"Monkey," Ruo Xianxue spoke, her voice cold yet carrying a nostalgia from hundreds of years ago. "Back then, you were even afraid at the sight of a slain corpse, unable to believe the cultivation world could use humans as fertilizer. Yet, look at you now. Walking upon the bones you created, through centuries of cultivation, you are finally reaching the Weaver Transformation."

  Inside his sea of consciousness, Zhi Xuan did not open his eyes. He allowed Ruo Xianxue’s voice to flow like a river current crashing against the boulders of his soul. Visions of the past—the moment he first trembled at a dead body, the times he wept over heartache, and the coldness with which he aided thousands of Southern Territory cultivators while reaping the lives of the Cangyun Village elders—spun like a burning scroll of ancient paintings.

  "Those known as Immortals have the chance for long life and to rule above the heavens," Zhi Xuan thought, his face calm and eyes still closed. "But what is the meaning of Immortality if it is merely an illusion? The gods die; those who cultivate are the gods."

  Springs came and went while Zhi Xuan remained seated upon that flat stone. Through the cycle of summer and winter, he came to understand something: cultivators are often trapped in a false eternity, only to find that their fear of death is greater than their fear of the endless journey of cultivation.

  "Gods are those who cultivate toward Immortality, yet in the end, they still doubt the existence of Reincarnation. Some call Reincarnation a new beginning, yet they doubt that a beginning actually exists."

  Zhi Xuan let the last of the winter snow melt on his shoulders, turning into thin steam as it touched the warm aura seeping from his skin. Gods. He remembered Zhan Xianwang, who still slept soundly within the Nine Heavens Bead—an Ancient God who once shook the heavens. Yet even his soul would dissipate and never reach Reincarnation if released from the bead.

  "To become a God," Zhi Xuan mused internally, eyes remaining shut. "One cannot escape Reincarnation, yet Reincarnation does not determine if one becomes a God."

  A golden disc was slowly etched around the Heavenly Samsara Wheel, rotating like stars orbiting a sun. This was the enlightenment of a god—the realization that even divinity is subject to Reincarnation. Yet, it was also filled with the doubt of whether being a god was merely a cause and effect of that very cycle.

  For dozens of seasons more, Zhi Xuan remained motionless. He understood that humans, cultivators, and all living things—including the wars at Cangyun Village—shared the inevitable nature of the Asura. They are full of desire and the pursuit of power, never realizing they are merely parts of a self-balancing whole.

  Then came the understanding of Ghosts: the trapped souls within his Soul Lantern and the souls he had once released without absorbing. The doubt surrounding Reincarnation helped him realize that not all souls move on; sometimes, grudges, desires, and lingering emotions anchor a soul away from the cycle.

  His black-and-white robes became overgrown with moss as he recalled his first meeting with Xiao Die, the celestial moth who longed for the Holy Haoyue Mountains in the Rain Heavenly Realm. When she "reincarnated" back then, Zhi Xuan had used the term without truly understanding the doubt behind it—the fear of whether the new Xiao Die would be the same as the old. Finally, he began to make peace with the concept.

  "The understanding of God, Asura, Ghost, and Animal," Ruo Xianxue hissed, staring at the four-colored glow encircling Zhi Xuan’s Heavenly Samsara Wheel. "Zhi Xuan... do you truly intend to create the Six Paths of Reincarnation?"

  Zhi Xuan remained still, but within his consciousness, the Heavenly Samsara Wheel—now spinning with a rhythm that caused the Law of Four Seasons to melt—was replaced by four higher Laws. Four colors pulsed: the gold of Divine majesty, the burning red of Asura’s passion, the bleak gray of Ghostly resentment, and the mossy green of Animal instinct. They chased each other, creating a vortex of energy that siphoned the spiritual essence from every corner of the Forsaken Region.

  Suddenly, a fifth color appeared—a white glow, warm yet fragile, the color of kitchen smoke in Cangyun Village and the scent of dry teak wood shavings. This was the law he gained from the sweat of Uncle Zhao, the laughter of the Nalan siblings, and the sincerity of Aunt Mei. In this white light, there was no heavenly miracle—only the honest cycle of birth, aging, sickness, and death. Without the Human Path, all cultivation was merely a grand building without a foundation.

  "The Human Path," Zhi Xuan whispered, his voice echoing through every corner of his meridians. The white light throbbed, stabilizing the other four wild colors. Without the Human Path, a God is mere empty arrogance, an Asura is blind wrath, a Ghost is frozen regret, and an Animal is shallow instinct.

