Chapter 723: End Direct Participation: Soul Liberation, Exiled Immortal, Essence Unrecognized by the Blue Heaven

Yu Ke watched the leaf in Third Master’s hand drift slowly downward.

Yet it had turned from withered yellow to a vibrant green.

Third Master, meanwhile, gradually transformed from a middle-aged man into an old man.

From memories of Xie Guan, Yu Ke learned that in the collective recollection of Bianjing’s elder generation, Third Master had always appeared thus.

He never aged, and even his clothing remained the same simple moon-colored robe, identical in style.

Fourth Master shifted from a boy into an old man.

Second Master became middle-aged.

Each person’s form changed, yet Third Master, since entering Bianjing three centuries ago, had always worn the same white robe.

In an instant, Third Master became frail and stooped, his once gentle, jade-like aura gone.

He aged into a withered state; his once ethereal features now sagged like those of an ordinary old man.

Third Master smiled, “Observe time, and flowers bloom; behold green leaves, and witness decay and renewal!”

“Mortals, with their one-day vision, peer into a million-year cosmos—truly like frogs at the bottom of a well. Yet to witness the brief life of another being is no less a gift of creation.”

Third Master’s voice was no longer clear; it carried the rasp of age.

He opened his hand, gnarled as a dead branch, letting the revitalized green leaf drift away: “A mayfly sees the blue sky—though only for an instant, it beholds heaven and earth.”

Yu Ke extended his hand, and the emerald phoenix-tree leaf landed gently in his palm.

Yu Ke finally understood—the essence of this Third Master was tied to the intangible “Flow of Time”!

Third Master suddenly laughed, his dry lips pulling back to reveal gleaming white bone: “I once doubted this world was merely the grand dream of some unspeakable entity.”

He gazed at his own increasingly translucent hands, “Now I know.”

“I am here. I think, therefore I am.”

Before his words faded, his body withered visibly before their eyes.

His once-fitting Confucian robe hung loose; flesh melted, hair and beard fell away, and in moments he became a seated skeleton.

Yu Ke clenched the leaf, green against the tide of time, and stared at the fading Third Master: “Was it worth it?”

The skull’s jaw opened and closed, emitting a rasping laugh: “Mortals… have no right to place a stone upon this chessboard.”

“Chen Xian… how fortunate!”

His hollow eye sockets gazed toward the heavens: “The Master said heaven and earth have no mercy—they treat all things as straw dogs.”

As his final traces of form and spirit dissolved, he left one final phrase:

“But if the Dao is heartless, and observes all with cold indifference, how could things have come to this?”

As these words were spoken,

the bronze cauldron in Yu Ke’s heart trembled faintly, its inscriptions glowing with shimmering radiance.

Characters appeared upon the cauldron’s surface.

1. Accept Third Master’s gift: gain five years of “Yellow Millet Dream.” (Hint: May benefit your future; will incur a karmic thread.)

2. Reject Third Master’s gift. (Hint: Will affect your future.)

3. End direct participation. (2/3)

Yu Ke opened his palm again; the green leaf trembled slightly.

“Observe time, and flowers bloom; behold a single leaf, and witness decay and renewal.”

“Light the lamp of the Yellow Millet Dream!”

The leaf suddenly burst into blue flame, transforming into a flickering, illusory lantern.

Yu Ke understood the hint—the karmic thread. Third Master had said nothing of his request, yet had already revealed it.

What did he seek, having spent his lifespan to reverse decay and renewal?

For this city of Bianjing!

For its countless common folk!

The day Bianjing falls is the day the Ascension Platform opens—then every soul within will be cast into a hell of mortal suffering!

Yu Ke closed his eyes. “It seems I cannot refuse. Nor would I wish to.”

This self-sacrificial act—using his essence to carve five years of time beyond time, the “Lighting the Lamp of the Yellow Millet Dream”—

had, in the simulation, already killed “Xie Guan” via some secret method.

What kind of essence was that? Yu Ke understood: the great masters of this world, who fused martial golden core with yang spirit, had attained essences rivaling the “Class-A Dao Arts” of his original world.

But Third Master’s essence, forged from time itself, was nothing short of a “Ranked Immortal Art!”

Of course, this was merely the speculation of an outer-disciple of the Shenxiao Sect—after all, Yu Ke himself had not yet established his Dao foundation.

