The Celestial Realm.
Floating clouds drifted as immortal birds skimmed past, seven-colored radiance reflecting across the vault of heaven.
The four Celestial Lords gathered at the Immolation Immortal Altar. Layers of barriers had already been cast around it; within a radius of a thousand li, only the four of them remained.
The Immolation Immortal Altar was originally the place where condemned immortals endured the Ninefold Heavenly Lightning Tribulation. It was also the most fortified structure in the Celestial Realm. If necessary, it possessed the power to restrain even a Celestial Lord.
Ordinarily, when immortals underwent tribulation, they would choose reincarnation. But Xie Jianbai was different.
He had entered the Dao through slaughter. His accumulated might was profound, and his fate had long diverged from that of ordinary beings. At present, only he could suppress the world’s baleful aura, subduing violence with killing intent.
Yet Xiao Lang and Mu Qing understood most clearly that this had never truly been Xie Jianbai’s destined path.
He was not naturally suited to cultivating the Dao of Slaughter. Relying solely on terrifying talent, he had forced himself to such heights. It was like a triangular gear jammed between round cogs—every step perilous, making them watch in alarm, yet with no path of retreat.
Xie Jianbai himself had become the greatest weapon of killing, fused as one with murderous qi. If he were to reincarnate for his tribulation, the variables would be too many. No one could guarantee nothing would go wrong.
Thus, after discussion, they reached a conclusion: Xie Jianbai would descend in his true body. He would bind his own divine power, while the other three Celestial Lords would jointly lay down restrictions, sealing the baleful aura clinging to him together with his magic.
At the edge of the altar, the other three could not help but look toward him.
Xie Jianbai stood at the center of the Immolation Immortal Altar. All adornments belonging to his Celestial Lord status had been removed. He wore only a simple white robe of plain fabric, his ink-black hair loose.
He had always been rigid and old-fashioned. The other Celestial Lords had their private preferences; outside formal occasions, their clothing and conduct would relax somewhat. Only Xie Jianbai, whether in public or private for ten thousand years, remained impeccably meticulous.
Forget the lesser immortals fearing him—when the three of them visited him in private and saw him still wearing that eight-layered Celestial robe even in his personal time, their eyes would ache.
This was the first time they had seen him “unkempt.”
Yet dressed simply and plainly, his face appeared even more stunning—like the moon above high mountains, like morning sun reflecting on snow. Cold and noble, yet like a blade refracting frostlight—dangerous and sharp, as though fused with all the world’s chill and baleful force.
“There is no need for further trouble, honored Celestial Lords,” Xie Jianbai said indifferently.
Hearing him, the three standing at different positions around the altar exchanged helpless glances. Colleagues for ten thousand years, and not even a single familiar form of address between them.
“Jianbai, you truly don’t need the God-Locking Chains?” Xiao Lang asked with concern. “Once the restrictions are laid, they cannot be halted. I fear you may not endure it.”
“No need. I will,” Xie Jianbai replied.
At times like this, Xiao Lang always felt Xie Jianbai did it deliberately. He never cherished his own body, never cared how much injury he suffered. It even gave Xiao Lang the sense that he sought pain on purpose.
Unable to persuade him, Xiao Lang could only proceed according to Xie Jianbai’s wishes.
His power was too deep, his baleful aura too heavy. The slightest leak of murderous qi could cause irreparable harm to the lower realms. Therefore, the sealing could not show mercy.
Golden light blazed across the altar. Overwhelming Celestial restrictions sank continuously into Xie Jianbai’s body. He stood tall and unmoving at the center. Only the thin sheen of sweat forming on his brow revealed that this was far from effortless.
The final few seals were especially heavy. When they struck his back, his shoulders swayed faintly, cold sweat sliding down his neck.
When the sealing ended, Ning Ruo withdrew her power. With a sweep of her sleeve, she muttered, “This is madness.”
They had chosen the Immolation Immortal Altar merely to suppress the baleful aura he could not take to the lower realm. The pain of these restrictions was nearly equivalent to branding them directly onto the divine soul.
To guard against him losing control and his power rampaging, they had cautiously chosen this place. Yet Xie Jianbai not only compressed himself to the utmost limit without leaking a trace of power, he had endured it all in silence, teeth clenched, without a single sound.
Faced with their complicated gazes, he remained as indifferent as ever.
“Let’s go.”
Calm, as though the one who had just been punished was not him.
When the Celestial Lords returned to the Heavenly Court, the Siming Star Lord was already waiting.
“Siming, Xie Tianzun is about to descend for tribulation. Do you have any further instructions?” Mu Qing asked.
