Chapter 867: Painting Dao, Thirteen: The Heart That Reverses Time

Smoke curled gently from the small courtyard.

In the courtyard, Li Hao cooked and ate ancient demonic flesh with Shi Miao, both relishing every bite.

“So fragrant.”

Shi Miao wiped her lips as she ate, long abandoned any ladylike decorum, feasting heartily—yet her movements remained exquisitely graceful. She smiled and said:

“Thanks to you, my reincarnated primordial spirit has already condensed considerable true divine blood. If I survive until the end of time and merge with my original true god, who knows what height I might reach?”

Li Hao had long heard Shi Miao say her original self was already at the peak of the primordial spirit realm; accumulating ten thousand drops of true divine blood would complete the final stage, transforming her primordial spirit into a true god—free from the flesh, uncorrupted even as sun and moon decayed, undefeated even as time withered!

“If your current body reaches the peak of the primordial spirit realm, and the two primordial spirits merge, perhaps you’ll achieve something even more extreme.”

Li Hao speculated.

Shi Miao nodded, secretly hopeful. Though no one had ever broken the peak realm—not even an immortal emperor—countless former immortal emperors had tried every method and failed, yet whether anyone had ever fused true gods remained unknown.

Though Shi Miao faintly suspected this method had likely been tried by immortal emperors, she could not be certain, and thus could not help but harbor hope.

The higher one cultivates, the fewer joys remain; with so many paths blocked, even the slightest possibility of forging a new one could stir excitement.

“Too bad the absorption efficiency is still too slow. Even if we eat and drink daily, it will take thousands of years to accumulate ten thousand drops!”

Li Hao said.

Previously, on the Yellow Springs and Earthly Soil battlefield, using ancient demonic essence blood, he had only condensed a dozen drops of true divine blood per year.

Now, in the Primordial True Realm, without ancient demonic essence blood, fortunately, Second Master Di Wushe’s deliveries of ancient demonic corpses were of extremely high quality—many were full-peak immortal lords, with numerous immortal kings among the remains—so he could barely manage about ten drops per year.

Yet from the quality of these ancient demonic corpses, Li Hao sensed the borderlands of the Di Clan were unimaginably perilous; no wonder Second Master always arrived with a grim aura clinging to his brow—even his avatar bore it, as if he had just escaped the battlefield.

“It’s already fast enough.”

Shi Miao smiled.

Ten drops of true divine blood per year? In her own time, she would never have imagined even one drop per year as top-tier speed.

“Too bad I still haven’t grasped the Painting Dao.”

Li Hao said. The Thirteen Stages of the Painting Dao were far more difficult than he imagined; even after years of focused contemplation following full experience accumulation, he remained utterly baffled.

“Don’t rush. The immortal king realm is the final step to heaven—it’s natural for it to be hard.”

Shi Miao comforted Li Hao.

After a century together, though Li Hao never spoke plainly, her sharpness had seen through it: his pursuit of the Painting Dao and the Qin Dao was never idle amusement, but cultivation. If he could grasp the Painting Dao, perhaps he could break through and become an immortal king.

But breaking through to become an immortal king? How easily could that be achieved? Even with an immortal emperor’s devoted cultivation, one still needed a touch of fortune.

Though the Primordial True Realm was rich with divine herbs and treasures—including supreme lotus herbs capable of replacing the realm core to directly plant a lotus realm within the body, thereby becoming an immortal king—such rare chaotic divine herbs were exceedingly scarce. True prodigies didn’t need them; non-prodigies had no right to them.

“Mm.”

Li Hao nodded, inwardly calm, merely reflective.

With Shi Miao beside him, Li Hao painted daily in the courtyard, figures appearing one by one within his painting realm.

These were his former friends and those he missed: Emperor Yu, Master Feng, Ren Qianqian, Lin Qingying, and Li Tianzong, long fallen in the River of Death…

Most of them now dwelled in the southern reaches of the True Realm; Li Hao dared not meet them, lest he bring calamity upon them.

The painting realm enveloped the entire courtyard; Master Feng, Emperor Yu, Ren Qianqian, and the others appeared as mere shadows within the painting—yet felt as real as if their souls had merged into their bodies, their laughter and personalities unchanged from the past.

The courtyard thus grew lively.

Emperor Yu played chess with Li Hao; with a light tap on the table, a chessboard materialized within the painting.

Master Feng fished with Li Hao; as the painting realm shifted, an empty sky-hanging demon lake appeared.

Ren Qianqian practiced sword cultivation beside them; Li Hao casually offered pointers, refining her sword technique.

Li Hao kept them beside him—playing chess, fishing, practicing swordplay—all within the painting realm, enhancing his control over the painting realm, not accumulating any other skill’s experience.

“Now that we’re scattered across the heavens, you must miss them deeply.”

Shi Miao said to Li Hao.

Li Hao nodded. Meeting in the dust of existence—how could one forget?

