Shen Jin was dumbfounded, while the Sect Master laughed so hard she could barely stand, especially at the reactions of these few people. At first, she managed to suppress her laughter with just a trembling of her shoulders, but eventually, she couldn’t hold it in anymore and leaned against the Fusang Tree, laughing unrestrainedly.
“There really are idiots who believe it.”
Xue Ying felt like the Sect Master was mocking Shen Jin.
Once she’d laughed her fill, she straightened up and explained in detail, “This method is actually closer to puppet manipulation. Yaoguang is the puppet, and the swordsman is the master. The only difference is that instead of one person pulling the strings, it’s two, with shared consciousness. Ultimately, it’s just to deceive Yaoguang. So, do we try it or not?”
Before Cen Wuwang could answer, Xue Ying immediately agreed, surprising the other two. The Sect Master cautioned, “You should think carefully. The side effects of this method are significant.”
Xue Ying fired off three questions in rapid succession:
“Will I die?”
“Will it affect my swordsmanship?”
And the final question—
“Will I get ugly?”
Sharp and concise, each question hit the mark.
The Sect Master fell silent for a moment, then her eyes lit up.
Direct, straightforward, capable of fighting, and beautiful—
“Little sister, I like you!”
Xue Ying, now embraced by the Sect Master, felt a bit shy. She hadn’t thought too much about it. At worst, she’d suffer a bit, but it wouldn’t kill her. If Cen Wuwang had to bear it instead, next year they’d be dancing on his grave.
Cen Wuwang, having had enough of the sisterly affection, interjected slowly, “She’s your junior disciple-niece. By seniority, she should call you ‘Aunt.’”
His tone was calm, his demeanor quiet—just a bit too talkative.
After the sisterly bonding, it was time for business. The Sect Master, a master of formations, took charge. As a formidable spellcaster, her swordsmanship might be lacking, but she had plenty of flashy tricks up her sleeve. Xue Ying stared at the intricate formation beneath her feet until her head started spinning.
Once the final rune was completed, the Sect Master tossed aside her talisman brush and pulled Shen Jin back, chatting animatedly—perhaps because she’d been alone for too long.
“Demon Lord, care to stand guard?”
Shen Jin thought everyone in Taichu Sect was insane—disciples and leader alike, and the symptoms were severe. Since when did demon lords guard righteous cultivators?
“It’ll be fun. You can stab them in the back.”
“Sure!”
As the formation lit up, Xue Ying heard Cen Wuwang’s stern reminder:
“Focus your spirit, calm your mind. Hold fast to your core.”
That day, the demon realm witnessed an unforgettable sight.
The perpetually dim sky suddenly erupted with a blinding light, followed by a massive hole—big enough to fit a bathtub. A ball of white light squeezed through with great effort, like an overstuffed dumpling stubbornly forcing its way in.
Before Shen Jin and the others could react, the white light—apparently pushed too hard from the other side—plopped straight into the Nether River. The river, infamous for devouring even mud, instantly vaporized, not even leaving behind a sulfuric rain.
When the light cleared, Shen Jin finally saw the figure—a little girl, face planted in the dirt, covered in mud. Her eyes were bright, and everything below her neck was fluffy, with a pair of pitch-black wings flapping as she scrambled out of the pit and dashed to the Fusang Tree, shouting excitedly,
“Cangwu didn’t lie to me!”
Before Shen Jin could ask who she was, another group of people burst out of the hole, chasing after her and yelling,
“Running away while pregnant? You’ve got guts!”
Shen Jin instinctively glanced at her belly—indeed, it was round. The girl hid behind Cen Wuwang, clearly familiar with him. The Sect Master asked,
“Whose kid is it?”
Cangwu cursed, “Damn that Feng Yuemian! That bastard somehow got his hands on Gan Water and made my old tree bloom again. Squeezed me dry!”
After his outburst, he noticed the red mark on Cen Wuwang’s forehead and the unconscious Xue Ying in his arms.
Identical.
“You two slept together?”
Cangwu: “Oh~”
That “oh” was loaded with implications. Cen Wuwang remained unfazed.
“She passed out.”
Check on my disciple.
Cangwu, perhaps due to pregnancy hormones, was irritable.
“Watch your tone. You’re talking to the greatest healer in the four realms.”
