Chapter 396

On the seventh day after the Spirit Realm Defense War ended, the sky finally cleared.

The silver storm that had lasted three full days and nights, the great battle that had churned the void outside the Spirit Realm into chaos, the catastrophe that had caused countless cultivators to fall and stained the starry sky with blood—finally became the past. Sunlight pierced the clouds and fell upon the halls and pavilions of the Ninth Dao Institute, gilding the shattered tiles, broken beams and pillars, and cracked stone steps with a warm golden hue.

But sunlight cannot reach the wounds in the heart.

Wang Ping stood at the cliff edge behind the Ninth Dao Institute, gazing at the sea of clouds below, motionless. He had stood here all night, from dusk to dawn, from stars filling the sky to the rising sun in the east. His robes still bore traces of dried blood, his waist bore the "Chaos Star Command," and his hand held the "Ji Character Token" left to him by Jiang Mingyuan.

Seven days ago, the thought projection within this token had saved his life. Seven days later, its master was gone.

"Master..." he murmured, his voice hoarse to the point of near inaudibility, "You said you would wait for my return. You said you would wait for me in the Spirit Realm. How could you... break your word?"

No one answered him. Only the mountain wind howled, stirring his robes, stirring the white hair at his temples—the white hair that had grown overnight.

He recalled when he was seven, his master took his hand and led him into the Ninth Dao Institute. Back then he understood nothing, only knowing that this white-bearded old man looked at him with gentle eyes and held his hand warmly.

He recalled when he was thirteen, he first condensed the Chaos Spiritual Root. His master stood behind him, gently patting his shoulder, saying: "Good child, your path will be harder than anyone's. But your master will always be with you."

He recalled when he was thirty, he first left the Ninth Dao Institute for training. Before departure, his master gave him a token, saying: "Hold it. When danger arises, activate it. Your master will come to save you."

He recalled outside the Law Corridor, when he encountered three Divine Transformation pursuers and was on the brink of death. His master sensed his peril, spared no expense of a hundred years of cultivation, forcibly opened a spatial passage, and brought Jiang Haiyun across realms to rescue him.

He recalled on the ruins of the Immortal Palace, before his tribulation, his master's thought projection crossed realms, struck with one palm, severely injuring a late-stage Divine Transformation cultivator, buying him precious time.

He recalled seven days ago, when his master stood at the eye of the defensive great array, white hair disheveled, blood flowing from seven orifices, hands frantically forming seals, continuously pouring spiritual power from within into the array. He recalled his master burning his origin, facing three alone, heavily injuring three late-stage Divine Transformation cultivators. He recalled his master collapsing into his arms, uttering the final words—

"Ping'er... for Master... this lifetime... the thing I am most proud of... is... having taken you as my disciple..."

Wang Ping closed his eyes, tears slipping silently down.

After a long while, he drew a deep breath, raised his hand to wipe away the tears. He lowered his gaze to the Ji Character Token in his hand, now dim and lusterless, its thought projection long dissipated. But he knew his master's will remained—not within the token, but in his heart.

He placed the token into his bosom, turned, and strode toward the Ninth Dao Institute. For today is the Victory Celebration. For today, he must stand in place of his master, of Lei Wan Ting, of all who fell in this war, and behold the Spirit Realm they guarded with their lives.

Ninth Dao Institute, Question Dao Platform.

This platform, usually used only for disciple Dao discussions and sect grand competitions, was now adorned with solemn grandeur. Around it, nine massive battle flags fluttered in the wind, each embroidered with a different totem—the Ninth Dao Institute's Chaos Star, the Heaven Sword Sect's Broken Cliff Lone Sword, the Profound Ice Palace's Yin Profound Moon, the Thunder Prison Valley's Nine Heaven Divine Thunder, the Fallen Immortal Clan's Immortal Sound Bell, the Formation Dao Alliance's Zhou Tian Star Constellation, the Artificers' Guild's Chaos Fire Eye, the Loose Cultivators' Alliance's Myriad Rivers Return to the Sect, and a brand-new one embroidered with a Fusang sapling—that was the crest of the Tomb Guardians.

