Chapter 319

Chapter 319: You Are My Slave

At the summit of a high mountain beyond the Abyss of the Buried Immortals,

facing the sun, and gazing at the towering peaks, Zhang Yang took in the sight of lush greenery blanketing the earth. In the distance, a waterfall cascaded from the heavens, beastly cries echoed across the landscape, soft clouds drifted overhead, and the sky shone a brilliant blue creating a scene full of vitality.

Zhang Yang opened his arms wide, drew in a deep breath, and suddenly let out a thunderous roar. The sound echoed through the mountains, startling birds and beasts into flight, their wings flapping in panic. The surrounding cliffs rumbled with the booming reverberation.

He couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

After so many days spent in the Abyss of the Buried Immortals surrounded by death and enshrouded in gloom, this moment felt like being reborn.

“Had I never entered the Abyss, I wouldn’t have known how precious sunlight truly is. Only after losing something does one realize its value. The ancients spoke the truth,” Zhang Yang murmured, savoring the warmth that bathed him.

Only by experiencing it firsthand could one understand the terror of death.

Only by stepping into that darkness could one comprehend why the White Jade Skeleton once uttered that haunting line: “I yearn for sunlight.”

Yes, sunlight was truly a blessing.

It felt as if all the lingering dust and gloom he had absorbed from the Abyss were being purged from his body.

He now appeared radiant and carefree like a young man made of light, laughter brimming in his eyes. The world around him seemed to grow brighter in his presence, the oppressive weight lifting. Even Yaoruoxian couldn’t help but frown slightly, unconsciously affected by the shift.

She, who once held herself above all, a calm, proud immortal who looked down from the clouds—found herself strangely touched by the warmth. Just for a moment, the sunlight stirred something within her heart.

But she quickly suppressed the sensation and returned to her usual aloof detachment.

She looked down on such feelings.

A faint smile curled the corner of Zhang Yang’s lips, he knew she was gradually being affected by him.

This journey into the Abyss of the Buried Immortals defied description.

It wasn’t just about the miracles they encountered or the power they gained, it was also a journey of humanity.

Hellhounds, the White Jade Skeleton, ghostly figures, Blood Skeletons, the Great Terror in the Cabin, the towering phantom of the Supreme Emperor, Ghost Island, the headless monk… each had left an impression.

Yet none had shaken him more than this small woman fallen from the realm of immortality into the mortal world.

“You lost,” Zhang Yang said, turning to face her.

Yaoruoxian turned as well, her expression serene and unyielding. There was no flicker of emotion, only calm indifference in her gaze.

The Nine Battles Tribulation had ended.

The first battle, at the Daybreak Phoenix Ruins, she used the Thousand Men’s Forbidden Law, with Hou Yi shooting the sun in an attempt to send Zhang Yang into spatial turbulence. He survived and returned, ending the match in a draw.

The second battle, before the Great Path Sacred Fruit tree, Zhang Yang struck without warning, revealing the vast gap between them. He won.

The third battle, within the Inheritance Stone Furnace, she used it to throw Zhang Yang into the Abyss of the Buried Immortals. He escaped. While it seemed a draw, he generously let her claim a point.

The fourth battle, contending for the Ghost Ship, ended in another draw.

The fifth battle, competing for the Moonlight Saint Stone, Zhang Yang won.

The sixth battle, a contest of cultivation realms—he triumphed.

The seventh battle, boarding the Ghost Ship—he succeeded.

The eighth battle, a test of past and present lives—Zhang Yang awakened first.

The ninth battle, returning to the Abyss, they both emerged from it, neither fully completing their goals. A draw by technicality, though neither seemed to care enough to contest the outcome.

In total: nine battles Zhang Yang won five, tied three, and lost one. The advantage was undeniable.

Especially in the later stages, his continuous victories had delivered one psychological blow after another to Yaoruoxian.

The turning point had been the third battle. Though it appeared as if she’d won, it exposed the yawning gap between her and Zhang Yang. The fourth battle, another tie, shattered her confidence in defeating him through martial strength alone.

This collapse of confidence struck at her core.

She sought to become an immortal—to prove herself superior, above all beings. To her, mortals were ants. How could she reconcile that with being bested?

In Zhang Yang’s eyes, her greatest flaw was simple: she acted like an immortal before becoming one.

In other word —she matured too early.

It was like an eight-year-old trying to live with the mentality of someone in their nineties. Of course something would go wrong.

