Chapter Sixty-Two: In This World, There Should Be No Spirits; To This Person, One Ought to Offer a Toast. (Double-Length)

Like a vast plot of land skimming low across the earth, scenery flashed past on either side. Wu Yue stood at the front, forcibly gathering a pocket of spiritual energy to shield Li Suizhu from the wind and sand. He had a vague sense that this was not entirely a bad thing, yet he felt a pang of regret—if only he had kept Ren Ruyi, such a mighty force. He had promised to grant her flesh, blood, and soul once they were out; not making full use of her now seemed wasteful.

Suddenly, the patch of earth surged upward, colliding several times into a small hillside. With a thunderous tremor, a voice echoed, only five words: “There should be no spirit here.”

It was the voice from the Lord God’s space. Wu Yue had already rushed in, and at once the ground beneath his feet dissolved into mud and sand. As the scene before them came into focus, both Wu Yue and Li Suizhu were utterly shocked.

Inside, the moon hung bright, stars scattered thinly. Verdant trees and lush grasses flourished; a clear stream wound through the valley, with families building huts along its banks. It was, in truth, a paradise untouched by the world.

More importantly, the air brimmed with spiritual energy. Accustomed to the perilous environments outside, this place suddenly felt like a celestial realm.

“Go quickly and report to the clan leader—someone has broken through the formation!” a voice called.

“What are they saying?” Li Suizhu asked, confused, for the language was unfamiliar to her.

“They’re welcoming us,” Wu Yue replied, able to understand—it was standard Chinese.

“Rejects, Lord God’s space, broken world, Chinese, breaking the formation—”

Wu Yue let out a deep breath. “Is it really you, Da Lie? What are you plotting now?”

“They’re really welcoming us?” Li Suizhu’s expression was incredulous. Though she couldn't understand the words, the tone felt anything but friendly.

“Do you actually believe that?” Wu Yue retorted. “I was joking. You barged into someone’s home and smashed their door. Expecting them to welcome you? That’s wishful thinking.”

“You—!” Li Suizhu, flustered, reached out to hit Wu Yue, only to remember he was merely a soul. Still, she waved her tiny fists, her face dusted with sand yet endearingly cute.

Wu Yue chuckled softly. The playful exchange eased the tension between them.

Because of what had happened before, their relationship had become delicate. It had clearly deepened, become more intimate, yet it could not return to what it once was.

“Look over there—they seem to be having a bonfire festival,” Wu Yue pointed to the distance where smoke rose.

“Bonfire festival?” Li Suizhu asked.

“It’s an evening gathering where everyone sings, dances, eats, drinks, and makes merry,” Wu Yue explained, then reached out and took Li Suizhu, flying through the air.

Li Suizhu stiffened; was she really being held like this? Even though she knew it was spiritual energy, she felt embarrassed. After all, they had shared skin contact for so long, and she had fed him medicine herself. But at that time, circumstances were different—now, her heart was suddenly unsettled. Was it delight or anger? Her heart raced like a startled fawn. The innocence of a young maiden is the most beautiful and alluring.

“Why are you blushing?” Wu Yue asked, puzzled.

“Ah—it’s just the wind,” Li Suizhu replied hurriedly.

Wu Yue found it odd; what wind? But his attention was drawn by the great secret about to be unveiled and he did not pursue it.

As they traveled, anyone who tried to stop them was knocked unconscious by Wu Yue’s wave of the hand. He was not one to kill indiscriminately—not yet, at least.

Zhou Qilin’s soul had left his body. Though he had never experienced it, he had seen it a few times. This high-level skill, not yet his own, was now thrust upon him. But Zhou Qilin swore there was not a hint of joy in his heart. His weak soul trembled in the wind, soon to vanish completely. Not everyone’s soul was as irrationally strong as Wu Yue’s.

Normally, only cultivators at the Divine Binding stage could attempt soul separation; at the Transcending Mortal stage, the soul could roam the world. Wu Yue, who could wreak havoc with his soul, was rare if not unprecedented. Yet fortune cannot be blocked.

Like Ren Ruyi—and even more like Wu Yue—exceptional from birth, aided by benefactors, able to devour the void and spirits, then ascending rapidly in enlightenment, finally emerging from a thousand-year demonic tribulation. Every step seemed impossible to imagine, yet so it was.

A shadow rose atop the grand altar, slowly revealing its form—it was also a soul. Though it appeared weak, compared to Zhou Qilin it was unfathomably powerful.