Beneath the flags stood dense crowds. Disciples of the Ninth Dao Institute, sword cultivators of the Heaven Sword Sect, ice soul inheritors of the Profound Ice Palace, thunder war generals of the Thunder Prison Valley, fairies of the Fallen Immortal Clan, formation masters of the Formation Dao Alliance, artificers of the Artificers' Guild, loose cultivators of the Loose Cultivators' Alliance, and those Tomb Guardian villagers who had come from afar from the Immortal Palace ruins.

Some had lost arms, some limped, some still had bandages on their faces, some eyes still held unshed sorrow. But they had come. For today was the victory bought with their lives. For today, they wished to remember those who had died.

At the center of the Question Dao Platform stood a temporarily erected high platform. Upon it lay three items. In the center was Jiang Mingyuan's cenotaph—his body, according to his last wish, had become part of the Spirit Realm's defensive great array, forever guarding this land. Before the cenotaph lay his most often worn gray-white Dao robe, upon which rested his whisk, and beside the whisk lay his handwritten four characters: "Dao Heart Unmoved."

To the left was Lei Wan Ting's cenotaph. His body had turned to ash in his self-detonation, leaving nothing behind. Before the cenotaph lay only his shattered Thunder Long Blade, its blade still bearing undispersed electric arcs.

To the right was Bing Yue Xianzi's cenotaph. In her final moments, she burned her origin as payment to freeze a late-stage Divine Transformation cultivator, buying precious time for all. Before the cenotaph lay her most cherished Profound Ice Jade Pendant, upon which was carved a small ice lotus.

Before the three cenotaphs knelt countless people. The disciples of the Ninth Dao Institute knelt in front, many of their faces still bearing youthfulness, many had been sparring and discussing Dao on the Question Dao Platform yesterday, now they must bid farewell to their institute head. The disciples of the Thunder Prison Valley knelt before Lei Wan Ting's cenotaph, they did not weep, only clenched their teeth tightly, fists gripped. The disciples of the Profound Ice Palace knelt before Bing Yue Xianzi's cenotaph, tears streamed down their faces, yet none spoke a sound.

Wang Ping approached the high platform, took his stance. He wore a newly made ink-green Dao robe, his waist bore the Chaos Star Command, his hair bound with a jade pin, his countenance calm as water. Yet all saw the white hair at his temples, all saw the unyielding sorrow in his eyes. He turned to face everyone.

"Everyone." His voice was not loud, yet clearly reached every ear, "Seven days ago, we fought a hard battle. That battle, we won. But the price of victory was too great." He paused, his gaze sweeping over all.

"Jiang Institute Head is gone, Lei Valley Master is gone, Bing Yue Xianzi is gone. And three thousand seven hundred twenty-one cultivators fell in that battle. Among them were Divine Transformation-stage great powers, Nascent Soul-stage strong ones, Golden Core-stage youths, and even those who had just embarked on the Dao. Each one was a hero of the Spirit Realm."

His voice began to tremble slightly, but soon steadied again.

"Today, we gather here not to celebrate victory, but to remember them. To tell posterity that the Spirit Realm does not exist in vain. It was bought with lives." He turned to face the three cenotaphs, bowed deeply. Behind him, all bowed simultaneously. At that moment, the Question Dao Platform fell into silent stillness. Only the mountain wind howled, only the battle flags snapped, only the hearts of three thousand seven hundred twenty-one heroes beat in the wind.

After a long while, Wang Ping straightened. He turned to face everyone.

"Now, I announce—"

"The Spirit Realm Defense War Victory Celebration, formally begins."

The first to ascend the high platform was Cang Xuan. He still wore his black martial attire, bore a long sword, his expression stern. But his left arm was wrapped in a black cloth band—the mark of mourning. His master, the Heaven Sword Sect Sect Leader, had fallen in that great battle.

