundlessness, ruthlessness, emptiness, loneliness, melancholy, pain, darkness, death…

These words swirled around Meng Qi, combining in peculiar patterns, gradually dimming his vitality.

This was a conceptual depletion of lifespan, an approach of death—without any tangible force. Thus, no matter how Meng Qi employed the current divine abilities of Huangquan’s bones, he could neither halt nor reverse it. Only the bones’ blackened essence resonated with these abstract notions, undergoing spontaneous changes, slowly condensing into strange symbols and patterns resembling Daoist inscriptions, drawing closer to the true essence of death. Meanwhile, the white vitality contained within was gradually expelled and erased.

Was this the essence of death, so close to the Great Dao?

Not daring to linger, Meng Qi fled to the side based on the simplest judgment. Within moments, it was as if he had leaped from a freezing pool into a hot spring, the comfort nearly making him cry out.

Warmth, fervor, vigor, liveliness, joy, brightness, dynamism, strength—these abstract concepts manifested as if they were tangible.

The Origin of Life and Death—where there was death, there was also life!

Meng Qi took a deep breath. The coldness in his body faded as his lifespan conceptually replenished, his body brimming with vitality. The bones, previously drained, now pulsed with renewed vigor.

The white radiance hidden within the bones grew denser, faintly condensing into blurred Daoist inscriptions. At first, they restored the previous balance of black and white, but gradually, they suppressed death and the bones’ blackened essence.

Truly worthy of being the Origin of Life and Death, a place near the Dao. Simply being here allowed his consciousness to perceive the true essence of life and death, granting profound enlightenment. Moreover, the divine abilities he cultivated naturally evolved in response to the abstract surroundings, drawing closer to their truths and achieving astonishing improvements. The deeper he ventured, the more these changes aligned with the Dao of Life and Death… Meng Qi sighed inwardly before spotting the Asura Ancestor and the Blood Slaughter Daoist not far away.

As beings not native to the Origin, they could still be sensed through mundane means.

The Asura Ancestor seemed like an exhausted body finally relaxing in a hot spring, his thousand eyes narrowing in comfort. The decay and decline of his demonic form were reversing, bit by bit transforming into vitality, the blood flames covering him burning even fiercer.

Yet he had paid a steep price—the guardian wraiths surrounding him emitted wisps of green smoke, growing increasingly transparent before vanishing one by one, their disappearance corresponding to their original strength.

The Blood Slaughter Daoist wore a look of joy. After replenishing his vitality, he leaped into the nearby “death” and drew forth a sword forged from countless eyes and blood vessels.

The writhing blood rays resembled vicious worms, the countless eyes opening to reveal nothing but cruelty and death. Influenced by the abstract surroundings, they began altering themselves, condensing blurred Daoist inscriptions, refining and sublimating their deathly and murderous intent.

This evil god from the Nether Sea seized the opportunity to temper both himself and his sword within the Origin of Life and Death!

“Congratulations, fellow Daoist, on achieving your wish,” Meng Qi said with a faint smile to the Asura Ancestor before leaping back into the abstract realm of death.

The River of Huangquan contained life within death and death within life, the two in delicate balance, bridging the Nine Nethers and the myriad realms to bring about the cycle of life and death. Thus, if death grew too strong or life too abundant, the balance of these skeletal remains would be disrupted, skewing them toward one extreme. To maintain equilibrium, Meng Qi alternated between tempering the essence of life and death, cycling between the two.

In doing so, he might even refine Huangquan’s bones into a divine weapon or treasure within the Origin, surpassing their original legendary limits to reach the level of Creation.

As for extracting the Origin itself to forge it into a treasure alongside the bones, Meng Qi had no clue where to begin.

The Asura Ancestor, his aged decay now reversed, chuckled lightly. “It was indeed worth the gamble.”

“And Huangquan?” Meng Qi asked, leaping back to the side of life.

The Asura Ancestor pondered briefly. “Familiar with this place, he must have ventured deeper, avoiding entanglement with us to seize the opportunity to claim Emperor Zhenwu’s body in its peculiar state.”

Meng Qi considered this before declaring, “Then this old man shall also venture deeper.”

With that, he plunged into death, advancing toward the depths—where abstract sensations grew stronger yet more elusive.

Alternating between life and death, Meng Qi soon noticed the Asura Ancestor and the Blood Slaughter Daoist following him. He couldn’t help but sigh inwardly.

They were too greedy. The benefits they had already reaped were substantial, yet they still sought to delve deeper, coveting the mysteries near the Dao and Emperor Zhenwu’s body. Did they not realize they couldn’t compare to him? Even if he lost these skeletal remains and the consciousness he had split off, at worst, his true self would suffer backlash and endure injuries for a time—nothing fundamental. But if they failed, it would mean eternal damnation.

Truly, once the wound heals, the pain is forgotten!

Then again, if they weren’t greedy, they wouldn’t be evil gods or demons. Even with intelligence and reason, unless they reached the level of the ancient Heaven-Slaying Daoist, they would always be somewhat influenced by their innate nature.

After progressing further, surges of energy suddenly appeared ahead and behind. Meng Qi’s vision brightened as he beheld a bolt of black-and-white lightning—half abstract, half tangible—spinning with the terror of life and death, striking toward him.

This was the “Punishment of the Near-Dao”!

No will governed this lightning; it was a natural reaction, like a wall striking back when punched. The deeper one ventured into the Origin, the closer to the Dao, the stronger the backlash—its power escalating with each step forward.

The blood-yellow mist around Meng Qi expanded, half turning black, half white. With a flick of his fingers, dozens of murky sword energies shot forth, intercepting the life-death lightning.

*Crack! Crack! Crack!*

The sword energies linked head to tail, forming a black-and-white scroll that dissipated alongside the lightning. The Asura Ancestor and the Blood Slaughter Daoist also withstood this wave of punishment.

Pressing onward, Meng Qi suddenly sensed something amiss and instinctively halted.

He realized it wasn’t just Huangquan’s bones evolving in response to the abstract death and life, condensing blurred Daoist inscriptions—his own consciousness, his divided spirit, was undergoing the same transformation.

In other words, if he ventured too deep, his divided spirit and thoughts would be assimilated into the near-Dao essence of life and death, stripped of all subjective will and ideas!

Was this why Emperor Zhenwu, in his greed, had ventured too far and nearly been assimilated by the Dao?

At that moment, they spotted a black-robed figure ahead—Huangquan’s reincarnation, his body covered in swirling yin-yang fish, rapidly advancing deeper.

Then, he stopped. Before him sat a cross-legged figure in a black imperial robe and a flat-topped crown, his face gaunt, eyes closed—Emperor Zhenwu. Yet he seemed neither alive nor dead, devoid of any spark of consciousness, sunk in gloom.

“Ha! If you dare approach, you’ll be assimilated by the Dao—even your attacks!” Huangquan turned and laughed, his expression triumphant.

Familiar with this place, he had long prepared for this moment, allowing him to approach Emperor Zhenwu’s body while others stood no chance.

This was also why he hadn’t seized the opportunity to eliminate Meng Qi and the others when they first entered the Origin, before they could steady themselves.

Amidst his laughter, Huangquan turned and reached out, pressing his right hand toward the crown of Emperor Zhenwu’s head.

Then, Emperor Zhenwu’s body—neither alive nor dead—suddenly opened his eyes, a flash of purple gleaming within!