The dazzling waves of light bursting from the Qisha Tablet enveloped Meng Qi, as a series of scenes flowed past his eyes like a stream. His physical body and Yuan Shen seemed to be submerged in an endless river, where countless uncertain future branches unfolded, hazy and unclear.
Past events, his own and others’, countless as the sands of the Ganges, filled the void. The sheer magnitude of choices left Meng Qi overwhelmed. Moreover, wherever a Qisha Tablet existed, its main body equaled the remains or lingering energy of a supreme being beyond legends, causing severe interference and making precise navigation impossible.
The Qisha Tablet’s power was limited in duration; if a choice couldn’t be made quickly, its effects would soon fade. Yet Meng Qi remained calm, shifting his consciousness outward:
“Tianle Year 37… Ningxin City…”
The Six Gates’ records reconstructed the time of murder based on death time estimations and various testimonies, making precision impossible, but it could generally pinpoint the exact hour, courtyard, or room.
Instantly, the dizzying flood of infinite scenes faded away, as similar scenes were linked together by Meng Qi’s consciousness. The events that occurred at the Tian Di Men sect leader’s courtyard on the first hour of the ninth month in Tianle Year 37 were strung together like film reels, each second meticulously separated.
With just a glance and spiritual discernment, Meng Qi identified several scenes depicting the Tian Di Men sect leader Lin Kang being assassinated. He reached out his hand toward one of the shimmering waves.
The moment his fingers touched the wave, Meng Qi felt his body grow weightless, and all surrounding pressure vanished as if he had leaped from the ocean depths into midair.
Immediately afterward, his Yuan Shen spun dizzily, and his physical body trembled. The surrounding space and time became chaotic. Without the protective power of the Qisha Tablet, he would have been torn apart and lost forever in the cracks of time—eternally trapped in a desolate void.
In Ningxin City, the night was dark and windy, the autumn air chilling. The Tian Di Men sect leader Lin Kang had finished his duties and returned to his room.
His hair was jet black, his breathing steady and deep, making him appear far younger than his forty-some years. His vitality was robust, almost impervious to spirits or ghosts, marking him as a rare Seven Orifices expert in the region. Yet his methods were ruthless, and his ambitions boundless. He had caused the deaths of countless people and accumulated numerous enemies.
He lit a candle, casually trimming the wick to brighten the room.
Unseen above the rafters, a figure lay in silent ambush, barely breathing, watching Lin Kang enter, light the candle, and trim the flame.
With a crisp crackle, the candle wick flared, the flame briefly intensifying, casting Lin Kang’s face in a faint glow.
As his attention instinctively shifted to the flame, the assassin above struck!
Swift as thunder, silent as a shadow, Lin Kang barely sensed the danger before a sharp pain pierced the back of his head. Darkness overtook his vision, and he collapsed forward onto the table.
No action was taken unless it was fatal—this was the hallmark of the Buren Lou assassins!
Even if their strength was inferior, with perfect timing, positioning, and circumstances, they could still slay the stronger.
In a mere breath, Lin Kang, the Tian Di Men sect leader, was dead, without resistance.
The assassin was of average height and build, unremarkable in appearance. Without checking whether Lin Kang was truly dead, the killer made straight for the window, confident in the success of the strike.
A gust of wind blew through, silently opening the window. The assassin’s pupils constricted, and his steps instinctively slowed, for standing by the window was a man in a green robe!
His features were handsome, his aura calm and deep, his eyes unfathomable. He stood with his hands behind his back, watching the assassin through the open window as if he had silently observed the entire assassination, while the assassin had sensed nothing.
A true grandmaster, a supreme expert!
The assassin, gifted and composed, shifted his footing to feint in one direction and strike in another.
At that moment, he saw the green-robed man raise his right hand. His fingers were long and powerful, and the surroundings darkened. The assassin found himself irresistibly drawn toward the man, unable to resist in the slightest.
