The princess consort of King Xiang turned her gaze sideways and saw a one-ard woman lightly furrowing her brows.
"What’s wrong? Didn’t go smoothly?"
Upon hearing this, Zhou Yitang shook her head gently and said:
"No, it went smoothly, but..."
Yin Tingxue noticed the confusion between her brows.
"Then why are you..."
The Sword Armor furrowed his brows tightly, as if sensing sothing.
Sothing’s not right...
He had definitely severed the Middle Corpse...
"But he... didn’t kill the Empress Dowager?"
Zhou Yitang couldn’t help but murmur.
She recited the spell for the Thousand-Mile Eye, then slowly shifted her gaze toward the Heavenly Altar.
Inside the altar, as the knife rose and fell,
there stood the man, a broken blade piercing through his chest, blood flowing profusely.
Zhou Yitang’s pupils contracted slightly, her lips pressed tightly together, and her only remaining hand trembled uncontrollably.
"Why... he actually... used a thod of self-sacrifice to sever the Middle Corpse?!"
After a long silence, she spoke again, her voice actually trembling slightly,
"This madman..."
Yin Tingxue’s almond-shaped eyes widened.
She could hear the faint traces of horror in her words.
Quickly regaining composure, Zhou Yitang spoke calmly:
"It’s nothing serious."
Her thoughts fluctuated slightly. She had divined that Chen Yi would sever the Middle Corpse, but she never thought he would do it through self-sacrifice. Perhaps this confird what she had once said: "He hides his kindness deep beneath his three souls and seven spirits." She had not judged him wrongly, had she? Still, Zhou Yitang felt a tangle of emotions—not delight. Deep down, she faintly sensed things veering toward a course beyond years of planning.
Noticing Yin Tingxue looking at her, she steadied her mind.
"So now the only corpse he has left to sever is the Bottom Corpse, isn’t it?"
Yin Tingxue asked.
"Correct."
Zhou Yitang gazed toward the Heavenly Altar.
"It won’t be long."
Among the Three Corpses, the Bottom Corpse governs lust—the easiest to sever.
.........
Blood dripped steadily.
The twin-dragon bronze tripod let out a sound of lant as the blade struck down, splitting the golden "Dao" character in its inscriptions with a ferocious crack.
Boom!
A sound like the clash of great bells echoed as the copper tripod forged by Xia Qi shattered into pieces.
On the Heavenly Altar, the frozen soldiers and generals of Xia toppled nearly simultaneously; their bodies collapsed into dust and ash, leaving nothing but powder.
Chen Yi exhaled and slowly removed the blade lodged in his chest.
As he prepared to take in the surrounding sights, he noticed sothing unusual—the blood didn’t gush out wildly as expected.
Looking down, he found that the gaping wound, which should have been grotesque, had already healed as though it had never existed.
"I actually... didn’t die?"
Chen Yi sensed sothing.
It felt as though sothing inside him had been forcefully severed.
Surveying the fallen Xia soldiers sprawled across the altar amidst swirling dust, he realized that the battlefield resembled an ancient war zone. Suddenly, a peculiar calm descended upon his heart; he noticed he could no longer summon the will to kill.
This didn’t an he lacked the ability to kill; rather, it was a kind of transcendent thought—a recognition that whether he killed or refrained from killing, the distinction had dissolved.
Not killing was the sa as killing. Killing was the sa as not killing.
"Could it be... the Middle Corpse was severed unintentionally?"
As soon as he muttered this, Chen Yi narrowed his eyes.
Was it truly unintentional?
In the distance of the Heavenly Altar, dazzling rays of light suddenly erupted as the underground palace seed to transform into a serene sky.
Chen Yi tilted his head upward and saw a figure ascending step by step toward the place where celestial cranes called out in harmony.
Yin Weiyin... she was about to ascend.
Chen Yi’s chaotic thoughts intertwined before steadily unraveling, like a tangled ss of threads suddenly finding their paths. Amid a crystalline world, the figure of the female crown beca increasingly ethereal, increasingly pure and unblemished.
She was truly about to... ascend?
Yes, because the Dao was imminent...
This woman, who had attempted to take his life multiple tis, who had used him to inherit the Goddess’s legacy—was she truly going to ascend so lightly?
Chen Yi’s gaze grew colder and colder.
Gripping the fractured Brocade Spring Blade in his hand, he strode forward.
He would endure no longer.
He would sever the Taichua Goddess’s Dao by sheer force.
On the invisible staircase, the white-clad female crown ascended step by step, her form misty and unreal, faintly emanating spiritual radiance.
With each step she took, the heavens seed smaller, and the air carried a profound transformation of marvels from all directions.
The naless was the beginning of Heaven and Earth; the nad was the mother of myriad things. These two erged together yet bore different nas. Together they are called the Mystical; the most mystical of mystical—where all wonders reside.
Within her Heart Lake, Laozi’s true words arose, revealing the wondrous gate to immortality at the end of the Dao, radiating infinite divine charm and profound music, enlightening the soul.
The female crown closed her eyes to listen, but amidst the profoundness of the Dao, she heard a faint noise.
The noise was soft.
So soft, so faint... like soone whispering three words. Words she found familiar, yet unfamiliar.
"Yin Weiyin!"