Cen Wuwang didn’t even blink, just stared at him silently.
Cangwu: “…”
The diagnosis revealed Xue Ying was merely exhausted—and possibly overwhelmed by her first time. Cangwu took a drag from his pipe.
“Young people should pace themselves.”
“We didn’t.”
This wasn’t the time for chitchat. The newly opened passage hadn’t just delivered Qiuqiu—it also brought Feng Yuemian and his relentless pursuit of Cangwu.
One without a shell, one with a bun in the oven, and one out of mana. Cangwu pondered for a moment before turning to the idle Shen Jin.
“Excuse me, are you Demon Lord Shen Jin?”
Before Shen Jin could nod, Cangwu beamed.
“Brother, I’m Cangwu, master of Taisu Valley and the finest healer in the four realms. Let’s be friends!”
At the mention of a healer, Shen Jin instinctively became more polite. And when he heard “Taisu Valley master,” he realized—wasn’t this the legendary Sage Hand Cangwu, the one Nühou had been obsessing over?
A smooth-talking con artist eager to be his dad.
Before Shen Jin could decide whether to stab him and make it a double homicide, Qiuqiu finished her exploration and began climbing the tree in her true form.
Fun fact: The surface of the sun reaches 6,000 degrees Celsius.
Shen Jin’s red hair nearly caught fire. Luckily, no one present was normal—otherwise, they’d have been reduced to ashes on the spot. Even so, Shen Jin’s face was medium-rare by the time Cangwu retracted the branch he’d used as a shield and waved at the now-roasted demon lord.
“Let’s talk?”
**
Xue Ying remembered that after her consciousness merged with Cen Wuwang’s, Yaoguang became much easier to wield. After cleaving open the passage, she’d meant to ask the Sect Master about next steps, but the next thing she knew, she was standing in Taisu Valley’s inner sanctum.
Cangwu’s true form loomed nearby—an immortal tree with lush foliage. Beneath it sat a young man in his early twenties, unremarkable in appearance but exuding an inexplicable warmth.
He gestured for Xue Ying to sit.
“Don’t panic. I’m just a wisp of consciousness.”
A tea servant approached with refreshments but tripped over a root, sending tea and himself sprawling.
The unflappable master of Taisu Valley lay on the ground, weeping like a wronged maiden.
“Immortal, I—I’m sorry!”
Xue Ying’s hair stood on end, but the young man remained unperturbed.
“Amusing, isn’t it?”
Xue Ying nodded stiffly. As the fallen Cangwu dissipated like smoke, the young man explained,
“When Cangwu first took human form, his mind was still childlike. But his treasures made him a target for other demons. I took pity and kept him by my side to protect him.”
Xue Ying guessed his identity. Legends said Cangwu had once followed Taichu Sect’s founder. Only the founder would know such embarrassing stories.
“Are you… the legendary Founder?”
Silence was confirmation. The young man continued,
“Cangwu was clever—quick to learn and adapt. Within a century, he could pass for human and even speak eloquently.”
The first half was fine, but the second made Xue Ying think: Senior Cangwu’s personality was probably learned from you.
“As they say, waste not. If he could work, he’d work. So the job of caretaker fell to him.”
At this point, Xue Ying had to ask:
“Did you foresee the crisis facing the four realms?”
The young man smiled serenely.
“I wrote *The Great Dao*.”
Xue Ying: “…”
“If you can’t write, don’t. Even a chicken pecking at a keyboard would do better.” The young man pulled out a tablet and read Xue Ying’s comment aloud, his smile growing ever more gentle.
“Every word a gem, straight from the heart, earth-shattering in its brilliance. Marvelous. Astonishing.”
Xue Ying’s face burned. Had she known *The Great Dao*’s author was her sect’s founder, she’d have showered it with praise, not criticism.
“You’re joking. I was just being honest. If I’d known…” Her voice trailed off.
But the worst was yet to come. The young man began reading other comments.
“This is the first time I’ve read such a profound work—packed with life’s truths, masterful structure, and a love story that stirs the soul. A monumental masterpiece.”
“That was Xiao Fang’s.”
Xue Ying had a bad feeling.
“Author, you must be a deity in disguise. How else could you pen such a moving tale? Even without reading, I know it’s a transcendent work. Please accept my worship… Cangwu talks too much. I’ll skip the rest.”
