Shi Hao’s eyes brimmed with tears. It had been many years since he had felt such sorrow, such loneliness. Though he stood at the pinnacle of his life’s path, a profound desolation weighed upon him. Today, he had personally buried all his loved ones with divine source.
He returned to the Upper Realm, leaving the Eight Domains behind.
The Desolate Domain—where he had been born, where so many memories lingered—had brought him both joy and sorrow. Yet now, he found himself reluctant to return.
Back in the Heavenly Court, Shi Hao immersed himself in bitter cultivation, striving to elevate his strength amidst the ever-tightening tension, seeking a breakthrough.
Years later, in the depths of the starry void, within a dim and forgotten corner, a shattered and neglected star stirred. A pair of eyes snapped open, cold as lightning slicing through the void.
It was Shi Hao, alone at the edge of the cosmos, comprehending the Dao!
Before him lay a radiant stone, shimmering with iridescent light and emitting resonant roars. Had any Celestial Clan cultivators been present, they would have recognized it instantly—their ancestral artifact, the Ascension Immortal Stone.
This stone had been taken by Shi Hao from the Celestial City.
In those days, his karmic ties with that clan had been deep, and in the end, he had claimed this stone to sever all grudges.
**Boom!**
Suddenly, Shi Hao’s figure vanished, merging into a metallic stele. Immortal light erupted in the void, waves of energy surging violently, unleashing an astonishing aura.
Within that stele, two beings clashed in a fierce battle, locked in a life-and-death struggle, fighting with everything they had.
The Immortal Gold Stele had an extraordinary origin. Long ago, Shi Hao, along with Sanzang and Shenming, had ventured into the Immortal Domain. It was Sanzang who had discovered this Void Immortal Gold Stele there, eventually trading it to Shi Hao.
Speculation held that this was an artifact from the Era of Fallen Emperors, a vessel meant to inscribe supreme scriptures. Yet this particular stele had never been engraved.
Had it been, it would have been an unparalleled treasure!
When Shi Hao first obtained the Ascension Immortal Stone, the stele had resonated, emitting an inexplicable Dao tone.
But after that single occurrence, no matter how closely the stone and stele were placed, no further resonance ever took place.
It wasn’t until centuries later that Shi Hao finally unraveled the true secret of the Void Immortal Gold Stele.
It bore no scriptures—yet it was far more terrifying, far more precious than if it had.
Had Sanzang known, he would never have traded it away!
Once, while deep in meditation with the Ascension Immortal Stone, Shi Hao captured the Dao tone emitted by the stele—an ancient incantation that could unlock its power.
To a cultivator, facing it was like gazing into a mirror, revealing another self. The most horrifying aspect? That other self seemed utterly real, flesh and blood, and could be fought!
A life-and-death battle against oneself—a test of one’s true limits.
This was nothing short of heaven-defying. Fighting oneself, to the death!
No one knew oneself better than oneself. Such battles were terrifying, with both sides exploiting the slightest flaw, attacking relentlessly.
Had it not been for his aging parents and Yun Xi, Shi Hao would have long since thrown himself into this stele, training like a madman, battling himself.
But with his loved ones nearing the end of their lives, he couldn’t afford to seclude himself for centuries. He wanted to spend what time remained with them.
**Splat!**
Divine blood splattered. Inside the Void Immortal Gold Stele, after months of battle, a figure staggered back—Shi Hao. The life-and-death duel had ended, leaving him utterly exhausted.
For he had been fighting himself—no other being, but his own strongest opponent.
This battle had lasted months, an unimaginable span. Every time he prepared a killing move, the “other him” anticipated it.
Their cultivation, strength, and combat instincts were identical. Neither held an advantage.
A century passed in the blink of an eye.
During this time, Shi Hao entered the Void Immortal Gold Stele every few months or years, facing death, bathing in his own blood.
This was an epochal battle—a war against himself.
Shi Hao had gone mad, cultivating with reckless abandon.
This was no idle boast. Each entry into the stele was a trial of life and death. A single misstep meant annihilation.
According to deduction, dying within the stele meant true obliteration—as if slain by one’s own hand.
