A deathly silence suddenly took hold as Ruo Xianxue’s existence faded into the deepest reaches of his Sea of Consciousness. Zhi Xuan felt as though half of his soul had been forcibly ripped away, leaving a cold void behind his chest, which still thundered from the turbulence of the Ancient Heaven blood.
Without the Great Saint’s guidance, the gray world beyond the dimensional gate felt far more vast and oppressive. The Seven Star Boat glided out of the light tunnel with a roaring sound that gradually shifted into an uncanny silence. Once the boat slowed and floated atop the frozen air, the sight before Zhi Xuan left him transfixed.
He was no longer in a meadow, a peach valley, or a lava desert. Before him stretched an ocean that contained no water, but rather a vast, motionless expanse of thick silver mist.
From beneath the mist, thousands of black jade pillars jutted upward, soaring high enough to pierce the low-hanging gray clouds. Each pillar was carved with ancient symbols that no longer radiated light, as if they were tombstones for a civilization long forgotten by time.
"What is this place..." Zhi Xuan murmured, his voice flat and devoid of echo, as if the very air here absorbed all sound frequencies.
He felt the Heavenly Samsara Wheel within him spinning slowly, adjusting to the laws of this new world. The traces of silver-gold blood at the corner of his lips had dried, but the burning sensation on his shoulder blades—the remains of the earlier dark wing projection—still pulsed, reminding him that he had just touched the boundary between a mortal frame and a distorted divinity.
Zhi Xuan immediately brought the Seven Star Boat to a halt near one of the giant pillars. He sensed an incredibly subtle energy fluctuation, resembling a weak pulse, originating from the center of that misty ocean.
Suddenly, the surface of the mist beneath the boat surged. It was not a sea monster that emerged, but thousands of lotus petals made of transparent crystal. These lotuses bloomed simultaneously, emitting an aroma of silence capable of paralyzing one's Dao Heart if their foundation were not strong enough.
"This is no longer the mirror of my soul," Zhi Xuan whispered, his eyes narrowing as he saw the silver bloodstains on his own palm begin to glow dimly in response to the jade pillars. "What exactly is this place?"
The silence that gripped this area was not the calming kind, but the stillness of a tomb sealed for dozens of kalpas. Zhi Xuan stood at the bow of the boat, his fingers—still trembling from the earlier clash—now brushed the surface of the nearest black jade pillar.
The touch of Zhi Xuan’s fingertips against the black jade pillar instantly sent a freezing sting crawling into his very marrow. The pillar did not feel like stone, but like a collection of frozen memories. Faintly, he heard the whispers of thousands of wailing souls—a grand yet heartbreaking dirge of death.
"Not merely tombstones..." Zhi Xuan hissed, pulling his hand back. "This is the fallen Heaven."
He immediately looked away upon realizing that the silver-gold bloodstains on his palm were being absorbed by the black jade, as if the pillar thirsted for the Ancient Heaven essence he carried. Zhi Xuan refused to surrender even a drop of his power to a place he did not recognize.
As the Seven Star Boat continued its slow journey through the silver misty ocean, the black jade pillars began to gather, forming a massive circular formation that seemed to surround something majestic at its center. The air grew denser, and the pressure of the area began to pull Zhi Xuan's boat lower.
There, at the heart of the swirling mist, a structure began to pierce the silver veil. Initially, it appeared only as a sharp shadow cleaving the clouds, but as they drew closer, its majesty began to weigh upon all of Zhi Xuan's spiritual senses.
A massive Pagoda stood firm atop a floating island made of fragments of dead stars. The Pagoda had nine levels, but strangely, each level was not physically connected; they floated above one another at a distance of one fathom, held together by dark purple law chains that glowed dimly.
"A Pagoda?" Zhi Xuan murmured hoarsely, his brow furrowing slightly. "Why is there a Pagoda here?"