He scrolled until he found one related to Xue Ying.
“Want to hear Yuhengzi’s comment?”
Xue Ying cringed so hard she could’ve dug a hole with her toes. So everyone else was kissing up, and she was the blind fool who stumbled in and disturbed the big shots?
“Founder, just put me out of my misery!”
The young man chuckled.
“Nothing much. Your master isn’t one for words. He just left a ‘keep it up.’”
Sect Master, Cangwu, Cen Wuwang… Xue Ying steadied herself.
“They knew from the start?”
The young man set down his tablet and sipped his tea, gaze distant.
“What is real to you? What is illusion?”
“Are your past memories real, or is it all Zhuang Zhou’s dream?”
Xue Ying had no answer. She looked at Yaoguang in her hand.
“If wielding a sword across the world is just a dream, I’d be heartbroken when I woke.”
The young man smiled and spoke softly.
“I reincarnated into this world when the four realms were still unformed, the universe just awakening. Doing good deeds earns heavenly merit. I helped stabilize this realm and planned to deal with the miasma. But my actions were too impactful—the heavens rewarded me with so much merit that I was ejected beyond the four realms and couldn’t return.”
“I was ready to wash my hands of it, but the little princess of the demon realm needed training. After discussing with Donghuang, I sent Qiuqiu down. The four realms needed peace; Qiuqiu needed merit. A fair trade. The rest, you likely know.”
Xue Ying understood.
“But what does *The Great Dao* have to do with it?”
The young man glanced at her.
“Sages perceive past and future. *The Great Dao* is merely a glimpse of what’s to come. Sending a golden crow with an instruction manual—is that strange?”
He seemed to read her confusion and marveled,
“Wait, you took it seriously? I just made it up.”
Xue Ying reminded herself: This is the Founder. She couldn’t beat him, his true body wasn’t here, and she shouldn’t lose her temper.
Unable to vent, she muttered,
“Junior Sister Lin is the villainess in the book. She’s been living in fear.”
Writing nonsense and still expecting praise?
The young man sighed.
“Same book, same characters. You scorn it, yet she drowns in romance. As the saying goes: Each has their own fate. You can’t force it.”
Xue Ying caught his meaning.
“You had high hopes for Junior Sister Lin too.”
The young man refilled his cup.
“With the four realms at stake, I wouldn’t bet on one person. It’s no surprise many know of *The Great Dao*. What’s interesting is your reactions.”
“For you, it steeled your resolve—a path forward without looking back.”
“For her, it promised an easy life, free from worry.”
“And for Cangwu and the others, the Dao is the people—to establish virtue for heaven and earth, to open peace for all ages.”
“‘Dao’ can be interpreted in countless ways.”
Xue Ying’s face burned. She thought of her earlier clashes with Cen Wuwang, blaming him for denying her chances. She was ashamed of her vanity—coveting the Sword Immortal’s fame.
“I’m sorry.”
The young man patted her head.
“Why apologize to me? I understand them. To them, no matter how outstanding, a junior is still a child to be protected.”
“But pride turns to dust in death. Nothing to fear. Keep moving forward. Don’t look back. Carry the legacy forward. Then your time here wasn’t wasted.”
The words seemed too heavy. When Xue Ying didn’t respond, he looked down—she was crying.
Flustered, he said,
“Don’t cry! I can’t handle girls crying.”
Xue Ying sniffled.
“I’m not blaming you. It’s just… if Master and the others really leave, I’ll be devastated.”
Her voice wavered again. The young man panicked.
“No more tears! Here—do you want to see Bailu?”
That stopped her. She looked up cautiously.
“My Bailu was taken by the Five-Colored Divine Feather. Senior Cangwu said even he couldn’t retrieve it.”
As she spoke, the young man’s hand dipped into the void as if rummaging through a pile, muttering,
“Yin-Shang artifacts are all here. Birds do love hoarding… Whatever.”
Like tipping over a chest of jewels, countless treasures spilled before Xue Ying. He even shook his sleeves for good measure.
“They’re all yours.”
Xue Ying dug through the pile and found Bailu. Instantly, her tears dried. Clutching the sword, she beamed.
“Thank you, Founder! I’m not sad anymore.”
A classic case of valuing swords over people.
The young man saw right through her and waved dismissively.
“No need. Just borrowing flowers to offer Buddha.”
