Chapter 493
Yōumíng Xiān buried his head in the ground upon hearing those words. Wasn't the completion of the Book of Life and Death enough for a grand liberation? Did it also require the perfection of the five sects of Xuánwēi?
He felt that the ambitions of his Holy Ancestor were far too grand, leaving him under immense pressure.
Suddenly, the Great Liberation Demon Emperor seemed to have thought of something and began to laugh:
"Are you trying to perfect the Book of Life and Death?"
"Or are you seeking revenge on the Tianhe?"
"You've been hiding for an entire epoch."
"…"
Yōumíng Xiān wished he could dig a hole and bury himself.
It was related to the Tianhe Zunzhě...
How about we discuss how to kill the Taishang Dao instead?
That sect was something he was quite familiar with!
Jiǔyōu Mózǔ didn’t respond but merely pointed at the Book of Life and Death, which opened to reveal a page filled with dense writing:
"Zhōu Yún, age one hundred thirty-six thousand, learned the Dao in his early years, gifted beyond measure, yet his sect suffered calamity, scattering into loose cultivators, unwavering in his resolve…"
"Fifty thousand years as Mózǔ, he slaughtered all enemies, none could look up to him, the number of his victims was countless…"
"Later, he became a Demon Emperor… gravely injured by the Qīngpíng Sword, died at the hands of Jiǔyōu Mózǔ."
In a single page, the long life of the Great Liberation was chronicled. His gaze swept over the text, and the emotions in the Great Liberation's eyes were complex. The Abhijñā Sword in his wound was devouring the talismans surrounding him.
Above, blood rain began to fall.
The Great Liberation Demon Emperor looked up at the rain that seemed to be mourning him and suddenly laughed.
"Jiǔyōu, do you think Tianhe regrets it?"
Jiǔyōu Mózǔ fell silent for a moment before replying, "He will have no regrets."
"Neither will I."
These were the last words left by the Great Liberation Demon Emperor.
Moments later, only the Abhijñā Sword remained on the altar, and the figure of the Demon Emperor had vanished.
The Book of Life and Death, suspended in the void, grew increasingly mysterious. Countless souls emerged from all directions, transforming into brief phrases that chronicled life and death.
The previous Wàn Yāo Fān was powerful, but to Yōumíng Xiān, the Book of Life and Death felt like something entirely different:
He sensed that his life was growing within this book and would ultimately return to it…
Jiǔyōu Mózǔ reached out, flipped through the Book of Life and Death, and tucked it into his sleeve. He glanced at Chén Tíng, who stood up and picked up the Abhijñā Sword.
Yōumíng Xiān observed with a detached demeanor, seemingly indifferent.
The two followed Jiǔyōu Mózǔ, gazing at the battlefield where Zhèng Fǎ and the Great Liberation Demon Emperor had just fought.
Yōumíng Xiān couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander:
At this point, he still didn’t understand why the Holy Ancestor chose to remain in the shadows:
Was it due to a lack of strength?
Or perhaps…
He recalled the Great Liberation Demon Emperor's words, realizing that the relationship between Jiǔyōu Mózǔ and Tianhe Zunzhě was not a secret, but rather something that the various sects feared. Did they have to hide?
If it were known that the Great Liberation Demon Emperor had died at the hands of the Holy Ancestor…
What would the consequences be? Could the Holy Ancestor bear them?
He, Qín Mù, was extremely afraid!
The thoughts of the Holy Ancestor were hard to fathom.
Jiǔyōu Mózǔ gazed in that direction for a moment, as if making eye contact with Zhèng Fǎ, then suddenly chuckled, transforming into the dark night.
The night was but a fleeting moment; when the light returned, he had already taken the two away, leaving no trace.
Zhèng Fǎ, however, did not see Jiǔyōu Mózǔ but instead encountered an unexpected figure—
Wúzhǐ from the Thunder Sound Temple.
Wúzhǐ hadn’t been discovered by Zhèng Fǎ but rather by the immortal Lóu from the Haorì Mountain.
Wúzhǐ forced a smile, the Supreme Bowl atop his head, inwardly cursing the Great Liberation for being so useless—
He had come alongside the Great Liberation with the intention of dealing with Zhèng Fǎ. As long as the Great Liberation Demon Emperor achieved his demonic fruit, he wanted the Qīngjìng Bamboo. Regardless, their collaboration had been relatively smooth.
Everything was going well until the problem arose:
The Great Liberation Demon Emperor had died too quickly!
Leaving him, Wúzhǐ, all alone here.
Wúzhǐ felt that he had never suffered so much in his life. He looked at Zhèng Fǎ, his eyes betraying his unease.
Clearly, like Lóu, he too felt fear due to the death of the Great Liberation Demon Emperor…
He felt a chill run down his spine.
