Chapter Forty-Six: Leaving the Valley and Entering the World

“Then what is my task?” Bingyan asked. By now, he had more or less understood the situation regarding that mysterious sister. It was quite a coincidence—who would have thought such a secret lay hidden within her?

Leng Bingyan did not feel any aversion toward her because of the strange events surrounding her; after all, wasn’t he the same? Kindred spirits—those words seemed to perfectly describe the bond between them.

Mo Wuxie didn’t blame Bingyan for interrupting his lengthy explanation. Smiling, he said, “Both the Divine Dragon Clan and the Spirit Phoenix Clan possess a blood pool, known as the Divine Dragon Blood Pool and the Spirit Phoenix Blood Pool, or, in other words, the Celestial Purgatory and the Nirvana Purgatory. These two blood pools are intimately tied to the royal bloodlines; they are the key to whether a royal can truly ascend to become emperor or empress, and they are also the place where the essence of the previous generation’s emperor and empress is preserved after their deaths. Each time a new royal is born, the blood pool becomes intrinsically linked to them—it becomes their second life.”

The blood pool is also called “purgatory” for this very reason; it is a place where the heart and spirit are refined. Success means a new life begins, but failure brings only death. And the process of refining the spirit is excruciatingly painful.

By comparison, the Spirit Phoenix Clan’s Nirvana Purgatory is less agonizing than the Divine Dragon Clan’s Celestial Purgatory. Yet gain and loss are always balanced—the world is fair. The Spirit Phoenix Clan possesses the power of rebirth through nirvana: when met with accidental death, they can be reborn, thus eliminating the very concept of accidental death among their kin.

“The ordinary members of the Spirit Phoenix Clan need not undergo nirvana upon reaching adulthood, but the royals are different. For them, nirvana is inevitable, and the place to undergo it is the Nirvana Purgatory. Nirvana requires death first—to die and fall into the blood pool as a corpse, to be remade by its power, and to rise anew as emperor.”

“To die first?” Bingyan was startled. “Grandfather, you’re not telling me to go out there and kill her, are you?” There was no way Bingyan could do such a thing. After all, Xia Yu had helped him before; to repay kindness with betrayal was simply not in his nature.

Mo Wuxie’s eyes widened in displeasure at Bingyan’s guess. “You impudent boy, mind your tongue!”

Then, composing himself, he explained, “The task I’m giving you is not to kill her, but to protect her from the shadows! Perhaps you don’t know this, but among the four great clans—Divine Dragon, Spirit Phoenix, Vermilion Bird, and Flood Dragon—the Divine Dragon and Flood Dragon are mortal enemies, while the Spirit Phoenix and Vermilion Bird are, well... rivals in love, both favoring the Divine Dragon. This time, your job is to ensure she’s not eliminated by the combined forces of Vermilion Bird and Flood Dragon.”

Relief washed over Bingyan; so he wasn’t being sent to kill anyone after all!

“But—” Mo Wuxie’s tone shifted, “before Xia Yu’s nirvana, you must guarantee her safety. However, when her nirvana arrives, you should lend her a hand to make it smoother.”

“How should I help?” Bingyan asked.

Mo Wuxie gave him a look of pure exasperation—had all his talks with Ziling gone in vain, that he didn’t even know this? He said, “When it comes to nirvana, it’s simple. Once the time is right, just end her life.”

“So in the end, I still have to kill her? No, absolutely not! I can’t agree to that!” Bingyan shook his head furiously, rejecting the idea outright.

Mo Wuxie glared, half annoyed and half amused. “How is that killing her? Taking her life before nirvana would indeed be murder, for that would be true death. But when the time for nirvana comes, how can it be called killing? That’s helping her ascend!”

“Is that really what helping someone looks like?” Bingyan marveled inwardly.

“But how am I supposed to know when it’s time for nirvana?” Bingyan asked, aggrieved.

“Well—” Mo Wuxie considered, realizing the difficulty of making the timing clear to Bingyan. Suddenly, an idea struck him. “Her eyes—look at her eyes. If there’s a gleam of spirit within them, then nirvana is near. When that happens, you’ll know what to do, won’t you?”

