The Fengyun Blade, Taihua Sword, Zhaixing Hand, and Xiaoyue Loom were respectively inserted at the four corners of the periphery of the pitch-black mountain peak. Winds howled and clouds surged, sword qi pierced the sky, stars trembled, and thunderstorms rumbled, intertwining with the residual essence of the Jiuxiao Divine Thunder Spear, forming a “Heavenly Net and Earthly Encirclement,” tightly shrouding the mountain peak without the slightest gap.
Radiance surged and sword energies vied for brilliance. As the “Heavenly Net and Earthly Encirclement” contracted and pressed inward, the demonic aura of the pitch-black mountain peak boiled over, transforming into a straight pillar of smoke that pierced the clouds. It devoured thunder and lightning, entwined sword energies, and chased the stars, its demonic aura surging endlessly.
Innumerable fiends flew out from within the mountain, fearlessly hurling themselves at the four divine treasures. One corpse after another fell, shattering upon impact, yet these deaths had no effect whatsoever, as the fiends dissolved back into demonic energy and reabsorbed into the mountain.
Although the four divine treasures exerted their full might, they lacked a master to command them and were devoid of sentience. Gradually, under the relentless assault of the fiendish horde, the constricting “Heavenly Net and Earthly Encirclement” began to expand slightly again.
Meng Qi, witnessing this scene, understood that he had no path to retreat. Only by ascending to the summit, finding a successor for the Demon Lord’s will, could he hope to dispel that will, destroy the demonic tomb, and escape his predicament. He clearly knew that Gu Kongsan and the others were far away and unlikely to arrive soon. Being deep inside the mountain, he also had no opportunity to claim mastery over the four divine treasures. Even if he could retreat from the mountain in time, forging a bond with the treasures would be a lengthy process, impossible to achieve quickly.
With no way back and the path ahead uncertain, Meng Qi took a deep breath. First, he turned sideways to check whether Xiaozhi’s acupoints were still sealed, then strode forward firmly toward the “Demon Gate.”
For him, the danger ahead was not only the stone gate before him but also Xiaozhi by his side. Who knew when she might revert back into Gu Xiaosang?
Demonic energy surged, and the inscriptions and patterns on the gate exuded an eerie, sinister aura. Just from a glance, Meng Qi felt his very soul risk contamination.
He tightly gripped the Red Sun Demon-Repelling Blade in his right hand, his Golden Bell Shield pushed to its limit, radiating an aura like an incarnate Arhat, his will unshakable. He extended his left hand and gently pressed it against the stone gate.
The stone gate opened slowly and without incident, revealing a magnificent palace within. Meng Qi led Xiaozhi into the hall and saw a shadow seated upon a high throne.
The figure was tall and imposing, clad in black imperial robes, wearing a crown with hanging jade pendants that obscured his face.
“You have finally come. Will you accept my legacy and command the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths?” The Demon Lord’s voice was deep, majestic, and irresistibly tempting.
Just an inheritance—no risk of death. I should be able to control myself. I should deal with the demonic tomb first, Meng Qi thought. Bowing, he replied, “This junior is willing.”
“Worthy indeed,” the Demon Lord said with a hint of amusement in his voice. The crown’s jade pendants lifted, revealing a pale, sinister face that was otherwise indistinguishable from an ordinary human.
Suddenly, his eyes turned blank, then became a chaotic void, indescribable and unfathomable.
Primordial chaos split open, the primordial beginning emerged, yin and yang differentiated, and the Taiyi rotated. Suddenly, two beams of mysterious light burst forth, directly piercing into Meng Qi’s eyes.
Countless profound Daoist principles swirled within Meng Qi’s mind. He sensed his power surging rapidly, soon opening his nine apertures, unlocking the Mysterious Pass (Xuanguan), connecting with heaven and earth, harmonizing internal and external energies, and forging his Dharma Body.
Unable to contain himself, Meng Qi let out a long roar that shook the heavens.
Instantly, centered on the mountain peak, waves of mysterious energy rippled outward, scattering clouds, shattering sword light, extinguishing stars, and dispersing thunder.