The Pagoda did not radiate holy light like typical divine structures; instead, it emitted a cold, hollow Zen aura, as if it were the point where all forms of karma were brought to a halt. Each level featured different carvings—ranging from depictions of soul-torturing hells to peaceful celestial gardens—but they all appeared faded, like paintings that had lost their soul.
A heavy, hissing voice suddenly echoed through the air, though it did not originate from Ruo Xianxue. The sound emerged from the direction of the Pagoda, resembling the tolling of a bronze bell struck in the depths of the ocean.
Zhi Xuan immediately stood on guard, planting his feet firmly on the deck of the Seven Star Boat. His sapphire eyes flashed, piercing the silver mist to find the source of the sound. However, he found only the creeping silence returning once more.
"This Pagoda... it calls to my blood," Zhi Xuan whispered. He felt the pulse in his shoulder blades now synchronized with the vibrations of the purple law chains winding around the Pagoda.
Suddenly, from the void above the ocean, a vortex of gray and crimson appeared, looking like a tear in the flowing river of time. The vortex caused the Pagoda to react; the previously separated levels merged back together with a deafening clang, sending out a shockwave that made the Seven Star Boat tremble.
The tremors produced by the merging levels created ripples capable of tearing through a mortal practitioner's consciousness. Zhi Xuan immediately stomped his foot onto the deck, spreading Winter energy to freeze the space around the boat so it would not be capsized by the invisible shockwaves.
WHIRL! WHIRL!
The Pagoda spun as dark light glowed outward, as if ash from an unrecognized era had appeared. For a moment, Zhi Xuan stood frozen. The Pagoda drifted, and the chains binding it snapped; the surrounding ocean transformed into a chaotic battlefield scene as the sound of war drums began to fill the area.
Those war drums did not just beat against his ears; they struck directly at the core of Zhi Xuan’s Dao Heart. Each thrum brought horrific visualizations of split skies and earth spewing oceans of blood. In the midst of the misty ocean—now a battlefield illusion—thousands of faceless soldier silhouettes emerged from behind the black jade pillars, each carrying torn banners and weapons rusted by past karma.
"War? What is happening?" Zhi Xuan hissed, his voice squeezed by an air pressure that suddenly increased a thousandfold.
The nine-level Pagoda was no longer a silent structure. As it spun, each level radiated a different projection of law, creating an energy storm that sucked in the surrounding silver mist. The ash flying through the air was not merely combustion residue, but the dust of the bones of cultivators from an unknown age who had tried to climb the Pagoda and failed.
Zhi Xuan felt Mei Hua stir slightly in his embrace; the girl’s face looked troubled even though her eyes remained closed. "Do not be afraid, Mei... Brother is here," Zhi Xuan whispered, though he himself felt as if he were standing on the edge of a blade ready to strike.
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Suddenly, from the gray vortex that resembled the river of time, a shadow appeared. It was a man wearing long robes like those of a King or an Emperor. He did not pass through the vortex but remained at its boundary, such that Zhi Xuan could not even discern the figure's form or face.
The man's silhouette stood between the boundary of shattered space and the churning river of time, as if he were the line separating existence from non-existence. His magnificent robes billowed, yet the fabric was not made of heavenly silk, but of woven night darkness sprinkled with starlight.
Though his form was faint, the aura he emitted was suffocating—an Immortal majesty that had witnessed the collapse of thousands of eras beneath his feet. Zhi Xuan felt something strange: a resonance he did not recognize. He stood calmly, ignoring the drums that continued to rattle around him, feeling himself detached from those sounds.
"Who are you?" Zhi Xuan demanded, his voice raspy and his face hardening, filled with confusion at the strange resonance he felt with the silhouette.
"Trace of the Emperor... Eternal Heavens... Edge of the River of Time... All is Vanished..."
The voice did not come from a throat but boomed from all directions, as if the space around the Pagoda itself were speaking. The words were heavy, carrying the weight of infinite ages compressed into syllables capable of cracking bone. Every word spoken made the Nine-Level Pagoda shake violently, causing the broken purple law chains to dance wildly like enraged lightning serpents.
