Chapter 639

Chapter 639: Death and Revival

"Senior Brother, why did you let them go?"

Above the Evil Sea, heaven and earth were gloomy, filled with overwhelming malice. Countless wrathful ghosts howled. Zhuge Qinmo arrived at the Evil Sea, gazing towards a figure.

It was a man nearly two meters tall, clad in a silver robe with dark hair tied back by a jade crown. He had an elegant, scholarly aura.

Yuan Emperor said: "Junior Brother, now that Heaven’s Secret Pavilion has acted, seizing the Hongmeng Heavenly Scripture would be futile."

"So, crossing both realms, you came just to rescue me?" Zhuge Qinmo laughed. "It seems in your heart, you still have this junior brother, ha ha ha…"

Yuan Emperor continued as if speaking to himself, "Now that the Hongmeng Heavenly Scripture is in Heaven’s Secret Pavilion’s hands, I wonder if the Master of Heaven’s Secret Pavilion can withstand Him?"

"I’m very curious too."

Zhuge Qinmo’s expression grew solemn. "The Master of Heaven’s Secret Pavilion must know of His existence. If Heaven’s Secret Pavilion can deal with Him, that would be truly fascinating."

"Then the fusion of both yin and yang realms would become utterly impossible."

"No."

Yuan Emperor slowly shook his head. "The Hongmeng Heavenly Scripture is merely a catalyst. Without the Nine Great Heavenly Books, something else would come to take their place."

"The fusion of yin and yang is an inexorable trend."

"Unless someone can shatter the rules and defeat Him."

Zhuge Qinmo gave a bitter smile and shook his head.

Defeating the Dao of Heaven? How could that be easy?

"I am about to attain Dao One."

Yuan Emperor dropped a bombshell.

"Truly?"

Shocked and elated, Zhuge Qinmo stared at Yuan Emperor and burst into loud laughter, "Ha ha ha… Then I congratulate you here, Senior Brother! May you ascend smoothly!"

"It’s merely that a position happened to become available."

Yuan Emperor showed little joy.

"Throughout countless epochs, those who attained Dao One have been rare." Zhuge Qinmo said with envy, "Senior Brother, that you can step into Dao One in this epoch is the will of fate."

"When you enter Dao One, I’ll be able to stride unopposed throughout the Heavens and Ten Thousand Domains."

"Heh heh heh…"

A trace of desolation flickered in his eyes too.

The Dao One realm was his life’s dream.

Swoosh!

Suddenly, within the World of the Pure Land, a stream of light shot towards the Evil Sea. The space-time through which the light passed twisted, as if time itself was reversing. One could glimpse shifting scenes of time flashing by.

The River of Time and the radiant light seemed as one, surging into the Evil Sea.

"The Book of Time…" Zhuge Qinmo’s eyes narrowed. "Has this month passed so quickly? I wonder if Qin Huangluo succeeded?"

Roar!

The Book of Time merged into the Evil Sea. In an instant, the passage connecting the yin and yang realms expanded wildly. A strange dark shadow engulfed the Epoch of Disaster Soil entirely as the raging Evil Sea devoured it.

The merger of the yin and yang realms progressed to its second stage.

In this moment, countless gazes fixed upon the Evil Sea.

A blank face materialized above the Evil Sea, sprouting a solitary eye that rolled restlessly before settling its gaze upon Yuan Emperor and Zhuge Qinmo.

"Greetings, Yang Celestial Sovereign," Yuan Emperor clasped his hands respectfully.

The Faceless Celestial Sovereign remained expressionless. Yet upon seeing Yuan Emperor, a flicker of surprise surfaced in his eyes. "It seems you are about to ascend to Dao One," he spoke lightly.

"Yes," Yuan Emperor nodded.

"The seat left vacant by the Witch Master’s fall has remained unfilled too long." Yang Celestial Sovereign stated evenly. "Your turn was inevitable."

"Merely fortunate," Yuan Emperor replied humbly.

A trace of inscrutable amusement flashed through Yang Celestial Sovereign’s eyes before he faded away.

"Senior Brother," Zhuge Qinmo called out. "The Book of Time has fused with both realms. I must honor my agreement with Qin Huangluo." With these words, he transformed into a streak of light, streaking towards the Epoch of Disaster Soil of the Eighth Epoch.

Yuan Emperor traversed the inter-realm passage and returned to the yin realm.

The Book of Time’s integration with the world solidified the passage between realms. The inexorable momentum of their merging became unstoppable. Whoosh!

Zhuge Qinmo set foot upon the disaster soil.

On the banks of the River of Time, he beheld a white-haired man standing motionless. Though seeing only his back, Zhuge Qinmo could palpably feel the profound sadness and agony radiating from him.

"Daoist friend Qin."

Zhuge Qinmo frowned. "Why are you alone? Where is your wife?"

Qin Huangluo remained utterly still, his white hair drifting in the wind, his eyes vacant and lifeless. He offered no answer, only silence.