Hordes of fiends descended, covering the entire mountain. Countless pairs of blood-red eyes gazed toward the summit. Tears of blood slid down their faces, and then, in unison, they prostrated themselves:
“Hail the return of our Master! None in the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths dare defy!”
“Hail the return of our Master! None in the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths dare defy!” These cries echoed into Meng Qi’s ears. The once-invincible fiends now knelt at his feet—what an achievement, what a proud moment!
Clang!
The Fengyun Blade, Taihua Sword, Zhaixing Hand, and Xiaoyue Loom, overwhelmed by the surging demonic might, all let out a mournful cry. Their forms shrank back to their original sizes, flew to Meng Qi’s feet, and bowed in submission.
The residual essence of the Jiuxiao Divine Thunder Spear involuntarily dissipated, leaving only a lingering will filled with resentment, yet powerless to resist, eventually fading into silence.
Meng Qi threw his head back in laughter, his heart brimming with triumph. Indeed, the Demon Lord’s legacy was extraordinary!
“Master…” Xiaozhi gazed at Meng Qi, entranced, her delicate fingers unconsciously entwining. “You must know my feelings. I do not seek another life—only to share this life’s trials and tribulations with you.”
Her beauty was exquisite, her aura pure and ethereal. Her shy yet resolute confession only heightened her charm.
Having inherited the Demon Lord’s legacy, Meng Qi was no longer afraid of Gu Xiaosang. As he admired the beautiful Xiaozhi before him, his heart stirred. After a slight hesitation, he said, “But Xiaosang herself wouldn’t agree, would she?”
That was the trouble with having two souls in one body—he wasn’t the type to force others.
Xiaozhi lowered her head, blushing. “Xiaosang admires men stronger than herself. Husband, you are perfect.”
Good grief, changing titles that quickly—wasn’t it too soon? Meng Qi was momentarily stunned, his inner monologue flaring up.
Xiaozhi lifted her head, her smile now mischievous. “Master, I never imagined you could directly forge a demonic body. You probably can’t return to the Buddhist sect now. Why not let go of your worries and cultivate the Dao together? Since Xiaozhi loves you and I have no beloved of my own heart, why not give it a try?”
Her slender finger, white as a chive stem, gently touched her pink lips, exuding an indescribable allure.
“This… this doesn’t seem quite right…” Meng Qi swallowed hard.
“What’s wrong with it?” Gu Xiaosang said with a smile, stepping closer to Meng Qi. “Could it be that my husband prefers to be passive, to be played with by me? Fine, I can try.”
She gently pushed Meng Qi onto the throne, then took a step back, undoing the sash in her hair. Her long tresses cascaded down like a waterfall, brushing past her face and lips.
Her fingers traced slowly from her chest down to her waist, then slowly pulled at her sash, her posture graceful and seductive.
Meng Qi’s fingers twitched in excitement. But just then, a clear shout pierced his ears: “What are you doing?”
He looked up and saw Jiang Zhiwei, sword in hand, stepping into the hall, her face pale with sorrow at the scene.
“I, I—it’s not what you think!” Meng Qi blurted out.
Then, his lips twitched. “This channel…” seemed off. Such dialogue shouldn’t be coming from him.
Suddenly, a flash of insight struck him. He stared blankly as Jiang Zhiwei loosened her yellow robe, revealing her white undergarments and delicate figure.
Something was wrong, something was off…
Everything felt so real, impossible to escape. Gu Xiaosang and Jiang Zhiwei beneath him—this was a dream beyond even his wildest dreams. Yet, Meng Qi felt this wasn’t truly what he desired in his heart.
Suddenly, a monk appeared before his eyes. He couldn’t see the monk’s face, but he knew the monk wore a look of deep suffering.
His body shrank, becoming a child—obedient and endearing, doted upon by his parents. As he grew, he was filial and respectful, and his parents cherished him above all else. At their passing, he looked upon their coffins and sighed deeply: “So this is how it is.”
A beauty appeared by his side, and they lived together in harmony, their nights filled with passion, raising children together in happiness. Decades later, when his wife passed away, he sat in the mourning hall and suddenly sighed: “So this is how it is.”
He wandered from flower to flower, leaving his love everywhere, indulging in pleasures. One day, he withdrew and shook his head with regret: “So this is how it is.”
