The journey to Wujing Yuan began in all its macabre stillness, a hush laced with trepidation and dread unlike any other in the face of the peril awaiting them once they crossed the outer borders of the demon-infested abyss.
Thus, Taohua, Xiyan, Wei Lan, Guo Lan, and Kaolin travelled across a barren and isolated landscape, where not even the wind dared to whistle and the very earth the colour of coal.
Each step was like walking across a world long perished, a world that had once witnessed the Gods and Goddesses dwell among Mortals and Immortals alike – now only as a distant memory of a time lost in the void.
Here, in this forgotten wasteland, where fire burned in the cracked surfaces and darkness pooled in the hollows, rose the final threshold, the inner borders of Wujing Yuan in all its breathtaking glory.
An abyss as vast as the heavens and as deep as fate itself, Wujing Yuan opened up before them like a rift into which even light was afraid to penetrate. Yet, this cursed place was more than just an abyss; it was a grave and a prison.
The four descending layers of this pit had not seen sunlight since the mists of dawn, and buried deep in that suffocating darkness lay the last artefact the group needed to forge the Divine Bone.
Kaolin took the lead through the air, his robes fluttering in the howling wind, and the others followed right on his heels with solemn expressions, their gazes fixed on the abyss and the celestial array that still held and pulsed like a heartbeat for more than thousands of years. It was indeed a veil of divine origin, a tangle of celestial sigils, and through it, nothing passed or escaped.
He raised his hands slowly, fingers spread out, and from his palm surged an amber glow. His qi expanded outwards in circular moves, growing stronger and denser, until the very sky seemed to react to his powers, and the celestial seal responded, albeit reluctantly.
Kaolin did not flinch or waver; instead, he summoned the full force of his cultivation, his energy crashing against the divine array with the cry of someone who had faced the ancient gods, looked death straight in the eye, and still not bowed to fate.
Then, at last, the seal cracked and a narrow slit tore open, just wide enough for one person to slip through at a time. And that was exactly what they had planned. Their aim was never to shatter the entire array and risk unleashing the Demons and Devils trapped within, but to ensure none of those hideous things could seize this chance to escape.
He turned to the others, jaw clenched, forcing the gap open, while also holding back the desperate demons trying to escape with his other hand.
"Wei Lan, hurry, lead the way! The rest of you," his gaze swept over them one by one, "remember what we discussed. You must stay together, and no matter what you think is happening on the other levels, you do not deviate from the plan. Now move—quickly!"
No one lingered or hesitated, even as the chaotic horde of demons writhed below, desperate to break through the celestial array. One at a time, with Wei Lan leading the way, they vanished into the mouth of the abyss and left him to fight the demons trying to break his resolve to keep them caged in the abyss.
Xiyan and Taohua set off to the first and second levels, starting from the outer right edge of the abyss, where jagged stairwells carved by the passage of time led into the descending darkness, while Wei Lan and Guo Lan turned leftwards and downwards, into the third layer where the blazing flames leaked upwards from cracks and the walls shone with malicious enchantments.
Each descent into the abyss had been planned carefully; they knew that with each layer they crossed, the dangers awaiting them would multiply, for demons of lesser rank dwelled in the upper levels, and the third and fourth layers were where the most powerful of devils lay in deep slumber, and also where the Demon God himself, though chained, was imprisoned along with his Demon Palace.
Kaolin was going to descend to the fourth and final layer on his own, not because he sought glory, but to protect the others from a threat too great to face unprepared. Even though the Demon God was chained, his henchmen were not, and neither of his companions had the cultivation level to match the power of even a low-ranking devil.
Thus, he remained alone at the barren surface, hands still extended, the amber light of his qi straining to hold the gap open – draining by the second. There was no time to waste, though. He was losing too much spiritual energy, energy he had to preserve to locate the Jade of Tear.
So, he withdrew his hand without a second's delay and moved like lightning to step through the closing gap, when fate intervened as it usually did in such situations, as if to test his patience, or perhaps, the powers he acquired through thousands of years of consuming evil spirits.
From within the darkness, an entity burst upwards. It was a lowly devil which shouldn't have been there, not this close to the celestial array. Yet it seemed that it sensed the crack in the array from the third or fourth layer and leapt with the desperation of the damned to make a break for it.
Kaolin's gaze snapped towards it, and without hesitation, he extended one hand, hurling a blast of qi into the devil's chest, so that the thing screamed and launched backwards into the abyss. But the danger was not yet over. The gap had narrowed too much; if he did not move now, he would not have the strength to force it open again, not for at least half an hour or more.
He lunged through the array as it was only inches from sealing shut, and its edge grazed his left arm in the process, not deep enough to cut, but enough to sear his flesh as a red flare ran down his arm and divine energy coursed through his veins, branding him with pain so sharp it drove him to his knees.
The searing agony shot down his arm as he landed hard on one of the jagged ridges in the first level of the abyss. Doubling over, his breath came shallow and ragged. Biting his lips from the pain, he raised his wounded arm glowing with celestial light and pressed his other palm over the pulsing skin. From his fingertips, strands of qi flowed and traced the burn's uneven path.
The glow dimmed eventually, and its stinging receded to a faint pulse beneath the skin, though it did not vanish completely, refusing to yield to his forbidden powers. But he suppressed the worst of it – though the wound remained as a reminder that Wujing Yuan did not welcome trespassers.
He then turned his attention to the depths beneath the void, towards the fourth and final layer stretching in a downwards descent before him. His robes swayed in the dry wind from where he watched the gloom, and he exhaled once, and then, without hesitation, he stepped off the ridge.