Too bad—this world lacked the spiritual energy needed to nourish body and soul; even the most brilliant talents could not advance further.

Yu Ke did not hesitate—he chose directly.

1. Accept Third Master’s gift: gain five years of “Yellow Millet Dream.” (Hint: May benefit your future; will incur a karmic thread.)

Yu Ke glanced at the courtyard; the phoenix-tree still stood lush and full.

Then, he ended [Direct Participation].

Yu Ke once again detached from this place—not with whirling dizziness, but as if one step carried him to the horizon.

Standing high above the nine heavens, floating in emptiness, he gazed down upon the mortal realm.

Blood-red calamity qi filled the entire world, especially swirling in dense vortices over Bianjing.

Yet within this world, a soft, gemlike radiance shimmered—like a pearl about to rise from water, or jade awaiting carving.

He had a faint premonition: if he succeeded in establishing his Dao foundation in this world, the Kunxu Cauldron would awaken once more.

Achieve a major upgrade!

This was why he could not refuse Third Master’s gift of five years of time.

He must do so after this simulation ended.

With the accumulated wisdom of two lives, forge a true Dao foundation.

Then, within the Kunxu Realm, spiritual energy would surge—and a true cultivation renaissance would begin.

At this moment, Yu Ke stood atop the great cauldron, a miniature landscape of mountains and rivers floating in his palm.

Ten thousand li of territory lay beneath his gaze, yet vast swathes remained shrouded in mist; only the Central Plains were clear—like an unfinished map of the Nine Provinces.

Where rivers surged, faint echoes of the Dao’s primordial resonance could be heard.

Yu Ke looked again at the illusory sky within the Kunxu Cauldron: stars wove intricate patterns, constellations slowly revolving as if obeying some ancient law.

A strange feeling rose in his heart—the stars seemed restless, as if about to break free from the heavens and cascade down as a rain of falling stars!

All the stars of heaven descending to earth!

Yu Ke looked down again; beneath every great mountain and river, a golden brilliance glimmered faintly—as if some priceless treasure lay buried deep within.

Each place emitted a unique aura; each spiritual vein pulsed with its own Dao resonance, poised to erupt skyward!

Heaven and earth trembled, impatient to rise!

“Heaven and earth will turn; after calamity, a new cosmos must be forged…” Yu Ke murmured, then felt his spiritual sense lighten.

When he opened his eyes again, he had left the cauldron’s world and returned to the Shenxiao Sect’s quiet cultivation grounds.

【Heavenly Reincarnation · Continue】

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Bianjing · Su Fu.

Today, many of the Nine Surnames arrived at this Chancellor’s mansion.

All were high-ranking members of the Nine Surnames.

They had waited since noon in the rear hall—some forty or fifty men.

Though it was midday, the sun blazed overhead, yet stepping into Su Fu’s grounds brought a chill wind—carved pillars exuded a chilling dread.

Yet none of these noble house leaders paid heed to the anomaly. Bianjing now faced encirclement from three sides—the Crimson-Eyed Army’s blood-red banners to the north, the Everlasting Heaven’s iron cavalry stationed at the western border, and the Great Sui’s elite troops pressing against the eastern gate.

In this dire crisis, Chancellor Su suddenly claimed illness and did not attend court; the Academy had shut its gates. These two pillars of the realm’s stability had acted strangely, leaving the Nine Surnames, long accustomed to wielding power, utterly disoriented.

Now, Chancellor Su had summoned them—to discuss the matter.

As long as Chancellor Su and the Academy stood, even a million troops could not breach Bianjing.

Once the Academy’s Shocking Divine Array activated, all villains under heaven would perish—Bianjing would remain a paradise.

As for surrendering to foreign powers—

Behind closed doors, these noble houses already harbored secret schemes. The Zhao clan had long conspired with Everlasting Heaven; the Sima clan had been exchanging glances with Great Sui.

Even within the Crimson-Eyed Army, they had secretly supplied grain and provisions.

As chaos loomed, how could these ancient families, spanning millennia, fail to secure their own escape routes?

Perhaps this Chancellor, who had governed the court for a hundred years, still held some astonishing method to “prop up the collapsing blue sky”?

If they chose the wrong side now, they would be destroyed.