  However, the vortex was not yet perfect. The Heavenly Samsara Wheel inside him vibrated violently, refusing to lock into place. There was a black hole in the center of the vortex—a void demanding a final price to complete the Six Paths. Zhi Xuan pondered the endless suffering: those who never had the chance to be born, or those whose souls were torn apart until they had no form left.

  He remembered the cold of the Nine Solitudes prison, the darkness that swallowed all hope, and the despair of cultivators whose souls shattered into dust before tasting the cycle of return. He looked at Ruo Xianxue, a fallen Ancient Sacred Devil—the purest face of a Devil. He, too, was not separate from the Devil Path; half his body was demonic, and his path was paved with the blood and bones of the living.

  A sixth color exploded—a darkness deeper than a starless night, yet emitting a sharp, crystalline shimmer. This was the Hell Path, the manifestation of absolute suffering, purification through the fires of agony, and the punishment for unforgiven karma. As this black hue merged with the other five, the Heavenly Samsara Wheel inside Zhi Xuan stopped vibrating and began to rotate with a deafening silence.

  That night, in the usually bleak and gray Forsaken Region, the atmosphere shifted. On the slopes of Black Crow Cliff—a small faction that didn't even possess a Soul Transformation practitioner—two gate guards huddled in their thin, worn robes.

  "Hey, do you feel that?" asked Lu Chen, a young disciple, rubbing his arms. "The air tonight... it's strange. It’s too quiet. Even the night insects are silent."

  His companion, a middle-aged man whose senses were dulled by being stuck in the Organ Transformation realm, merely snorted and took a sip of cheap wine. "Probably sulfur mist rising from the Lower Valley. You daydream too much, Lu Chen. Better think about how to pay your debts next month, or Elder Han will kick your ass out of the sect."

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Lu Chen went quiet, but his eyes remained fixed on the distant horizon. "It's not that. It feels as if... a god is about to descend and change this narrow region."

  "A god?" The older man laughed so hard he choked. "Lu Chen, you’ve been in the Forsaken Region so long your brain is rotting. What god would deign to step foot on this cursed land? Even a Phoenix would turn into a crow if it flew over our skies for too long."

  Lu Chen didn't argue, but he watched the stars. "But Senior... look at the stars. Why do they seem to be swirling around a single point in the Southwest?"

  The older man looked up, his drunken eyes narrowing. Indeed, the constellations were bizarre. The starlight no longer traveled in straight lines but curved gracefully, as if drawn by an invisible whirlpool. "Just a natural phenomenon. Maybe a storm of essence at the western border. Come on, let's head back to the post. This wind is starting to bite."

  Elder Han, a man with a goatee who had recently reached the early stage of the Five Elements realm, was discussing the dwindling supply of essence stones with two other elders.

  "If the Dagger Valley Sect keeps pressure on our southern mining areas, we won't have enough essence to power the sect’s protective formation!" Elder Han slammed the stone table.

  "But Elder, they have the support of an early-stage Soul Transformation rogue practitioner," another elder replied anxiously. "We are just a small sect; fighting them is—"

  His words were cut short as the entire hall trembled. Tea cups rattled, and the oil lamps hanging from the ceiling swung in an odd rhythm.

  "What is that? An enemy attack?" Elder Han stood up, reaching for his sword.

  "No, Elder! Report!" A disciple ran in, face drenched in sweat. "The spiritual essence flow around the cliff... it has suddenly vanished!"

  "Vanished?" Elder Han frowned. "You mean it's thinning?"

  "No, Elder! Not thinning—sucked away! All the spiritual energy within a ten-li radius is being forcibly pulled toward a point on the old border hill! Our energy-gathering formation just died!"

  Elder Han was stunned. He ran out to the balcony. With his cultivation, he could see what mortal eyes could not. In the distance, a massive vortex of energy—resembling a giant wheel—covered the sky.

  "The laws of nature... are being rewritten?" Elder Han whispered, his voice trembling. "Who... what kind of being is over there? Is it a high-level practitioner passing through?"

  "Elder, look down!" the disciple shouted.

  At the base of the cliff, forest animals—from wild rabbits to fanged wolves—emerged from hiding. They didn't hunt each other; instead, they walked side-by-side toward the hill. They moved in a sacred silence, as if called by a voice only the purest instinct could hear.

  "This is no natural phenomenon," Elder Han said, cold sweat soaking his back. "Someone... someone is weaving a new Law in this land. Quick! Send messages to the neighboring sects!"

  A few li below Black Crow Cliff, in a mortal village called Old Root Village, an old shaman named Old Man Cang was burning divination leaves over a dim stove.

  "Strange... truly strange," Old Man Cang muttered, his trembling hands raking through the ashes.

  "What is it, Father?" asked a young woman, cradling a fussy baby. "The baby hasn't slept since evening. The cows in the pen won't stop lowing in fear."

