Ch127.1 - Clusters of Phoenix Flowers

Zhuang Lingxiu didn’t deflate him. Gently, he said, “The intention is good.”

But he didn’t believe that with so many seniors present, things would go so far that a junior like Su Hansheng would need to die for the Way to resolve it.

Still woozy, Su Hansheng leaned on Zhuang Lingxiu’s arm and slowly stood, raising his head to look at the pillar of light gradually taking shape.

According to the previous Phoenix Bone’s memory, not long after the pillar formed, the false Heaven’s Will would descend in its true form and seize the four sacred objects’ spiritual power, twisting it by force into a “divine body.”

By the timing, it should be now.

Possessed by Heaven’s Will, Su Xuanlin had lost consciousness; his “divine body” fell into a pool of blood and lay motionless.

Chongjue stood not far away, gaze cool and detached.

He hadn’t entered the array.

Within the formation, a jade pendant floated in midair, ceaselessly condensing spiritual power and sending it toward the pillar of light.

Chongjue’s true body stood outside, tall at the array’s edge, eyes fixed on the blazing glare in the distance.

Suddenly, as if sensing something, his long fingers closed. He grasped the blood‑stained demon‑subduing staff out of thin air, and without blinking, flew straight into the pillar of light.

The false Heaven’s Will couldn’t resist the lure of a “divine body” and descended its true form from the Ninth Heaven, beginning—just like in the previous life—to draw on the four sacred objects’ power.

Chongjue’s demon‑subduing staff swept in midair; his body entered the light. His eyes were dazzled blind by the glare, yet he still drove the strike straight through a phantom shell.

Boom.

The Heaven‑Reaching Tower jolted violently, boulders pattering down.

The false Heaven’s Will hadn’t yet settled into a body; it was only a wisp of intent—no body, no bone, no soul, not even capable of speaking a full sentence.

Heaven’s Will can grant dragon body, phoenix bone, and lamp‑soul, but intent alone cannot be created. So among the former four sacred objects, “intent” was nothing more than the Lanke Record’s dense sigils forcibly twisted into “intent.”

Chongjue, however, was different.

Born a spiritual being with self‑awareness, he later split into good and evil ones through the power atop Kunlun, then entered Mount Sumeru to receive the World‑Honored One’s teaching.

Though he never took monastic vows, ascending to the World‑Honored One’s seat by his own merit already proved the strength of his talent.

The false Heaven’s Will coveted his intent; even the virtuous half would suffice to slough off its yoke and rise in a stolen godhood.

With a single thought, it could annihilate the Three Realms.

Just as in the previous life.

Chongjue plunged into the pillar of light. His demon‑subduing staff, charged with Great Ascension power, blasted that wisp of false Heaven’s Will to pieces.

It only scattered for an instant. The pillar still pressed down with Heaven’s Will’s might, forcing it onto Chongjue, yet he braced against it and showed no mercy with his power.

The moment Heaven’s Will tried to coalesce, the staff came down again, smashing it apart.

Will was not so easily scattered, and flesh, in the end, had only so much to give.

The false Heaven’s Will suddenly summoned a formation beneath Chongjue—on closer look, it was the same array meant to drag him to Infinite Hell.

Chongjue smiled, the curve of his lips turning stranger until it became the arrogant laugh of the evil one.

With the evil one’s appearance, the staff seemed to gain even more boundless force, while the beads on his wrist dimmed. Unlike the good mind’s cautious delays, he snapped the staff down to the ground, driving it three inches deep.

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Heaven’s Will: “…”

Snared by the black power, Heaven’s Will burst out a shockwave. The demon‑subduing staff was blasted away, spinning through the air before it whooshed into the tower wall and stuck.

Heaven’s Will had been dividing its focus to siphon the four sacred objects, hoping to hasten the forging of a “divine body.” Once formed, it could crush these ants in an instant. But now, provoked, its divine intent condensed into a vague humanoid shell with no fixed face.