Zhèng Fǎ glanced at Wúzhǐ, then turned to look at Lóu, but said nothing. He surveyed the common people on the ground, hesitated for a moment, and then called out to the disciples of Qīngmù Zong and the other members of the Hundred Immortals Alliance:
"Disperse the disciples, guide the refugees, count the numbers, and treat their injuries."
Countless demons had perished at the hands of their own Demon Emperor, the sea had just receded, and the land was in ruins.
The cultivators were fine, but the mortals were far from safe.
The farmlands had turned into marshes, and half of the houses had been washed away.
It was easy to imagine that without follow-up measures, hunger and disease would claim the lives of these survivors.
Previously, even if Zhèng Fǎ had thought of this, he wouldn’t have had the extra energy to care, as it seemed the other sects were also indifferent.
But now that he was the leader of the Hundred Immortals Alliance, things were different.
The head of Qīngmù Zong and the other cultivators exchanged glances, seeming a bit uncomfortable, hesitating for a moment.
But when they met Zhèng Fǎ's gaze, they all shrank back, suddenly realizing one thing:
The Great Liberation Demon Emperor had been killed by Zhèng Fǎ, and there were no objections…
What right did they have to voice their opinions?
Who would dare to?
One by one, the cultivators descended from the clouds, entering the mortal realm to comfort the people and treat the injured.
Seeing that they were somewhat obedient, Zhèng Fǎ allocated a batch of grain from the Jiǔshān Realm, preparing to distribute it to the disaster victims.
Zhào Jīngfān followed closely behind his senior brother, walking among the mortals.
To be honest, it felt quite uncomfortable.
Two counties had been flooded, and the dead among the common people accounted for more than half, yet over a hundred thousand survivors had gathered here.
The sounds of crying, praying, and wailing surrounded them.
The stench of blood, the smell of mud, and the sweat of some of the people made it hard to breathe.
There were even some floating corpses at their feet, pale faces and decaying bodies sending chills down Zhào Jīngfān's spine.
His senior brother in front couldn’t help but throw out a cleansing talisman, distressed, "With so many injured, how long will it take to treat them all?"
He didn’t know either, his heart filled with worry.
Above, Zhāng Shījiě lightly waved the Qīngjìng Bamboo, golden light raining down upon this hell on earth.
The wailing gradually quieted.
The unpleasant odors were blown away by the wind, leaving only the fresh scent of bamboo leaves.
Many of the less severe wounds on the people began to heal spontaneously.
Zhào Jīngfān's spirit lifted—this made the task much easier!
Qīngmù Zong was highly skilled in alchemy and naturally had some knowledge of medicine.
His senior brother took out a pill, dissolved it in a bowl of clear water, and with a wave of his sleeve, the water transformed into a column, falling upon dozens of people in front of them.
A woman who had broken her leg while running opened her eyes and stood up.
A man who had lost part of his arm to a branch in the flood joyfully touched his intact right arm.
Under the effects of the medicinal water, dozens of severely injured mortals healed instantly, filled with joy and fear, kneeling on the ground to bow to Zhào Jīngfān and the others.
Zhào Jīngfān couldn’t help but feel a bit happy.
But when he looked at his senior brother, he found him with a stern expression, seemingly very impatient with these mortals.
"Senior brother?"
His senior brother's lips moved slightly, casting a wary glance at Zhèng Fǎ in the sky, as if recalling his relationship with him, and forced a smile, saying, "I just… feel sorry for the pills."
Zhào Jīngfān lowered his gaze and looked at the other cultivators of Qīngmù Zong; their expressions mirrored that of his senior brother.
He suddenly understood their thoughts.
It was only natural.
Not to mention they had never had the awareness to treat mortals before, even if they did, Qīngmù Zong had also suffered losses, and their remaining resources were limited; every pill counted.
Zhèng Fǎ had asked them to heal these mortals, and it was likely that many were unwilling.
But Zhèng Fǎ's displayed strength was too overwhelming, leaving them no room for complaints.
He glanced at Zhèng Fǎ, pursed his lips.
…
Zhèng Fǎ, however, was unaware of the thoughts of these cultivators and wouldn’t have cared even if he did.
He had always believed that cultivators were supported by the mortals—not just in terms of taxes and grain, but many other matters he had only come to understand through practice in the Jiǔshān Realm:
For instance, the ownership of spiritual energy.
In Zhèng Fǎ's view, the rules in the Xuánwēi Realm were quite ambiguous in many aspects, largely due to historical reasons.
Spiritual energy, its essence was something he had yet to fully grasp, but in the Xuánwēi Realm, spiritual energy was almost akin to a component of air.
Was spiritual energy the property of the cultivators, or of all the common people of Xuánwēi?
And what about spiritual veins? What about spiritual fields?
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