The shadow took the form of an elderly man, about fifty, with the air of one who knows his fate. Wisps of red energy emanated from the altar, absorbed by the old man. The women there were already dead. The old man said nothing, silent, yet even as a soul, his brows bore a trace of sorrow—emotions born in the heart show in the face.

No matter how optimistic Zhou Qilin was, he could see something was wrong.

Then came a fervent howl; Zhou Qilin didn’t understand, but Wu Yue offered to translate.

“Let the ancestor partake of the offerings! Let the ancestor return!” The voices flooded the sky.

All those below knelt, except for the one in front, leaning on a staff. He heard that someone had broken through the formation, but so what? How could these people stop one who shattered a thousand-year barrier? The only thing to do now was to summon the ancestor as quickly as possible.

The shadow ignored Zhou Qilin’s soul, casting only a glance at his body.

“Ancestor, please descend!” the man in front called loudly, his face not so fervent—for one of the women above was his own granddaughter.

“You’ve suffered, Houpu,” the shadow spoke.

The man in front, named Houpu, shook his head. It wasn’t that he hadn’t suffered, but that his suffering could not be spoken.

“Still, you came. Is it our turn at last? Are rejects meant to be erased?” the shadow murmured, pain in his eyes.

Zhou Qilin shouted silently, “Who will save me? Someone save me!”

“Brother Qilin, it’s been years—your spirit remains undiminished,” came a familiar phrase from a familiar friend.

Wu Yue smiled. Facing this friend with whom he felt an instant kinship, he couldn’t help but tease. Zhou Qilin felt his whole body tremble—from joy. Like rain after a long drought, like meeting a friend in a distant land. All his words condensed into four: Brother Wu, save me!

Wu Yue didn’t rush forward; he floated in midair, his presence silencing the crowd. He saw the shadow and felt immense dread.

The shadow looked at Wu Yue, his gaze complex. “That is the aura of the Great Sovereign.” His gaze shifted to Li Suizhu, suddenly lighting up with wild joy. Wu Yue stepped forward, unobtrusively shielding Li Suizhu. This shadow would not be easy to handle.

The shadow ignored Zhou Qilin, stepping forward to appear before Wu Yue.

“The lineage of the Great Sovereign truly produces prodigies,” the shadow said, surprised, but then adopted a tone as if it were only right.

Wu Yue replied in Chinese, “May I ask your name, sir?” His heart roiled, but his words remained calm. Li Suizhu behind him was surprised, but kept silent.

“The dying need no names,” the shadow replied serenely, having long seen through life and death. “Did the Great Sovereign send you to eliminate the rejects?”

Wu Yue tacitly agreed. He was almost certain now that “Great Sovereign” meant Da Lie.

Seeing Wu Yue’s affirmation, the shadow sighed softly. His tone suddenly sharpened: “My strength now is but a thousandth of what it was, yet to kill the one behind you and destroy half your fortunes would not be difficult. Or, to kill you alone would be no hard matter!”

Wu Yue remained silent, awaiting the shadow’s next words.

“But now, I voluntarily erase my own intelligence and become your puppet. Whether you refine me as a spirit or devour me, it is your choice—I hold no resentment.”

Wu Yue was deeply moved. He possessed a technique called Soul Array, acquired along with the Fire Stacking arts.

The Soul Array was powerful yet demanding. It opened a space within one’s own soul to nurture other souls, allowing them to retain most of their abilities and instincts from life.

But the requirement was voluntary erasure of intelligence. This made it nearly useless—who would willingly be a slave forever? Cultivators are proud, their resolve forged over centuries. To have them erase intellect and become another’s puppet—harder than suicide. If intelligence is erased, what difference from death?

The shadow continued, “I am willing to gift you the treasure, the Mount Tai Palace. I obtained it in another realm and have nurtured it for two thousand three hundred years. Its power is limitless!”

“I also have one hundred thousand remnant souls, which I can give you! Not only will they heal your wounds, but help you advance further!” The shadow’s words enticed Wu Yue ever more.

Such sudden fortune was immense, so Wu Yue grew even more cautious. He waited for the shadow’s request.

“I only ask that you spare these thirty thousand remaining people.” The shadow suddenly bowed low.

“I am willing but unable,” Wu Yue answered slowly, feeling boundless respect for the shadow—such a man deserves honor.

“But she can!” The shadow pointed at Li Suizhu, eyes full of joy.

Suddenly pointed at, Li Suizhu was startled and confused. She whispered, “What is it?”

The shadow took a deep breath and spoke rapidly in the language of the Immortal Spirit Realm.