Imrsed in the mysteries of the Dao, the female crown gently turned her head and opened her eyes. She saw a man in dark robes climbing the invisible staircase step by step toward her.
"It’s you..."
The female crown sighed softly,
"Ignorance."
Detached from earthly emotions, she montarily failed to recall his na.
Her ethereal voice resonated deeply with the Dao, as multicolored radiance and pristine light suffused the skies above the Heavenly Altar.
Under the heavenly vision, Chen Yi remained unwavering, gripping his blade ever tightly.
The Taichua Goddess sighed again lightly,
"Why do you persist?
Once I ascend, I will repay you."
Raising her palm, streams of multicolored light fell without wind into her grasp, condensing into a sword. Its radiance restrained yet peculiar, embodying the Buddhist-Taoist principle of eliminating delusions and preserving truth—a Wisdom Sword to sever impure roots.
The Wisdom Sword, often a figurative concept within the heart, now materialized in her hands—a testant to her astonishing proximity to the Dao.
The sword’s edge pointed directly at Chen Yi, who did not retreat but pressed forward step by step.
The Taichua Goddess raised her voice, her gaze sharpening with resolve,
"If you insist on entangling yourself, then I shall use this Wisdom Sword to sever the ignorance within my heart."
Buzz——
As her words fell, the fractured glow of the Brocade Spring Blade quivered, letting out a faint wail as it pointed at the female crown.
Chen Yi let out a wicked grin,
"You? Worthy?"
In an instant, the Taichua Goddess radiated boundless light that surged towards Chen Yi, accompanied by the profound music of the Dao that threatened to shatter him on the spot.
Chen Yi raised his hand. The golden Shariputra at this mont pulsed with Buddha Light, dispersing the incoming radiance like a re shift of montum. He ascended the stairs step by step.
The Taichua Goddess wielded the Wisdom Sword, driving light and radiance to pierce directly forward.
The essence embedded within the sword accumulated light from all directions, grandly rolling forth in a sweeping current.
The sword’s radiant vortex tore through layers of Buddha Light and aid straight at Chen Yi’s brow. It did not pierce the flesh but rather targeted the three souls and seven spirits.
A single strike to sever thoughts, to preserve truth!
The Taichua Goddess was severing his thoughts—and her own ignorance simultaneously.
But in an instant, the blade abruptly ca to a halt.
Two fingertips had pinched the sword’s tip as it closed in on his forehead.
The Taichua Goddess raised her eyes slightly, locking her gaze as her pupils shuddered.
She saw nine tails unfurl.
A woman in elaborate palace robes appeared behind Chen Yi. Using only two fingers, she caught the Wisdom Sword. Standing symbiotically with Chen Yi, they seed to beco one entity.
"You dare attempt to harm my son?!"
Accompanied by a low whisper that was part human, part fox, a violent surge pulsed from the sword tip, rippling outward like crashing waves. The Wisdom Sword quivered, and under its vibrations, she forced the almost-ascended Taichua Goddess to retreat step by step.
From once ethereal to now tangible—her previously misty figure condensed further, while the invisible staircase beneath her feet grew increasingly void-like.
The female crown widened her eyes, a hint of confusion flashing across her face.
"Even a complete Wisdom Sword, capable of severing ignorance, cannot sever , Tushan Fen?!"
The voice of the Imperial Dowager reverberated along the skyward path.
Under the sound, Chen Yi pressed forward step by step.
The female crown thrust out her palm, sending forth streams of multicolored radiance like colossal whirlpools to devour Chen Yi.
But each stream collapsed re inches from Chen Yi with countless fractures.
"Yin Weiyin..."
His voice rasped. Chen Yi advanced relentlessly.
Before her final word, the female crown raised the Wisdom Sword again, its blade seemingly rging into a realm of tranquil existence. Summoning two decades of cultivation, she struck with all her might!
The sword seed poised to split Chen Yi in two.
Yet, right before it reached Chen Yi’s forehead, it abruptly stopped.
The figure of the Imperial Dowager stood behind him. Chen Yi reached out with one hand, grabbing the blade’s edge, while pushing his other hand against the crown’s heavenly cap.
Under the palm’s pressure, the Taichua Goddess trembled. Her serene face drained of blood, and her once-pristine eyes gradually filled with despair.
"Take a good look at this Dao..."
Chen Yi, gripping her head, turned her forcibly to face the nearby wondrous gates.
More mystical than mystical—the Immortal Palace above, bringing eternal life many dream about. The answers sought by the countless—they lay just beyond, as though by rely reaching out, one could touch immortality.
"Do you see it?"
The Taichua Goddess montarily lost herself, her mind blank as she was about to stretch out her hand,
when suddenly, a sentence chilled her to the core:
"Don’t bother—you’re only getting a glimpse."
Chen Yi leaned close to her ear, chuckling softly,
"With here, don’t even think about ascending!"
The Taichua Goddess’s eyes widened in shock as the Goddess’s legacy of the Dao began... to fracture piece by piece!
Even her forrly tranquil heart cracked open with a jagged fissure. Decades of painstaking cultivation poured out like floodwaters from the channel.
Her entire body trembled as she finally cried out:
"My... my...
My Daoist skill, my Daoist skill!"
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