Chapter 477: Heavenly Dao Is a Damn Joke!

The person I must save, even King of Hell has to spit them out for me!

Bodhi's hand reached into that pitch‑black passage.

Sun Wukong saw it clearly; the moment Master's gaunt, skinny arm vanished into the darkness, the skin over the whole arm split open with countless gashes.

Fresh blood trickled down between the fingers.

The old man didn't even lift an eyelid.

The hand kept reaching inward.

The wailing from the passage grew louder, as if something were tearing his flesh, preventing him from probing deeper.

Bodhi's cuff burst.

The shredded strip was twisted by an invisible force into powder, scattering into the void.

His forearm was exposed, the muscles shrinking at a visibly rapid rate, the bones jutting out one by one like dry firewood.

This is Heavenly Dao's backlash.

The Way of Life and Death is one of the most fundamental laws between Heaven and Earth.

Reversing life and death is equivalent to tearing another wound on the Universe's injury.

Heavenly Dao does not permit it.

So it punishes this old man who dares to challenge it in the most violent way.

Sun Wukong's eyes reddened.

He stepped forward: "Master! I…"

"Stand there and don't move."

Bodhi didn't turn his head, his tone exactly the same as when he scolded him for not training properly on Fangcun Mountain.

Nonchalant.

As if he were enduring not a cosmic‑scale backlash, but a mosquito bite.

Sun Wukong's foot was nailed to the spot.

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

He just stared rigidly at Master's increasingly desiccated arm, his fist clenched until the bones creaked.

Bodhi's hand groped in the Abyss.

There were countless dissipating specks of light inside.

Each speck was a once‑vibrant soul.

Some had been "converted" by withered monks during the Great Harvest, some devoured by stitching monsters, some dismantled by mechanical fleets.

Millions of lives turned into millions of dim dust particles, drifting in this void deeper than the underworld.

Bodhi's palm passed through among them.

One.

Two.

Three.

Not this one.

Nor this one.

He was searching for a special light.

One that belongs to the Dream Realm.

The arm had withered up to the shoulder.

The old man's complexion was frighteningly pale, his lips devoid of any color.

But those eyes remained clear.

Still calm.

Suddenly, his finger touched something.

Bodhi's movement halted.

In that instant, Sun Wukong saw Master's brow center flicker.

Very slight.

But he saw it.

Bodhi's five fingers closed, carefully lifting that thing.

When the hand was drawn from the Abyss, his entire right arm was as dry as bark, without a trace of muscle, merely skin covering the skeleton.

But in his palm lay a ball of light.

Very small.

Weaker than a firefly.

Surrounded by a dreamy pale‑purple halo.

It was Yao's Illusory Dream power.

It was her lingering soul.

Sun Wukong's breath stopped.

His eyes widened to the max.

He recognized that ball of light.

Even though it was so faint it was almost nonexistent.

Even if only a final sliver remained.

He still recognized it.

Because this ball of light once turned into a city that protected his Master.

It once became a shield that blocked the ultimate destruction.

It once used the method of burning itself out, giving him a chance to fight.

"Yao…"

The name squeezed out of Sun Wukong's throat, hoarse beyond belief.

Bodhi lowered his head, looking at the ball of light in his palm that was more fragile than dust.

He spoke.

It was not an incantation.

It was not a technique.

It was a sound older than language.

It was as if conversing with the Universe itself.

Gray light seeped from his fingertips, not an aggressive force but pure, gentle Vitality.

Vitality of Chaotic Demon God level.

Vitality a million times more intense than the energy of the Sun's core.

It threaded its way, strand by strand, into that pale violet remnant Línghún.

The light began to brighten.

From fireflies, to candle flames, to light spheres the size of a fist.

The outline began to appear.

First a curve of long hair.

Then the shoulders.

Then the fingers.

A maiden's figure gradually took shape in Bodhi's palm light, as if someone were painting with light, stroke by stroke outlining her form.

Something finally slid down Sun Wukong's eye sockets.

He didn't wipe it.

He didn't move.

He just stood there, upright, watching the familiar outline become clearer in the light.

Bodhi's mouth corner twitched slightly.

Then the elder raised his other intact hand and waved casually toward the distant void.

The gesture was too casual.

Casual as if shooing a fly.

But the effect of that wave blew the minds of all the living Immortals below.

The Abyss's entrance suddenly expanded.

Hundreds of millions of dim light points surged out.

Like a sand table tipped over.

Like a ripped‑apart galaxy.

Each light point was a life snatched by the Great Harvest.

Bodhi's wave didn't retrieve just one.

It brought out all of them.

After bursting from the Abyss, those light points didn't linger but shot toward the four corners of the Universe.

Some flew toward the Magic World that had once been transformed into statues by a withered monk.