The Nine Surnames dared not stay away—even Xie family sent several senior elders.

Even the Zhuge clan, lately plagued by strange events, sent several representatives.

These noble houses, once masters of wind and rain, now held their breath, daring not to stir.

Had they ever truly understood Chancellor Su?

What did Su Jing seek?

The Nine Surnames had waited until afternoon, yet none showed impatience—nor dared to show it.

Chancellor Su had ruled the Great Qi court for so long that they had grown into servility.

It was a shiver stemming from bone and blood, as if facing not the reigning chancellor, but something older and more terrifying.

At the highest point of the back hall, the purple sandalwood armchair remained empty.

The taotie pattern carved on its back emerged and vanished in the dusk, like a vast mouth waiting to devour.

Today, the Su Mansion exuded an inexplicable strangeness.

The several sons of Chancellor Su who usually moved about the estate were nowhere to be seen—the vast mansion was utterly empty!

Among the Nine Surnames, several martial experts who had reached the Upper Three Realms, even a few Xuan Dan cultivators, felt a silent dread—entirely too eerily empty, as if no life remained but themselves.

Yet, it was Chancellor Su’s order; none dared to neglect it.

“Tap. Tap.”

Sudden footsteps echoed from outside the corridor, accompanied by the sound of dripping liquid.

“Chancellor Su has arrived!”

Everyone straightened their spines in their chairs, not daring to slack off.

“Tap. Tap!”

The sound drew nearer.

The footsteps grew closer; someone unconsciously swallowed, every hair on their nape standing on end—as if some terrible thing crept from the depths of the back hall.

The atmosphere turned eerie; the candles in the hall flickered dim.

The great doors slammed shut!

Before the empty armchair, a blurred shadow had appeared—when no one had noticed.

A familiar voice spoke: “You’re all here?”

Amidst the flickering candlelight, a monstrous three-headed, six-armed silhouette loomed large upon the central wall.

Thick blood dripped from the monster’s body, landing on a pair of bare, crimson feet.

A crushing pressure, as tangible as stone, swept through the hall; all felt their true qi freeze, as if their sinews and bones had been torn away, collapsing helplessly to the ground.

It was a fear etched deep into the bloodline—yet mixed with a strange, eerie reverence.

The demonic shadow suddenly expanded; hundreds of crimson tendrils burst through the air, each covered in tiny mouthparts like venomous vipers coiling around every person in the hall.

“Aaah—”

A piercing scream.

In an instant, the air reeked of blood.

The exquisite Su embroidery on the window lattices was instantly stained crimson.

Then came the horrifying sound of chewing.

After one incense stick burned out!

A sticky whisper echoed through the empty back hall: “Though I devoured the primordial essences of the Zhuge and Zhao families early today, the final portion is finally complete.”

The figure’s bones contracted, then reformed into a human shape—naked, all over.

He pushed open the blood-smeared hall door and stepped out, murmuring.

“When Master passed, you sought a slow, steady path—but there’s no time to waste.”

A mocking chuckle rose from his throat: “Forty-eight martial experts of the Ninth Realm, thirty-four Yang Shen cultivators—let’s see if this world can contain my Taotie Dao!”

Outside the Su Mansion!

Su Yun returned in haste with a group of servants.

Today, his grandfather had suddenly ordered him to pray at Qingliang Temple—but both steeds collapsed midway, forcing him to turn back.

As soon as he stepped through the gate, the boy sensed something wrong—the usual strict guards were nowhere to be seen.

Su Yun hurried inside; his three personal guards stiffened.

“Young Master Yun—something’s wrong!”

The Su Mansion was littered with corpses—everywhere, corpses.

Su Yun’s eyes widened; he collapsed to the ground, terrified.

“Dead… everyone’s dead!”

“Impossible!”

He rushed blindly into the mansion; his pupils shrank violently, reflecting the shattered, scattered remains strewn across the ground.

His third aunt’s lotus-pink skirt floated in a pool of blood; his uncle’s jade belt buckle was embedded in broken bone fragments; his sister’s favorite gilded hairpin now pierced a shapeless mass—

He screamed to the heavens, his hands drenched in blood.

“What happened… the Su family has been exterminated!”

“No—where’s Grandfather?”

He stormed into the inner courtyard like a madman!

