Chapter 1405: Episode Eight – If

The heavens and earth were reborn, marking the dawn of a new era. Today, the Guanjiankou bore no trace of its former self.

Mu Yunle, clad in a lotus-root-colored dress, lingered outside the temple of the Erlang Shenjun, awaiting the outcome of her request for an audience. Though she now stood among the ranks of immortals, just a step away from becoming a legend—unique across all realms—she still felt as insignificant as a mortal before the might of the Great Dao. And when it came to figures like Yang Jian, a Heavenly Venerable renowned since the mythic age of the previous era, whether she would be granted an audience remained uncertain.

More importantly, she knew her purpose for seeking an audience was rather trivial—she had come to revise *The Biography of Yuanhuang*. After years of investigation, she had completed the novel, incorporating many secrets revealed by insiders. Yet, certain inconsistencies in the details left her without a reasonable explanation, prompting her to seek out the firsthand witnesses to uncover the truth.

To the immortals and deities, this was a trivial matter, hardly worth seeking an audience with a Heavenly Venerable. But upon introspection, Mu Yunle realized she truly wanted to do this, so she embarked on this journey undeterred by hardship or rejection, earning her the teasing nickname “the ever-persistent fool” from her closest friends.

After a while of waiting, before she could muster any other emotions, a grass-headed deity emerged, bowing with a smile. “The True Lord invites the fairy inside.”

“The True Lord agreed?” Mu Yunle was stunned for a moment before her face lit up with joy, her eyes nearly moist with gratitude. She hadn’t expected the Qingyuan Miaodao True Lord to be so accommodating, granting her an audience for such a seemingly insignificant matter.

Following the grass-headed deity, Mu Yunle passed through the temple and entered another celestial realm brimming with immortal energy. Stepping into the hall, she saw Yang Jian seated in the lotus position.

Yang Jian was dressed as always—a feathered cloud crown, a water-harmony robe, straw sandals, and a silk sash around his waist—exuding an air of transcendent grace and ease. His right hand rested naturally, stroking the glossy fur of the Howling Celestial Hound, while a faint smile played on his lips as he quietly observed Mu Yunle.

After Mu Yunle bowed, he spoke in a voice as warm as jade:

“Young lady, you wish to inquire about the past concerning Zhen Hui?”

“Yes,” Mu Yunle replied, then furrowed her brows. “But also no. Actually, it’s about another matter. I heard that you once told Yuanhuang Tianzun that Zhen Hui was a manifestation of your own temperament before you embarked on the Dao?”

“That is indeed true,” Yang Jian said, making Mu Yunle feel as though bathed in a spring breeze.

Though persistent, Mu Yunle was far from foolish. She carefully weighed her words before asking, “But why did Zhen Hui remain unchanged, always retaining his childlike innocence, while you, True Lord, are no longer as you were?”

If she didn’t clarify this point, once the revised *Biography of Yuanhuang* was published, many would surely question this inconsistency, cursing her on the forums of the Myriad Realms Communication Network, demanding the return of their “little junior brother.”

Of course, Mu Yunle wasn’t overly concerned about that—what mattered most was her own curiosity.

“Would you like to hear a story?” Yang Jian combed the Howling Celestial Hound’s fur, causing it to squint in contentment—having spent so long in the Jade Void Palace, it had picked up some lazy habits from the strange creatures there.

Mu Yunle straightened her back, her eyes shining. “Yes!”

Yang Jian began slowly: “Before the Shang Dynasty, the earth was in chaos—floods ravaged the land, demons ran rampant, and human tribes could barely protect themselves…”

…

Near a certain tribe, the waters stretched as far as the eye could see, turbid and swirling, as if they could engulf the world. Only the peaks of mountains stood exposed like islands, with no trace of the once-thick, wild earth.

“Yang Jian, stop following us!” a half-grown boy snapped at the fair-skinned, red-lipped child trailing behind.

Little Yang Jian’s eyes sparkled with determination. “Why can’t I come with you? The chief said children should stick together!”

Because you’re dumb! Because you’re stupid! The older boy silently retorted, but experience had taught him that such answers wouldn’t deter Yang Jian—he simply didn’t understand.

After a moment’s thought, he decided to use his ultimate weapon, mimicking his father’s tone with a disdainful snort. “Because you don’t have parents!”

“Why should I have parents?” Little Yang Jian asked innocently.

