However, Northern Yama did not flinch. He raised his right hand, and instantly, a Nirvana vortex manifested in his palm. The ghostly hands that touched his body failed to harm him; instead, they dissolved and were absorbed into Northern Yama’s frame like water seeping into parched earth.
"To you, souls are food," Zhi Xuan said coldly from behind his puppet. "To Northern Yama, your souls are merely fuel for his eternity."
Northern Yama moved. His footsteps made no sound, yet every time he stepped, the ground beneath him turned to ash. In the blink of an eye, he was in front of Mo Yan. His steel-like hand gripped the Demon Protector’s neck with a force capable of crushing mountains.
"Im... impossible!" Mo Yan struggled to break free, the green flame on his forehead burning brilliantly as he attempted to detonate his core essence.
Northern Yama simply stared at him with hollow, grey eyes. The runes in his eyes spun faster, and instantly, the green flame was sucked into the puppet’s pupils. Mo Yan didn’t even have time to scream; his body withered in a flash, turning into a grey mummy before finally crumbling into dust scattered by the wind.
Seeing their comrade killed in an instant without resistance, the other two Demon Protectors fell into an overwhelming panic. "Monster! This is truly a monster from the deepest hell!"
They tried to reclaim the Soul-Devouring Banner and flee, but Zhi Xuan gave them no chance. He flicked the Ruthless Heavenly Banner once more. "Nirvana Shadow Army... Rise."
From behind Northern Yama’s shadow, dozens of nameless forms shot out. These were the corpses of cultivators that Zhi Xuan had forged. Moving in a haunting silence, they surrounded the two Demon Protectors in an impenetrable semi-circle formation.
"Slaughter is your instinct," Zhi Xuan commanded lowly. "Now, fulfill your duty."
The dozens of Nirvana forms charged simultaneously. They used no complex techniques, only raw strength and physical durability that surpassed human limits. Every strike and claw contained Nirvana poison that froze the meridians.
Piteous screams filled the valley once again, but this time they did not come from a ghostly banner, but from the mouths of the Demon Protectors being torn apart by the soulless army. Their black essence blood splattered everywhere, only to be immediately absorbed by the black armor encasing the Nirvana forms.
In just a dozen breaths, the valley returned to silence. The grand Soul-Devouring Banner lay broken on the ground, its aura completely extinguished. Three high-level experts from the Soul-Devouring Demon Sect had vanished, and even the remnants of their souls were not allowed to flow back into the cycle of reincarnation.
Zhi Xuan stepped forward, standing beside Northern Yama, who remained upright with grey eyes staring vacantly ahead. He looked at his own palm, where his Ocean of Essence now pulsed in sync with the deathly heartbeat he had created.
"This world is too fragile for you," Zhi Xuan murmured, touching Northern Yama’s cold shoulder. "Thus, I shall give them a Demon King they could never have imagined in their worst nightmares."
He flicked his hand, and one by one, his shadow army returned to the Ruthless Heavenly Banner. Finally, Northern Yama faded into black-emerald smoke, returning to his resting place within the grey silk.
"Now, those rats will think twice before trying to rob me," Zhi Xuan hissed coldly, waving his hand as the Ruthless Heavenly Banner disappeared into his body. "After this, I can more peacefully leave these Immortal faces behind and weave the laws."
He dashed and vanished into the shadows, traversing heaven and earth in search of a city crowded with mortal inhabitants to begin an isolation of an indeterminate duration. The realization he gained from the wine cup—that Reincarnation is a continuous, endless cycle—made him feel that he must spend decades or even centuries in a mortal city.
"If I wish to understand what a Law Domain is," Zhi Xuan muttered in the air, his face scanning the various territories below. "Then this Law of Four Seasons must reach a higher level. If Weaver Transformation is the weaving of laws, then I shall not stop at this Law alone."
