Deep within the "Watcher's Barrier," the "Star Realm" enveloped by layer upon layer of formations that had invoked the power of revolving heavenly stars now became the focal point of the entire alliance's attention, indeed the entire Three Realms' attention, and the place where hope resided.
At the secret realm's core stood not an ordinary cave dwelling but a white jade platform suspended within a simulated sea of stars. Upon this platform were inscribed complex-to-the-extreme gathering-spirit, soul-condensing, spirit-solidifying, and evil-dispelling formations. Wisps of starlight and purified spiritual energy that had liquefied gathered like hundreds of rivers returning to the sea, continuously converging to form a swirling halo of light that gently cocooned the figure at its center.
Tang Xiaoqi lay quietly within this halo of light, eyes tightly closed, features serene yet pale as death. He wore no clothes, his skin surface covered not with smoothness but with dense and eerie patterns—on one side were faint golden Green Lotus Dao markings, stubbornly flickering with dim light, protecting the last spark of clarity in his heart and sea of consciousness. On the other side were jet-black demonic markings that writhed like living things, attempting to erode inward, emanating cold and deathly aura. These two opposing forces engaged in fierce battle within his body. Every tiny energy fluctuation made his brow unconsciously furrow, his body trembling slightly, as if enduring endless pain.
Mu Xue sat cross-legged outside the halo of light, never leaving his side. She did not forcibly intervene in the healing process because the power level within Xiao Qi's body was too high. The battle between the Green Lotus Origin and the source demonic intent left by the Demonic Entity's last-ditch counterattack had escalated beyond what ordinary medical arts or spiritual power infusion could handle. Her role was "anchoring." She used her pure ice-origin power and the heart-mind connection from years of dual cultivation with Xiao Qi to form a clear, cold "bridge"—on one hand stabilizing the outer formation's energy input, ensuring it remained gentle and continuous. On the other hand, her spiritual sense, like the finest thread, carefully probed into the halo, not to attack the demonic intent but to continuously convey steadfast, life-affirming intention, like lighting a lighthouse guiding a lost ship home in a dark and stormy sea for that soul flame that might extinguish at any moment.
"Xiao Qi, hold on... we won, everyone's waiting for you..." Her whispers, like spring water after snowmelt, flowed repeatedly through the silent realm.
Around the platform sat several of the alliance's most respected medical saints, pill refinement masters, and high monks and great masters skilled in soul healing, observing every tiny change in the halo's energy with grave expressions, occasionally whispering to adjust details of the outer auxiliary formations. All they could do was create the best external environment, provide the most pure energy support, and use various gentle soul-calming secret arts to soothe that wounded primordial spirit. The real battlefield was within Xiao Qi's body, requiring only his unyielding will and the Green Lotus Origin's endless vitality to fight on.
Outside the secret realm, Senior Brother Mu Qingfeng personally guarded. The alliance's most elite protective forces guarded the place like an iron drum, any disturbance triggering the highest level of alert. Everyone understood that whether Tang Xiaoqi could recover concerned not only his personal life and death but the entire alliance's morale and future direction.
While this silent yet perilous life-and-death tug-of-war proceeded within the "Star Realm," the news of the Demon Nest's destruction and the Demonic Entity's severe wounding and hiding spread like prairie fire through every corner of the human, demon, and sea realms at the fastest possible speed.
First came an incredulous silence. Then came an overwhelming wave of joy and catharsis!
The Three Realms' living beings, who had been suppressed for too long, anxious under the shadow of the demonic catastrophe for too long, transformed all their fears and hopes into deafening cheers and tears.
In the Central Plains Imperial Dynasty, at the ancient capital's bell tower, the Nine Tripods rang in unison, their sound carrying for ten thousand li. The Emperor personally led all civil and military officials in offering sacrifices to heaven and earth, granting amnesties throughout the empire. Every major city was decorated with lanterns and streamers, streets packed with people, self-organized celebration parades lasted all night, the air filled with the fragrance of spirit food and celebratory music.
At the East Sea Dragon Palace, bells and chimes played melodiously, the radiance of night pearls ten times brighter than usual. The Dragon King ordered the opening of thousand-year cellared nectar and jade liquids, hosting waters of all directions. On the huge coral plaza, mermaids sang, crab soldiers and shrimp generals danced, all in jubilation. Even in the deep ocean trenches, countless creatures lit up celebratory light spots.
In the Western Desert demon realm, bold and forthright demon cultivators lit bonfires stretching across the land, dancing and leaping around the flames, expressing joy in the most primal way. Every demon king brought out treasured blood foods and spirit fruits, getting drunk with their followers.
In the Northern Plains snow territory, devout tribal people etched huge blessing totems on the snowfields, kneeling and prostrating toward the sacred mountain, thanking the "World Purification True Lord" for bringing the dawn of peace.
In the Southern Border witch villages, ancient ceremonial dances were performed again—though this time not for seeking protection but for celebrating victory, with witch and venom arts transforming into gorgeous flowing lights under the night sky.
Even the recently allied silicon-based civilization sent congratulatory messages through official channels, expressing higher respect for the alliance's tremendous strength and spirit of sacrifice.
Qingxu Temple, as Tang Xiaoqi's sect, became an ocean of celebration even more. The mountain gate opened wide, guests crowded like clouds, countless cultivators came to pay respects, moved by the World Purification True Lord's heroic efforts in turning the tide. Though Senior Brother Mu Qingfeng guarded the front lines, he sent back a decree ordering the entire sect to celebrate together, establishing Xiao Qi's former residence as a sacred site for visitation.
This was a carnival sweeping across the entire known world, the joy of surviving catastrophe, the supreme reverence for heroes.
In taverns and teahouses, storytellers dramatically recounted the "shocking heaven and earth, moving ghosts and gods" details of the void battle, though most details were imagined, listeners were nevertheless captivated.
In every alley and corner, people discussed the names of heroes like Tang Xiaoqi, Mu Xue, Third Senior Sister Liu Yun, and Zhao Tiezhu, composing their deeds into songs and spreading them far and wide.
Children held wooden swords, imitating the World Purification True Lord's sword poses as they slew demons and monsters, laughter filling the streets.
The threat of the Demonic Entity had not been eradicated—this the higher-ups knew clearly. But for ordinary living beings, the suffocating cloud of destruction overhead seemed to have dispersed, sunlight shining on the earth again. This glorious victory undoubtedly greatly boosted the entire Three Realms' confidence, united the hearts of all races, and won invaluable—possibly centuries or more—of strategic breathing room for future development.
On one side was within the secret realm, heroes fighting the demonic intent on the line between life and death, silent yet perilous. On the other side was within the Three Realms, billions of living beings celebrating enthusiastically for the staged victory, noisy yet passionate.
This ice-and-fire juxtaposition together composed the most real and most complex painting of the post-war era. Hope and hidden worries coexisted. Beneath the celebrations was anticipation for the future, and the deepest concern for that hero who had not yet returned.