The descent was a free fall into the shadows. Unlike the others, who relied on spells to balance their flight, Kaolin allowed himself to plummet, weightless and utterly surrendered to gravity. He fell through layer after layer of coiling heat and thick darkness. No demons or devils snarled from hidden alcoves to slow him down from the deepening shadows for reasons he was about to find out.
When at last his feet touched the cracked ground of the fourth layer, he did not stagger or allow the darkness to waver his determination, only his long hair settled slowly about his shoulders like a blanket in a slow beat, like he was underwater and not near the core of Shenzhou.
He arched a brow as he scanned his surroundings. It was too quiet. But this peculiar silence did not soothe him; on the contrary, it heightened his senses even more. It made no sense: this stillness in the air and how it prickled at his bare skin the longer it lasted.
And then – his brow twitched.
The qi mark at the centre of his forehead flared, sensing a hostile presence nearby. He moved before he saw what it was, and with one hand, he summoned his sword from thin air and swung it in a perfect arc behind him, and a spray of blood painted the blackened rocks.
From the shadows emerged a white tiger devil, whose blood streamed down from the gash across its fury chest, which now pulsed with a faint glow as the devil shifted form: its fur receded, and its form re-clothed, revealing its true humanoid form.
Standing tall against the arching rocks was none other than the high-ranking devil known far and wide as Baihu Mo – the Demon God's most loyal servant. His robes were as black as the void, but his hair was as white as snow from years of imprisonment in Wujing Yuan. A jagged red brand was also burned across his bare chest, exactly where Kaolin had struck. Yet his grin was wide, almost awed, and not that of someone who'd just got severely injured, and Kaolin was about to find out the cause behind this wolfish grin.
"You're not Immortal," he said. "And yet you wounded me. Tell me, what kind of Mortal possesses such power?"
Kaolin said nothing. He merely shifted his weight and lowered his sword to the side, where dark blood dripped from its edge. Baihu Mo tilted his head, grin widening, amused by his refusal to reply, and in the blink of an eye, the devil dissolved into dark mist, vanishing.
Kaolin did not pursue it, however. He remained poised and listened to the tremors of power in the rock and the air – on full alert – trying to see through whatever games the white tiger devil was playing. But, much to his surprise, for a moment, all was still. Until it wasn't.
From the shadowy crevices and pits, from behind blackened columns and sharp ridges and alcoves, came the others and surrounded him from all directions: middle-ranked demons and lesser devils. But they were not here to harm him; they knew they couldn't even if they so tried, so what exactly were they trying to do right now?
Right then, out of nowhere, something akin to a series of flashes surged upwards, casting the entire fourth level under great demonic energy, and an array appeared above him to prevent him from fleeing to the higher levels, thus trapping him. Again, all he could think of at that moment was the why. It was almost as if these things had anticipated his arrival and prepared a surprise for him, one he indeed could not see through.
Baihu Mo appeared once more among the sea of Demons and Devils and gestured to his left without explaining further. "This way…"
At first, Kaolin saw nothing – just more rock. Then, the crowd parted, and the rocks beyond split open to reveal a sight both terrible and majestic, all at the same time. Kaolin's eyes narrowed.
The Demon Palace lay half-sunken in the cavern floor, its massive gates sealed shut by golden chains and an intricate, glowing array pulsing with celestial energy. And there, chained to the gates, were the Demon God himself. But it wasn't the ancient god that made him open his eyes wide, unable to process what he was seeing. How could fate be this cruel?
The Jade of Tear he had come to retrieve, the final sacrifice of the God of Space, was the very thing keeping the Demon God chained. The second he retrieved the artefact, the ancient god would break free from his cage, rise from the ashes, and bring great calamity upon Shenzhou.
He staggered back from the realisation, his mind reeling with thousands of thoughts meddling with his senses. The only way to save Zhenhai – to save Yue'er – was to shatter the very seal that held the darkness at bay, the very last thing keeping the Demon God tethered and the Demon Army from rising from the dead, and it seemed the Demon God was well aware of this fact too, for although his eyes were closed and his form still, Kaolin could feel it – that dark and malicious presence – wide awake, indeed, and eager, waiting for him to come closer.
So, this was the price he had to pay to give Yue'er a second chance? Or perhaps it was yet another poor attempt by the Gods and Goddesses to lead him down a path he was destined to follow, no matter what he did to defy that very destiny…
A smirk crept on his face, one that faded as quickly as it appeared, giving way to doubts and hesitation. Caught between the past and the present, between the woman he once failed to protect and the world he still hoped to save without getting caught up in the intricate schemes of the Gods and Goddesses, and the path they had forcefully paved for him.
But not for long.
One step at a time, he moved, still at a crossroads, yet he knew he had no option but to advance. The resolve to trade the fate of Shenzhou for Yue'er's soul deepened with each step, and despite the implications of such a decision and the impact it would have on the future that lay ahead, he advanced.
He had come too far, crossed too many boundaries, and risked too many lives to simply give up and turn away, just like he had done fifteen thousand years ago. To falter now would be to deny the very reason he had endured every tribulation, every battle, every sleepless night since he mastered the Forbidden Arts and swore not to be a pawn at the hands of the deities.
If it meant saving her, to make sure her soul did not perish into the void, then, even if Shenzhou were to burn right here and now… even if the heavens themselves split and the stars wept over his decision, he would bear their judgment and stand his ground to pay the debt he owed her.
Perhaps the world would call it madness, the Mortals and Immortals curse his name, still, he did not care. If she could live even one day in a future not bound to his ill fate, then even in ruin, he would bear the consequences of this choice without regret – even if that meant he had to not just defy his destiny, but also wage a war against the deities themselves.