Chapter 6: Come, Daoist, have a bowl of soup!

Chenxing slept peacefully.

He even had a dream—a long dream.

In the dream, He feared no erosion from the power of time, no karmic ties could touch Him; He roamed the River of Time without restraint, freely contemplating the Dao fruits of the primordial gods within endless spacetime.

One day, He awakened to His true self, and the Great Dao became profoundly clear.

Just as Chenxing was about to step out of the River of Time and attain transcendence and enlightenment, a colossal hand, like a prison cage, suddenly reached out from the boundless spacetime and seized Him, leaving Him utterly unable to escape!

“Hehe, lucky break this time!”

A sinister cackle echoed through all realms: “Transcendence? Enlightenment? All fake.”

“You are merely livestock I’ve raised for consumption!”

No!!!

“My fate is mine, not Heaven’s!” Chenxing cried out, preparing for a final struggle against the shadowy mastermind.

And then… the dream ended.

“Where am I?”

“Oh, finally awake.” A familiar smile came into Chenxing’s view.

The voice was also familiar.

“How did I end up here? Where is this?” Chenxing’s head spun; he remembered trying to evade Luohou and slipping into the River of Time.

What happened after that?

“You’re still in the River of Time!” A ferryman with a changed appearance looked at Chenxing, dazed in the pot, and nodded—his previous force had been just right; dazed but unharmed.

“Jidu Daoist? Why are you here?” Chenxing then realized he was still in the form of a fish—and he seemed to be inside a pot? Chenxing swam through the boiling broth, confirming it was indeed a large pot.

“Me? Just passing by,” the ferryman said casually. “After you left, we disbanded soon after. Since I had nothing better to do, I came here to take a look—and to gather some topics for the next meeting.”

This ferryman was, of course, Xiang Xuanqing—more precisely, a fragment of Xiang Xuanqing’s divine thought.

This ferryboat was actually the Ferry of the World, originally designed to traverse the boundary between life and death to guide souls.

But in this era, reincarnation had not yet emerged, the Underworld did not exist—there were no souls to guide.

Later, Xiang Xuanqing had a change of heart: the River of Oblivion was a river, and the River of Time was also a river—why not ferry here too?

So Xiang Xuanqing simply deployed the Ferry of the World into the River of Time and split off a fragment of divine thought to cultivate and contemplate the Dao here.

Before this, only Luohou had boarded this vessel; now, the transformed fish-form Shuiyao Chenxing joined him.

Looking at Chenxing in the pot, the ferryman said: “When I first arrived at the Mother River of Time and Space, I happened to meet Luohou Daoist returning—he struck you with a palm, knocked you unconscious, and dumped you at the riverbed. I fished you out.”

“Is that so?” Chenxing recalled—he had indeed heard Luohou Daoist’s voice.

“Then why am I in a pot?”

“Of course, to save you!”

The ferryman spoke with perfect seriousness: “You sank to the riverbed, your mind eroded by the Mother River’s power, so I set up a pot, brewed you some soup, and spent considerable effort removing the negative effects.”

Chenxing suddenly understood: “So that’s why my memories were hazy—it was the Mother River’s influence, shaking my mind.”

He wasn’t new to the Mother River of Time and Space; similar things had happened to him before, so he didn’t doubt the ferryman’s story.

After a while, Chenxing felt his consciousness gradually return and leapt out of the pot.

As soon as his feet touched ground, his elegant, refined Daoist form manifested. He bowed to the ferryman: “Regardless, thank you.”

“We’re all one family—no need for formalities,” the ferryman smiled. The Dream Friend’s soup worked wonders—no wonder it’ll become the signature product of the Underworld.

Standing atop the ferry, Chenxing Shangzun gazed across the boundless river, taking in the grandeur of endless eons. His expression shifted slightly as he looked down at the sturdy little boat: “Daoist, this boat…”

“Just a little toy—don’t mind it,” the ferryman said, picking up a spoon and ladling a bowl of soup.

“A little toy?” Chenxing Shangzun’s lip twitched. A vessel that drifts freely atop the Mother River of Time and Space, shielding all aboard from any negative influence—you call this a toy?

Is this effect not too overpowered!

“Forget about that for now—come, Daoist, drink some soup.” A bowl was extended before Chenxing Shangzun. “No thanks…” *gulp*—the bowl emptied. Chenxing Shangzun’s eyes flickered with confusion.

“Where were we?”

The ferryman replied: “You just said your other Dao bodies should be in trouble.”

“Right!” Chenxing Shangzun sensed his one hundred and eight thousand Dao bodies, sighing: “Seventy percent have met misfortune; the remaining thirty percent are on their way to ruin. Luohou Daoist clearly had a fruitful trip!”

At the same time, Chenxing secretly rejoiced, his gaze toward the ferryman filled with gratitude.

Thank goodness Jidu pulled him out—otherwise, he’d have been completely wiped out.

“Daoist, I have a humble request,” Chenxing hesitated, looking at the ferryman with slight embarrassment. “Could I stay here a little longer? After all, Luohou Daoist…”

“Of course!” The ferryman grinned. A willing tool, why not use it?

He wanted to see what Luohou meant by the Chaos Demon Gods.

Unaware, Chenxing Shangzun sighed in relief and lavished praise: “Jidu Daoist—you’re a true brother!”

“At the next Taiwei Assembly, I’ll follow your lead—you say east, I won’t go west; you say ascend to heaven, I won’t descend to earth!”

“We’re family—no need for such formality!” The ferryman was deeply moved; he had already taken out a recording mirror and captured the entire scene.

Chenxing Shangzun looked around: “By the way, Jidu Daoist, your boat…”

“Come, Daoist, have another bowl of soup.”

“No thanks…” *gulp* *gulp*

Chenxing’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he downed another specially prepared Meng Potang.

“Where were we?”

The Underworld.

Xiang Xuanqing’s true self returned after the meeting.

Everything that happened in the River of Time flashed through his mind. He frowned, then shook his head with a smile: “Enough—don’t go too far.”

After instructing the ferryman, Xiang Xuanqing glanced at Duoshuo Mountain. The Divine Peach Tree remained firmly in place, freely absorbing primordial divine aura—clearly adapted to the Underworld’s environment, its ninety-nine divine peaches now pitch black.

“Daoist, lend me a branch.”

After greeting the Divine Peach Tree, Xiang Xuanqing took a branch.

As he passed Naiheqiao, a deity suddenly emerged from beneath the bridge.

“Master!”

“Wangchuan,” Xiang Xuanqing looked at the spirit of the River of Oblivion. “What are you doing here?”

Wangchuan appeared as a young man, respectfully answering: “The Lord of the Blood Sea came once, saw you were absent, and left in haste.”

“Minghe?” Xiang Xuanqing smiled. “He wants to drag you into another experiment, doesn’t he? No wonder you’re hiding here.”

Wangchuan nodded.

“Besides the Lord of the Blood Sea, a projection briefly lingered in the Underworld. Meng Jie told me to ignore it.”

“A projection?”

Xiang Xuanqing nodded lightly. “I understand. Go ahead.”

“Yes!”

The author’s previous novel, 2 million words completed, had a rather unique tone—friends interested may want to check it out.

(End of Chapter)