Wang Ping looked at him, took a token from the jade tray beside him. The token was entirely jet black, its face engraved with a "Sword" character, its reverse with the two characters "Heaven Sword." This was an honor token specially crafted by the Spirit Realm Alliance to commend the meritorious of this war, each containing the alliance's highest respect.

"Cang Xuan." Wang Ping's voice echoed on the Question Dao Platform, "In the Spirit Realm Defense War, you, with mid-stage Divine Transformation cultivation, single-handedly fought three Order Apostles, slew them; then joined with Wang Ping to slay two mid-stage Divine Transformation cultivators. Sword Dao perfected, might shaking enemy courage."

He paused, enunciating each word: "Now, the Spirit Realm Alliance specially confers upon you the title of—Sword Lord."

Cang Xuan took the token, without excitement, without joy, merely silently placing it into his bosom. Then he turned, facing everyone.

"This token does not belong to me." His voice was cold as ever, "It belongs to my master. To all fallen brethren of the Heaven Sword Sect. To every one who guards the Spirit Realm with the sword."

He paused, enunciating each word: "I, Cang Xuan, swear to spend this lifetime pointing my sword at the Pure World Court. Not extinguished, not rested."

He turned and strode down from the high platform. Applause thundered on the Question Dao Platform.

The second to ascend the high platform was Yu Liuli. She wore a moon-white Liu Xian dress, cradled an ancient zither, the Immortal Sound Bell hung at the instrument's head. Her strings had been restrung, but the new ones were still untuned. Her face still bore lingering fatigue, but her eyes held light.

Wang Ping took the second token from the jade tray. The token was entirely moon-white, its face engraved with a "Sound" character, its reverse with the two characters "Fallen Immortal."

"Yu Liuli." Wang Ping's voice was gentle yet solemn, "In the Spirit Realm Defense War, you, with early-stage Divine Transformation cultivation, used zither music to disrupt the enemy army, saving countless Spirit Realm cultivators. Your zither music was hope on the battlefield."

He paused, enunciating each word: "Now, the Spirit Realm Alliance specially confers upon you the title of—Sound Lord."

Yu Liuli took the token, gently stroking the "Sound" character, her eye sockets slightly reddening. She turned to face everyone.

"This token does not belong to me." Her voice was soft yet crystal clear, "It belongs to all fallen sisters of the Fallen Immortal Clan. To every one who found hope in zither music. I, Yu Liuli, swear to spend this lifetime taking sound as sword, guarding the Spirit Realm."

She held the ancient zither, bowed deeply, turned and walked down from the high platform.

The third to ascend the high platform was You Ying. She wore a dark blue long dress, her hair loose over her shoulders, her countenance cold and clear. Though her cultivation had not yet recovered, her steps were now much steadier, her eyes now held light.

Wang Ping took the third token from the jade tray. The token was entirely dark blue, its face engraved with a "Shadow" character, its reverse with the two characters "Void."

"You Ying." Wang Ping's voice, carrying a barely perceptible tenderness, "In the Spirit Realm Defense War, you used Void Principles to resolve Wang Ping's lethal attack, trapped a mid-stage Divine Transformation cultivator, earning meritorious service for victory. Your shadow was a ghost on the battlefield."

He paused, enunciating each word: "Now, the Spirit Realm Alliance specially admits you as a permanent resident of the Spirit Realm. And confers upon you the title of—Shadow Lord."

You Ying took the token, lowered her gaze to gaze upon this small token. Permanent resident. She finally had a home. A home that would not be destroyed again. She lifted her head, facing everyone.

"Thirty thousand years." Her voice was soft, yet carried a sense of time-worn vicissitude, "I have always wandered. From the fall of the Myriad Phenomena Star Observers, to the shattering of the Chaos Immortal Palace, to the slumber of the Immortal Palace ruins. Thirty thousand years, I have had no home."

She paused, her eye sockets slightly reddening.

"Today, I have. The Spirit Realm is my home. I, You Ying, swear to spend this lifetime guarding this home. Whoever wishes to destroy it, must first get past me."

