1 Prologue

Prologue: Past Life

At the place where the spiritual veins converge in the mortal world, heavenly energy has gathered for thousands of years.

At the very heart of that nexus stands the Hall of Myriad Treasures.

Rumor has it that mighty cultivators assembled dozens of immortal artifacts imbued with celestial power and placed them within this grand hall, so that all realms of the Eastern Vast could gather spiritual energy there and seek the Dao. Beneath the hall lies the deepest and most abundant spiritual vein in the entire cultivation world, and for thousands of miles around it, the overwhelming aura that spills forth from the Hall of Myriad Treasures saturates heaven and earth.

And now, countless mighty figures had gathered outside the hall, drawing the attention of every cultivator nearby.

It had been a long time since the cultivation world had seen so many great powers assembled in one place. Looking around, the pressure from their presence was so immense that it left everyone struggling to breathe.

"Why are there so many here?"

"All for that ghost cultivator, of course. To make sure he doesn't escape."

"Wasn't he fine beneath the Sword Tomb? Why drag him to the Hall of Myriad Treasures? Don't foul the spiritual energy here."

"You don't understand. Immortal artifacts gather spirit; with them, ten thousand demons may be slain." A cultivator explained, "That ghost cultivator is a hidden danger. Now that the Dao-Questing Platform is nearly complete, using an artifact of spiritual communion as its foundation to execute that vicious fiend will defend the orthodox path and restore order."

"The ghost cultivator is here."

A sound came from afar. The cultivators who had been talking lifted their heads and saw a prison carriage, escorted by mighty figures, slowly drawing near.

Within the massive cage forged from thousand-year fallen iron was only a shattered figure. That figure was neither fully human nor fully ghost; flesh and bone coexisted in a grotesque state, and layer upon layer of talismanic seals bound him completely within the formation of the cage.

Only then did the crowd see what lay inside.

The figure sprawled on the ground had skin pale as death, its nature neither human nor ghost. The lower half of its body, hidden beneath the talismanic array, ended in white bones from the knees down, and upon those bones rested a cold white sword like snow. The sword had pierced straight through his leg bones, pinning him within the cage.

"What is that?"

"A sword from the Heavenly Void Sword Sect. It was also the sword of that ghost cultivator's senior brother."

"Don't mention it. I heard he killed his senior brother and even ate him."

Everyone looked toward the Hall of Myriad Treasures, whose gates stood open wide. Within the hall, on the elevated immortal platform, spiritual energy surged like a tide, faintly shaping itself into the form of an immortal soul. Around the hall stood tens of thousands of Soul-Calming Bells, all apparently meant to suppress the ghost cultivator who had brought disaster to the cultivation world beneath the hall.

No one still knew the ghost cultivator's name. It was said that a thousand years ago he had been a wandering soul born with baleful qi in the Eastern Vast cultivation realm. He was taken in and raised by the Heavenly Void Sword Sect, only to prove himself a faithless wretch of vile and cruel nature. He cultivated a monstrous soul-devouring art, feeding on the spirits of living beings, murdering his master and exterminating his ancestors. By his own hand he slaughtered dozens of high-ranking cultivators of the Heavenly Void Sword Sect before fleeing into the void.

That incident enraged the great powers of the Eastern Vast cultivation realm. Countless mighty figures had once joined forces to hunt him down, intending to kill him to appease the spirit of the Heavenly Void Sword. Yet the ghost cultivator had grown so powerful he could no longer be slain. In the end, he could only be imprisoned beneath the Sword Tomb of the Heavenly Void Sword Sect.

And now, as the Hall of Myriad Treasures prepared to forge the path to the Immortals, this ghost cultivator burdened with karmic debt would become the very foundation poured into the hall, forever and ever serving as the base of the Dao-Questing Platform, with no hope of ever rising again.

The erected prison cage exuded monstrous ghostly energy, while layer upon layer of dharma forms suppressed it from all sides.

At that moment, the cage slowly ascended the celestial steps of the Hall of Myriad Treasures, step by step descending toward the depths below.

Silence fell. The mighty figures around watched as the cage entered the hall.

The elder of the Heavenly Void Sword Sect, who led the way, cupped his hands toward the cultivators assisting from all sides. "That is the hall's core array and the foundation of the Dao-Questing Platform. I ask all fellow daoists for your aid. So long as this villain is sealed into the hall, he will never again be able to reincarnate, and the Dao-Questing Platform may be completed."

An old monk in a robe replied, "Elder You is too courteous."

The Heavenly Void Sword Sect elder nodded. "There is no time to lose. Fellow daoists..."

He had barely finished speaking when a clear ringing sound echoed through the silent hall.

Ding-ling, ding-ling--

The Soul-Calming Bells before the Hall of Myriad Treasures burst out with a piercing cry. A soul-snaring sound, like demonic music circling the ears, spread through the chamber. Within the long-silent treasury of the hall, the immortal artifacts seemed to have been stirred by some hidden call. Left without a master, they suddenly released terrifying spiritual energy, surging with unstoppable force toward the immortal soul on the high platform.

"What is happening?"

"The Soul-Calming Bells of the Hall of Myriad Treasures are ringing!"