“Look, we all have parents, but you don’t. That means you’re different. It means no one wanted you. It means you’re a monster!” the older boy spat venomously.

Little Yang Jian stared at him blankly. “The chief said those without parents are the strongest. Weren’t you paying attention?”

“Huh?” The group of children exchanged confused glances, utterly baffled by Yang Jian’s inexplicable confidence—though, to be fair, he always had this unshakable self-assurance.

Little Yang Jian earnestly explained:

“The chief said the Heavenly Emperor is incredibly powerful. He was born of heaven and earth, with no parents. The chief also said the leader of the Ji tribe is strong—he has a mother but no father, conceived through divine inspiration…”

His explanation was a jumbled mess of examples, but he concluded triumphantly: “See? Those with a father but no mother are stronger than those with both. Those with a mother but no father are stronger still. And those with neither are the strongest of all!”

Chin raised, he looked down at the other children with pride, as if to say, *See? I have no parents, so I’ll be strong too!*

The children were momentarily stunned by his “logic,” almost swayed by his conviction, before scoffing and pointing behind him. “Look!”

“What?” Little Yang Jian spun around eagerly, expecting something exciting.

But there was nothing—just weeds and wildflowers.

When he turned back, the children had vanished.

“Tricked again…” he muttered, his expression dimming briefly before brightening once more. He headed toward a secluded spot on the mountain, where his new friend awaited.

“Xiao Hei!” he called softly upon arrival.

With a rustle, a grubby little black dog darted out from the strange foliage, wagging its tail at him.

Little Yang Jian grinned. “Xiao Hei, from now on, I’ll train with you!”

The dog froze, its intelligent eyes staring blankly at the boy. *Train with me?*

“The chief said,” Yang Jian began—as he always did—”that humans must learn from nature and emulate the demons to strengthen their bodies. When we grow up, we must even fuse our blood with theirs to become mighty warriors. Since I’m still young, I have to start by imitating demons. And you’re the only demon I know.”

He studied the little black dog intently, then dropped to all fours, sticking out his tongue. “Woof! Woof!”

Proudly, he looked up. “Did I do it right?”

The dog’s tongue lolled, its expression utterly bewildered.

After playing with the dog for a long while, Little Yang Jian happily made his way back to the mountaintop. Before he reached it, the pungent scent of blood assaulted his nostrils.

“Did they catch a big hunt?” he wondered, continuing forward until he rounded a cliff—and froze.

Bodies lay strewn everywhere, desiccated as if drained of all moisture.

“Chief! Chief!” He rushed to one of the corpses, tears streaming as he shook it desperately.

This was the tribe’s chief, the hero he admired most!

Suddenly, the chief’s eyes snapped open—a final surge of life—as he gripped Yang Jian’s wrist. “Run!”

“They’re after you!”

With that, he collapsed, lifeless.

“After me?” Little Yang Jian stood dumbfounded.

…

“After you?” Mu Yunle’s curiosity was piqued.

Yang Jian smiled gently. “Yes, after me. But more accurately, they were after the Heavenly Emperor.”

“The Heavenly Emperor?” she echoed, confused.

“In those days, the Heavenly Emperor sought to shed his divine form and reincarnate in secret using the Heavenly Emperor’s Stone Tablet. To conceal his tracks, he planted decoys—and I was one of them,” Yang Jian explained frankly.

“I see. But how did you escape the gods’ search?” she pressed.

Yang Jian chuckled. “The god who came searching wasn’t particularly powerful. He perished along with the chief.”

Mu Yunle nodded in understanding, sighing. “So you fled, endured hardships, and matured, losing your former innocence. But Zhen Hui also faced dangers—why didn’t he change?”

“Before Yang Jian entered the Jade Void Palace—before he formally embarked on the Dao—he had to rely solely on himself,” Yang Jian said softly. “But Zhen Hui, even through bandit raids, separations from his martial siblings, and countless trials, always had someone to lean on—his senior brother, his master. He never had to bear the weight alone.”

He closed his eyes briefly.

“Had I had a senior brother or master back then, perhaps my temperament would have remained. But as it stands, Zhen Hui will always be Zhen Hui, while Yang Jian must become the Qingyuan Miaodao True Lord.”

His voice grew solemn, resonating as if across the heavens. Mu Yunle shivered as Yang Jian’s crown chakra opened, releasing a radiant light that coalesced into countless illusions, condensing as if to form a phantom fruit.