Chapter 194
Our Discord Server: https://discord.gg/PazjBDkTmW
You can buy coins here to unlock advanced chapters: https://gravitytales.com/coins-purchase-page/
Chapter 194: He Lou Feng
The world of the Tian Yan Tribe is a realm of darkness, filth, and gloom, a place that seems to gather all the wretchedness of heaven and earth. It is as though it were built upon a foundation of bones and tainted blood, with even the heart of the royal city shrouded in perpetual clouds, a shadowy abyss untouched by sunlight.
He Lou Feng has known this truth since the day she was born.
As the Fifth Princess of the Tian Yan Tribe, with her father being the Tian Yan Tribe clan leader, she carries the tainted royal bloodline. Yet, compared to the Tian Yan army—mindless tools of war, bred to conquer the myriad worlds—she is slightly better off.
This "slightly" means she was spared the fate of being forced to grow rapidly, to awaken her bloodline prematurely, or to be thrust onto the battlefield to face life and death before she could even comprehend the world.
This small privilege, however, ended when He Lou Feng turned five. That was the age when the royal family determined the potential of one’s Tian Yan eyes, a moment that would shape the rest of her life, dictating her status and honor.
Her Third Brother, the Third Prince of the Tian Yan Tribe, was blessed with extraordinary Tian Yan eyes, propelling him to become their father’s most favored heir.
She, on the other hand, was born with a useless Tian Yan eye, destined never to open, unworthy of bearing the royal name.
At that time, the human race was embroiled in a fierce war.
Rumors spread of a battlefield both brutal and hopeful, where human cultivators faced life-and-death moments with unyielding spirits, their eyes filled with the light of stars. The Tian Yan army, stripped of their will from birth, began to waver in the face of such resolve.
Thus, He Lou Feng was exiled to the Tianwu Continent, under the guise of using her royal status to calm the army’s spirits and bolster their morale.
At the age of five, when He Lou Feng first opened her eyes, the world she saw was one of bloodshed and deceit. The air of the Tianwu Continent was heavy with the metallic scent of blood, yet it carried an undercurrent of hope and vitality so potent it seeped into her very soul, leaving an indelible mark.
At just five years old, bearing the identity of a Tian Yan royal, she survived in the hidden depths of the human realm, growing, cultivating, and growing strong.
Though born with a useless Tian Yan eye, unable to practice the supernatural abilities of her tribe, she found solace in the fact that the Tianwu Continent was a land of profound techniques, one of the most extraordinary realms among the myriad worlds.
Exile to the Tianwu Continent turned her useless eye, once a symbol of humiliation, into a shield of protection.
With her royal bloodline half-dormant, the world’s rejection and the restrictions imposed by formation seals were not severe enough to claim her life, allowing her to endure.
He Lou Feng chose to pursue formation mastery, finding a perverse joy in standing safely while wielding the power to stir chaos and watch life crumble at her fingertips—a flaw perhaps ingrained in her royal blood.
Fate, it seemed, favored her slightly. She obtained the key to an ancient formation’s cave, refined the ancient formations inheritance, and rose to challenge Qing Long, the foremost formation master of the Imperial Palace.
From the age of five to adulthood, He Lou Feng lived on the Tianwu Continent, transitioning from a seemingly pitiful presence on the battlefield—a mere mascot—to stepping through the Martial Gate and joining the Black Wind Alliance. She bided her time, enduring years of obscurity before finally stepping into the light.
Her mastery of formations and her strategic acumen later became her bargaining chips in negotiations with her father.
Though she remained the Fifth Prince, born with a useless Tian Yan eye and a stain on the royal dignity, she now held the legitimate right to contend for the position of heir in a world that upheld male dominance.
Her father promised her that if she orchestrated the downfall of the human race’s talents and sowed chaos across the Tianwu Continent, he would crown her as the young lord upon the fall of the Martial Gate, granting her the status and honor of succession.
Through the misty surface of a water mirror, He Lou Feng accepted with a humble smile and a respectful bow. But the moment the water mirror shattered, her eyes turned cold, revealing a sharp, predatory glint.
She did indeed wish to destroy the Tianwu Continent, but she had no intention of allowing the Tian Yan Tribe to claim it.