It could threaten one’s very existence!
Shi Hao sought to break through the final barrier, to ascend to immortality amidst the mortal world.
Thus, he fought desperately, battling himself, refining his techniques through this unorthodox combat.
A millennium later, Shi Hao was, in the eyes of the world, thirteen thousand years old.
For the past thousand years, none had seen him. Speculation ran rampant. None knew where he was or how strong he had become.
“Master!”
On this day, the Crimson Dragon suddenly appeared, calling from afar.
With a **boom**, Shi Hao emerged from seclusion, bloodied, withdrawing from the Void Immortal Gold Stele.
A thousand years of slaughter, a thousand years of war—yet he stood unbroken, undefeated. A miracle, by any measure.
Shi Hao had decreed that only matters of grave importance should disturb him.
Now, sensing the Crimson Dragon’s urgency, he appeared at once, fixing his gaze upon him.
“Master, that Divine Wolf has appeared again!” the dragon reported.
Shi Hao had instructed long ago: if the beast was spotted, it must not be startled away. He was to be informed immediately.
**Boom!**
In the next instant, Shi Hao, wreathed in boundless radiance, swept the Crimson Dragon along, departing the cosmic depths and streaking toward the desolate borderlands.
Upon arrival, he suppressed all aura, descending in utter silence.
Sure enough, creatures from the Other Realm were assaulting the passage once more. Three Ghost Immortals and two Heroic Spirits stood guard, suppressing those who sought to breach it.
Among them, a black wolf, vaster than a mountain range, emerged cautiously from the passage, lurking as it watched the others attack.
**Swoosh!**
Shi Hao could wait no longer. This time, he closed in abruptly, landing outside the passage before lunging forward, his massive hand reaching to seize the beast.
**Roar!**
The black wolf suddenly raised its head, a swirl of black flames enveloping it, incinerating the void. The heat was terrifying, enough to daunt even a True Immortal.
Shi Hao was stunned. Had this demonic wolf’s power truly soared so high in mere millennia?
“No—something’s wrong!” He sensed another presence within the passage—a being channeling those black flames, shielding the wolf. These were Dark Flames, fearsome even to True Immortals.
Shi Hao withdrew, stepping back. His expression stiffened, breath quickening, heart roiling.
Light footsteps echoed, graceful, rhythmic, causing the Great Dao to tremble and the void to resonate.
A woman in black emerged, her snow-white forehead adorned with intricate demonic patterns, her eyes deep as the starry sky. Beautiful yet cold, her aura was otherworldly.
That single strand of demonic mark on her brow lent her an eerie, enchanting allure.
Her beauty was undeniable, but it was her demeanor that captivated—aloof, detached, as if surveying all beneath her. Step by step, she advanced from the passage, as if awaiting the homage of all beings.
Creatures of the Other Realm parted, bowing in reverence.
The black wolf shrank until it stood just over a zhang tall, then prostrated itself, allowing the woman to mount it.
The once-ferocious beast now docile as a kitten, it rose only after she was seated, carrying her with an air of supremacy.
“How… can this be?”
Shi Hao murmured, his gaze locked onto the woman. Then, with a cry, he shouted, “It’s you! It’s really you!”
He knew her too well. Her voice, her smile—all remained vivid in his mind. Their shared joys and sorrows, their vows—all echoed still.
Yet in the end, when the fire mulberry blossoms bloomed, he could not return, bound to the battlefield.
By the time the petals fell and he came home, nothing remained.
Shi Hao would never forget that day—when a colossal hand pierced the borderlands, shattered half the Imperial Pass, and seized the Sinful Province, carrying it beyond the frontier.
That day, he had glimpsed a lone girl standing by the fire mulberry grove, waiting in despair as she vanished with the land.
She had never returned. They had never met again.
Now, grief overwhelmed him. He cried out, his voice thick with sorrow, to meet her like this.
Before him, the woman stood wreathed in raging black flames, phoenixes and vermilion birds of dark fire circling her.
And in the sky, petals drifted—fragrant, crystalline, like a rain of light.
Fire mulberry blossoms.
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