Chapter 393: Flames of the Spirit Realm

Jiu Er sat under a tree, eyes closed, regulating her breath. She wore a dark-blue dress condensed from the power of the Jianmu. Her hair had grown long, spilling over her shoulders, a faint smile on her face. Her aura was deeper and steadier than a month ago, a change from the Jianmu sapling's growth. She felt her strength growing day by day, her command of space deepening likewise.

In the distance, the ruined halls had been cleared into an open space. The clearing spanned several hundred zhang in radius; the original broken walls and debris had been cleaned up, and the rubble piled to one side. On the clearing stood a few crude wooden huts, the temporary dwellings of Cang Xuan, Yu Liuli, Venerable Xuan Gui, and Immortal Bai Cao. Though the huts were simple, they were kept tidy, each with a small patch of ground in front where spiritual herbs transplanted from the ruins were planted.

Cang Xuan was practicing swordplay on the clearing.

His swordsmanship was fiercer and more refined than before; each stroke left a faint trace in the void that lingered, as if it would rend the void. His sword technique was no longer mere swordplay—it had fused with his Dao, his intent, his soul. His sword Dao had reached a new realm.

Wang Ping could sense that Cang Xuan's cultivation had firmly reached the peak of mid-stage Spirit Transformation; only a step remained to reach late-stage Spirit Transformation, a step that required only time and opportunity.

Yu Liuli sat before the wooden hut, gently stroking her zither.

The zither's notes lingered, graceful and flowing, like a mountain spring, like a forest breeze. The music soothed the scars on this ruin and eased everyone's fatigue. Her aura was deeper and more restrained than before, the natural manifestation of her early-stage Spirit Transformation having been fully consolidated. Her zither Dao had merged with her life, becoming part of her.

Venerable Xuan Gui could now walk on the ground.

He leaned on a cane, strolling slowly through the ruins. His injuries were severe, healing slowly, but being able to walk was already a great blessing. As he strolled, he muttered complaints, finding fault with everything. Immortal Bai Cao followed behind him, occasionally glaring; he would sheepishly fall silent, then after a while could not help but resume his complaints.

Everything was fine.

Just—

Wang Ping lifted his gaze toward the distance.

There lay the direction of the Spirit Realm.

There, the battle continued.

There, his master, his comrades, still fought desperately.

They had bought him time with their lives, letting him return to save Jiu Er and the Immortal Palace ruins. Now he had done so. Jiu Er was safe, the ruins were safe. But he could not forget that there were still people there waiting for him to return.

Jiang Mingyuan.

Lei Wan Ting.

Immortal Bing Yue.

Plus countless cultivators whose names he did not know, heroes who fought to the death to defend the Spirit Realm.

They were still fighting.

They were still bleeding.

They were still awaiting reinforcements.

He clenched his fists.

"Wait for me."

He said softly.

"I'll be back soon."

His voice was soft, yet it carried an unquestionable resolve—his promise to himself, and to everyone in the Spirit Realm.

He turned and looked at Jiu Er.

Jiu Er, who had awakened at some point, was gazing at him. Her eyes held reluctance, but more so understanding.

"Big brother, are you leaving?"

Wang Ping nodded.

"The Spirit Realm needs me."

Jiu Er fell silent for a moment, then rose and walked up to him. She tiptoed, reached out her small hand, and gently touched his face.

"Big brother, you must come back alive."

Wang Ping looked at her, at the earnestness in her eyes, a warm surge rising in his heart. He squatted to meet her gaze eye‑to‑eye and said solemnly, "I promise you."

Jiu Er smiled, her smile bright as a flower.

"I believe in you, big brother."

Wang Ping rose, gazing at Cang Xuan, Yu Liuli, and You Ying.

Cang Xuan sheathed his sword, stepped forward, and patted his shoulder.

"Be careful."

Yu Liuli stopped playing, rose, and bowed.

"Take care."

You Ying looked at him, said nothing, merely nodded—but her gaze already said everything.

Wang Ping drew a deep breath, turned, and strode purposefully toward the newly opened spatial passage.

He did not look back.

But his heart was already resolved.

"Spirit Realm, I'm coming."

Deep in the void, four streams of light raced wildly.

Wang Ping led the charge, chaotic light engulfing him, his speed pushed to the limit. Behind him, Cang Xuan merged sword and self into a piercing blade of light that trailed close; Yu Liuli stepped to the rhythm of her zither, each footfall bursting with notes that propelled her forward; though You Ying's cultivation had not yet recovered, the laws of the void let her glide through space without losing ground.