“There is something strange,” the Siming Star Lord said quietly. “It has long been known that Xie Tianzun would face a calamity in the mortal realm. But in recent months, the constellations have suddenly undergone a convergence shift. I cannot determine whether this change is auspicious or ominous.”
“Even you cannot see clearly?” Ning Ruo asked.
“The clear waters have been stirred muddy. It is no longer observable,” Siming replied. “Only…”
Seeing his hesitation, Xiao Lang frowned. “Speak plainly.”
Siming continued, “Previously, no matter how it was examined, Xie Tianzun’s descent this time bore signs of great calamity. Though his innate baleful aura influenced it, it was still extremely perilous. Now that things have reached this point, this change may instead tilt toward improvement…”
He might as well have said outright: it was already a great misfortune. How much worse could it become? Perhaps it would rebound from the lowest point.
The other three thought the same. For someone as steeped in baleful fate as Xie Jianbai, was there truly anything to fear becoming worse?
Still, looking at his cold, quiet expression, Ning Ruo stroked her chin and sighed. “What kind of tribulation could Xie Jianbai possibly encounter? He’s so cold, heartless, and ruthless. Whoever blocks him, he kills. I truly can’t imagine what great disaster could befall him.”
With the subject of discussion standing right there, the Siming Star Lord gave a wry smile. “Best not to anticipate such things. Your Excellencies are pivotal to the stability of the world. Even the slightest fluctuation could throw the realm into chaos.”
Most crucially, if another Celestial Lord encountered trouble, the others could immediately suppress the consequences. But Xie Jianbai… he was heaven’s favored son, his power profound, his baleful aura attached to him. If he truly fought, it was uncertain whether the three together could subdue him.
If not for everyone knowing how rigid and self-disciplined he was to the point of antiquity, his descent alone might have cost others their sleep.
Xie Jianbai showed no reaction to their discussion.
“Is everything below prepared?” he asked Siming.
“Immortal Chen is already waiting in the side hall.”
Xie Jianbai’s descent was believed to be connected to the fragment of soul-power he had once left behind in the cultivation world. That realm had been deeply influenced by him. Whatever the tribulation, he needed to reclaim that soul fragment and settle the karmic ties left below.
To understand the cultivation world, the most suitable starting point was the sect he had founded, the Xuantian Immortal Sect.
Thus, the Heavenly Court summoned Immortal Chen, a cultivator from the Xuantian Sect who had ascended most recently, to contact his junior disciple in the lower realm.
Immortal Chen appeared around forty. Never having imagined he would one day meet his grand-master, he was visibly nervous. With utmost respect, he presented a communication artifact.
“My grand-nephew disciple, Xiao Ziyi, is now an elder of the Sword Peak in Xuantian Sect,” Immortal Chen said hesitantly. “His swordsmanship is fairly good. It’s just… his temperament is somewhat unrestrained. He may inadvertently offend Your Excellency.”
Xiao Ziyi sat stiffly at the table.
Normally bold and unrestrained, he now felt nailed to the chair, unsure where to place his hands or feet.
He was an elder of Sword Peak in the Xuantian Immortal Sect, junior brother to Sect Master Gu Guangming. Yet his personality clashed entirely with the sect’s style.
Though a sword cultivator, he loved freedom by nature, wild and uninhibited. While other elders secluded themselves for years to cultivate, Xiao Ziyi relied on his talent and did as he pleased, wandering the world and occasionally bringing back new disciples.
After half a year roaming abroad, he suddenly received contact from his uncle-master who had ascended centuries ago, saying that the Sword Venerable would descend for tribulation and needed a false identity under him.
He had agreed in a daze. Only after the contact ended did he suddenly realize something was wrong.
Sword Venerable? Which Sword Venerable?
In the cultivation world, only that legendary figure could bear the title.
Surely… surely not.
Then a guest appeared on his flying vessel.
The Sword Venerable had truly descended.
Seated before his ancestor, Xiao Ziyi trembled. His usually eloquent tongue was tied.
Though Xie Jianbai’s cultivation was now suppressed to a level similar to his own, whether because he cultivated the Dao of Slaughter or had occupied high office too long, his presence was overwhelming. Merely sitting across from him brought immense pressure.
And it was so cold beside the Sword Venerable that Xiao Ziyi nearly shivered.
At that moment, he sensed the Sword Venerable’s gaze fall upon him.
“You uncle-master says your swordsmanship is quite good,” Xie Jianbai said, his voice like a cold spring—clear, cool, and resonant.
“N-not at all…” Xiao Ziyi forced a smile. “I have only encountered a few fortunate opportunities. Nothing worth mentioning…”
Before the Sword Venerable, who dared call themselves “good”?