The guards stood frozen, their hands trembling on their blades.

The idea that the Su Mansion, guarded by the reigning chancellor, had been wiped out—this thought chilled them more than the corpses filling the yard.

A sigh sounded.

Su Yun lifted his blood- and tear-blurred eyes to see a pale teenager step from the shadows of the inner hall—his skin whiter than snow.

The figure was unfamiliar—but when the boy spoke, the familiar voice made Su Yun tremble violently: “Grandfather.”

The boy drew nearer.

“Yun’er, among all my descendants, only you possess a pure heart—no schemes, no hidden motives toward me.”

“I never meant to harm you. I planned to send you away under the guise of prayer, letting you live in comfort for the rest of your life.”

“But… ah, such is fate.”

Before Su Yun could react, a bloodied, slimy crimson tongue shot from a gaping maw and covered his face.

He lost all consciousness.

“Then become part of me!”

The boy’s belly sealed shut; the guards met the same fate.

Su Jing pondered, then walked to the mansion’s bathhouse to wash away the blood. As he changed clothes, the bronze mirror reflected a young boy’s face.

Clear and ethereal, bearing a touch of refined grace—yet his eyes held an ancient, weary depth.

Su Jing left the Su Mansion and went to the Academy.

A handsome boy walked into the Academy’s Cultivation Tower as if no one were there.

Step by step, he climbed to the top.

Only one person remained on the fifth floor.

Xie Hong was ancient, barely holding himself upright at his desk.

He seemed to have been waiting for him—his complexion now slightly improved.

Like a final flicker of life.

But Su Jing did not look at him; he studied the layout of the fifth floor.

“When Master was alive, this floor was his cultivation chamber—just a desk, a bed.”

“Now, it remains the same.”

Su Jing turned to Xie Hong: “Brother, you’ve gone to find Xie Guan, haven’t you?”

Xie Hong had no strength left—only nodded.

Su Jing shook his head, softly: “Not worth it.”

“With your cultivation, why not strive for Ascension yourself, instead of serving as a tool for others?”

Xie Hong said: “You don’t understand. You never could.”

Su Jing watched as Xie Hong’s life ebbed away.

“You exiled immortals, outsiders, those born with innate knowledge—you always think yourselves superior.”

In the common folk’s view, exiled immortals were celestial beings banished to the mortal realm.

“I, Su Jing, think… all this nonsense about exiled immortals is no different from Bao Ping Alley or Changning Street in Jingcheng.”

“All of you are prisoners.”

Bao Ping Alley was a slum, where the poor of Jingcheng lived—Chancellor Su himself was born there, making his living from Go.

Changning Street was the stronghold of the Nine Surnames, a place of wealth and power.

Xie Hong, his identity exposed, merely sneered.

Su Jing came back to himself and asked a question.

“What is your true name?”

Xie Hong did not answer.

Su Jing was not angered: “Then what is your true name?”

Xie Hong smiled: “How laughable—the Chancellor asking a child’s question? What would I ever reveal?”

“But before I die, I’ll tell you this: my true name—does not recognize the height of heaven!”

Su Jing’s gaze sharpened—he sensed something unusual: “Does not recognize the height of heaven… deceiving heaven and earth?”

Xie Hong chuckled: “Chancellor, why so tense? My true name has already been used—used, and now I must die.”

“Will you also devour my corpse?”

Su Jing shook his head: “You outsiders wield methods beyond this world—too advanced for me to gamble on. That’s why I didn’t touch the Xie family.”

Xie Hong said nothing more, slumped against the chair, breath gone, even his primordial spirit vanished.

Su Jing’s eyes held complex emotion—but he had now confirmed one thing in his heart.

At this moment!

Brilliant light, piercing heaven and earth, burst forth; four pillars of rosy radiance poured down from the horizon, myriad rays of brilliance interweaving.

Su Jing walked slowly to the window, gazing at this celestial phenomenon; the serene grace on his face vanished, replaced by an almost frenzied longing.

“The Ascension Platform, after three thousand years, has finally opened.”

At this moment, within and beyond Bianjing, and throughout the entire world, countless people looked up.

Countless gazes turned toward this wonder of heaven and earth.

“The Ascension Platform has opened—”

PS: Final two days—double moon tickets, thank you so much!

(End of Chapter)