"Life and Death always revolve, yet my doubt regarding Reincarnation seems to have found a gap," Zhi Xuan’s voice sounded heavy, laden with answers he had never received. "Back then, that white-robed man asked if there was Reincarnation amidst my slaughter. It made me wonder, does Reincarnation truly exist?"
"To become mortal is to force the eyes to witness the birth and death of every generation," Zhi Xuan’s choice became increasingly firm. He had tied karma with two Holy Fairies, but that did not mean he would hinder his own progress. "Therefore, I will seal my cultivation, allowing myself to age and live while watching generations continue to grow."
The choice was etched into his soul. For a late-stage Soul Transformation practitioner, time was no longer a flowing river, but a calm ocean. However, to understand the essence behind the weaving of universal laws, Zhi Xuan realized he could not continue to stand on a cold mountain peak or in the middle of a blood-scented battlefield. He had to dive into the worldly dust, where birth was greeted with laughter and death was released with sincere sobs.
After traveling thousands of miles across the rugged mountains of Yao Gu, Zhi Xuan's steps finally halted in a region traversed by mortal trade routes. The spiritual essence felt rich, yet the humans there were mostly practitioners of the Divine Wheel realm—often called "long-life mortals" capable of living two hundred years. There were no ripples of killing intent, nor the surge of cultivation lust.
Zhi Xuan landed in the middle of a path as the sun began to set. He looked at his palms, then slowly chanted an Ancient Heaven spell. One by one, the ocean of essence within his soul began to settle, forcibly pulled into the core of his soul until no oppressive aura radiated from his body.
The dark purple color of his hair—the symbol of the Southern Devil—faded into pitch black, and his sharp sapphire eyes now looked like those of an ordinary human carrying a hint of fatigue. Now, he was just a young man appearing to be in his late twenties, dressed in simple grey clothes and carrying a cloth bundle on his shoulder.
He walked slowly. Around him, the lush beauty of nature filled his vision. The residents lived by weaving silk and farming low-grade medicinal herbs. There were no dragons crossing the sky, no flying swords cleaving the clouds.
Zhi Xuan’s footsteps now felt heavier, touching soil that no longer vibrated with his spiritual essence, but soil saturated with the tracks of livestock and wooden carts. Ahead, the path widened into a trade route connecting medicinal-producing villages with the surrounding small towns.
The sharp scent of manure, the fragrance of boiling licorice from roadside stalls, and the boisterous hum of humans assaulted his senses. This was the life he had long left behind.
"Grade-one silk! From the silkworms of the eastern valley, please, Madam! Only three copper pieces per roll!" shouted a cloth merchant spreading out a roll of pale blue fabric.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
"Hmph, are you trying to rob me in broad daylight? Look at the fibers, there’s a break here! Two coppers or I’m going to Uncle Li’s stall!" snapped a middle-aged woman with her hands on her hips, her rough fingers pointing out a small flaw in the cloth.
Zhi Xuan stopped for a moment, watching the small debate with a sense of strangeness. These two people staked their emotions and energy for the sake of a single small copper coin—an object that, to the Zhi Xuan of yesterday, was worth no more than the dust on the hem of his robe. But here, one copper coin was the price of dignity and a full stomach.
"Make way! Make way! Physician Wang’s cart is coming through!" shouted a thin youth pushing a cart piled with dried leaves and newly dug roots.
Zhi Xuan stepped to the side of the road, letting the cart pass. The youth wiped sweat from his brow and glanced at Zhi Xuan, offering a toothy, crooked smile. "Thanks, Traveler Brother! Careful on the road, it’s going to rain soon!"
"Thank you," Zhi Xuan answered shortly. His voice sounded foreign to his own ears—he was no longer speaking as a master of death, but as a fellow traveler.
Not far away, a group of burly men—caravan guards with ordinary steel swords at their waists—sat around a faded wooden table under the shade of a large banyan tree. They laughed boisterously while gulping cheap wine from clay bowls.