Never having been human, its features flickered from man to woman, young to old; even its voice was androgynous and hoarse.

“Insolent…”

“Idiot,” Chongjue said. “A heaven‑grasping demon dares to speak those words?”

Heaven’s Will thundered, “I—idiot!”

Chongjue burst into laughter.

An instant later, “Idiot” hurled a bolt of power that slammed into him, flinging his already‑drained body away.

The prayer beads scattered and silently caught him as he flew back.

In the east, the Fallen Abyss Dragon’s body was already turning transparent without a sound.

Heaven’s Will was abandoning the plan to complete a full “divine body” all at once—seizing Zhuang Lingge’s body first?

The dragon body was formidable. If the false Heaven’s Will fully took it, all might be lost.

Chongjue’s eyes narrowed.

The next moment, the yet‑unformed shell of the false Heaven’s Will erupted in a mesh of crimson sigils, as if painted in blood.

The false Heaven’s Will shrieked.

The blood‑sigils sizzled like poison, searing black scorch marks into it.

It seemed to recognize them. Its grotesque visage fixed into wrath as it stared straight at Qifu Yin in the distance, who was ceaselessly painting sigils in the array with his heart’s blood.

The Lanke Record was bestowed by Heaven’s Will before it was tainted by demonic miasma, entirely unlike the current sacred objects.

Those sigils could break even Heaven.

Sixteen years ago, even after seeing Su Xuanlin possessed and his vengeance exposed, Qifu Yin didn’t give up. Sealed away, he kept tracing sigils in his own blood to the last moment.

Now, the instant he entered the array, he continued that labyrinth of sigils that could bind a god.

The final stroke was drawn with heart’s blood, carrying a killing chill.

Having bled out nearly all his heart’s blood, Qifu Yin was white as chalk—a man on borrowed hours. Yet he felt no fear. Finishing the array, he toppled into the blood‑sigil formation and laughed aloud.

The long‑life lamp still burned, like sunlight glimpsed two thousand years ago one last time.

Sun melting into gold—after dawn rose again, the “Fuli Clan” would never again see daylight.

With his ear to the ground, Qifu Yin listened to the curses and screams of his kin as if from Infinite Hell, his eyes unfocusing as he laughed again.

The god‑binding sigils cinched tight around the false Heaven’s Will’s shell. It stared coldly at Chongjue; gone was the awkward mimicry of calling someone “idiot,” as if in a heartbeat it had learned human emotion.

“Sigils cannot kill me. The Phoenix Bone, even after nirvana, has only one end—death.”

Its speech was halting, but Chongjue understood—and his face darkened at once.

Seeing his change of expression, the false Heaven’s Will smiled again. Raising its hand to the dense, strange sigils on its body, it said, “Two thousand years ago, the Phoenix Bone’s nirvana ruined my ‘divine body,’ and she perished—never to enter the cycle again.”

At that moment, it knew: if it ever sought to forge a divine body again, it must first consume the phoenix bone’s single chance at nirvana.

In the former life, Su Hansheng was born to tragedy; only in rebirth did he truly find life.

Now, the phoenix bone, having undergone nirvana, was no longer something to fear.

That boy, beaten by suffering into selfishness, would never possess the backbone of the previous phoenix bone—would never sacrifice himself for the sake of the world.

As the words faded, the phantom divine mind at last absorbed the Fallen Abyss Dragon’s body, solidifying into flesh.

The false Heaven’s Will now had a true form; even the demon-subduing staff of Kunlun Jade could not slay it.

Its grotesque face began to shift, slowly, as it reveled in the sensation of flesh taking shape.

It did not know what form to take, so it borrowed the visage of the Fallen Abyss Dragon.

Chongjue stood alone, unafraid, watching it coldly.

At last, the false Heaven’s Will’s face changed—

—but it was Zou Chi’s face.

It hesitated, vaguely sensing something amiss.