This world was too beautiful—its air fresh, its clouds pure, its mountains towering.
It possessed the sun, moon, and stars that the Tian Yan Tribe could never attain, as well as rivers and streams teeming with life, vibrant and pulsating with warmth.
It was too perfect, and so she wanted to destroy it.
It was too perfect, and thus the Tian Yan Tribe did not deserve it, nor did the myriad worlds deserve to enter.
The world should not possess light.
She wore white, and only white, not because it symbolized purity or innocence, but because it reflected light.
No hope or longing could pierce the blinding radiance that her white attire cast upon her heart.
The Tianwu Continent must be destroyed, and so too must the Tian Yan Tribe. In the myriad worlds, nothing deserved to exist.
He Lou Feng first encountered the word "hell" in her youth while reading Buddhist scriptures, and it fascinated her deeply.
To her, everything visible was but an illusion. Sometimes, she would follow her father’s commands to eliminate a few unruly humans; other times, she would wander freely, leaving the Black Wind Alliance’s black-cloaked guards and the Alien Race Hunting Hall to hunt down human prodigies.
She moved silently through the realms, observing young leader Mu Chen, the human race’s brightest hope to expel the Tian Yan Tribe from the battlefield of the heavens and end a millennium of turmoil. She watched as he was led astray by the schemes of the Left Envoy of the demon race. Following his path, her gaze fell upon a figure that intrigued her.
A girl in white, clad in the same color as herself, yet embodying a starkly different essence—purity and fervor so intense that light itself seemed unable to penetrate, for she was meant to outshine even the brightest rays.
She was a being that should have made light retreat in awe.
Yet, when He Lou Feng found her, she lay in a pool of blood, surrounded by deadwood and decay, beneath a dusky, overcast sky. Her eyes, brimming with myriad emotions, were fractured, stained with droplets of blood.
Encircled by black coffins and bleached bones, her white robes soaked crimson, a gaping wound in her chest, her life force ebbing away, the girl turned her gaze to He Lou Feng, her expression devoid of sorrow or joy, utterly impassive.
For a fleeting moment, He Lou Feng felt as though she had glimpsed the hell she had long yearned to see.
She halted, lowered her gaze, and spoke coolly, "Do you wish to live?"
He Lou Feng’s voice had always carried this chill, colder than the lifeless blood that dries after death, akin to her useless eye—a trait she was born with.
She had witnessed countless life-and-death struggles, knowing that some humans burned with fiery resolve, unafraid of death, while others cowered like mice, clinging to survival.
Thus, she awaited the girl’s response with keen interest.
She knew who the girl was: Qing Yue, of the Soul Clan’s pure bloodline, the fifth inheritor chosen by the heavenly laws of this world.
She was meant to be Mu Chen’s inherited disciple, to carry forward his mission and legacy, to push through the darkness and embrace the light—or perish in the shadows before dawn.
Instead, her clan had been annihilated, her soul core ripped out, her faith obliterated, all destroyed by the vast heavens she once revered.
Qing Yue’s answer surprised her. In the throes of a life-and-death struggle, hanging by a thread, she asked He Lou Feng about her identity.
For the first time, He Lou Feng found this amusing, and this amusement sparked an idea within her.
She thought she might have found the path to hell.
She crouched before the girl, revealing her identity as a member of the Tian Yan royal bloodline. Watching Qing Yue’s immediate reaction—to report to the Imperial Palace—she couldn’t help but smile faintly.
It seemed the Tianwu Continent wasn’t as idyllic as she had imagined.
She aided Qing Yue in annihilating the Canglang Sect, using the puppet techniques exclusive to the Tian Yan royal bloodline to preserve her life. She told her that henceforth, her name would be Yóu Lìng—a ghostly, elusive Yóu Lìng.
The girl in black knelt before her, lifting her gaze with eyes filled with devotion, as if beholding a deity, the remnants of extinguished flames flickering in their depths.
At that moment, He Lou Feng truly believed she had found hell—and a kindred spirit.
She bestowed upon Yóu Lìng a supreme identity, granting her cultivation, status, and all she could offer. Yet, Yóu Lìng desired her heart in return.
Indeed, it was Yóu Lìng who fell for her first.