A sense of foreboding struck Zhuge Qinmo. He flew closer.

Two trails of blood marred Qin Huangluo’s cheeks. His aura had turned disquietingly strange, like a flower withering before his eyes.

"It failed?"

Zhuge Qinmo’s expression darkened instantly. Channeling his power, he pressed his palm firmly to Qin Huangluo’s brow.

Qin Huangluo’s memories flooded into him.

Over the past month, aided by the Book of Time, Qin Huangluo had returned to the past. Fragment by fragment, he collected his wife’s memories – from infancy to the moment of her demise.

Finally, he infused these memories into a newly formed body. This body was identical to his wife in every physical detail. Yet…

The wife Qin Huangluo had recreated through immense hardship, despite possessing all the memories, behaved like a wooden puppet – her actions mechanical, hollow, like a marionette.

He attempted to condense his primordial spirit.

But when the primordial spirit reached one percent, an earth-shattering change occurred.

"She won’t come back…"

Qin Huangluo’s chapped lips uttered a few words. His heart was dead set. He said, "As the Master said, primordial spirit is the core of a living being. Once the primordial spirit is extinguished, all possibilities vanish."

"What is called memory resurrection is merely a fabricated puppet doll."

"That is not what I desired."

"So, where is she?" Zhuge Qinmo said solemnly.

"It should not remain in the world." Qin Huangluo chuckled bitterly. Two streaks of blood tears slid down his face. "I destroyed it."

"I destroyed it with my own hands."

"My condolences, Daoist friend." Zhuge Qinmo sighed.

He understood Qin Huangluo’s pain.

After immense toil forging a bodily form, it turned out to be nothing but a hollow shell. His Dao heart plummeted. He could imagine the immense suffering and despair Qin Huangluo endured destroying that puppet with his own hands.

"If I cannot save her, what meaning does cultivation hold?"

Qin Huangluo raised his head and gazed at Zhuge Qinmo.

His eyes remained dull and gray.

Like the depths of a lifeless abyss.

"Daoist friend, you must not think that way." Zhuge Qinmo said casually. "Love between men and women is only a seasoning in cultivation."

"We cultivators devote our lives to pursuing the great Dao. This is our original intent, is it not?"

His eyes were bright and spirited.

"It used to be." Qin Huangluo said dully. "But after I met her, my original intent became her."

"However, there’s one point you made correctly."

"The Dao Ancestor Realm, and even the Dao One realm, are far from the end of cultivation. Perhaps upon reaching higher realms, one can create something from nothing."

"Exactly!" Zhuge Qinmo laughed heartily. "That sounds like a true cultivator!"

In this vast world, nothing is impossible.

Cultivation also has no ending.

"The path ahead stretches long and hard; I will search high and low…"

Zhuge Qinmo stood with his hands clasped behind his back. He listened to the roaring of the River of Time, filled with vigor. "No matter if we can reach the end or not, we must always try."

"The journey itself is the most splendid experience."

"Thank you for your guidance, Daoist friend."

A flicker of light surfaced in Qin Huangluo’s eyes, and his withered Dao heart showed subtle signs of revival.

"Heh…"

Zhuge Qinmo’s gaze shifted as he asked, "Daoist friend, when shall our agreed contest begin?"

Qin Huangluo sighed. "My heart holds no passion for competition now."

"No matter."

"Simply take me as your disciple instead." Zhuge Qinmo waved it off, harboring no real expectation of surpassing Qin Huangluo in musical skill.

"???"

Confusion clouded Qin Huangluo’s face.

Wasn’t this meant to be a contest? How did it turn into accepting a disciple?

"Truth be told, my musical skills are unremarkable," Zhuge Qinmo confessed wearily. "I’ve scoured both realms seeking a master to guide me to the peak of zither artistry."

"When I first heard your zither music, Daoist friend, it utterly captivated me."

"Hence, I am willing to honor you as my teacher."

Qin Huangluo studied him with profound intensity.

"Perhaps I could play you a melody instead?" Zhuge Qinmo suggested.

"That would suffice."

"But you must prepare yourself first," Zhuge Qinmo added.

Bewilderment washed over Qin Huangluo’s face.

Why would he need to prepare? It wasn’t him playing.

Twang!

Zhuge Qinmo settled cross-legged, lowering the black zither onto his knees. Abruptly, discordant notes tore through the stillness.

A shudder wracked Qin Huangluo’s body.

Zhuge Qinmo’s fingers swept across the strings.

The zither music grew increasingly bizarre.

"Stop! Stop! Stop…"

Vitality finally sparked in Qin Huangluo’s eyes—shock, fear, and a hint of bewildered amusement. Zhuge Qinmo’s playing had jolted him back to life.

"Daoist friend, cease your playing."

"If you continue, I fear I might perish all over again."

"…"

Dejection settled heavily on Zhuge Qinmo.

"Daoist friend… is there any hope for my skill?"