Yet this mindset had already seeped into the very fabric of Yaoruoxian’s soul. It couldn’t be undone easily.

Only when she realized that even her martial prowess was no match for Zhang Yang did her confidence begin to crack. That crack led to defeat after defeat, culminating in her final loss.

Of course, Yaoruoxian was still formidable. In the last battle, she attempted one final, fatal move, denying Zhang Yang a clean victory and forcing a draw, preserving a shred of pride in front of him.

Now, she stood quietly, giving no sign that the Nine Battles Tribulation had ended.

Zhang Yang smiled and said, “The moment you regarded me as a tribulation—you had already lost. You were like a flower raised in a greenhouse, convinced you’d never be defeated. But I beat you on your own terms. Whether or not you can withstand the psychological blow is one thing… but the moment you chose me as your tribulation, your defeat was inevitable.”

“One thing you need to understand: if you choose the strongest tribulation, you must face it with your strongest self. Not with borrowed power.”

“From the very first battle, you relied on the Thousand Men’s Forbidden Law. It wasn’t fully your own strength. That was your mistake, and it set you on the path to failure.”

Yaoruoxian remained calm like still water.

She acted as though she hadn’t heard his words at all, simply staring at him with icy detachment. To anyone watching, she would’ve seemed like nothing more than a beautiful, emotionless puppet.

This realization led Zhang Yang to understand that Yaoruoxian was undoubtedly presenting him with a challenge.

Even after the Nine Battles Tribulation, forcing her to yield would not be easy.

This only fueled Zhang Yang’s fighting spirit further.

“I’ve defeated you, yet you still refuse to bow?” he scoffed, his tone sharp as a blade.

“According to the agreement of the Nine Battles Tribulation,” Zhang Yang declared coldly, “from this moment on, you are my… slave.”

A flicker of emotion passed through Yaoruoxian’s eyes.

No matter how much she had prepared herself, the word "slave" struck her like a thunderbolt.

This was the reality she now had to face.

“Do you know what a slave is?” Zhang Yang stepped closer, his piercing gaze locked onto her, his voice carrying a strange, compelling force. “A slave is a servant—stripped of will, stripped of identity. From now on, you will do as I command. You are no longer Yaoruoxian. You are no longer the revered Yaoruoxian, destined to Become an Immortal. You are now my beautiful puppet.”

At last, a shift crossed Yaoruoxian’s face—anger flashed in her eyes, and her delicate features darkened with a trace of killing intent.

Zhang Yang’s words had struck her to the core.

She had cultivated an immortal’s mindset.

In the world after Eternal Night, true immortals no longer existed. Many saints had already despaired, severing their paths in martial cultivation. Yet she, Yaoruoxian, had dared to claim she would certainly become an immortal. That belief had forged an invincible heart, one that no longer relied on combat to validate itself.

Her confidence had even reached the level of extreme narcissism.

Why else would she, upon first meeting Zhang Yang, lower herself to his level, using his method of challenge to try and eliminate him? It was because she believed so completely in her superiority.

Now, Zhang Yang’s words became the heaviest blow to that unwavering confidence.

To be reduced to a puppet with no will of her own… that was a fate worse than death.

Zhang Yang continued, like a devil whispering into her soul:

“You were once a celestial looking down on all beings from the clouds. Now, you are a slave beneath their feet.”

“All your confidence, your dreams, your pride, none of it is allowed anymore.”

“In the future, when you see me, you must kneel and greet me.”

“You are merely my slave.”

“My will is your will. You must obey. For example, if I command you to dance naked—you must obediently dance for me.”

He paused, then added with cruel clarity, “Of course, you may refuse. You can reject being my slave. But then, the failure of the Nine Battles Tribulation will haunt you like a permanent shadow in your heart. The tribulation originated from you. It will become your inner demon, and it will destroy your future.”

“Immortality? Ha! For you, it will remain nothing but a legend. You will never be called Yaoruoxian again. From now on, you will be known as Yaoruoxian Fan, with ‘Fan’ representing the mortals you once swore to bury beneath your feet.”

At that moment, Yaoruoxian could no longer maintain her composure. Her cold and indifferent mask finally cracked. She erupted.

Her eyes blazed with fury, grievance, unwillingness, ruthless resolve, and madness.

All that remained was the harsh, undeniable truth:

She was no longer an immortal.