Before the assembled powers had even poured in their spiritual force, the ringing of the bells set the hall's immortal artifacts trembling into motion. Layers of lantern light flickered within the grand hall, and the immortal soul upon the platform, struck by the bells' force, began to collapse and disintegrate. In that moment, cracks appeared in the fallen-iron cage imprisoning the ghost cultivator upon the high platform, and a deathly white surge of ghost qi burst forth from the Hall of Myriad Treasures.

"Elder, wasn't this evil soul's cultivation already destroyed?"

The monk's expression changed drastically. "No... why hasn't the demon-suppressing formation of the Hall of Myriad Treasures activated?"

Everyone looked toward the core array, only to find that the furnace-like formation meant to suppress evil spirits had somehow become a sacrificial array.

And at the center of that array was the ghost cultivator imprisoned within the core.

"He wants to escape!" the Heavenly Void Sword Sect grand elder said urgently. "I beg all of you to strike together and deliver this evil soul, and do not let him harm the mortal world."

"Deliver?" The ghost cultivator did not raise his head. It seemed he had not spoken for a very long time, and his voice sounded especially eerie in the hall filled with infernal fire. As soon as his words fell, the formation centered on the enormous cage suddenly came alive. Golden lines were tempered red, like blood vessels beginning to pulse—thud, thud—causing the spiritual energy throughout the entire hall to boil and surge.

The monks in their saffron robes hurriedly retreated, while the leading elder's face changed color.

The surging spiritual energy flooded the divine platform, and chains of spiritual force fell layer upon layer, sealing off every route of escape for the cultivators inside.

"You are mad. Mad." The leading elder immediately realized what this evil soul was doing. "Using the soul as a guide to summon immortal spiritual power... where did you learn such a mutually destructive art?"

The great powers wanted to deliver the ghost cultivator to rest before the Hall of Myriad Treasures collapsed, but they had not expected that, in utter silence, he had altered the formation patterns, driven them deep into the earth's spiritual veins, and turned this place into a sacrificial array spanning thousands of miles.

"The formations of the Heavenly Void Sword Sect... I've long worn out this kind of trick."

The ghost cultivator lifted his head. His long white hair fell like a waterfall, and a pair of eyes carved with red talismanic markings looked toward the cultivators in white robes beneath the Hall of Myriad Treasures. He paid no mind to the voices of the others; only the word deliverance remained in the last fragments of his consciousness.

Deliverance? Deliver whom?

He had waited for centuries, waiting for all of them to enter his domain. If they were to descend into the eighteen levels of hell, then all of them would go with him. Not one would be allowed to live alone.

"You are mad! At this rate, the spiritual vein will collapse!" the monk cried.

"And what is that to me?" The ghost cultivator laughed softly. His face was nearly the color of blue-white ash, save for the streaks of blood sliding down it, eerily beautiful. His whole body trembled with his laughter as the formation pressing upon him began to fracture and crumble. "The Hall of Myriad Treasures, the Dao-Questing Platform... filthy, filthy."

Red liquid streamed from his eyes,滴落 one drop after another onto the talismanic array on the cage, endlessly feeding spiritual force into the formation beneath. The blood flowed over the cage and fell onto the divine platform within the Hall of Myriad Treasures, causing the obscure patterns there to light up.

In an instant, numerous great powers hastily retreated, only to find themselves already enveloped by the formation surrounding the Hall of Myriad Treasures.

The sacrificial grand array was complete. The nearest mighty figures were trapped here, their spiritual power and life force rapidly devoured by the formation.

The voices of the cultivators below seemed muffled by deep water. The low buzzing sound, together with the ringing Soul-Calming Bells in the distance, became the mournful cry of all the immortal artifacts within the Hall of Myriad Treasures.

The evil soul felt the restraints on his body gradually lifting. With those restraints went his life as well... He raised his head and listened to the screams all around him. Ignoring every voice, he strained to climb up from the cage. As he turned, the bones all over his body gave a cracking sound, yet he paid no heed. His vacant, unfocused eyes stared behind him.

There was nothing behind him except a snow-white sword, standing unyielding within the sacrificial formation.

The ghost cultivator suddenly laughed. He reached out, touched the sharp blade fixed against his leg bone, slid his hand upward little by little, and finally gripped the hilt.

"Senior brother, I am going to die now... just as well, then all of you can go too."

As the talismanic formation devoured the cage, the chains that had crushed him for nearly a thousand years vanished into ashes.

And his monstrous half-human, half-soul body began to collapse with the wind at this very moment.

From a skeleton of white bones he turned into drifting wisps of dark smoke, scattering into the torrent of spiritual energy.

Just as he was about to disappear, the lingering souls of the immortal artifacts in the Hall of Myriad Treasures seemed to sense something. Their shattered remnants gathered together and surged toward the sacrificial array at the center of the cage. The snow sword in his hand suddenly released a faint sword light and shot out like lightning, wrapping itself around the remnants of that evil soul as the world crumbled.

Immortal spirit enveloped the evil soul, and the mournful wailing of the Soul-Calming Bells faded into silence.

The ghost cultivator lifted his head, as if seeing a faint glimmer of light in the darkness.