Some flew toward the Interstellar Federation devoured by the stitching monster.

Some flew toward the Feathered People World that fell from the sky after Faith collapsed.

Some flew toward the great cultivation world that vanished after being lured into the "Immortal Gate".

Light points filled the sky.

Línghún filled the sky.

Like a meteor shower no one had ever seen, illuminating the entire Universe with translucence.

Those civilizations already in Deathly Silence are lighting up again.

Those Living Beings whose existence had been erased are regaining heartbeats.

"This…"

In the ruins, a limp Heavenly General lifted his head to watch the sky full of dancing light points, his throat unable to produce a full sound.

His companion beside him was no better, legs trembling, teeth chattering loudly.

"Reverse, reverse life and death?"

"How Many Lives?"

"Hundreds of millions? Tens of billions? Quadrillions?!"

No one could answer.

Because they were uncountable.

Those light points kept pouring from the Abyss, one after another, with no end.

The gods stripped of their Immortal registers, the Arhat whose Golden Body had been shattered, and Hongjun whose Xiūwéi had been discarded.

Everyone lifted their heads.

All faces wore the same expression.

It is not Fear Heart Demon.

It is not anger.

It is thorough, submission that comes from the depths of the Línghún.

This is already beyond the level they can comprehend.

Reversing one person's life and death, a Saint can do.

The price is a loss of ten thousand years of lifespan and damaged fortune.

Reversing ten people's life and death?

A Saint cannot.

Hongjun cannot.

Even the Heavenly Dao itself cannot.

And what did Bodhi do?

A single wave of the hand.

Hundreds of millions of lives were all pulled back.

As easy as drinking water.

The Jade Emperor huddled in a corner of the ruins, trembling all over like a sieve.

He finally understood one thing.

From beginning to end, what they faced was not some wandering immortal or hidden world master.

It was the true creator who stands above all rules.

It was the Dao itself.

Sun Wukong had no mind to watch those people's reactions.

His eyes never left the ball of light in the Master's palm from start to finish.

The girl's outline had fully formed.

When the radiance faded.

That face appeared.

Eyes closed.

Curved eyelashes.

Cheeks rosy.

Breathing steady.

As if she had fallen asleep.

As if she had never died.

"Yao!"

Sun Wukong didn't know how he took that step.

By the time he came to his senses, the person was already standing before the Master.

Yao's body detached from the light, drifting lightly downwards.

Sun Wukong reached out his hand.

Catching her.

Light as a leaf.

Warm.

It has temperature.

It has breath.

It has a heartbeat.

Sun Wukong held her in his arms, lowering his head to watch her peaceful sleeping face.

Those hands were trembling.

Uncontrollably shaking.

Tiěbàng fell to the ground without him noticing.

He twisted his mouth, trying to laugh.

Tears fell first.

Bodhi stood beside him.

His withered right arm hung at his side, completely numb.

The old man gave the crying, disheveled monkey holding a person a glance, and the curve at his mouth corner bore an indescribable flavor.

Disgust.

Satisfaction.

And a tiny bit of heartache he himself wouldn't admit.

"Alright."

Bodhi spoke.

"Crying and wailing, what does that look like?"

"Is it shameful?"

Sun Wukong lifted his head, his face still marked with tear stains and a bubble of snot.

He spread his mouth in a smile.

He laughed like a fool.

Master!

She's alive!

Really alive!

Bodhi rolled his eyes and turned away.

He stopped looking at him.

Feels ashamed.

But at the moment he turned, the old man's still functional left hand lifted slightly.

Something in his palm was glowing.

The light was faint.

Like the steam rising from a freshly brewed pot of tea.

Sun Wukong saw it.

Yao in his arms also sensed something.

Her eyelid twitched.

Her eyelashes quivered.

Then, slowly, slowly, she opened her eyes.

The first thing she saw was a monkey face streaked with tears and snot.

Yao was stunned for two seconds.

…Why are you crying?

Her voice was soft.

Very weak.

But alive.

Sun Wukong's answer was to hold her tighter.

So tight it almost suffocated her.

If you keep pulling like that, I'll die again—let go…

In the distance.

Meteors still rained across the sky.

The dead Universe is awakening.

Bodhi turned to face deeper into the void, toward the direction of that ancient aura that had briefly appeared and vanished.

The old man's gaze changed.

It was no longer the disdain and indulgence he had shown Sun Wukong moments ago.

It was something heavy.

Senior Brother.

Bodhi's lips moved, his voice so low only he could hear it.

You finally couldn't hold back?

At the edge of the void.

That aura resurfaced once more.

Stronger than before.

ClosER.

An aged laugh echoed across the endless distance, landing clearly in Bodhi's ear.

Junior Brother, long time no see, your temper is still that big.