“This young lady, I beg you to save these thirty thousand homeless souls!” The shadow bowed again, deeply.

“Me?” Li Suizhu asked, flustered. “How can I help you?”

“This girl carries the seed of the World Tree within her. Given time, she can create a new world. These thirty thousand souls are ordinary spirits; I only ask that they become citizens of her world, even if they never see the sun again.”

“World Tree seed?” Wu Yue suddenly recalled the prairie he encountered upon arriving at the Garden of Longevity.

The shadow nodded, continuing, “When one world withers, another is born. Though this thirty-fifth space is special, it is no exception. I once had a seed, gained when battling the Great Sovereign, but it was flawed. Even if grown, it would never flourish. I discarded it here for nurturing, but later lost track of it.”

“These thirty thousand souls will not harm you—in the early days it will be difficult, but once you establish reincarnation, you will gain great fortune.”

“I am willing to help, senior,” Li Suizhu said.

“I disagree,” Wu Yue suddenly spoke.

“Why?” The shadow’s terrifying pressure swept over, eyes fixed on Wu Yue.

The Summer World emerges! Facing this dreadful force, Wu Yue remained unafraid.

“I respect you, senior.”

“But do not trust?”

“Yes,” Wu Yue did not deny it. Facing someone who had lived untold ages, he dared not trust lightly.

“Senior, ignore him—I agree!” Li Suizhu declared. Wu Yue looked at her in surprise. Li Suizhu stared straight ahead, repeating, “I agree.”

“Is this not child’s play?” Wu Yue frowned, puzzled.

Li Suizhu quietly affirmed, her voice full of determination. She was not swayed by the benefits promised by the shadow, but did not want Wu Yue to fight desperately and risk injury.

The shadow, having lived countless years, saw through these youthful feelings with clarity. He gazed at Wu Yue and said, “I have not deceived you; in time, you will understand.”

The shadow retreated to the altar, and with a gentle gesture, Zhou Qilin’s soul returned to his body.

“I’m alive!” Zhou Qilin rejoiced, quickly standing. Seeing the shadow, he jumped back in fright, nearly falling. Wu Yue reached out and caught him.

Zhou Qilin breathed easier, then whispered, “Thanks for saving me, Brother Wu. But shouldn’t we run now? That old man is terrifying.”

Wu Yue shook his head, signaling Zhou Qilin to wait.

The shadow stood atop the altar, and just by looking, Wu Yue felt a sense of the ages.

“We were meant to die, yet have survived a thousand years. But what crime is there in that? Even ants strive to live—how much more so for humans? Now, I ask you all to release your spirits!”

“May you see daylight again; may you attain the Great Way.”

All those below sat cross-legged, and a point of light floated above each head. Wu Yue knew these were their souls—so diminished that their souls had not yet formed human shapes.

The lights continued to emerge, even from those Wu Yue had knocked unconscious.

Though no one cried, Wu Yue felt endless sorrow. Though no one shouted, he seemed to sense a mighty struggle, a roar!

The shadow raised his hands, gathering all the lights into his palms.

Li Suizhu was moved. A crack appeared in her brow, revealing a glimpse of scenery—a boundless grassland beneath blue sky and white clouds.

The lights poured into her brow.

“Thank you again!” The shadow bowed deeply.

“Mount Tai Palace!” the shadow called softly. In the distance, an underground palace rumbled, bursting from the earth and speeding toward them. Chen Yanzhi had just descended a small hill, felt the light dim, and looked up in shock.

The palace grew smaller and smaller, now only a few inches in size, floating quietly in the shadow’s hand.

“There are many mysteries within; you will understand in time. With this, I slew several of my peers. Now, I give it to you.” With a gentle motion, the Mount Tai Palace floated before Wu Yue.

“Once this treasure recognizes its master, only your death or abandonment can break the bond. No one else can seize it.”

Then he pointed at his brow, releasing wisps of smoky remnant souls.

“These are the hundred thousand souls that survived by chance. After death, they had nowhere to rest, and over time lost consciousness. Now, I give them to you.”

“The Great Sovereign did not betray me—but I betrayed the Great Sovereign.”

The shadow walked toward Wu Yue, his eyes increasingly empty.

“I feel guilt, but no regret. Only fear I have delayed the Great Sovereign’s plan. Even in death, there is guilt.”

Wu Yue suddenly understood the cause and effect of everything.

There should be no spirit here. So that was it.

Such a man deserves a hundred cups of wine...