All four faces were grim to the extreme.

Three days ago they had still been waiting on the Immortal Palace ruins for the Pure World Court's fifth wave of attack, but Yun Hao's urgent message shattered all plans—the Court's army launched its assault early, the Spirit Realm's great defensive array was on the verge of collapse, and Jiang Mingyuan, single‑handedly facing three late‑stage Spirit Transformation foes, held his own for now but could not split himself.

"How much farther?" Cang Xuan asked coldly.

Wang Ping unfurled his chaotic divine sense to its fullest, sweeping toward the endless void ahead.

"Thirty thousand li."

Thirty thousand li—a distance unreachable for mortals, but for a Spirit Transformation cultivator it is merely the time it takes to burn half an incense stick.

Yet half an incense stick's time on the battlefield can mean the difference between life and death.

"Faster."

Wang Ping gritted his teeth, chaotic power surging anew, his speed increasing by another ten percent.

The three behind him likewise gave their all, pressing close.

Thirty thousand li.

Twenty thousand li.

Ten thousand li.

When the distance to the Spirit Realm's defensive grand formation was only five thousand li left, they finally saw——

That silver sea.

The silver light that covered the sky and earth flooded the entire void like a tide. Three late-stage Void God experts were like three silver suns, hovering above the battlefield; each time they raised a hand, terrifying order power bombarded that golden light shield. Ten mid-stage Void God experts were scattered across the battlefield, engaging in one-on-one combat with the Spirit Realm's Void God experts. Fifty Order Disciples were like silver lightning, shuttling through the void; each teleport took a life. Thousands of battle puppets descended like a locust swarm, densely attacking the defensive grand formation, consuming its energy with their bodies.

That golden light shield that had guarded the Spirit Realm for thirty thousand years was now covered in cracks. Each crack spread rapidly, and each impact caused large swaths of runes to extinguish. Jiang Mingyuan stood at the formation's eye, his white hair disheveled, blood bleeding from his seven orifices, his hands frantically forming seals, pouring endless spiritual power into the formation. Before him, the attacks of the three late-stage Void God experts poured down like a rainstorm; each impact made his body shudder violently, yet he fought to the death without retreating.

Lei Wan Ting had lost an arm, yet he continued fighting. Each swing of his thunder-long blade released countless thunderbolts that shattered the charging battle puppets into fragments. But those besieging him were two mid-stage Void God experts; he was struggling to cope, danger looming at every turn.

Bing Yue Xianzi's face was as pale as paper; the moonlight power surrounding her had dimmed to the utmost. Fighting two opponents alone, each strike consumed tremendous mental energy, yet she persisted, for behind her lay the defensive grand formation and countless Spirit Realm cultivators.

The Heaven Sword Sect Sect Master's sword momentum was like a rainbow, locked in fierce combat with a mid-stage Void God expert. His sword technique was unmatched, each strike leaving deep traces in the void. But that mid-stage Void God expert's order power was too strange; each time it could anticipate his sword momentum beforehand, leaving him unable to land a hit.

The Formation Dao Alliance's Alliance Master sat cross-legged in the void, countless runes swirling around him. He used formations to trap a mid-stage Void God expert and ten Order Disciples, but maintaining the formation consumed enormous divine sense; his face had turned ashen as paper, veins bulging on his forehead.

The president of the Artificers Guild sacrificed the eighteen flying swords he had forged, forming a sword array to contend with another mid-stage Void God expert. But that mid-stage Void God expert's defense was too strong; his flying swords could not break through at all, only barely buying time.

The Old Ancestor of the Loose Cultivators Alliance was already covered in blood head to toe; his opponents were a mid-stage Void God expert and three Order Disciples. Fighting while retreating, he had already fallen back to the edge of the defensive grand formation; one more step back would have him crash into the formation.

Meanwhile, the Nascent Soul and Golden Core cultivators were desperately fighting the Order Disciples and battle puppets. They formed small battle units in groups of three or five, using their lives to delay the enemy's advance. At every moment cultivators fell, and at every moment blood spilled into the void.

This is hell.

This is the battlefield.

This is the fiercest battle the Spirit Realm has seen in thirty thousand years.

Wang Ping's eyes instantly turned red.

Kill!

He let out a fierce shout, the Chaos Domain unfolding to its fullest; within three thousand zhang, all laws were under his control.

Chaos Immortal Thunder condensed in his palm, forming a bolt of lightning over a hundred zhang thick, which streaked straight toward the group of battle puppets assaulting the defensive grand formation.

