My life had been good.
That was the thought that lingered in my mind as I stood at the edge of the final tribulation platform, white clouds rolling beneath my feet like a quiet sea. Lighting no longer roared. Heavenlu fire no longer burned. The ninefold tribulation, something that had erased countless Grand Ascendants from history had ended.
And I was still standing.
My robes were torn, my body wounded, but my soul was calm. Too calm, perhaps. Below me lay the cultivation world I had spent more than three thousand years climbing sects that rose and fell, disciples who called me master, enemies whose bones had long since turned to dust.
I felt no regret.
No unfulfilled desire.
No lingering obsession.
If the heveans descended now and erased me completely, I would accept it.
I had cultivated enough.
I had killed enough.
I had lived enough.
"I am ready," I said softly, my voice scattered by the wind. "If ascension is the end... Then let it be so."
The sky answered.
Not with thunder, nor with light but with silence.
The world faded.
-
I found myseld standing in a boundless void.
There was no up or down, no light or darkness. Time did not flow here. Space did not exist. And yet, I was undeniably present, my consciousness clearer than it had ever been.
Before me was something I could not properly describe.
It had no shape, yet it felt vast.
No voice, yet it spoke.
No form, yet I knew instinctively what it was.
The Dao.
Not a manifestation. Not a projection. Not a heavenly will filtered through laws and tribulations.
This was the Dao itself. The thing I had pursued, comprehended, and served for countless lifetimes of mortals.
Xu Yan, it addressed me, though no sound was made.
You have reached the end of your path.
I bowed deeply, my sould trembling not from fear but from reverence.
"I thank the Dao for its guidance."
You have cultivated power, longevity, and understanding, the Dao continued.
You have transcended mortality.
"Yes," I replied. "And thus, I am ready to return to nothingness."
For a moment, if moments could exist here. The Dai was silent.
Then it asked something I had neved expected.
Why?
The question struck deeper than any tribulation.
"Because there is nothing left to seek," I answered honestly. "I haved ascended realms, broken shackles, and touched truths beyond mortal comprehension. What remains is repetition."
The Dao observed me.
And the living world?
"I have left it behind."
And humanity?
"They will continue without me."
Another pause.
Then.
You are wrong.
The Dao's response was not angered, nor cold. It was dissatisfied.
Power is not the end. Longevity is not the end. Even understanding is not the end.
My brows furrowed. "Then what is?"
Living.
The word echoed endlessly.
You cultivated to escape mortality, The Dai said,
But you never truly lived within it.
I felt something stir in my heart, something unfamiliar,.
Regret?
You observed mortals from above, The Dai continued.
You guided, proctected, destroyed, and judged them. Yet you never walked among them without power.
"I was born mortal." I argued.
You awakened spiritual roots at ten. You entered a sevt at twelve. You were never truly powerless.
The Dao was right.
Painfully so.
I am not yet satisfied, The Dai declared.
The void trembled.
Go back.
My eyes widened. "Back? Reincarnation?"
Yes.
"With my cultivation?"
No.
The answer was absolute.
No spiritual roots.
No cultivation base.
No divine soul.
I laughed bitterly. "You would strip me of everything?"
I will give you something else.
The void collapsed.
-
I woke up to pain.
Not the pain of tribulation lightning or soul refinement, but the dull presistent ache of a fragile body.
My first breath was shallow. My lungs burned as if they had never known proper air. The smell of damp wood and old straw filled my nose.
I opened my eyes.
A cracked wooden ceiling greeted me. Water stains spread like veins across it. The room was small, barely large enough for a single bed and a broken table.
I tried to move.
My arm trembled and fell back onto the mattress.
Weak.
Too weak.
I checked my dantian.
Empty.
Not empty as in sealed or damaged, but nonexistent. Like checking for a limn that had never grown.
No spiritual roots.
No meridians capable of circulating qi.
I was... Mortal.
Completely.
A rush of memories surged int my mind, foreign yet intimate.
Ling Yang.
Eighteen years old.
Born in a remote village at the edge of the Azure Plains.
Sickly since childhood. Weak constitution. No talent for cultivation.
His parents had died early. He survived by working odd jobs and receiving occasional pity from the villagers.
Three days ago,, he collapsed while hauling firewood.
He never woke up.
Until now.
I closed my eyes slowly.
"So this is how you want it." I murmured.
My voice was hoarse, barely audible.
There was no panic.
No anger.
Only a strange, quiet clarity.
I had lost everything, but strangely, I did not feel hollow.
I tried to sit up again, this time more carefully. My body protested, muscles aching as if unused for years. Sweat beaded on my forehead from the simple action.
Pathetic.
I would have laughed at such weakness once.
Now, I accepted it.
I swung my legs off the bed and stood, swaing slightly. The floor creaked under my weight. Through the small window, sunlight filtered in, warm and gentle.
No spiritual aura.
No heavenly pressure.
Just... Sunlight.
I stepped outside.
The village was quiet. Mud paths wound between modest houses. A farmer bent over his fields, humming softly. Children chased each other, laughter ringing freely.
No one sensed my presence.
No one bowed.
No one feared.
For the first time in thousands of years, I was invisible.
And for the first time... I felt something loosen in my chest.
Peace.
I walked slowly through the village, Ling Yang's memories guiding my steps. Every few braths, I had to stop and steady myself. My body truly was frail.
Yet no one mocked me.
And old woman nodded as I passed.
A child waved.
Life went on.
That night, I sat alone in Ling Yang's small room, staring at the flickering oil lamp.
Restart cultivation?
I considered it.
With my knowledge, I could perhaps guide this body into cultivating, even without spiritual roots, there were forbidden methods, body refining paths, or soul based techniques.
But the Dao'ss ords echoed in my mind.
You never truly lived within mortality.
I exhaled slowly.
"No," I said.
I had walked that road already.
I knew where it led.
Instead, a different thought formed, quiet, yet firm.
What if... I didn't cultivate?
What if I truly lived as a mortal?
Not as a hidden expert.
Not as a sealed god.
But as a powerless man.
Teaching.
Building.
Living,
A sect formed in my mind, not of cultivators but of people.
Farmers, artisans healer, scholars.
A place without competition for realms or resources.
A place where people learned to lived well.
I chuckled softly. "A mortal sect... The cultivation world would laugh itself to death."
The Dao remained silent.
I took that as permission.
And in the dim light, Ling Yang once Xu Yan, Grand Ascendant-made his decision.
I would not chase immortality again.
I would build something far more difficult.
A place were mortals could stand tall... Without ever touching the heavens.
And unknowingly
I would shake them all the same.