"I’m telling you, Er Di! That tiger in the back woods was twice the size of your bull! If not for this sword of mine, your head would’ve been its dinner last night!" said a man with a thick beard, showing off his arm muscles.
"Pah, you’re just lucky the tiger had a toothache!" his friend countered, met by the laughter of the others. "Eh, look at that young man. Neat appearance, looks like a scholar looking for inspiration."
Zhi Xuan, sensing he was being discussed, continued past them. His steps led him to a small wooden bridge crossing a shallow river. Under the bridge, small children were laughing as they tried to catch tiny fish with torn bamboo nets.
"Got it! I got one!" shouted a little boy, holding up a fish no bigger than a thumb.
"Let it go, stupid! It’s still a baby. Father said if we eat baby fish, the river god will get angry and make us unable to poop for three days!" his friend exclaimed with a dead-serious face.
Zhi Xuan stopped in the middle of the bridge, staring at the clear river water. He saw his reflection—an ordinary young man with black hair and calm eyes. The threatening sapphire glow was gone.
"Reincarnation..." Zhi Xuan murmured softly. He saw an old grandfather teaching his grandson how to plant medicinal seedlings by the riverbank. The grandfather moved haltingly, while the grandson moved nimbly. Birth and death, growth and decay. It was all happening right in front of him without the need for holy-level secret techniques.
He continued his walk until he reached an intersection where a wooden sign read: Land and House Purchases - Cangyun Village. Zhi Xuan stood for a moment before the sign, its surface peeling from the weather.
Around him, the hustle and bustle of humanity felt so real—a noisy symphony of life that possessed an honest rhythm. The smell of freshly watered earth, the scent of horse manure, and the steam from a cheap bun stall mixed together, creating an atmosphere that would be suffocating for a practitioner, but soothing for a seeker of self.
"Hey, you! Young man!" A raspy voice snapped Zhi Xuan out of his reverie. An old man with a bamboo hat tilted to the left was pulling a reluctant buffalo. "Don't just stand there in the middle of the crossroads! You're blocking the manure cart behind you!"
Zhi Xuan immediately stepped to the side, making way for a wooden cart pulled by two shirtless, burly men. "My apologies, Uncle," he replied, keeping his voice low.
"An apology isn't enough, buy me some wine if you dare!" shouted one of the cart pushers with a rough laugh, the muscles in his arms bulging as he held the weight of the tilting cart. "Look at those smooth hands, probably a landlord's son from the next town trying to experience the hard life, eh?"
"Or maybe he was just rejected by the girl of his dreams!" his partner chimed in, followed by a laugh that made the old man's buffalo low loudly.
Zhi Xuan only offered a thin smile, an expression that felt foreign to his inner anchor. He walked toward a small shack by the road that appeared to serve as a land registration office. There, a middle-aged man with a thin mustache and squinting eyes was busy sharpening his brush on an inkstone.
"Looking for land to grow herbs or just want to rent a room to sleep?" the mustachioed man asked without looking up, his fingers nimbly flipping through yellowed, fragile sheets of paper.
"I only wish to buy a place for trading, Uncle," Zhi Xuan replied calmly, glancing at the nameplates of vacant locations. "I also wanted to ask, what kind of trading house is not yet present on this trade route?"
The mustachioed man stopped sharpening his brush. He looked up, scrutinizing Zhi Xuan from head to toe with a sharp, probing gaze typical of a land manager who had faced thousands of different human faces.
"Trading?" The man chuckled, a dry laugh like falling leaves. "Young man, this Cangyun Village trade route is the lifeblood of western Yao Gu. We have everything here. Herb-hunting physicians, silk craftsmen, wine sellers, even blacksmiths capable of mimicking swords from the great sects. What capital do you have?"
Zhi Xuan did not answer with grand words. He placed a small pouch on the rickety wooden table. Inside were not gold coins that could shake a city, but a few pieces of silver—enough to buy a small plot without attracting the attention of greedy practitioners.