Zhi Xuan felt a tightness in his chest. The Ancient Heaven blood within him, which had been calmed by Ruo Xianxue earlier, now surged again, but with a different frequency. This was no longer just anger; it was recognition. His blood seemed to scream, reaching out for the silhouette at the edge of the river of time, as if an invisible thread were pulling his soul to leap into that gray vortex.
"The Ultimate Mystery," the man's silhouette spoke again, yet remained motionless. "Eternal Heavens... Come to me."
The silence creeping between the silhouette's words felt sharper than any sword blade Zhi Xuan had ever faced. He felt as though he were standing on the brink of an abyss separating a fragile present from an exceedingly ancient past.
Zhi Xuan furrowed his brow; he did not understand, aside from his name being mentioned by the silhouette. Eternal Heavens, the edge of the river of time, the trace of the emperor, all is vanished. Zhi Xuan merely stared at the gray vortex, as if for that silhouette to step across the vortex would require a distance of thousands of eras to stand before him.
Zhi Xuan stood motionless on the deck of the Seven Star Boat, letting the wind—carrying the scent of the era's ash—brush against his disheveled silver hair. He felt an irrational distance, as if between him and the emperor’s silhouette lay a canyon that no law of space could cross. The man was there, yet he was also thousands of kalpas in the past, or perhaps thousands of kalpas in the future.
"Eternal Heavens... Tian Xian?" Zhi Xuan hissed, his tongue feeling stiff as he spoke the words. "What is that?"
The silhouette at the boundary of the river of time did not move, but the gray vortex around it began to spew fragments of horrific visions. Zhi Xuan saw images of the emperor’s silhouette at war with a strange race; he saw other silhouettes he did not comprehend. He saw how stars were extinguished by the mere presence of that emperor, and how the universe collapsed in a single strike.
Zhi Xuan stood transfixed, his sapphire-blue eyes widening as he caught the shards of visions swirling around the gray vortex. He saw destruction that surpassed his understanding—worlds burning not by fire, but by nothingness—and that emperor standing atop the rotting ruins of the horizon.
However, what confused him most was his own inner calm. Amidst a storm of laws capable of grinding a high-level cultivator into dust, Zhi Xuan’s body felt like a rock untouched by the waves.
He felt no pain, nor did he feel the oppressive pressure he had experienced when facing the projection of the Ancient Heavens earlier. The silence around him seemed to become a shield, separating him from the destruction occurring before him.
"You... are talking to me?" Zhi Xuan asked with a rare note of hesitation. He glanced at Mei Hua, ensuring the girl remained safe in his embrace. Strangely, even Mei Hua’s life fluctuations felt synchronized with this silence, as if they were both observers standing outside the universe’s stage play.
The emperor’s silhouette at the edge of the river of time slowly raised one hand. The movement was so slow, as if every inch of the shift required a kalpa to complete. "Come... All is vanished... We search for you..."
The silhouette remained still, but slowly the gray vortex seemed to close, as if the karma borne by every string of words uttered was incredibly heavy and the emperor’s silhouette could not linger. The time vortex roared, creating a sound like thousands of glass panes shattering simultaneously.
Zhi Xuan felt a peculiar gravity pulling the Seven Star Boat, but the center of that pull was not on the hull of the vessel, but within his own spinal cord. Every inch of the Nine-Level Pagoda’s existence warped, elongated, and was finally sucked into the black hole at the center of the shrinking gray vortex.
"Wait!" Zhi Xuan shouted instinctively, but his voice was immediately swallowed by absolute silence.
In the final blink of an eye before the vortex closed completely, the Emperor's silhouette at the edge of the river of time seemed to turn. Though his face remained a mass of darkness and starlight, Zhi Xuan felt a gaze that pierced through the layers of his soul, surpassing the Ancient Heaven Blood, surpassing the Devil Seed, and touching the most fundamental part of his existence—something even he did not know the name of.
