Chapter Sixty-One: Each to Their Own Horizon, Each at the Edge of the World

After experiencing overwhelming sorrow or joy, does one often become more open-minded? For instance, at this moment, Li Suizhu harbored no resentment toward Tuoba Yu’s rudeness, and even thanked Blood Dusk and Twilight for their defense. She offered a kind smile even to the temperamental Zhou Zhou.

Now that the tower was empty and all had gone through this ordeal, naturally, everyone returned to their own paths. The outsiders all returned to the Lord God's space. Blood Dusk, ever bold and brash, issued a hearty invitation, “You’re welcome to visit the Lord God's space anytime.”

As for Ashura, after a moment’s hesitation, she refrained from provoking Zhou Zhou any further. After all, even the little follower had managed to overcome difficulties. Bone Nether coughed loudly a few times, making his presence known.

A white pillar of light took several of them away. Only Bone Nether remained, explaining that there was still nearly a day left in the task, and he had time to wander around.

“If you have the chance, why not visit Taiqing Palace in the south?” Zhou Zhou said calmly. With that, she left, taking Fan Xiaohua with her. Bone Nether also took his leave, choosing a direction and departing.

Only three remained. Wu Yue and Li Suizhu’s emotions were subtle, but between Li Suizhu and Ren Ruyi, there was no attempt to hide their mutual aversion.

“How do we get back?” Wu Yue asked.

“I don't know.”

“I haven’t found the chance to resolve karma either.”

“Brother Wu, why worry? In the coming days, simply find a place with good feng shui, settle down for a few days to refine your spiritual energy, and stepping into the next stage of cultivation is within reach. Perhaps, you may even transcend your current realm.”

“That may be so, but I can’t help feeling that this Longevity Garden doesn’t live up to its name.”

Ren Ruyi, who had greatly benefited, didn’t agree, but she nodded her silent approval.

“Anyway, according to the records, once time is up, we’ll naturally return.” Li Suizhu interjected thoughtfully.

“That’s true,” Wu Yue replied, though he felt he had forgotten something. So much had happened, he simply couldn’t recall it for the moment.

What was it that he had forgotten?

Far away, more than two thousand miles distant, a woman slammed her compass down in frustration.

“Why are those green dots gone again?!” Chen Yanzhi was nearly in tears. Since arriving in this world, she found herself in an underground city. No matter how she called for help, there was no response from heaven or earth.

After marveling at the underground city's grandeur for a few days, she returned to the reality of her solitary, helpless existence. Though not constantly in danger, her journey above ground was fraught with peril, demanding wit and bravery at every turn. When she finally made it to the surface, the compass displayed several green dots—only for them to vanish days later. After so much effort, gone—just like that!

Had it not been for her strict upbringing, Chen Yanzhi would have already begun cursing. Instead, she only revealed a twisted expression, gnashing her teeth in silent fury.

Zhou Qilin, by contrast, was quite satisfied with his current life. He had once leapt into the Longevity Garden, prepared for a brutal struggle of life and death, expecting treacherous schemes and bloodshed. Yet, opening his eyes, he discovered a babbling brook, birds singing and playing—a true paradise removed from the world.

This feeling only deepened when he encountered the locals. Though language was a barrier, he was treated like a king. He resided in a spacious house—simple in decoration but extraordinarily large. Especially in comparison, others lived in cramped, ordinary dwellings.

His meals were sumptuous, filled with all kinds of immortal herbs and spiritual medicines. Though the taste sometimes left his mouth numb, the effects were superb. His cultivation soared, reaching the peak of the Core Formation stage. Only one final step remained before fusing with heaven and earth—he was on the verge of true transcendence. Well, perhaps that was not quite how Zhou Qilin would put it.

Raised in a prominent family, Zhou Qilin had a composed temperament. As time passed, he found nothing amiss. When he hit a bottleneck in his cultivation, the locals even presented him with a golden skull—a gift greatly enhancing his progress. Zhou Qilin began to suspect that perhaps they wanted him to become their leader, or to succeed the current one. After all, his cultivation here was among the best, and his innate talent was remarkable.

He promptly shut off the compass, resolving never to reveal this place to anyone. He would seize every advantage this land had to offer. As for the end, the records said that when the time came, one would naturally return. All who returned obtained some fateful opportunity. Though he wondered about many things, Zhou Qilin ultimately chose the safest course—leave things as they were.

Life was peaceful, though the place was a bit small. Whenever he tried to go out, he was stopped. Still, he wasn’t particularly eager to leave.

People’s gazes toward him were strange—a mix of fear, wariness, and even pity. Zhou Qilin smiled quietly to himself. Yes, he understood. They feared his status, were wary because he was a stranger, and pitied him, thinking he would remain here forever. But he chuckled inwardly; when the time came to leave, none could stop him. Zhou Qilin’s calculations rattled on with satisfaction.

One evening, a grand celebration was held.

This piqued Zhou Qilin’s interest. He sensed the harshness of life here—such festivities were rare. Accustomed to the brilliant splendor of Luoyang, he found it difficult to adjust to the rhythm of working at sunrise and resting at sunset. Now, he could finally have some fun.

Zhou Qilin was seated atop a tall, ornately decorated platform, surrounded by several of the more beautiful local women, their expressions a mix of nervousness, unease, and excitement.

Why hadn’t they brought these women to serve him earlier? Zhou Qilin wondered with a trace of reproach.

Below, the crowd was frenzied, shouting with wild enthusiasm.

“What kind of ceremony is this?” Zhou Qilin mused, puzzled. “Could it be an enthronement? Am I to become their leader? It certainly seems that way. Yes, that must be it.”

The patterns on the high platform gradually lit up. The masses below grew even more fervent, bowing prostrate to the ground.

A sudden sense of foreboding washed over Zhou Qilin. As he tried to stand, his body was already rigid and unresponsive. The women beside him, in perfect unison, drew knives from their sleeves, faces alight with fanaticism, and slashed their arms. Scarlet blood flowed down their pale skin, ever faster.

“Isn’t this succession ceremony a bit too brutal?” Zhou Qilin’s face turned ashen.

The women seemed oblivious to pain, letting their blood flow freely. The crowd below erupted, raising their arms, swaying and shouting madly.

The blood dripped upon the edge of the platform and, following the intricate patterns, streamed outward. The light grew ever brighter. Zhou Qilin felt his head spinning, emptier and lighter, as if he might float away.

“A place has suddenly appeared in my mind,” Wu Yue said, frowning.

“Where?” Li Suizhu asked.

“I don’t know,” Wu Yue hesitated. “But I want to take a look.”

“I’ll go with you,” Li Suizhu replied without hesitation.

Wu Yue had just agreed when—

Movement—yet it was not their bodies, but the entire ground beneath them. The speed was astonishing, beyond comprehension...