Boom——

The lightning burst, and hundreds of battle puppets instantly turned to ash.

That bolt of lightning, like the first ray of dawn in the night, illuminated the entire battlefield.

Everyone was stunned.

Then they saw.

Four figures shot out from the void.

Wang Ping, chaotic light flowing around him, his eyes blazing with fierce fighting spirit.

Cang Xuan, body and sword as one, sword intent soaring to the heavens, that was the aura of a mid-stage Void God expert.

Yu Liuli, cradling an ancient zither, the immortal sound bell swaying gently, that was the aura of an early-stage Void God expert.

You Ying, though her cultivation had not yet recovered, the void's laws flowed around her, making her drift like a ghost.

Four figures, like four sharp blades, plunged straight into the heart of the silver sea.

Is that Wang Ping!

The Chaos True Lord has returned!

They're saved!

Spirit Realm cultivators burst into earth-shaking cheers.

But Wang Ping knew that now was not the time for cheers.

His gaze pierced through the layers of the battlefield and landed at the eye of the defensive grand formation.

There, Jiang Mingyuan was looking at him.

That white-haired old man, covered in blood, blood flowing from his seven orifices, yet his eyes remained bright as ever.

He looked at Wang Ping, his lips moving, making no sound, but Wang Ping understood——

Foolish child, how could you still have come back……

Wang Ping's eye sockets warmed slightly, but he had no time for sentiment.

He took a deep breath, chaotic power operating at full throttle, his voice booming like thunder and echoing across the entire battlefield.

Spirit Realm brothers! Hold on!

Today, we fight side by side!

Kill!

The moment his words fell, he had already charged into the battlefield.

Within the Chaos Domain, the changes of law follow the heart.

He charged at a mid-stage Void God expert who was pursuing Spirit Realm cultivators; seeing him approach, the expert sneered and thrust forth an order spear.

Wang Ping neither dodged nor avoided, letting that order spear pierce into the Chaos Domain.

Within the domain, the flow of time suddenly slowed to one-tenth.

That order spear, originally as fast as lightning, now moved as slowly as a crawling turtle.

Wang Ping sidestepped to let it pass, then stepped forward to stand before that Void God expert.

Chaos Immortal Thunder erupted at close range.

That Void God expert's pupils contracted sharply; he desperately channeled order power to form a defense before him, but the terrifying power of the Chaos Immortal Thunder shattered his nascent defense as soon as it formed.

Boom——

That Void God expert was flung backward, his chest scorched black, his silver essence leaking out wildly.

Wang Ping gave him no chance to catch his breath; the phantom of the Chaos Calamity Sword condensed in his hand, and he struck down with a single sword.

That Void God expert let out a miserable scream, his body dissolving into countless silver specks of light that vanished into the void.

One mid-stage Nascent Soul cultivator fell.

It took no more than three breaths.

On the battlefield, everyone drew a sharp breath.

Those Order Apostles hesitated for the first time.

Those battle puppets' programs briefly fell into chaos.

But those three late-stage Nascent Soul cultivators merely gave him a cold glance and continued attacking Jiang Mingyuan.

In their eyes, killing a mid-stage Nascent Soul cultivator meant nothing.

As long as they break the defensive grand formation and kill Jiang Mingyuan, the Spirit Realm will be theirs.

Wang Ping also knew this.

So he did not continue chasing those mid-stage Nascent Soul cultivators, but turned and rushed toward the defensive grand formation.

He wanted to help his master.

But just as he rushed out a hundred zhang, three silver figures blocked his path.

Three mid-stage Nascent Soul cultivators.

The leader, burly and covered in dense silver runes, was the one who had previously chased him. He coldly stared at Wang Ping, a cruel smile curling his lips.

"Wang Ping, you've finally come. I've been waiting for you a long time."

Wang Ping said nothing, merely gripping the illusory form of the Chaos Tribulation Sword.

"You think killing one of us can change the tide? Too naive. Today, the Spirit Realm will perish. And you——"

He paused, a flash of cold light crossing his eyes.

"You will die the most miserably."

Wang Ping still said nothing.

He merely slowly raised his sword, the tip pointing at that Nascent Soul cultivator.

That Nascent Soul cultivator snorted coldly and waved his hand.

The three mid-stage Nascent Soul cultivators attacked simultaneously.

Silver light surged from three directions at once, like three torrents seeking to drown Wang Ping.

Wang Ping's Chaos Domain fully unfolded, within three thousand zhang, all laws were under his control.