“If you could later transmit the enhancements you’ve given them in the painting realm through soul transmission or heritage, it would be perfect.”

Shi Miao said.

Hearing this, Li Hao’s eyes brightened slightly—it was a good idea.

If so, by enhancing Emperor Yu and the others within the painting realm, he could later directly transmit those gains to their true selves, greatly aiding them.

Yet though the idea was good, it was wildly unrealistic.

After all, within the painting realm, Li Hao was the master—he could raise their cultivation effortlessly. But if he could transmit those gains to their true bodies, helping others cultivate would be as simple as eating and drinking to him—a feat even an immortal emperor could not accomplish.

…

“Where is Han Ku?”

In the first-level Dao Hall of Jidao Mountain, Li Hao came as usual to discuss realm cultivation with these immortal king disciples, yet noticed several figures missing.

Among them, Han Ku—who had cultivated the Unbreakable Realm—left a deep impression on Li Hao. When he first visited over a decade ago, Shi Miao had pierced Han Ku’s Unbreakable Realm with a single finger; yet only five years later, Han Ku’s Unbreakable Realm had advanced dramatically, and his cultivation had risen a full stage.

“Brother Han Ku…”

The immortal king disciples before Li Hao—Ku Qiao and others—exchanged uneasy glances, their expressions grim.

Li Hao’s heart lurched. “What is it? Speak plainly.”

“Senior Brother Haotian, Brother Han Ku went to the Primordial Borderlands three years ago and joined the Demon-Slaying General Corps. Unfortunately…”

Ku Qiao’s gaze was complex, his fists clenched. “Unfortunately, a year ago, word came that Brother Han Ku had fallen in battle.”

“Fallen in battle?”

Li Hao froze.

That immortal king disciple, once so confident and brimming with pride before him—had he truly fallen?

“He was an immortal king… Where are these Primordial Borderlands? Are ancient demons invading there too?”

Li Hao couldn’t help asking.

Ku Qiao glanced at Li Hao, bitterly: “Senior Brother Haotian, you don’t know—ten thousand years ago, when the ancient demons invaded the True Realm, it wasn’t just the outer realms; the Primordial True Realm itself was thrown into chaos. That great war reached every corner. Had the ancient demon clan not been so greedy and arrogant, choosing to fight on all fronts, they might never have lost…”

“Exactly. Had the ancient demon clan chosen to advance steadily, sweeping through one True Realm domain after another, the entire True Realm today would likely be their territory.”

Another immortal king nodded.

“The Primordial Borderlands are precisely where the ancient demons invaded. It was only through the joint defense of our three masters and the Ten Chaotic Clans that peace was preserved in the Primordial True Realm—but the fighting there has always been fierce.”

Ku Qiao said.

Li Hao was stunned—he hadn’t realized the Primordial True Realm had also been invaded by ancient demons.

“The Chaotic Ancient Clans allowed our human race to enter the Primordial True Realm not only because of our master and the Chaotic Immortal Emperor’s reasons, but because they also needed our help to resist the ancient demons,” said a female immortal king beside him.

Li Hao asked: “If so, why are the Chaotic Ancient Clans still hostile toward us?”

“To the Chaotic Ancient Clans, we and the ancient demons are no different. The only difference is: the ancient demons are a threat, while we are a latent danger. If they can use a latent danger to eliminate a threat, it’s ideal for them,” Ku Qiao replied.

Li Hao fell silent. Racial prejudice was indeed hard to reverse.

“Senior Brother Haotian, with your peerless talent, you were surely personally brought into the sect by our master. We, however, lack such fortune. Some rely on connections with great clans to get a few clan members admitted; the rest must fight in the Primordial Borderlands, earn immortal merit through battle, and only then are they allowed to enter the inner sect to cultivate and enter the Chaotic Stars to awaken the Dao!”

“Some great clans have their strong members fight in the Primordial Borderlands, earn immortal merit, then transfer the admission slots to their younger generations—sending them to the Immortal Emperor’s Dao Mountain as outer disciples, granting them even the chance to meditate in the Chaotic Stars.”

Several explained to Li Hao.

Li Hao was stunned—he had never cared to visit the Chaotic Stars, yet for others, even setting foot there was so difficult.

Even coming to Jidao Mountain to cultivate required generations of effort!

“Though Han Ku made it into the first hall, he still had to serve—every three hundred years, he had to go to the Primordial Borderlands, earn a hundred immortal merits, before returning.” Someone said.

“A hundred immortal merits?”

“That means slaying a hundred ancient demons of your own realm. Since we cultivate under the Immortal Emperor, though not as gifted as Senior Brother Haotian, we still have some talent—easily defeating ancient demons of our own realm isn’t hard.”

Ancient demons were terrifyingly powerful; in their own realm, they almost always crushed the myriad races of the True Realm. Even the top ten great clans could barely gain slight victories over them—let alone against ancient demon royal clans, where they were vastly inferior.