He Lou Feng never spoke of it, but she could easily discern the heat and subtlety in Yóu Lìng’s gaze. Though she didn’t understand the concept of affection, she instantly recognized Yóu Lìng’s feelings for her, even before Yóu Lìng herself was aware.
She knew Yóu Lìng didn’t particularly care for the name, but it mattered little; He Lou Feng was indifferent.
This was how He Lou Feng thought, never imagining that losing Yóu Lìng would leave her heart aching so profoundly it stole her breath—a sensation of her soul being violently torn, crushed, ground to dust, and then painstakingly reassembled.
The Tian Yan Tribe, after all, had no soul.
When was the last time they met?
It didn’t seem so long ago.
At that time, when she first returned to the Tian Yan realm, her father lavished praise upon the waves she had stirred on the Tianwu Continent, much to the displeasure of the Third Prince of the Tian Yan Tribe. He, the presumed crown prince, felt his position threatened by her actions.
Thus, they conspired to ostracize and target her, aiming to either banish her back to the Tianwu Continent or eliminate her entirely.
He Lou Feng, however, remained indifferent. Her current prowess was sufficient to silently dispatch any foe—save for her father.
If she were to act, it would be with a single, fatal strike.
Yet, there were those who cared deeply.
During her summons, a woman clad in black, her hands dripping with blood, approached with eyes ablaze like flames that could consume all. Removing her black wolf mask, her features radiated a mix of excitement and pride, as if seeking recognition for her deeds.
She declared that her scheme was nearing its conclusion, and she could aid He Lou Feng in seizing control of the Tianwu Continent, helping her attain all she desired.
Indeed, Yóu Lìng had always believed that He Lou Feng coveted the Tianwu Continent.
Her veins carried the royal blood of the Tian Yan Tribe, a lineage that had long coveted the Tianwu Continent among the myriad worlds.
Thus, Yóu Lìng assumed that He Lou Feng’s motive for saving her was to mold her into a compliant puppet. She dedicated herself to hunting human prodigies and sowing discord among the human race, the very turmoil that earned her father’s praise, all orchestrated by Yóu Lìng.
Because of her, Yóu Lìng became a full-fledged human race traitor, plunging into darkness, the faint glimmer of starlight she once bore extinguished forever.
As she observed Yóu Lìng’s haughty expression, brows lifted in triumph, He Lou Feng longed to tell her the truth: she did not desire the Tianwu Continent—she sought its destruction, ensuring no one could claim it.
Not the Tian Yan Tribe, not the Myriad Races, and certainly not the human race.
She permitted Yóu Lìng to lead the Black Wind Alliance, wielding its power alongside the Alien Race Hunting Hall against the human race, a mere diversion to pass the time.
And because Yóu Lìng harbored an unyielding hatred for the human race, a chasm too vast to bridge.
She supported her, allowing her to pursue her desires.
Yet, as she gazed upon Yóu Lìng, whose smile outshone the stars, He Lou Feng remained silent, nodding slightly and murmuring, “I look forward to it.”
What she truly anticipated was Yóu Lìng achieving her heart’s desire.
To see the Tian Yan Tribe seize the Tianwu Continent, and to witness the hope the human race had guarded for a thousand years crumble at the hands of the infamous Envoy of the Black Wind Alliance.
If that was what Yóu Lìng sought, He Lou Feng would grant it.
She never imagined those words would seal Yóu Lìng’s fate, nor that her silence, heavy with unspoken emotions, would be misinterpreted by Yóu Lìng.
The blood-controlling technique, where a puppet’s death would return power—
She had no need for it!
Her blood surging with fury, He Lou Feng stood atop the opulent, blood-stained palaces, fists clenched, finally understanding what it meant to care for someone.
She realized she cared for Yóu Lìng—only after her death.
Later, she thought to herself, with Yóu Lìng gone, the Tianwu Continent no longer held any purpose.
So she deployed the Absolute Formation of Mist, slew the Third Prince of the Tian Yan Tribe who had misread the source of her silence, and gazed at the radiant starlight of Ming He, thinking: that glory was meant for Qing Yue!
Thus, drawing Ming He, Qin Chu Yi, and Li Fusheng into the spatial currents felt only natural.
She did not deny that she sought vengeance for Yóu Lìng.
She aimed to obliterate the Tianwu Continent entirely.