With a thought, the temperature in his domain plummeted to the extreme. The Taiyin Silence Cold Tide surged from all directions, colliding head-on with the three silver torrents.

"Boom——"

The cold tide collided with the silver light, erupting in blinding light. The three silver torrents were eroded by the cold tide, their speed plummeting and power greatly diminished.

But the three mid-stage Nascent Soul cultivators, joining forces, were terrifyingly powerful. Although the cold tide blocked the first wave, it was soon suppressed and pushed back by the silver light.

Wang Ping was blown back dozens of zhang, a trickle of blood spilling from the corner of his mouth.

But his eyes held no fear.

Because he knew he was not fighting alone.

A sword light slashed toward him from behind.

Cangxuan.

His sword was peerlessly fierce, its intent soaring to the heavens. That strike straight slashed at the back heart of one of the Nascent Soul cultivators.

That Nascent Soul cultivator's expression changed; he had to abandon encircling Wang Ping and turn to face Cangxuan.

The sword light and silver radiance collided and annihilated each other. Cangxuan was blown back, but that Nascent Soul cultivator was also forced back dozens of zhang.

At the same time, a lingering melody rang out.

Yuliuli sat cross-legged in the void, a guqin resting across her knees, the Immortal Sound Bell trembling softly. The melody was like weeping and lamentation, yet it contained terrifying lethal power. It drilled into another Nascent Soul cultivator's ears, disturbing his mind and muddling his perception.

That Nascent Soul cultivator only felt a daze, countless illusions flashing before his eyes. Though only an instant, it was enough.

Wang Ping's Chaos Immortal Lightning had already blasted toward him.

"Boom——"

That Nascent Soul cultivator screamed, blasted backward by the lightning, his chest scorched black.

Finally, the burly Nascent Soul cultivator's expression finally changed.

He wanted to flee, but discovered that the surrounding space had been sealed off at some point.

Youying stood in the distance, her hands forming seals, the void's laws operating at full strength. Though her cultivation had not yet recovered, she could still manage a brief seal of space.

Although she could only seal it for an instant.

But an instant was enough.

Wang Ping's sword had already reached his front.

That Nascent Soul cultivator desperately channeled Order power, condensing layer after layer of defense before him—one, two, three——

Wang Ping's sword cut through one, then another, then another.

When the final barrier was shattered, the sword tip was only three cun from his brow.

Fear appeared for the first time in that Nascent Soul cultivator's eyes.

"No——"

The sword tip pierced his brow.

Silver light burst out wildly.

That Nascent Soul cultivator's body slowly disintegrated, turning into countless silver motes that vanished into the void.

The second mid-stage Nascent Soul cultivator fell.

The remaining two mid-stage Nascent Soul cultivators turned deathly pale and fled in panic.

Wang Ping did not pursue.

Because he saw that, beyond the defensive grand formation, the situation had become even more dire.

Those three late-stage Void God cultivators seemed to have finally grown impatient.

The leading burly Void God raised his hand, condensing a massive silver pillar of light. The pillar was over a thousand zhang thick and held power enough to destroy stars.

"Jiang Mingyuan, this is the final strike."

The silver pillar of light crashed down.

Jiang Mingyuan stood at the formation's eye, his white hair flying, blood bleeding from his seven orifices, yet his eyes held no fear.

He formed seals with both hands, expending his last strength to drive the defensive grand formation to its utmost.

The golden shield and the silver pillar collided head-on.

"Boom—"

The tremendous roar shook the heavens, and the void collapsed.

The golden shield trembled violently.

Then—

"Crack."

A crack spread outward from the center of the shield.

Then came a second, third, fourth—

Countless cracks spread like a spiderweb, covering the entire shield.

The defensive grand formation was broken.

Golden light scattered in all directions.

Jiang Mingyuan spat out a mouthful of blood and was flung backward.

The three late-stage Void God cultivators attacked simultaneously, three beams of light shooting straight for his vital points.

"No—!"

Wang Ping's eyes nearly burst as he strained every ounce of strength to rush toward Jiang Mingyuan.

But he was too far away.

Too late.

At this critical moment—

A figure stepped in front of Jiang Mingyuan.

Lei Wan ting.

That Lei Yu Gu Valley Master, that Thunder Dao strongman who had lost an arm, used his own body to block this strike for Jiang Mingyuan.

The three beams of light struck him simultaneously.

His body was instantly pierced through.

Yet he did not fall.

He turned his head, looked at Jiang Mingyuan, and grinned.

That smile was bold and tranquil.