She turned and walked down from the high platform. When she reached Wang Ping's side, she lightly gripped his hand. Her hand was still icy cold, but Wang Ping felt that beneath the cold lay a burning heart.

The fourth to ascend the high platform was Jiu Er. She wore a small emerald-green dress, her hair tied into two little pigtails, hopping and skipping as she ran up the high platform. She was so small, the stone steps of the high platform were longer than her legs. But she ran with earnestness, step by step, refusing to skip any level.

On the Question Dao Platform, everyone laughed. That was the first laugh in seven days.

Wang Ping crouched down, looking at her. Jiu Er ran to his face, lifted her little face, her eyes bright and sparkling.

"Big brother, does Jiu'er also want to receive the award?"

Wang Ping smiled. That smile was the first in seven days.

"Yes. Jiu'er also wants to receive the award."

He took out the fourth token from the jade tray. The token was entirely emerald green, with the character "Jian" engraved on the front and the two characters "Jianmu" on the back.

"Jiu'er." Wang Ping's voice was gentle and solemn, "In the Spirit Realm Defense War, you used the power of Jianmu to open a spatial passage, allowing Wang Ping and others to reach the battlefield in time; you used the power of Jianmu to stabilize the Spirit Realm's defensive grand formation, allowing it to endure three more days against the attacks of three late-stage Divine Transformation cultivators. Your Jianmu is the guardian deity of the Spirit Realm."

He paused, then said word by word: "Now, Dean Jiang Mingyuan, in his lifetime, designated that you be accepted as a nominal disciple. The Spirit Realm Alliance hereby confers upon you—Jianmu Holy Maiden."

Jiu'er was stunned. She took the token, lowered her head to look at this small token, then raised her head, her eye sockets reddening.

"Grandfather Jiang... has Grandfather Jiang accepted Jiu'er as a disciple?"

Wang Ping nodded.

"Grandfather Jiang said, Jiu'er is a good child. He said, Jianmu needs Jiu'er to guard it, and Jiu'er also needs Jianmu to guard her. He said, he accepted Jiu'er as a disciple not because Jiu'er is exceptionally capable, but because Jiu'er has a kind heart."

Jiu'er's tears finally flowed down. She clung to the token, facing Jiang Mingyuan's memorial tablet, knelt down, and kowtowed three times.

"Grandfather Jiang, Jiu'er will guard Jianmu well. Jiu'er will guard the Spirit Realm well. Jiu'er will not disappoint you."

She stood up, wiped away her tears, and descended from the high platform. When she walked to the side of the Jianmu sapling, she stopped her steps and gently placed her hand on the trunk.

That Jianmu sapling swayed gently. Its roots had already deeply penetrated the spirit veins behind the Ninth Dao Institute. Its branches and leaves unfolded in the sunlight, emitting a faint bluish light. It will slowly grow, growing into a towering tree. It will guard the Spirit Realm, guarding every person on this land.

The fifth to ascend the high platform was not a single person, but a group of people. Yun Hao led the refugees of the Guarded Ruins, ascending the high platform. They wore brand-new robes, specially prepared for them by the Spirit Realm Alliance. Their faces showed fatigue and sorrow, but more so, hope.

Yun Hao stood at the front, facing everyone, and bowed deeply.

"Everyone." His voice was hoarse yet firm, "I, the refugees of the Guarded Ruins, have guarded the ruins of the Immortal Palace for thirty thousand years. For thirty thousand years, we have been wandering, always waiting. Waiting for a place to settle, waiting for a place we can call home."

He raised his head, his eyes full of tears.

"Today, we have waited. The Spirit Realm is our home. The people of the Spirit Realm are our family."

He turned around, facing Wang Ping, and bowed deeply.

"Wang brother, great kindness needs no thanks. From now on, the refugees of the Guarded Ruins are willing to lay down their lives for the Spirit Realm."

Behind him, over three hundred refugee warriors bowed simultaneously.

Wang Ping helped him up, gently patting his shoulder.