Bingyan nodded. Soaring when the time is right is only proper; falling is fate. The signs would be obvious enough.

“Alright, Bingyan, now that you understand the situation, there’s no time to waste. You should head out soon.”

Without waiting for Bingyan to respond, Mo Wuxie waved his hand, weaving a strange formation. In the blink of an eye, Bingyan vanished from where he stood...

Mo Wuxie remained, gazing ahead for a long while. Only after some time did he exhale a heavy breath and quietly muse, “Since fate is but circumstance, why mistake circumstance for fate? Better to yield when needed, rejoice at soaring, accept the turbulence, prepare for the fall, be clear in drifting, calm in annihilation, and thus remain at peace.” Yet, for all his words, did he not also mistake circumstance for fate?

At that moment, a distortion rippled behind him. Space split open, and a burly middle-aged man stepped out, wielding a massive halberd—more like an axe, yet unlike any ordinary axe. Coming before Mo Wuxie, the man knelt suddenly. “Your subordinate welcomes the Ancestor’s return!” His tone was sincere and unfeigned, a heartfelt display of loyalty.

Mo Wuxie waved him off solemnly. “Enough, you may go. Let me prepare myself.”

Half an hour later, Mo Wuxie returned to the warrior’s side. “It’s been millions of years since I last visited the Nether Abyss. Has anything momentous occurred in my absence?” His voice rang with authority, brooking no resistance. An invisible pressure swept the world, the divine might of a supreme god.

The warrior dared not delay and answered at once, “Though the Ancestor has long been absent from the Demon God Realm, your name still inspires awe. Since the war of the gods, our Nether Abyss has flourished; all have pledged their loyalty to you. The Hall of Ten Thousand Demons is now more powerful than ever.”

Mo Wuxie nodded, offering no comment on these words. Coldly, he said, “Xingtian, let us return! Now that Featherwing has emerged, Heaven will surely act. Even Hongjun, who governs the heavenly order, dares not defy its will and will not interfere in mortal affairs. Still, our Demon God Realm must give little Bingyan some support—she must not be bullied by those petty gods.”

This Xingtian was none other than the legendary god who fell before the war of the gods. After his death, his soul ascended to the Nether Abyss, where he pledged himself to the Ancestor of Ten Thousand Demons and became one of the realm’s ten great demon generals.

From Mo Wuxie’s words, much could be inferred—why, indeed, did he refer to Bingyan as a little girl?

But this was not something Bingyan could know now. Another ripple twisted space, and the Valley of Horizons sent away its master of tens of millions of years, falling once more into quietude...

※※※ Feather ※※※ Emperor ※※※

His body landed awkwardly, but thanks to his nascent Immortal Emperor strength, Bingyan managed to avoid a painful fall.

Looking around, he realized he had returned to the very street where he’d faced the Han family’s thirteen guardians. It was nighttime, and the street was deserted. Bingyan straightened his rumpled clothes. The Purple Sword and the Crescent Star Wheel had long since been stored within his body.

The empty street held no interest for him. He wandered until he found an ATM, where he inserted the bank card given to him by the mysterious girl, Xia Yu. With no money of his own, this was his only option.

A beep sounded. The screen prompted him to “Enter password.” Bingyan froze. It needed a password? But what was it? Xia Yu hadn’t told him.

Bingyan smiled wryly to himself. So even Sister Xia Yu could be a scatterbrain—how could she give him a bank card and forget to tell him the password? Still, he had no choice. He randomly tapped the keypad and entered “123456.”

To his astonishment, the machine accepted it, and the withdrawal interface appeared—the password was correct! Bingyan stood there in shock for a moment. So Sister Xia Yu really was straightforward, using such a simple password. In truth, he’d misunderstood her; the card was just her pocket money, recently taken from her parents, and she hadn’t bothered to change the password before giving it to the pitiful Bingyan.

He checked the balance—over two hundred thousand.

Truly the wealthy live differently. Bingyan didn’t dwell on it, withdrawing a few hundred at random and stuffing the cash into his pocket. He took the card and strode away from the ATM, looking rather pleased with himself.

Imagine—a fledgling Immortal Emperor, delighted over a mere few hundred yuan.