This was not the current Fallen Abyss Dragon’s body, but the one that had clung to life for years—

Zou Chi’s body.

Chongjue seemed to flinch at the familiar face. He turned his head, closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, beneath the gentle compassion, there was a killing chill.

The fragile shell Zou Chi had barely formed was forcibly taken.

Though its spirit was shattered, the false Heaven’s Will at last entered a dying body.

And so, it now faced the possibility of perishing with that body.

It finally realized the danger, instinctively trying to flee the pillar and return to the Ninth Heaven.

But it was too late.

The demon-subduing staff flew to Chongjue’s hand. He stared at the false Heaven’s Will’s familiar face, then unleashed a tide of spiritual power straight into the pillar.

The oil of the Silver-Carved Lamp became countless lingering souls, surging into the pillar like moths to flame, rushing into the false Heaven’s Will’s body along with Qifu Yin’s sigils.

A shriek of agony split the vast Heaven-Reaching Tower.

Su Hansheng’s ears rang as if bleeding, his eyes catching only shadows clashing within the light.

An overwhelming pressure surged, and Su Hansheng, at Golden Core, trembled uncontrollably, unable to step closer.

Zhuang Lingxiu frowned, pulling Su Hansheng behind him. Seeing his pale face, he asked softly, “Are you unwell?”

Su Hansheng shook his head, gazing at the pillar, a sense of dread creeping into his heart.

Soon, he knew the source of his unease.

The jade pendant around his neck cracked with a sharp snap, fissures spreading from the center to the edges, until the green stone was webbed with cracks.

Su Hansheng froze, instinctively stepping forward.

Zhuang Lingxiu grabbed him. “Xiaoxiao!”

Even a Spirit Transformation cultivator would struggle to breathe near the clash—let alone Su Hansheng, with his meager Golden Core.

“I’m fine,” Su Hansheng said, stepping back. He looked down at the jade in his palm, slowly cracking, and guessed it must be Chongjue’s true form.

But he never imagined Chongjue, across two lifetimes, both good and evil, would entrust his original jade to him.

A memory flickered in Su Hansheng’s mind.

In his previous life, when he exhausted his life force to open the gate, Chongjue’s evil half’s jade was with him. He didn’t know if it had shattered, or if it had returned to the mortal world with the opened gate.

Su Hansheng closed his eyes, pressing his hand to his pounding heart, as if giving himself an excuse not to rush in: “I won’t interfere. I won’t make trouble.”

Chongjue had let him come here, not to die.

From inherited memories, Su Hansheng knew the phoenix bone could only undergo nirvana once. If he did so blindly, without understanding Chongjue’s plan, he might end up like the previous phoenix bone—scattered, never to return.

He wasn’t afraid of death, only of dying meaninglessly and causing more chaos.

Zhuang Lingxiu was surprised at how quickly Su Hansheng calmed.

Within the pillar, blades and light clashed, the fluctuating power far beyond Zhuang Lingxiu’s reach. He retreated dozens of li just to escape the edge of the storm.

The Fallen Abyss Dragon still slept, but Zou Chi’s presence was gone.

The Silver-Carved Lamp floated quietly, its absorbed ghosts endlessly pouring out, guided by Gong Handan’s spirit, aiding Chongjue.

Su Hansheng held the jade, gazing up at the pillar. Each new crack felt like a knife slicing through his fingers, making them tremble.

He never knew waiting could be a torture worse than death.

The Heaven-Reaching Tower continued to collapse, massive stones crashing down, raising clouds of dust.

The clashing spiritual power sent icy gales roaring, growing shorter as one side weakened.

After an eternity, a gaping hole opened in the tower’s side.

Night fell, and through the gap, only endless darkness stretched out.

Su Hansheng’s breath caught. His hand trembled as he slowly opened it.

But the moment he moved, the jade silently shattered into pieces, gray and lifeless in his palm.

Su Hansheng stood frozen.