The pale hand descended gently onto his forehead, and a deep, almost enchanting voice echoed in his ears: “The Immortal caresses my crown, bestowing eternal life from my youth.”
Instantly, the assassin’s surroundings changed, and he experienced lifetimes of reincarnation.
His wife toiled endlessly, saving every penny to fund his journey to the capital for the imperial exams. He fulfilled her hopes, becoming the top scholar, the imperial zhuangyuan. But upon returning home in joy and excitement, he found only her corpse—rotting and crawling with maggots—for days. A voice whispered in his ears: “It was destined…”
(Note: “状元” is translated as “zhuangyuan” to retain the cultural specificity of the term, as it refers to the top candidate in the imperial examination system, a concept without a direct English equivalent.)
A noble lady eloped with a penniless scholar, but he betrayed her, selling her into a brothel. Her delicate arms became the pillow of thousands. Eventually, she encountered her own brother passing through the city, seeking pleasure. She dared not reveal herself, wept bitterly, and threw herself into the lake…
Transformed into a donkey, toiling endlessly, only to be slaughtered in old age, becoming a meal on someone’s table…
Endless suffering, endless cycles. Even death could not bring escape. No matter how strong and composed the assassin’s mind, it could not endure this for long. Finally, it shattered, and tears and snot flowed, along with urine and feces.
Meng Qi’s right hand gently emitted a purple glow, and the sound of a pounding heart echoed into the assassin’s mind, transforming his breakdown into a terrifying “heart demon.” Then, with a clench of his fist, the heart demon cocooned itself and sank deep into the assassin’s subconscious. Unless summoned by the Yuan Xin Seal, it would never surface again, never interfere with his martial cultivation or mental clarity, nor would it be discovered by him.
Only when his Yuan Shen, Dharma Body, and physical form merged into a Dharma Body could this heart demon seed be perceived and removed.
The path of time was bound by the world’s constraints—minor details might shift, but the grand historical trend remained unchanged. For instance, if this Buren Lou leader were gone, another would inevitably rise in his place unless the entire Buren Lou were eradicated. Even then, another assassin group would emerge, accepting commissions, wielding divine weapons, and maintaining strength no less than that of a peak Exo-Realm expert, offering Meng Qi no advantage in altering his fate.
Heishan Laoyao understood this well. His decision to kill Liang Wujie was based on his own reasons—to break through to an unprecedented realm, achieving the new level of “Huang Tian Dang Li” (Heavenly Mandate Prevails). This was not a historical necessity dependent on a uniquely wise and strong individual. After Liang Wujie’s death, perhaps in the next or the generation after, someone from the Cangtian Sect might achieve “Huang Tian Dang Li,” but not in the current or near generations. If they could have done it, would Liang Wuji have been the one to accomplish it?
Thus, when he encountered the Supreme Elder Ji Wuliang, who had also reached the “Huang Tian Dang Li” level, his heart shattered.
Meng Qi feared unexpected changes, worried that historical anomalies might cause irreversible consequences. Therefore, he chose the smallest possible interference—the “heart demon seed”—ensuring that unless the world’s constraints changed, the Buren Lou leader’s fate would remain unchanged.
As for the Dushi Fawang, due to his deep entanglement with history, if he died, Meng Qi himself might vanish from this time altogether, having died long ago in the Ninth Heaven. Moreover, the heart demon seed was useless against a Dharma Body. The wisest course of action would have been to use the Qisha Tablet to travel back one or two months to Huamei Villa, inform Master Lu, and say he planned to use a sting operation to lure out the Dushi Fawang at a specific time and place, requesting Lu’s advance ambush.
At present, the enemy was not yet a Dharma Body expert, and it wasn’t worth raising Master Lu’s suspicions, which might expose the Qisha Tablet and lead to his erasure by the Six Paths.
The Qisha Tablet’s applications were infinite, unrestricted, and its mastery lay in the wielder’s wisdom!