Seizing the chance, Xue Ying bombarded him with questions.
“Founder, how old are you?”
“Too many reincarnations. Lost count.”
“Do you have a master too?”
“Of course.”
“After ascension, do you become a heavenly bureaucrat like in the stories?”
“Heaven uses digital offices now. Lots of gods got laid off.”
“How long will Qiuqiu stay in the four realms?”
“Dunno. Probably until the interstellar era.”
“Why split into Taichu and Taixuan factions?”
“Because my master said to preserve the Mystic Gate’s uniqueness.”
“Are you really a sword cultivator?”
“No.”
“Am I a transmigrator?”
“No.”
“Did you write the *Great Dao*’s smut scenes?”
“No.”
The string of “no’s” snapped him out of it. Xue Ying’s face was a mix of skepticism and critique—clearly unimpressed with ghostwriting.
She clasped her hands pleadingly.
“Founder, since you’re omnipotent, could you do me a favor?”
The young man nearly laughed. This girl had guts.
“Speak.”
“Ever since I came of age, I’ve had this ‘Voice of Diting’ in my head, always reciting *The Great Dao*.”
The more she spoke, the brighter his smile grew—until he suddenly switched tones.
[You called?]
Xue Ying gaped. The young man burst into laughter, prompting her to yank off her veil and yell,
“You psycho—!”
Before she could finish, he tapped her forehead.
Everything dissolved like mist.
She jolted awake to Cen Wuwang’s lifeless face—looking like a widower.
Xue Ying scrambled out of his arms, still clutching the veil. Remembering what happened, she fumed.
“Some Founder…”
Knowing he was the real deal, she dared only mutter under her breath. Before she could test if the Voice of Diting was gone, Cen Wuwang reached over and touched her forehead.
“It’s red.”
Xue Ying grumbled, “The Founder hit me.”
No more Diting voice. She gritted her teeth, itching to storm off and pick a fight with her sect’s ancestor.
Cen Wuwang didn’t get her anger. He studied her unveiled face, then glanced at Bailu beside her.
“You had an epiphany?”
Xue Ying puffed her cheeks.
“From the Founder.”
She turned to the distant shouting match between Feng Yuemian and Shen Jin, confused.
“Why is Feng Yuemian here?”
“Chasing Cangwu.”
“Senior Cangwu?”
“After opening the passage, the demon and monster realms became neighbors. Cangwu agreed to help the demons—on the condition that Shen Jin deals with the Feng Clan.”
Money talks. Cangwu and Shen Jin hit it off instantly—almost like sisters.
Feng Yuemian and Shen Jin were now pulling each other’s hair. Seeing no immediate need for her, Xue Ying turned back to Cen Wuwang and recounted her experience, omitting irrelevant details.
When she mentioned the four realms’ crisis, she clasped her hands behind her back and bowed her head.
“Master and the Sect Master dedicated themselves to the four realms, while I cared only for reputation and competition. I’m sorry…”
Cen Wuwang remained impassive.
“Youthful arrogance, ignorant of the bigger picture. Not your fault.”
Still, Xue Ying pressed,
“But I’m *The Great Dao*’s protagonist. Normally, wouldn’t people fight for the protagonist’s luck or cling to them?”
Cen Wuwang looked surprised.
“When I learned of *The Great Dao*, you were still a child. What could you have done? Sacrifice yourself to a tree? Raise a golden crow? You could barely hold a sword. As a junior, staying under protection is natural.”
“What about magical treasures?”
“Taichu Sect is wealthier than you think.”
She might as well ask the embarrassing questions.
“Weren’t you afraid I’d grow up to follow *The Great Dao*’s path?”
After all, in the book, she’d had one man after another—hardly a proper sword cultivator. What gave him the courage to take her in?
Cen Wuwang didn’t blink.
“Doesn’t matter. If you disgrace yourself, I’ll clean up the mess. Do you want to die?”
Xue Ying pondered.
“…Fair point.”
Last question.
“Master, how much of *The Great Dao* did you read?”
“All of it.”
He even seemed nostalgic.
“The Founder’s prose was excellent. Your love-hate relationship with Liu Junzhuo was particularly vivid—true to your bond as senior and junior. I have the complete edition. Want to read it?”
Xue Ying: “Cen Wuwang, go to hell!”
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