The Immortal Realm reappeared, towering above the heavens as if heralding the return of the ancient mythological era. However, its layers lay in ruins, and the once-mighty had withered away. No matter how numerous the celestial soldiers and generals were, they could only serve as a facade, infusing vitality into the Nine Heavens to awaken its power and thus empower the Heavenly Emperor.
The towering Jianmu Tree stretched deep into the Great Dao. Beneath it stood the Heavenly Emperor, his figure surrounded by countless ethereal shadows that resonated with distant corners of the Immortal Realm. He gazed calmly upon the mortal world, watching as the abyssal sea west of the Gobi Desert surged and erupted with an unstoppable force, finally shattering the Green Emperor’s seal. The land within a hundred thousand miles was corrupted into the Nine Nethers, where negative emotions coalesced, and all manner of depravity converged, birthing one demonic god after another.
The vast skies of the Western Regions were no longer bathed in brilliance, forever shrouded in gloom and oppression. Fortunately, the Paragons had foreseen this. From the Demon Emperor’s Palace, the Jade Void Palace, and the Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss, divine decrees descended, and miracles manifested. The living beings of the land were relocated—some to the earthly Buddhist paradises, others to the overseas immortal realms. Sects like the Myriad Manifestations Sect and the Snow Mountain Sect, as well as hidden realms like the Heavenly Sea Source of the demon race, evacuated in time.
Meanwhile, in the southernmost reaches of the Eastern Sea, the suppression of the Golden Bridge of the Other Shore and the Three Treasures Ruyi weakened due to shifts in the Heavenly Secrets, pressed by the momentum of the epoch’s end and assaulted by the Demon Buddha’s might. In the end, they could not hold, flying apart and leaving only a temporary containment of the Nine Nethers’ fusion with the real world within that stretch of sea. Elsewhere, disasters—both celestial and terrestrial—raged ceaselessly. Were it not for the gods and immortals working tirelessly to mitigate them, the entire world of sentient beings would have already begun to crumble. Beyond, countless universes had reached their ends—some consumed by heat death, others frozen in stillness, and still others collapsing into oblivion.
For a time, as the Demon Buddha refined the Nine Nethers, the apocalypse seemed to arrive prematurely. The end of the epoch loomed near!
In such circumstances, those well-informed by the Myriad World Talisman underwent drastic shifts in mentality. Some indulged in hedonism, casting aside all restraint; others, gripped by panic, turned to salvationist doctrines; still others laid down their burdens and immersed themselves in familial bliss.
Within the Jade Void Palace, Yang Jian, immersed in meditation, suddenly opened his eyes to see the Great Green Root approaching the hall.
“Has the Sect Master-Uncle any instructions?” he asked with a faint smile.
The Great Green Root puffed out its chest and declared, “By the decree of the Sect Master, the True Lord of Clear Origin and Wondrous Path is to descend to the mortal realm and guard the Abyssal Sea, barring the demons’ advance.”
Then, its expression shifted to one of fawning flattery. “Erlang, you must be weary. For some reason, all the burden falls upon our Jade Void Palace this time. The Sect Master has also ordered the Seven Slaughter Daoist to guard the southernmost reaches of the Eastern Sea, slaying demons to temper his sword.”
“To the capable, more is entrusted,” Yang Jian replied, his smile unwavering as he rose gracefully and bowed toward the Jade Pure Hall. “This disciple obeys the Sect Master-Uncle’s decree.”
Without taking a step, he vanished from the Jade Void Palace and descended upon the former Flowing Sands Gathering. Before him surged waves of demonic energy as the Gobi darkened further, its depths teeming with untold horrors.
Yang Jian flicked his Taoist robe and sat cross-legged with ease. With a point of his right hand, the Central Earth Apricot Yellow Banner of Heaven and Earth flew forth, planting itself at the boundary between the vast sea and the Gobi.
The Jade Void’s supreme treasure grew with the wind, instantly piercing through the heavens and connecting with the earth, scattering countless golden lotuses. Each lotus bloomed with radiant light, weaving together into a hazy golden wall that barred the encroaching black mist and demonic energy.
Ignorant of the danger, the demonic gods, driven by violent destruction, hurled themselves against the barrier—only to dissipate like bubbles under the slow rotation of the golden lotuses.
The southernmost reaches of the Eastern Sea were even simpler. A refined Daoist in black robes hovered mid-air, surrounded by howling black radiance that flickered everywhere, reaping all traces of life. Nothing remained but death.
For now, the real world had stabilized.
—
In a vast Buddhist paradise brimming with tranquility, countless spirits sat around golden lotus platforms, listening to the “Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva,” Xuan Bei, expound the Dharma to dispel their resentment and attachments, freeing them from their personal hells.
Their numbers were insufficient to fill even a fraction of the boundless Pure Land. Empty Bodhi temples and golden ponds dotted the landscape, where elder spirits lounged at ease, idly playing with Myriad World Talismans to show their loved ones the beauty of the afterlife and ease their fears of the apocalypse. Newer spirits, however, trembled with unease, finding solace only in the solemn, compassionate voice of the Bodhisattva.