In the year of Heavenly Beginnings in the Eastern Vast cultivation realm, the Hall of Myriad Treasures collapsed, the spiritual veins of the Heavenly Void were destroyed, and countless great powers perished.

From that point on, the cultivation world fell into spiritual exhaustion.

-

A thousand years later, in the mountains of South Mist of the Eastern Vast cultivation realm.

Amid torrential wind and rain, a black shadow shot swiftly through the mud, splashing filth in every direction. A pale-faced youth fled through the dense forest, running blindly and without direction. His body was covered in wounds torn by branches and broken stones, and his heart was nearly consumed by the sound drawing ever closer through the rain.

Suddenly, the youth missed his footing and fell into a water-filled pit of mud along the mountain path.

"Running from whom?"

The voice closed in at once.

The youth's face drained of all color. His hands fumbled wildly, grasping the gravel on the ground and snatching it up, waving it fearfully in all directions. But the moment he raised his hand, his left arm snapped back with a crack, brutally twisted by someone.

A fierce gust swept toward him, hurling him onto the edge of the cliff.

At that moment, a figure in black slowly took shape within the wind.

"Still running?" the black-clad man sneered.

The youth gasped heavily, seeming to sense the wind at the cliff's edge. Enduring the pain, he shrank back, only to collide with a hand.

"Su Biyue, of the Su family in Celestial Origin City, eighteen years old, born in a yin year, yin day, and yin hour, with three missing souls..." The black-clad man exerted slight force, clamping a hand around the youth's throat and lifting him from the ground.

Rainwater splashed over the youth. His hair was in disarray, and when his name was spoken, he trembled and tried to retreat, his vacant eyes dull and empty. Yet his struggling only grew stronger, and still it could not shake the hand locked around his throat.

"...And you are only at the Qi Refining stage? What a waste of that star of misfortune's fate." The black-clad man gave a cold laugh at the sight, lowering his head to glance at the fate ledger in his other hand. The youth's life was fully laid out before his eyes. In only eighteen short years, he had been unloved by his clan, dull of mind, of exceedingly poor talent, and even blind besides. "A Su family member. Trouble."

"With such poor aptitude, being able to step onto the path of cultivation is already quite good."

Not far away, a middle-aged cultivator approached a few steps, but did not dare come close to the black-clad man. "Rest assured, this person has long since ceased to be of any value to the Su family. You may dispose of him as you please."

The man lowered his head and drew the youth before him, admiring the face already turning red from suffocation. His scrutinizing gaze swept over the youth's brows and eyes. Seeing nothing of what he had hoped to find, he clicked his tongue in boredom. For such stock, it had taken the Su family all this time to fuss over him... and even extracting him had cost some effort.

That one had said it.

For a star-of-misfortune fate born in the yin hour, the best outcome was to vanish from this world altogether, so that no future trouble would remain.

The moon hung low in the black sky. Cold wind howled between the cliffs, while unrestrained yin energy rose in wave after wave.

The black-clad man lowered his head. The youth in his hand was already soaked through. After all, a living person still posed a faint risk.

A fate of misfortune and baleful star... this should be the last one.

The youth's face flushed red. The force in the man's hand tightened, and his voice carried not the slightest trace of pity.

"Poor thing... you can only blame yourself for being born at the wrong time."

"On your next life, remember to choose a better family."

Under the torrential rain, the youth's tangled hair was whipped upward, and the strength of his struggle gradually weakened.

The middle-aged cultivator had just taken a few steps forward when a surge of cold wind from the foot of the cliff forced him back half a step.

When he looked up again, he suddenly saw someone standing at the edge of the cliff in the distance. Rather than a person, it was more like a wisp of wandering soul, quietly suspended at the youth's side.

That soul looked exactly like the youth who no longer struggled by the cliff edge. Yet unlike the youth, the suspended soul said nothing. The dark depths of its eyes reflected the moon high above, cold and glinting with a few shards of frost.

And within that passing edge of cold light, a blood-red thread of gold crept upward from the depths of its eyes like the lines woven by a spider, as though forming some kind of special talismanic seal.

What was that? A wandering ghost?!

In that instant, the middle-aged man felt as though those eyes had seen through him completely. Startled, he hurriedly stepped back several paces.

"What is it?" The black-clad man glanced sideways and loosened his grip.

At that moment, one of the youth's thin, pale hands shot up and seized the black-clad man's wrist. The black-clad man lowered his head, and before he could react, he saw the youth borrow that grip to wrench himself free at once and tumble to the ground.

"Troublesome." The black-clad man frowned, gathered force in his palm, and thrust forward. The youth, who had only just run a few steps away, was struck by the palm force, flung helplessly toward the bottom of the cliff.

The middle-aged cultivator, recovering his senses from afar, looked again and found that there was no wandering soul by the cliff edge at all. The youth had already been pushed off.

He let out a breath of relief and thought the yin wind here must simply be unusually strange. With some concern, he said, "Should we go down and take a look..."

The black-clad man wiped his hands and frowned. "No need."

At the Qi Refining stage, he had no body-protecting power.

Falling from there, he would not survive.