DEZIG!
Instantly, the vortex vanished. The majestic Pagoda, the emperor’s silhouette, and the silver misty ocean disappeared as if they had never existed. The space around Zhi Xuan exploded in a blinding gray glow, momentarily blinding him before he felt his body thrown back by an immense air pressure.
The shock was not merely the impact of a storm, but the collision between the reality he had just witnessed and the increasingly fragile foundation of the Secret Realm. Zhi Xuan felt the hull of the Seven Star Boat creak violently, as if it would shatter into dust fragments under the invisible dimensional pressure.
He spat out a mouthful of black blood, but his eyes remained sharp, piercing through the remains of the fading gray glow. Around him, the Silver Misty Ocean had vanished, replaced by a lonely expanse of emptiness—an intermediate space signaling that the Dao Mirror trial had reached its nadir.
"Eternal Heavens..." Zhi Xuan whispered, his voice raspy in the hollow wind. That name felt like a thorn caught within his Sea of Consciousness, carrying a burden far more ancient than the lineage of the Ancient Heavens or the Devil's curse he bore.
Zhi Xuan immediately checked Mei Hua’s condition. The little girl was still breathing peacefully, but there was a faint mark on her forehead—a speck of gray light that blinked once before soaking into her. Zhi Xuan’s heart hammered. He did not know if it was a blessing or a curse from the brief encounter with the Emperor’s Silhouette, but in this cursed place, he had no choice but to keep moving forward.
"Great Saint! Ruo Xianxue!" he called out internally, attempting to summon back the devil fox who had previously withdrawn.
There was only silence. His Sea of Consciousness remained frozen in a thick stillness, indicating that the authority that had just appeared had suppressed Ruo Xianxue’s presence to the deepest depths.
Zhi Xuan looked up. Above his head, the Secret Realm’s sky no longer showed constellations or the golden glow of the Ancient Heavens. Now, the sky resembled a cracked mirror showing a reflection of the Yao Gu Plains behind the dimensional veil. He could see flashes of lightning in the distance and mountain peaks covered in eternal snow—the real world was calling him back.
"Seventy days..." Zhi Xuan murmured. He felt the Heavenly Samsara Wheel in his chest slowing; the four seasonal laws that had once churned had now condensed into four seals surrounding the core of his soul. Though he had not yet fully breached the gate of Soul Transformation, every inch of his flesh and bone had now been tempered by the essence of the ages.
Zhi Xuan stomped his foot on the deck, channeling his remaining energy to stabilize the Seven Star Boat. "If the river of time seeks me, then let them seek. Before I reach the end of that river, I will ensure that not a single law beneath the heavens can stop my steps."
Suddenly, the tolling of a real bell—not an illusion—echoed from the opening dimensional rift above. A formation flag appeared and landed directly in front of Zhi Xuan, grasped in his hand. It was the signal that the gates of the Sacred Heaven Secret Realm were about to close.
The elders from various grand sects and the Empire would surely be waiting out there, ready to welcome the geniuses who managed to survive, or to mourn those buried within their own soul mirrors.
Zhi Xuan took a deep breath, swallowing the bitterness and immense exhaustion. His silver hair billowed, radiating a strange glow—a blend of Winter’s cold and the faint majesty of the Ancient Heavens.
"Let us see," Zhi Xuan hissed, turning the helm of the Seven Star Boat toward the widening rift in the sky. "Who remains standing after this storm has ended."
With an explosive burst of energy, the Seven Star Boat shot forward like a black arrow piercing the boundary between illusion and reality, carrying Zhi Xuan back to the stage of the struggle for dignity in the Yao Gu Plains.
The wave of gray light swallowed the silhouette of the Seven Star Boat entirely, dragging Zhi Xuan’s body through a dimensional tunnel that surged like a rampaging space dragon. Intense nausea hit his chest, but he remained standing tall, his arms locking Mei Hua in an unshakeable embrace.