And afterward? Later, she found herself adrift in the Vast Ancient Realm.
It was said to be a secret realm left behind by the Soul Ancestors, a realm belonging to Qing Yue’s ancestors.
A youth clad in fiery red attire appeared before her, speaking just as her white array flag pressed against her vital point: he was the inheritor of Yóu Lìng.
An inheritor? How could Yóu Lìng possibly choose a human as an inheritor after her soul core had been extracted?
It seemed impossible, yet it was indeed what had transpired.
Jiang An explained that before he infiltrated the Black Wind Alliance, Yóu Lìng had already chosen him to receive the inheritance of the Soul Clan.
He was a pure soul cultivator, devoted solely to the path of soul mastery, and his techniques were derived from Yóu Lìng, making him her true inheritor.
Jiang An mentioned that Senior Sister Left had left something for her.
Senior Sister Left.
The title felt foreign, yet it pointed to someone of profound importance in her heart.
The Left Clan of Soul Mastery, Senior Sister.
So, Yóu Lìng had acted as the master, taking Jiang An as her junior brother?
Despite Jiang An’s elder brother being slain by the Black Wind Alliance and the Alien Race Hunting Hall, and despite Jiang An himself being unable to practice spiritual arts due to the conflicts between the human race and the Tian Yan Tribe, she—a human race traitor whose entire clan had been annihilated by humans—found Jiang An willing to acknowledge her as Senior Sister.
Humans were truly perplexing.
He Lou Feng could not comprehend it, nor did she wish to.
She simply followed Jiang An’s words and moved forward, uncovering her own cause and effect of the mortal world and the Trial of the Heart, learning more than she had ever imagined.
Qing Yue was the fifth inheritor chosen by the Heavenly Dao, Ming He was the sixth, and Mu Chen was the fourth.
The inheritors of the Heavenly Dao were bound to the fate of their world and tribe; their life and death struggle was inextricably tied to the Tianwu Continent. If the Tianwu Continent were to be destroyed, they would perish, and vice versa.
From the moment they were chosen by the Heavenly Dao, their lives were no longer their own.
Thus, even when Qing Yue’s soul core was extracted and her pride shattered, transforming her from Qing Yue into Yóu Lìng, she could only coexist with the Tianwu Continent.
If the Tianwu Continent were destroyed, she too would meet her end.
How unjust, how absurd!
He Lou Feng clenched her teeth in fury, a surge of unprecedented darkness and madness welling within her, yearning to obliterate the Tianwu Continent in that very moment, to see all its inhabitants reduced to dust.
As this thought consumed her, her mind suddenly stilled, recalling Mu Chen.
After the death of the Left Envoy of the demon race, Xin Ming Zhu, Mu Chen had undergone a profound transformation, descending into darkness and unleashing a wave of destruction. When the demon army mobilized, he had abruptly awakened, turning the tide before vanishing into nothingness.
At that time, the human race had no young leader, and Ming He had not yet arrived in this world. The fate of their tribe and world had no anchor. Why, then, had Mu Chen perished while the Tianwu Continent remained intact?
With this question lingering, He Lou Feng fixed her gaze on the water mirror before her, witnessing a scene that shook her to the core.
Through the undulating ripples of the water mirror, she saw the demon army retreating before a single sword strike from Mu Chen, a technique named "Canglang," its sword intent fierce and all-encompassing.
Yet, she felt no interest in it. Her fingers pressed against the empty air, her eyes unblinking as they locked onto the image of the white-clad youth in the mirror.
Yearning for justice, Nine Heavens Stars.
The young man named Mu Chen, his white robes stained with blood, had eyes that held shattered starlight, reminiscent of Qing Yue lying in a pool of blood.
He gazed toward the west, his eyes heavy with guilt and darkness, deeper than mountains and seas. He lowered his head and spat out a mouthful of blood, his vitality draining away in an instant.
The Xuanyuan Sword struck the winding ground of the Blood River with a resounding crash. The moment his body fell, the Tianwu Continent trembled on the edge of collapse.
At the very same moment, through the hazy water mirror, He Lou Feng opened her eyes, moisture glistening in their depths.