The mustachioed man's eyes widened slightly at the honest glimmer of the silver. He immediately sat up straighter. "Ah, it seems you are serious. If you're asking what isn't here..." He tapped his fingers on the table, thinking for a moment.
"There," the old man pointed, standing and walking out of the shack. He pointed toward a house that was still decent amidst the chaos of blacksmiths and mortal stalls. "That is the former home of someone who moved to the big city two years ago. It’s still habitable—in fact, it’s one of the best. Just add a few more silver pieces."
Zhi Xuan narrowed his eyes, staring at the building indicated by the manager. The house stood between two noisy structures; to its left was a blacksmith's workshop that incessantly spewed sparks and the clanging of hammers, while to its right was a small eatery with ever-billowing cooking steam. Despite being covered in a thick layer of dust from neglect, its dark brown wooden structure looked solid, as if refusing to bow to time.
"The place is spacious," the mustachioed man continued, his tone now friendlier. "The previous owner was a fairly prosperous cloth merchant. There is room in the front to display wares, and the back faces a small stream. It’s perfect if you want to live quietly while trading."
Zhi Xuan nodded slowly. He reached back into his grey robe, took out two additional silver pieces, and placed them on the table as final payment. "I will take it. And regarding my question earlier... in your opinion, Uncle, what is missing on this street?"
The mustachioed man snatched the silver with a lightning-fast movement, then let out a raspy chuckle. "Become a woodworker, young man. Here, the forests are dense, yet no one has the talent for wood carving. With that wood, you can make carts, storage boxes, or even tables and household tools. And, if you want something bigger, make coffins. No one sells coffins here except in the Great Dawn City."
"A woodworker..." Zhi Xuan murmured, his face calm and showing no surprise. "Carts, storage boxes, wooden tools, and finally... coffins. I can do that."
The mustachioed man turned to Zhi Xuan, his face beaming with disbelief. "Really? Hey, I thought you’d reject this trade, seeing as you look like a son of a big city. Hahaha! Good! Very good!"
"Excellent! If you truly have skill in carving, then Cangyun Village will be deeply in your debt. All this time, we’ve had to order coffins from the City of a Thousand Dawns, and the cost... tsk, tsk, tsk, the shipping fee alone is enough to buy a fat goat!" The mustachioed man laughed with satisfaction while handing over a rusted iron key.
Zhi Xuan accepted the key, feeling the cold metal in his palm. "Thank you, Uncle. My name is... Zhi. Just Zhi."
"I am Uncle Zhao, the registration manager here. If any neighbors bother you, just tell me!" He slapped Zhi Xuan’s shoulder hard, then sat back in his chair. "Now, go. Clean up the dust before night falls. And remember, tomorrow I want to see you holding an axe, not just a key!"
Zhi Xuan bowed respectfully with a stiff motion, then walked toward the wooden house. As he arrived at the door, the clanging of hammers from the blacksmith next door was deafening. A large, shirtless man with skin scorched dark red by the heat of the embers stopped his strike and turned toward Zhi Xuan.
"Hey, Young Man! You the new owner of this old place?" the blacksmith asked with a booming voice, sweat running like rivers down his broad back.
"Correct, Uncle. I am Zhi. I will be opening a woodworking shop here," Zhi Xuan answered, his voice steady even against the roar of the street.
"Hahaha! A wood shop? Good! I am Da Zhu. If you need a sharp axe head or a saw capable of cleaving stone, come to me! But don't expect a friend's price in the first month!" Da Zhu laughed loudly, then slammed his hammer back onto the glowing steel. TING! TING! TING!
Zhi Xuan offered only a thin smile, then inserted the key into the door. The creak of the door opening seemed to welcome his return to the mortal world. Inside, dust motes danced in the sunlight filtering through the cracks in the windows.