Yet any prodigy who reached the Primordial True Realm possessed the capacity to fight ancient demons of their own realm—even easily defeat them.

“Slaying a hundred ancient demons isn’t hard, but the battlefield is ever-changing. Ancient demons are cunning and treacherous; accidents happen constantly—even peerless prodigies perish.” Ku Qiao said.

Li Hao nodded, deeply aware of the battlefield’s horror.

“Senior Brother Haotian, as a direct disciple, our master won’t let you enter such chaotic zones until you’ve fully grown,” someone said to Li Hao, eyes filled with admiration and awe.

The treatment of direct disciples was extraordinary; though they were jealous, they accepted it wholeheartedly—talent spoke for itself, and every direct disciple commanded respect.

“Brother Han Ku met with an accident…”

A female immortal king said softly.

The others fell silent. After thousands of years of shared cultivation, sparring, and discussion, they had become comrades on this immortal path.

“Didn’t he leave any divine blood here?”

Li Hao asked involuntarily.

If he risked himself, he should have left a drop of divine blood, to be reborn from it.

“In the past, we cut off divine blood to preserve our lives, repeatedly returning to battle—during the time when we severely wounded the ancient demons. But soon after, the ancient demons created a technique to sever the connection between divine bloods, causing divinity to wither. Even if you left divine blood ten thousand miles away, once killed by this technique, the leftover divine blood would rapidly rot.”

Ku Qiao said: “Moreover, Brother Han Ku’s primordial spirit perished. If he only fought using an avatar, he couldn’t unleash his full power—after all, the ancient demons could use avatars too.”

Li Hao fell silent. Years of arduous cultivation, one moment of battle—and he was gone.

“I am the Unbreakable Realm…”

The words still lingered in his ears—but the man was no more.

Li Hao said nothing, returning to the mountain summit. He extended his painting realm, and within it, another figure appeared: Han Ku, who had fallen in battle.

“Senior Brother Haotian, I am the Unbreakable Realm—you may observe fully…”

Han Ku materialized within the painting realm, smiling and bowing to Li Hao, as if the past moments had returned.

Shi Miao gazed at Li Hao, saying nothing, merely standing silently beside him.

Time flew by.

Every few years, Li Hao would descend the mountain to discuss domain realms with his fellow Immortal King cultivators.

Yet each time he descended, Li Hao noticed that among the Immortal King cultivators he had previously spoken with, one or two would be gone, while one or two new faces would appear.

Some of these new faces were sent in through family quotas from great clans; others were elders from the primal frontier regions who had transferred their quotas to them.

Upon hearing of Li Hao’s deeds, they all approached to greet him with great courtesy.

“Where is Sister Baihua?”

“She… fell in battle.”

“What of Brother Wuhen?”

“He…”

The Chaotic Rain fell again and again.

The flowers atop the mountain bloomed and withered, withered and bloomed again; only those Immortal Seeds remained evergreen for a hundred years, unchanged.

“This is Brother Baichuan; his domain is also extremely powerful.”

“Where is Kuqiao?”

“Kuqiao…”

Seeing the few familiar faces before him wear expressions of unspoken complexity and familiarity, Li Hao’s heart lurched, and a chill ran through his veins.

He did not know when he had returned to the mountaintop, but he saw another figure had joined the one in his painting realm.

“I am the Realm of the Other Shore, Elder Brother Haotian…”

The figure bowed slightly to the boy seated calmly on the tea chair, offering a deep, respectful bow.

Time seemed to halt; their first meeting upon his descent was reborn in this moment.

Li Hao remained silent for a long while,

then slowly rose to his feet and clasped his hands in greeting:

“I greet you, Elder Brother Kuqiao.”

As years passed and the sun and moon shifted in the small courtyard, within this miniature realm of the painting, time seemed to reverse—vast rains rose from the courtyard’s ground, steaming upward into the clouds above.

The Chaotic Rain reversed, year after year passed, yet the figures gathering around him grew ever more numerous—all familiar faces Li Hao had once known.

“Han Ku, Kuqiao… Baihua…”

“We greet you, Elder Brother Haotian!”

Time seemed not to have flowed at all; everything remained as it had been in the beginning.

Li Hao suddenly smiled, but tears slipped from his eyes—they had opened their most secret domains to him without condition, each one once leaving him awestruck, each belonging to a peerless talent.

“Shimiao.”

Li Hao spoke suddenly.

“I am here,” Shimiao whispered.

She stood within this realm where sun and moon reversed and time turned back, yet seemed detached from all of it, untouched by its flow—quietly, her eyes gentle and glistening with tears, fixed upon the boy before her; only she could feel the depth of his heart, and the strength within it.

“It’s been a hundred years, hasn’t it…” Li Hao murmured.

“Mm.”

Shimiao nodded firmly, “A hundred years.”