Light surged, and Meng Qi vanished from the Tian Di Men, casually cleansing the assassin’s filth as he left.
A cold autumn breeze blew, and the assassin shivered, regaining his senses. He felt no abnormalities, only a brief moment of dizziness.
“Although Lin Kang couldn’t unleash his Heaven-Sorrow Palm, his dying resistance still affected me slightly?” The assassin dared not linger, fleeing swiftly. Only after reaching a safe location did he carefully inspect himself, confirming no issues before finally relaxing.
…
The early spring winds were chilly, and the great river flowed silently. Within the “Void Luli Realm,” the Fengdian Divine Envoy kept his distance, observing as the translucent short blade—once again manifesting as a Dharma Body token—vanished into the void and reappeared beside Meng Qi, slashing toward his head. He recognized the Joyful Bodhisattva’s “Infinite Bliss Finger” as a feint, while the “Bodhisattva’s Blissful Weave” from the Nine-Petaled Lotus silently ensnared its target. He also sensed Gu Xiaosang’s ethereal, chaotic aura and the divine weapon that belonged solely to the Eternal Mother.
He also witnessed the Buren Lou leader seizing Meng Qi’s most “vulnerable” moment—striking his back of the head with a sword, sealing Meng Qi’s fate with no escape!
Suddenly, he saw a burst of light flash and fade, and heard Gu Xiaosang’s soft exclamation.
Then, to his shock, Meng Qi ignored the Buren Lou leader’s strike entirely. Instead, he swung his orange-yellow fire blade diagonally, growing larger with every motion, as if pouring all his strength into it. It illuminated the entire chaos, carrying the weight of tens of thousands—even hundreds of thousands—of jin, cleaving through the translucent blade and causing the void to contract, shaking the “Bodhisattva’s Blissful Weave” off before it could entangle.
“He wants to break through by taking the injury? Hmph! The Buren Lou leader wields a divine assassination sword—how can it be blocked head-on? Even with three heads and six arms, without full power, it’s useless!” Fengdian Divine Envoy snorted coldly, already envisioning Meng Qi’s demise.
He wasn’t alone in this belief; the Joyful Bodhisattva thought the same.
The Buren Lou leader felt no emotion, no hesitation—only his sword and his target.
At that moment, he heard another sigh—deep, almost enchanting.
With a thunderous boom, something deep within his mind exploded. A flood of suffering memories and moments of utter collapse surged into his consciousness, as if he were still trapped in endless reincarnation, never to escape.
Then, he saw a pair of cold, godlike eyes. He saw a pale, slender, yet powerful hand gently strike—not from this shore, nor the other, nor the middle, but from wherever his mind was—everywhere.
The hand pierced through the momentarily out-of-control divine weapon and gently pressed onto the forehead of the Buren Lou leader.
The Joyful Bodhisattva and Fengdian Divine Envoy watched as, at the sound of that sigh, the perfect opportunity was squandered. The Buren Lou leader’s hand trembled, slowed, while “Crazy Blade” Su Meng, clad in a green robe, seemed like a celestial immortal or demon, his face filled with compassion, delivering a seemingly gentle palm strike that landed softly on the Buren Lou leader’s head.
Then, they saw the Buren Lou leader smile in relief, his Yuan Shen leaving behind a final echo:
“The Immortal caresses my crown, bestowing eternal life from my youth.”
Bang! His secret treasure shattered, his forehead cracked, and his Yuan Shen disintegrated. He plummeted downward, his divine weapon unable to save him in time.
“The Immortal caresses my crown, bestowing eternal life from my youth.”
The lingering words echoed, a mix of liberation and damnation, sending chills down the spines of the Joyful Bodhisattva and Fengdian Divine Envoy.
Meng Qi withdrew his gaze, dragging his blade, striding forward with calm authority: “Now, it’s your turn!”
At this moment, his momentum completely overpowered the two formidable opponents before him!
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