Chapter 570: Life and Death Creation

Xu Yi’s taking of life and granting of years, Pu Mei’s dispersal and reassembly, Xian Zhu’s golden cicada shedding its shell.

Although they had no ancient texts, they had equally renowned masters—masters who could tailor education to their innate talents, track their progress in real time, answer their questions anytime, and even proactively identify problems before they arose.

Even if their innate talents were inferior to Lin Jue’s in his youth, after several years, each had entered the threshold of their respective magical arts.

And the excuse Lin Jue had once used to trick his disciples into teaching the younger ones was not false—

Keeping one’s knowledge within oneself is secure, but occasionally taking it out, teaching it to others, is also a way to organize and solidify it.

In teaching them, Lin Jue also reorganized these several magical arts; once they had all entered the threshold, he continued to contemplate the Dao of “indestructible and immortal.”

Of course, he did not seal himself away completely—he still had free time.

During his free moments, he watched the sunset over the mountains, observed birds returning to their nests, tended to the mountain’s immortal trees, swung a hoe alongside Luo Gongceng, inquired after his disciples’ progress, forged weapons and magical artifacts for them, and sometimes received visits from Master Jiang, who took her to see the maple mountains dyed crimson by autumn and the snow-covered winter scenes.

With balance between relaxation and discipline, progress was surprisingly swift.

It happened to be a bitter winter—

The entire mountain was draped in silver, pure and crystalline; even the tiled roofs of pavilions clinging to cliffs, the umbrella-like pine branches jutting out, and the branches of the immortal trees were coated in snow and ice, glittering under sunlight, indistinguishable—

Whether the shimmer was from sunlight reflecting off ice crystals or from the immortal trees emitting spiritual light.

The pavilion’s windows and doors stood wide open, the interior empty, letting the northern wind come and go, save for a Daoist seated on a mat, eyes tightly closed.

On the rafters crouched a white fox, its fluffy tail lazily dangling down; sober now, it was the Daoist’s finest guardian.

Suddenly, the heavens and earth resonated with profound Daoic mystery.

The fox seemed to sense this mystery descending; it suddenly lifted its head to gaze at the sky, then twisted its head repeatedly, scanning every direction, seeking the source of the anomaly—but could not grasp it, as if it came from all directions at once.

It lowered its head again, fixing its gaze on that figure.

He was both the object of its protection and the center and origin of this Daoic mystery.

This world was always like this: all things came and went, lived and died, dispersed and reunited, broken and mended, cycling endlessly, seemingly without end.

Within it lay a single great Dao.

At this moment, the Daoic mystery settled upon the Daoist.

The fox’s ears twitched; its glass-like eyes turned outward.

Outside the pavilion, on the cliff, pine branches laden with snow held two small birds, plump and round, their feathers brilliantly multicolored, dusted with snow—utterly adorable.

They shook off the snow, snuggling close, unaware they had wandered into a realm of Daoic mystery.

These were two young birds.

Snowflakes continued to fall like goose feathers.

Yet within moments, the two birds rapidly aged—

Even on birds, the aura of decay and old age was unmistakable; when they flapped their wings, their bodies showed clear stiffness and weakness, as if too aged to fly.

Suddenly, both birds fell from the branch.

“Gaa…”

It was their final birdcall.

And the clouds still hung below the cliff.

The two birds passed through the clouds; in an instant, their bodies vanished utterly, gone without trace.

Their souls scattered completely.

Yet the next instant, they reappeared—not only did their bodies reform, their vitality return, their scattered souls reassemble, but their aged forms swiftly rejuvenated.

“Gaa!”

It was another birdcall, clear and melodious.

The two birds, bewildered, flapped their wings and rose from the clouds, landing again on the pine branch.

As they flew, snow settled anew upon them.

They shook off the snow, snuggling close once more.

Exactly as before.

The fox found it strange.

But soon, the two birds found it strange too.

They opened their round little eyes and saw the ancient pine, covered in snow, suddenly blooming with pine blossoms; before their small minds could react, pinecones formed.

And not just this ancient pine—many trees in the valleys and slopes below were blooming—

Brilliantly, yet without time for admiration, they quickly sprouted leaves, grew lush and dense, bore fruit, and the fruit fell.

Leaves emerged and withered; grass turned green then yellow.

All occurred within moments.

Even a blink: the entire mountain’s vegetation withered and died; Xu Yi had just frowned at the window, Pu Mei had just rubbed his eyes—another blink, and life surged back.

A blink: the mountain’s vegetation vanished utterly, the entire peak turned barren; Xian Zhu was about to gasp, Wang Ran opened his mouth to report to his master and senior brothers—but the vegetation returned instantly.

The Daoic mystery quickly retracted, fully absorbed into the Daoist.

Several disciples gathered, startled.

“Senior brother, what happened?”

“Master is contemplating a magical art.”

“What kind of magical art?”

“I’m not certain, but…” Xu Yi looked up at the pavilion, “Didn’t we just discuss a while ago—what wonder might arise if we all cultivated these several arts to their peak?”