  The woman walked to the window. In the village streets, residents were coming out with torches. Stray dogs barked at the forest, while flocks of crows circled the sky despite the pitch-black night.

  "Look!" a villager screamed, pointing at the hilltop. "Light! Six colors!"

  In the distance, atop the peak where Zhi Xuan meditated, a faint glow appeared. It wasn't blinding, but rather a radiance that crawled across the ground, changing the mist into purple, red, gray, green, white, and black in turn.

  In the usually dismal sky of the Forsaken Region, a phenomenon unseen for a thousand years unfolded. Hundreds of streaks of light from flying swords and essence clouds surrounded Silent Hill from a distance, yet none dared approach within a one-li radius. They were held back by an aura of majesty—one that didn't crush them, but made their souls bow of their own accord.

  "Incredible... this spiritual energy, it doesn't plunder; it purifies!" said an old man in gray robes, landing atop a large tree. His sunken eyes shook. "I’ve been stuck at the Consciousness Transformation realm, but just by breathing the essence from this phenomenon, my meridian blockages are loosening!"

  "Great Elder! Look at the hill!" a disciple shouted behind him. "There is a wheel of light spinning! Is it an ancient treasure rising from the earth?"

  "Fool!" the Elder snapped, though his voice shook with awe. "That is not a treasure. That is someone weaving a Law! Look at that white glow... that is the purest Domain Law. And that golden light... that is Divine Majesty. Whoever sits there is attempting to transcend the limits of Soul Transformation!"

  Nearby, three practitioners from the Black Cloud Sect hovered with pale faces. One of them, a woman at the peak of the Five Elements realm, tried to thrust her sword forward but was immediately tossed back by a gentle ripple in the air.

  "Don't get closer!" she warned her companions. "The space around that hill has become a different Domain! If we trespass, our souls will be dragged into the turning Law and dissolve!"

  "But Senior Sister," a practitioner beside her whispered, "this aura... it’s so warm. Look at the forest below! The trees that withered from sulfur poison are blooming again in an instant. This is the blessing of a rising Weaver Transformation!"

  In the lower foothills, crowds of practitioners from minor sects gathered. People who usually drew swords over a handful of essence stones now stood side-by-side in sacred silence.

  "Is this the end of the Forsaken Region's darkness?" muttered a rogue cultivator, dropping his weapon and kneeling toward the peak. "A god... a Weaver Transformation has truly appeared in this trash heap. Forgive our arrogance, Senior!"

  "Look at the red glow!" another cried. "It feels like a burning rage, yet it's held back by that calm white light. What technique is this? Why does my resentful heart suddenly feel at peace?"

  Higher up in the air, a silver light streaked at insane speeds. It was Elder Han. He stopped exactly at the edge of the energy ripples, his face dripping with cold sweat as he saw the six-colored giant wheel begin to lock.

  "Six colors... Six Paths..." Elder Han whispered, his teeth chattering. "This isn't a normal Weaver Transformation. This is the creation of a Domain! If news of this reaches other regions, they will send armies to seize this enlightenment!"

  "They won't have time," a rogue practitioner beside him said without turning. "Look at the sky. The sky of the Forsaken Region has faded, replaced by that man's mental landscape. While this process lasts, not even another great Weaver Transformation could pierce this wall of law."

  "Senior," a young disciple asked hopefully, "who is he? Why did he choose this place?"

  the middle-aged man smiled thinly, his eyes reflecting the six-colored light. "Perhaps only in a place as forsaken as this can one see clearly what is truly precious in the eyes of a human. Be silent, and absorb this blessing. The chance to witness the birth of a Weaver Transformation comes only once in thousands of years."

  Below, in Old Root Village, Old Man Cang looked up, tears wetting the wrinkles on his face. "The god did not descend to destroy... he sits there to remind us that we all—cows, humans, and grass—are part of the same wheel."

  The baby who had been crying was now fast asleep in its mother’s arms, enveloped by a warm white mist descending from the hill. The entire Forsaken Region seemed to hold its breath, watching as an old tree at the summit slowly turned to gold, while the man sitting beneath it began to lock his eternal Law of the Six Paths.

  The roar in the depths of Zhi Xuan's soul reached its zenith as the Heavenly Samsara Wheel within his mind stopped spinning wildly and began to rotate with absolute grace. In the outside world, his body—once covered in moss and dust—began to emit a glow that peeled away all worldly impurities.

  Zhi Xuan slowly opened his eyes. As his eyelids lifted, his sapphire pupils no longer just reflected light; they contained the vortex of the six colors, moving in sync with the wheel of light above the hill. He felt a power he had never possessed—a territory that reflected his own Personal Law.