"Old man Jiang… Old Lei… I'll go ahead…"

His body exploded, turning into countless bolts of lightning that dissipated into the void.

Jiang Mingyuan stared, stunned.

Everyone was stunned.

Wang Ping's tears welled up instantly.

"Senior Lei!"

He shouted hoarsely, but Lei Wan ting could no longer hear.

The three late-stage Void God cultivators coldly observed all of this.

"Ants."

They raised their hands, condensing another beam of light.

This time, the target was still Jiang Mingyuan.

But Wang Ping had already rushed to stand before Jiang Mingyuan.

He spread his arms, using his body to shield his master.

He unleashed his Chaos Domain to the fullest.

Chaos Immortal Lightning gathered in his palm.

"Come on."

His voice was soft, yet utterly resolute.

The three late-stage Void God cultivators looked at him, a flicker of surprise in their eyes.

"Do you want to die in his place?"

Wang Ping said nothing.

He merely stared at them, his eyes devoid of fear.

The burly Void God chuckled.

"Good. Then let's die together."

The pillar of light came crashing down.

At this brink of life and death—

A sword light slashed in from behind Wang Ping.

Cang Xuan.

His sword struck that pillar of light.

Sword light and silver radiance collided, both annihilated.

Cangxuan was blown away, blood spurting, but his eyes still burned with fighting spirit.

"Wang brother, I'll accompany you."

Yu Liuli's zither sound rang again, the Immortal Sound Bell shook wildly, that sound turned into sound waves, shooting straight at the three Huashen.

Youying stood beside Wang Ping, hands forming seals, the Void Law operating at full power, striving for a sliver of life for everyone.

Also those Spirit Realm cultivators, those Huashen-stage, Yuanying-stage, Jindan-stage cultivators, they all rushed forward, using their lives to buy time for Wang Ping.

Jiang Mingyuan watched all this, his eye sockets slightly hot.

He struggled to stand, raised his hand and placed it on Wang Ping's shoulder.

"Ping'er, enough."

Wang Ping turned his head, looking at him.

Jiang Mingyuan smiled slightly.

"The rest, leave it to your master."

He stepped forward, surpassing Wang Ping, directly facing the three late-stage Huashen.

His surroundings suddenly erupted with a terrifying aura.

That aura, stronger than before by more than tenfold.

Hetai stage, full-force strike.

The faces of the three late-stage Huashen finally changed.

"You're crazy! Burning your origin, you will die!"

Jiang Mingyuan smiled.

That smile, calm and composed.

"What does death matter?"

"As long as I can protect my disciple, protect the Spirit Realm——"

"Death, it was worth it."

He raised his hand, struck with a palm.

That palm contained the full power of a Hetai-stage cultivator burning his origin, contained his protection of the Spirit Realm for thirty thousand years, contained his endless expectations for his disciple.

Where the palm passed, the void collapsed, laws annihilated.

The three late-stage Huashen, faces deathly pale, frantically retreated.

But it was too late.

The palm imprint, boomed onto them.

The three late-stage Huashen simultaneously screamed, flew backward, blood spurting.

They were severely injured.

But they did not die.

The leading burly Huashen struggled to stand, eyes full of hatred.

"Jiang Mingyuan, even if you burn your origin, you cannot kill us. Today's grudge will be repaid someday!"

He waved his hand, the three late-stage Huashen simultaneously turned into silver flowing light, disappearing into the horizon.

Those mid-stage Huashen, Order Emissaries, combat puppets, likewise fled frantically.

The battlefield fell silent.

Wang Ping stood dazed in place, gazing at the three vanished silver lights, long silent.

Then he turned, looking toward Jiang Mingyuan.

That white-haired old man, now slowly collapsing.

"Master!"

Wang Ping rushed over, grabbed him.

Jiang Mingyuan leaned in his embrace, face pale as paper, breath so weak barely detectable. But his eyes still had light.

He looked at Wang Ping, smiled slightly.

"Silly child…… weren't you told…… not to come back……"

Wang Ping's tears, couldn't stop flowing.

"Master…… master don't speak…… I…… I will heal your wounds……"

Jiang Mingyuan gently shook his head.

"Useless…… as master…… burned origin…… cannot live……"

Wang Ping's heart, as if being cut by a knife.

"No…… won't…… there must be a way…… must be……"

Jiang Mingyuan looked at him, eyes full of compassion.

"Ping'er…… as master…… this lifetime…… proudest thing…… is…… having taken you as my disciple……"

His voice grew weaker and softer.