Xiao Bai looked at Zhang Cuizhan much like an ordinary person would view a lunatic stripping and relieving himself in the middle of a market. He toyed with the Kun-Yuan Bead between his fingertips, not even bothering to offer a sneer. With one last profound look at Zhang, he vanished.

  In the next second, Xiao Bai was gone.

  Atop Thunder-Echo Ridge, only the mountain wind remained, swirling gravel past Zhang Cuizhan’s stiffened body with an eerie howl. The four formation flags he had hurled in rage had completely lost their luster. Their fabric was tattered, leaning crookedly in the cracks of the fissured rocks like abandoned rags.

  The ferocity on Zhang’s face slowly ebbed away. As if his very bones had been removed, he stumbled and slumped onto the ground.

  For reasons unknown to himself, he felt a wave of profound sorrow. Two streams of murky, aged tears rolled uncontrollably from his eyes, tracing paths through the dust and malice on his cheeks.

  "Everyone is gone..." He lowered his head, propping himself up with his hands as he seemed to age decades in an instant. He muttered to himself, "The banner is gone, the Soul-Slaying Nail is gone. Everything is gone. The Dao-Body... my Dao-Body!"

  He snapped his head up toward the empty sky and let out a shrill, piercing shriek: "SON! MY SON!"

  This cry exhausted all his strength. He collapsed onto the ground, forehead pressed against the cold rock, his long-suppressed sobs finally turning into a primal howl.

  "If I can't get the Dao-Body... if I can't get Jiang Guixian's divine abilities... how can I, your father, set you upon the path of immortality? Why can one not cultivate without spirit roots..." He wept like a child, snot and tears flowing freely, possessing none of the composure or ruthlessness of a Middle-stage Foundation practitioner. "Are you doing well, all alone in Niping Village? Your lifespan... has your lifespan... already run out..."

  The weeping eventually subsided. Zhang lay on the ground, motionless.

  After a long while, he slowly pushed his upper body up with his arms. His refined, scholarly face was now a mess of tears and dirt, looking utterly ridiculous. He looked around blankly and whispered that name: "Chen Gensheng..."

  This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  His body shuddered uncontrollably. To face that freak all alone?

  Zhang stood up slowly, his expression becoming eerily tender. "Son, your father still has one last card to play. Just you wait; I will get that 'Ethereal Dao-Body' in the God-Burial Pit for you."

  He offered a subtle, strange smile. Then, he fished out a small three-inch knife from his ring and drove it ruthlessly into his own crown. The tip pierced flesh and bone with a light clack, as if something had split. Expressionless and determined, he aimed at his left chest—the location of his heart—and stabbed again, without the slightest hesitation.

  Blood stained his robes. Having done this, he produced a small box shaped like a comb-cage. When opened, two fist-sized, semi-transparent bluish-black shadows drifted out. They were two spectral souls, circling Zhang in fear, afraid to approach but unable to leave.

  "Come here." Zhang grabbed the two sentient souls, one in each hand, and forced them into the bloody holes in his head and chest. The souls struggled frantically in his grip, but his hands were as steady as mountains. He hammered the souls into his own body.

  "Chen Gensheng! Let us battle once more!"

  Three days later, Zhang stood up, his wounds fully healed. His face was smooth and clean once more, now possessing an even more indescribable aura than before. He calmly straightened his hair, acting as if the man who had been weeping on the ground wasn't him at all.

  Two pure consciousnesses had been added to his soul, acting like mirrors that made his divine sense and elemental perception twice as sharp.

  "My dear child," he whispered, as if speaking to someone nearby, "when this is over, your father will take you to see the scenery above the clouds."

  He picked up the formation flags, wiped them clean, and stowed them away. Then, he walked to the edge of the cliff, casting his gaze down into the abyss shrouded by restrictions.

  Inside the mountain cave.

  Chen Gensheng exhaled a breath of turbid air and held the Shock-Wyrm Fire-Fish Flag before him. Under the gaze of his Void-Gazing right eye, every fiber of the fire-silk, every stitch of the fish totem, and the essence of the cold qi within the sapphire gems were laid bare.

  He even spotted a hidden trap left by the He-Huan Sect woman—a grudge-curse buried deep within the artifact. Had he refined it normally, the curse would have triggered, causing soul damage and spiritual backlash, leading to a mysterious death.

  "What a venomous woman," Gensheng snorted. He transformed his divine sense into an invisible needle and pierced the core of the curse with absolute precision.

  The curse was destroyed before it could even struggle. The flag let out a cheerful hum, the fire-fish on its surface swimming with newfound fluidity. There was no longer any barrier between him and the artifact.