"Yun brother, the Spirit Realm is also your home. From now on, you are not guests, but family. Every blade of grass, every tree, every brick and tile here belongs to you."

Yun Hao looked at him, finally unable to hold back, tears streaming down his face. Behind him, those refugee warriors also wept. Thirty thousand years later, they finally had a home.

The last to ascend the high platform was Wang Ping. He stood on the high platform, facing everyone. Behind him were three memorial tablets. Before him were countless Spirit Realm cultivators, countless survivors of the catastrophe, countless willing to lay down their lives for the Spirit Realm.

He took a deep breath and slowly spoke.

"Seven days ago, when Dean Jiang departed, he said to me. He said, 'From now on, the Spirit Realm is entrusted to you'."

His voice was soft, yet clearly reached every person's ears.

"What virtue or ability do I have to bear this words? I am merely an early-stage Divine Transformation cultivator, merely a little disciple following behind my master. But my master said it, so I must shoulder it. Because the Spirit Realm was bought with my master's life. Because you were guarded by my master's life."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over everyone.

"Today, the Spirit Realm Alliance has conferred upon me the title 'Chaos True Lord'. This title does not belong to me. It belongs to Jiang Mingyuan, to Lei Wan Ting, to Bing Yue Xianzi, to all who fell in this war. It belongs to every person who shed blood and risked their lives for the Spirit Realm."

He raised his head, gazing toward the distant void where silver light had dissipated.

"The Purification Court will not let this go. The Master of Order is about to awaken. Harder battles lie ahead. But I am not afraid. Because I am not alone."

He looked toward Cang Xuan, and Cang Xuan nodded at him. He looked toward Yu Liuli, and Yu Liuli smiled at him. He looked toward You Ying, and You Ying gently held his hand. He looked toward Jiu'er, and Jiu'er raised her little hand and waved at him. He looked toward Yun Hao, and Yun Hao bowed deeply. He looked toward everyone, and everyone was looking at him.

"The Spirit Realm is our home. Whoever dares to invade, we swear to defend it unto death."

His voice grew louder and louder.

"Dean Jiang, did you see it?"

His voice echoed through the void.

"The Spirit Realm remains. We remain."

On the Questioning Dao platform, thunderous applause rang out, unceasing.

After the conference ended, Wang Ping alone came to the rear mountain. The Jianmu sapling had already been transplanted here, and Jiu'er sat beneath the tree, eyes closed, regulating her breath. Seeing Wang Ping, she opened her eyes and smiled.

"Big brother, the Jianmu says it likes this place very much. The spirit veins here are good, the air here is good, and the people here are also good."

Wang Ping sat beside her, gently stroking her head.

"That's good."

Jiu'er leaned against him, softly saying: "Big brother, Jiu'er misses Grandfather Jiang."

Wang Ping fell silent for a moment, then softly said: "Big brother also misses him."

Jiu'er raised her head, looking at him.

"Big brother, will Grandfather Jiang become a star?"

Wang Ping was startled.

Jiu'er earnestly said: "Grandma Bai Cao said, good people who die become stars, watching over us from heaven. Grandfather Jiang is so good, he must have become a star."

Wang Ping raised his head, gazing at the sky. There, countless stars twinkled.

"Yes." He whispered, "Master, surely you are watching over us from heaven."

Jiu'er laughed.

"Good. From now on, when Jiu'er misses Grandfather Jiang, she will just look up at the stars."

Wang Ping also laughed.

He stood up, taking one last look at that Jianmu sapling. It was growing vigorously, its branches and leaves swaying gently in the wind, its roots deeply embedded in the spirit veins. It will guard the Spirit Realm, guarding every person on this land.

He turned and strode toward the Ninth Dao Institute.

Behind him, Jiu'er hummed a tune softly beneath the Jianmu. That melody was taught to her by Jiang Mingyuan.

"The Dao heart does not waver, all laws return to the origin. Heaven and Earth possess righteous energy, mixed and bestowed upon all forms..."

That song drifted in the wind, lingering for a long time without fading.