On the cliff edge, half-dyed by the rising clouds, a woman in black clothes sat cross-legged in the darkest corner, blood spilling from her lips, her heart radiating a grayish light as she spoke deliberately:
“Human race young leader Mu Chen, the fourth inheritor of Heaven and Earth, I, Qing Yue, curse you in the name of the last Soul Clan member of the Tianwu realm: may you never enter reincarnation, may you die yet your soul not dissolve, struggling for existence on Sword Demon Mountain, until the mountain falls and your soul perishes.”
She paused, feeling the dispersal of her soul energy before opening her eyes, fixing her gaze on the blood-red sun at the horizon, her stare unwavering. As tears fell, her voice trembled: “Before the fifth inheritor of the human race is established, Sword Demon Mountain shall not fall.”
All the myriad races had their supernatural abilities.
This was the Soul Clan’s supernatural ability, where one utterance followed the law.
A soul clan member could only use this once in a lifetime, at the cost of soul energy that could only be erased by death. Its weight was like a thousand pounds; its suffering was unimaginable.
If Mu Chen died, the Tianwu Continent would perish. Even Yóu Lìng would have to die, but at least her blood feud would be avenged.
Why protect the Tianwu Continent?
He Lou Feng clenched her fists, lost in thought, recalling how she had once seen Yóu Lìng gazing at the blood sun in the sky, smiling brilliantly at her, eyes sparkling with affection and admiration.
From that day on, she became particularly ruthless towards the talents of the human race, as if she were the Tian Yan Tribe invading the Tianwu Continent.
At that moment, Jiang An appeared behind her and said in a bright voice: “Senior Sister Left said she really wants to see what the myriad worlds look like and hopes you can go in her place.”
“And—”
The young man in red paused and handed over a gray jade slip: “When Yóu Lìng died, her soul returned to the heavens. The power of soul mastery will guide her to erase the resentment of those human prodigies born from her, trading a radiant and splendid future for them at the cost of not entering reincarnation.”
“So, she left cleanly.”
“If the young leader and Young Master Qin could… if they could defeat the Tian Yan Tribe, Senior Sister Left might, just might, condense a fragment of her soul with her remaining soul power, like the former young leader Mu Chen.”
He held the jade slip, lowering his gaze: “Senior Sister Left said that among ten thousand possibilities, she has only one chance to survive, and asked me to inquire, ‘Can Your Highness wait for me?’”
“Can Your Highness wait for me?”
Of course, that was possible.
He Lou Feng knew that this was simply Yóu Lìng’s way of wanting her to continue living, yet she had no thought of refusal.
She had too much to say to Yóu Lìng and to Qing Yue.
Even if she did not truly understand how Yóu Lìng could survive such a tragic death, she still accepted the jade slip and turned to Jiang An, asking, “Should I gather the Absolute Formation of Mist?”
After all, Yóu Lìng’s precondition was that the human race must defeat the Tian Yan Tribe.
Jiang An shook his head and said, “No need. The young leader, Young Master Qin, and Young Master Fusheng will find a way.”
He Lou Feng nodded, clutching the jade slip, stepping through the void and, in the long and torturous wait, saw her father, who had reached the Emperor realm and stood loftily, bowing his head as he was killed by Ming He with a single sword strike.
Suddenly, she understood why this was one of ten thousand possibilities.
The power of all beings’ faith.
Within it, there was also the faith of Yóu Lìng, or rather, a piece of Qing Yue’s faith.
The Life and Death Soul Ring, the bone book, the Nine-Character True Words, and The Vast Ancient Cauldron all belonged to the Soul Clan; how could they not include Qing Yue’s faith?
Faith.
He Lou Feng pondered this word, standing in the void and watching Ming He, who stood tall and radiant, gathering all the brilliance of the world below. Her heart shook, unable to calm down.
Her world should not have possessed light.
But the girl she liked was once a scorching glow, and she should have fought alongside them like Ming He.
Clutching the jade slip tightly, He Lou Feng suddenly wanted to know what Yóu Lìng would look like if the Soul Clan had not perished.
She must be as radiant and beautiful as the clearing skies after rain, possessing the warmth of a gentleman’s virtues, the vigor of youth, the pride of a sword cultivator, and the wisdom of a soul cultivator.
She longed to see such a Qing Yue.
Even if it meant pointing a sword at herself, it did not matter.