The fox on the rafters twitched its ears, listening to the discussion below—but in a momentary lapse, when it looked again at the central Daoist, its eyes widened sharply—

The Daoist, who had been sitting calmly in the center of the pavilion moments before, had vanished without a trace.

It frantically turned its head, scanning everywhere, but found no sign of the Daoist.

It inhaled deeply, but smelled no trace of him.

It used the “Trace Seal Method” to sense his footprint, yet found nothing.

As if the Daoist had returned to his origin, his soul scattered, his body reduced to dust.

Whoosh!

The fox couldn’t help but leap from the rafters, pawing at the floor where the Daoist had sat; it still felt the floor’s warmth, leaned close to the cracks—but found no trace of him.

Confused and frightened, the fox took tiny steps forward, heading toward the balcony, wondering if he had flown outside.

And just as it took two steps—

The Daoist’s figure appeared out of thin air behind it.

“Eh?”

The fox turned around in surprise.

Suddenly, it realized: not only had the Daoist reappeared, but before him, a book of ancient scripture had also materialized.

The northern wind swept through the pavilion.

“Shhh…”

The wind flipped the book’s pages, stopping finally at the last page.

It was blank, glowing with intense golden light.

It sensed a supreme magical art, unprecedented, residing within its master, urging him to record it.

Lin Jue opened his eyes.

The accumulated insights from the illusion, followed by decades of contemplation, had finally borne fruit.

But Xu Yi was wrong—

This was not some strange effect from cultivating several arts together; reaching the peak of those arts was merely a stepping stone, using the Daoic mystery within them to glimpse a greater, more fundamental Dao.

This was the Dao of annihilation and rebirth of all things.

From now on, his body and soul would be indestructible and immortal; most celestial calamities might no longer harm him.

At the same time, Lin Jue sensed that when he touched this Dao and it settled upon him, he had nearly triggered a celestial phenomenon.

Such a celestial phenomenon was likely heaven’s response to one who had deeply perceived and broadly touched the Dao—great immortals used it as a mark of supreme power.

But Lin Jue’s “indestructible and immortal” clearly differed from Fuchi Shenjun’s “indestructible and immortal”—

Not only in method: Fuchi Shenjun’s “indestructible and immortal” was entirely self-contained, touching few Daoic mysteries, so no matter how powerful he was, heaven did not recognize him as possessing supreme magical art.

Aside from the different method, the Floating Pool Divine Lord’s “indestructible and immortal” state resides entirely within himself and touches upon few profound Daoic mysteries, so no matter how powerful he is, heaven and earth do not regard him as possessing supreme divine art.

From the moment he comprehended this Dao, the mystery that arose in heaven and earth revealed it could detach from the self and influence external things—though he himself could not yet do so.

This aspect likely surpassed Fuchi Shenjun’s “indestructible and immortal.”

But perhaps because Lin Jue had just awakened this Dao, just begun to touch it, his mastery was still shallow, so no celestial phenomenon had been triggered.

However, perhaps because Lin Jue had just awakened this Dao and merely begun to touch it, his mastery is still shallow, and thus no heavenly or earthly anomalies were triggered.

For it does not indicate the strength of a magical art, especially in combat.

For example, Fuchi Shenjun’s “indestructible and immortal”—even if he reached profound heights, he might never trigger such a celestial phenomenon; yet even if Lin Jue triggered one, or any other great immortal, none would dare face him.

If he truly triggered a celestial phenomenon, it would be far too conspicuous.

If heavenly or earthly anomalies were truly triggered, it would be far too conspicuous.

Lin Jue began to ponder.

This was undoubtedly a magical art he had pioneered—never before had anyone awakened it. What should he name it?

If he called it “indestructible and immortal,” not only would it duplicate Fuchi Shenjun’s art, but it would also be inaccurate.

For it was not truly indestructible or immortal—it did die, it did perish, only to be reborn and reignite.

“Then let it be called ‘Life and Death Creation’…”

"Then call it 'Life and Death, Creation and Transformation'..."

With a flick of his finger, the four large characters “Life and Death, Creation and Destruction” appeared above the ancient book before him.

This was the first time this great divine art had ever left its name in the world.

Lin Jue’s understanding of this path was still shallow.

Yet he had a gut feeling that this supreme divine art deserved the name.

The fox had walked up to him, eyes wide, tilting its head to look at him.

Lin Jue reached out and stroked its head.

“Why that expression?”

“You just died!”

The fox’s eyes held unhidden worry.

“Huh? Is that so?”

Then the fox watched, stunned, as the Daoist vanished and dissolved several times, only to reassemble again.

The fox kept its wide eyes and serious expression for a long while, before finally

blurting out:

“You’re mischievous!”

Lin Jue smiled faintly and stood up.

“Phew…”

He too let out a slight breath of relief.

With this divine art, he stood on ground beyond death.

Of course, only beyond death.

Combined with other abilities, he could likely remain undefeated.

As for how to defeat Floating Pool Divine Lord—or even prevent Floating Pool Divine Lord from defeating him—he already had ideas.

That was another great path.

Pushing one path further, or adding another, was his way of great power.