Sitting on pins and needles, Xiao Ziyi realized Xie Jianbai seemed to be using him to assess the current overall caliber of the Xuantian Sect. He silently lamented that he should have cultivated more diligently instead of wandering so freely.
Xie Jianbai was the exemplar of all sword cultivators, the acknowledged ancestor. However small he felt, Xiao Ziyi did not wish to disappoint him.
Fortunately, Xie Jianbai said nothing further.
He sat like a statue—perfect and indifferent, almost devoid of mortal vitality. His pale profile was expressionless, lashes lowered.
After two restless hours, Xiao Ziyi’s flying vessel finally entered Xuantian territory.
“We’ve arrived, Your Excellency,” he said quietly, releasing a breath. “I need to report to the Sect Master. You may rest in my hall.”
“No need. I will go with you.”
Xiao Ziyi’s face fell at once.
After facing him the entire journey, his back was nearly soaked with sweat. His mind felt muddled. Though usually carefree, he had no wish to embarrass himself before Xie Jianbai.
He had hoped to breathe alone for a moment. That chance was gone.
With no alternative, he settled his newly recruited disciples in his hall before heading toward the main peak with Xie Jianbai.
On the way, he hesitated repeatedly, stealing glances.
“Something to say?” Xie Jianbai asked.
Like a student caught by a teacher, Xiao Ziyi lowered his voice. “Your Excellency, if you are concealing your identity, perhaps you should conceal your appearance as well?”
With that face and bearing, no one would believe he was an ordinary new disciple.
“It has been handled,” Xie Jianbai replied. “Only those who know my identity may see my true appearance.”
Xiao Ziyi understood at once.
They reached the main hall. “Your Excellency, please look around first. I’ll return shortly.”
Receiving assent, Xiao Ziyi entered. Once certain Xie Jianbai could not see him, he hurried forward and pushed open the inner doors.
Inside, Sect Master Gu Guangming sat behind a desk. Two figures stood before him, turning at the sound.
On the left stood a young man—tall, sharp-browed, his gaze faintly appraising.
On the right stood a girl reaching only his chest, about fifteen or sixteen. Her large, upturned eyes carried natural allure, yet her innocent air lent her a pure beauty.
Xiao Ziyi halted, an inexplicable chill crawling up his spine.
“What’s the rush?” Gu Guangming scolded. “Where is your bearing as an elder?”
In front of his senior brothers, Xiao Ziyi had always been the talented yet mischievous junior. He was used to scolding.
But when Gu Guangming mentioned his status as elder, Xiao Ziyi distinctly felt the young man glance at him again, an assessment that looked much like Xie Jianbai’s earlier scrutiny.
Why did that feel even stranger?
“Senior Brother, I just missed you,” Xiao Ziyi laughed. “By the way, who are these two?”
“This is Ling Xiao, adopted son left in the cultivation world by White Crane Realman after his ascension. He has come seeking an opportunity for breakthrough,” Gu Guangming praised warmly. “Not yet a hundred years old and already at Golden Core peak. He will surely achieve much.”
Xiao Ziyi echoed praise, relieved. Just a junior.
Gu Guangming turned to Ling Xiao. “Return for now. If you need anything, treat this as home.”
“Many thanks, Sect Master,” the youth replied calmly.
For some reason, Xiao Ziyi found the voice faintly familiar.
After they left, Gu Guangming glanced at him again.
“You are Sword Peak’s elder. Such recklessness ill suits your responsibility. Sword cultivation is our foundation. You represent the sect’s face. Talent alone is insufficient. Your frivolity shames the name ‘disciple of the Sword Venerable.’”
Normally Xiao Ziyi lets such lectures pass from one ear to the other.
But now the Sword Venerable was literally waiting outside.
“Senior Brother, not now. I have urgent matters,” he cut in hastily. “I brought back new disciples. Would you like to see them?”
“No need. Seeing you already gives me a headache. Get out.”
He rolled out swiftly.
Outside, he noticed the youth called Ling Xiao standing on the steps. His left hand was behind his back, tightly gripping the arm of the foxlike girl and shielding her completely.
The girl seemed confused, repeatedly tiptoeing to peek out. White ears atop her head twitched.
White ears?
Drawing nearer, Xiao Ziyi saw the youth staring down the steps, gaze fierce and vigilant.
Following his line of sight, Xiao Ziyi saw Xie Jianbai below.
Separated by dozens of steps, the youth stood taut as if facing a mortal enemy. Below, the man remained calm and indifferent. Their gazes collided midair.
As they locked eyes, Yu Chengyan’s fists clenched tighter and tighter.
Then he heard Xie Jianbai’s clear, cold voice.
“It’s you.”