Born into royalty, he was the center of his family’s affection. As he grew, he wielded supreme power, his words deciding life and death, his anger bringing mass slaughter, his joy bestowing boundless favor. Ten years later, he walked away from the palace, leaving only the words: “So this is how it is.”
He roamed battlefields, destroying villages and nations, treating lives as grass, reveling in the joy of slaughter. In his old age, he gazed at an ancient lamp and a Buddha statue, a rare smile on his face: “So this is how it is.”
…
Scene after scene flashed before Meng Qi’s eyes, like morning and evening bells awakening a dreamer.
“So this is how it is. This must be ‘Falling into the Mortal World’,” Meng Qi murmured, ignoring Gu Xiaosang and Jiang Zhiwei beside him.
“Cutting Purity” directly targeted the guilt, regret, unforgettable memories, and fears deep within a person’s heart. Only these could sever one’s peace, falling under the categories of greed, hatred, delusion, parting with loved ones, and meeting with enemies. As for “Falling into the Mortal World,” it referred to the yearnings, desires, and longings deep in one’s heart—belonging to the realm of “Unfulfilled Desires.”
Power, ambition, beauty, emotions—just now, all these had converged into one. Meng Qi closed his eyes, letting the blade intent within his heart surge and boil until, with one slash, he struck!
Ten zhang of red dust, the beauty of the land, the depth of love, the weight of parental grace, the vastness of wealth—who has never fantasized about these things?
The blade light, saturated with worldly desires, cleaved through everything before him, shattering them like reflections in a mirror or flowers on water.
The blade intent surged through his body, merging with the rolling demonic energy and previous emotions, tempering Meng Qi’s body and mind.
I want all of this, but amidst the myriad temptations of the world, I will choose only what my heart truly desires!
The dark golden glow grew brighter. After a series of crackling sounds, Meng Qi opened his eyes. His Golden Bell Shield, fifth stage, which he had diligently cultivated and recently tempered by a day’s worth of demonic energy, had now entered its initial stage of mastery. Of course, there was still much work to be done before reaching perfection.
Before him, the stone gate, still swirling with demonic energy, reappeared in his vision. His heart was calm, peaceful, and joyful, with no trace of illusion remaining.
Having entered the initial stage of the fifth level and having grasped the “Falling into the Mortal World” technique, he felt deeply satisfied.
The stone gate slowly opened, revealing the open summit. Xiaozhi cheered, “I knew the Master could control his inner emotions.”
Meng Qi glanced back at her and softly said, “Go inside.”
Stepping past the stone gate, Meng Qi immediately felt an indescribable pressure, a tremor from deep within his soul that stirred the urge to kneel in reverence.
He resisted the pressure and took a few steps forward. After about ten paces, the scene before him suddenly brightened. A massive purple lightning bolt pierced straight down onto the summit, its radiant glow sending electric serpents soaring into the sky, its brilliant purple light resembling a paradise.
Meng Qi was about to ask Xiaozhi a question when his gaze froze—he saw a figure slowly turn around in the center of the purple lightning.
The figure wore wide sleeves and appeared relaxed and carefree, his face pale and weary. Yet, between his eyebrows was a jet-black demonic mark—sinister, bloody, and repulsive, almost unbearable to look at, nearly identical to the one on the Demon Lord statue, but even more profound in its Daoist mystery.
At his feet lay a stone tablet inscribed with dragon-and-phoenix calligraphy.
“Residual soul of the Demon Lord?” Xiaozhi recoiled in fear, and Meng Qi instinctively took a step back as well.
They had originally assumed only the Demon Lord’s will remained, but now they realized there was something akin to a residual soul here!
Time flows ceaselessly, like a river. Could it be that even such a great being could leave behind a trace of his soul?
This being emanated an air of ancient vicissitudes, as though veiled in the accumulated dust of time. He gazed at Meng Qi with detached indifference, his eyes distant—as if looking through him at another, or peering across countless eons to meet someone else’s gaze.
With a light sigh, in a voice both ancient and calm, he said, “You came too late.”
Then, his figure gradually faded into transparency and disappeared.
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