Holding the Wheel of Life and Death and Ksitigarbha’s relic, Xuan Bei seemed to grasp the mysteries of reincarnation and transcendence. His sermon summoned celestial flowers and golden lotuses, drawing out strands of resentment and obsession.
After concluding a scripture, he paused and turned to the man seated beside the golden lotus platform like an ordinary spirit. With a sigh, he said, “The apocalypse has come, and the epoch nears its end. In recent days, the dead have multiplied. One can only imagine what the near future holds. I wonder what preparations the Heavenly Venerables and Buddhas have made?”
The man, clad in dark robes and an ancient crown, smiled warmly. It was Meng Qi—the Primordial Heavenly Venerable, the Sect Master of the Jade Void lineage—sitting unceremoniously beside Xuan Bei.
He replied softly, “Master’s compassion is evident. From the futures I have seen and claimed, the Final Calamity is the end of all things, far surpassing previous epochal collapses. The ‘Salvation Arks’ of the past cannot safeguard the remnants of life. Only by basing it on the present Netherworld—aligned with the concepts of death, finality, and destination—and harnessing the momentum of the apocalypse can we forge the most unique Salvation Ark, offering a sliver of hope to carry all beings through the epoch’s end, adrift in the void, awaiting the uncertain dawn of the next epoch.”
“Homage to Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva,” Xuan Bei murmured in realization, unheard by the surrounding spirits. “No wonder the Buddhist, Taoist, and Heavenly Courts of the ancient mythological era vied for control of the Netherworld. Now, realms like the Vacuum Hometown have emerged as afterlives. No wonder you secretly bestowed the Wheel of Life and Death to aid me in establishing this Pure Land of the dead.”
Before attaining the Other Shore, Meng Qi had found this matter shrouded in mystery, hence his use of Xuan Bei’s experiments to glean insights. But after transcending the sea of suffering and witnessing the epoch’s end, including Earth’s experience as a Salvation Ark, he understood fully.
Hearing Xuan Bei’s words, he smiled. “The authority over the Netherworld is currently divided, primarily between the Golden Emperor and Amitabha Buddha. But if each acts independently, the fragments of finality they hold will be insufficient to craft a Salvation Ark capable of surviving the epoch’s end. A struggle is inevitable.”
“Master, even if your Ksitigarbha Pure Land incorporates the legacy of the ancient Ksitigarbha, it remains far from the realms of the Eternal Mother and others. With the apocalypse imminent, to protect all beings, changes must be made.”
Xuan Bei fell silent before asking, “What changes?”
“The Human Emperor of old also made preparations, attempting to forge the ‘Ark of the Apocalypse,’ though he fell short. I wish to retrieve it and merge it with your Ksitigarbha Pure Land, reforging the Salvation Ark to await future variables,” Meng Qi stated frankly.
Xuan Bei nodded, his tone compassionate. “If it may spare the multitudes from calamity, why not attempt it?”
“Excellent!” Meng Qi clapped his hands and vanished, reappearing in the Great Zhou’s imperial palace on Longmen Island, seated across from Gao Lan with a table of fine wine between them.
His earlier exchange with Xuan Bei condensed into a beam of light that entered Gao Lan’s brow, conveying the full context.
“Imperial Brother, if you refuse, this humble Daoist will not insist. If you agree, I will not take it without fair exchange,” Meng Qi said with a smile.
Gao Lan held his wine cup, his expression unreadable. Slowly, he replied, “Between brothers, such trivialities need not be spoken. Take it. Moreover, it fulfills the Human Emperor’s unfinished will—a part of the Human Path inseparable from my reign, benefiting me in every way.”
“Imperial Brother, are you truly uninterested in the exchange?” Meng Qi’s smile carried a hint of Gu Xiaosang’s mischief.
Gao Lan’s gaze deepened, as if guessing. Softly, he asked, “What is it?”
“Resurrecting Sister Yanran,” Meng Qi said, meeting Gao Lan’s eyes.
As a Paragon, reversing time to resurrect her was trivial, and it would not alter Gao Lan’s past. But Meng Qi knew that beneath the jester or the emperor, his elder brother was a man of immense pride who would never ask for such a favor unless absolutely necessary. Hence, Meng Qi had never broached the subject—until now, with the apocalypse looming and no guarantee of a “next time.”
Gao Lan’s eyes rippled like stormy seas. Meng Qi continued, “This humble Daoist knows Imperial Brother is a hero who would only seek to achieve this himself. But exchanging what is already yours for this chance—how is that different? Moreover, I will not act directly. The task will still be yours.”
As he spoke, he produced a long jade box, bathed in serene moonlight, exuding a sense of frozen time. Upon it were four arcane characters:
“Moonlight Treasure Box!”
“This artifact can reverse time, returning you to the past. What say you, Imperial Brother?” Meng Qi studied Gao Lan intently.
Gao Lan’s hand trembled slightly around the cup, his eyes dark as a tempestuous ocean.
Meng Qi did not rush him, waiting for his decision. Idly, he mused that were it not for Sister Yanran, Gao Lan’s response would surely have been:
“Call me Imperial Brother!”
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