In ancient times, mortals lived in the lower realm, while cultivators resided in the ancient realm. The two were clearly separated. However, after the Great Cataclysm, the surviving cultivators crossed the spatial barrier and drifted into the lower realm, giving rise to the inheritance of cultivation sects there.
Yet the lower realm had always been a place barren of spiritual energy. After the destruction of the ancient world, it suffered even greater damage and became a true dead realm. The very fabric of space could not withstand excessive power. As a result, the surviving ancient cultivators gradually died off, and all future cultivators were destined to be limited to the Nascent Soul stage, forever unable to ascend to godhood.
For mortals newly entering the path of cultivation, becoming a god was unimaginable—even reaching the Nascent Soul stage was beyond their dreams. Naturally, they did not mind being forever confined at that level. To them, the Nascent Soul stage was already godlike.
But as their cultivation deepened and more of them reached that stage, they soon discovered a cruel truth: the stronger they became, the closer they came to death. Once they reached the peak of the Nascent Soul stage, what awaited them was not ascension, but death by spiritual energy overload—their bodies bursting apart because the world itself could not sustain such power.
Some had tried to stop cultivating, to remain forever at the early Nascent Soul stage—standing at the peak while avoiding the wrath of heaven. But once one reached that realm, spiritual energy no longer required deliberate absorption. It would flow endlessly into the body on its own.
Death was inevitable—unless they were willing to abandon their cultivation entirely.
But having once tasted supremacy, having enjoyed the allure of longevity, who would willingly fall from the heavens and return to the cycle of birth, aging, sickness, and death?
Thus, for countless years, cultivators walked a single path: cultivate, reach the Nascent Soul stage… and wait for death.
Countless geniuses exhausted every method imaginable, yet none could escape this dead end. Many with steadfast Dao hearts eventually changed—some became ruthless killers, others indulged in pleasure, drowning themselves in excess. Some chose seclusion, cautiously avoiding the use of spiritual power, hoping to delay the inevitable.
As time passed, the spiritual energy of the lower realm grew ever thinner, and the spatial barriers increasingly fragile. All Nascent Soul experts could sense the looming aura of destruction. In recent years, many of them began secretly meeting, unwilling to accept their fate, hoping to find a way out together.
Chu Mingwei listened intently to Qing Ming’s revelations and finally could not hold back. “Why have I never heard even a hint of this in the cultivation world?”
Qing Ming sneered. “If this truth were widely known, the cultivation world would have long fallen into chaos. Who would still strive to cultivate? It would have declined ages ago. Those already at the later stages of the Nascent Soul realm still hope future generations might produce someone brilliant enough to break this deadlock. Naturally, they keep it tightly sealed, urging you all to cultivate day and night so you may join them in solving it.”
Xiao Lingyu felt a chill run through him. Glancing at Old Ghost Head’s expression, he immediately shot him a sharp look. “You already knew about this.”
It was not a question—it was a statement.
If he had known the danger, how could he have allowed his senior brother to reach the Nascent Soul stage?
Old Ghost Head nodded guiltily. “I sensed something, but you know a soul body’s perception differs from a physical one. And how could I have expected Chu Mingwei to advance so quickly?”
Not wanting Xiao Lingyu to worry, Chu Mingwei took his hand. “Lingyu, there’s no need to be concerned. Setting aside how difficult it is to advance from early Nascent Soul to its peak—how many years that would take—if the lower realm is truly on the verge of collapse, as Senior Qing Ming says, then this matter is hardly worth dwelling on.”
Xiao Lingyu forced a bitter smile and nodded. If the world itself were about to collapse, then the threat of heavenly destruction truly seemed insignificant.
But then he thought of Ling Xiaozi and could not help asking, “Senior Brother, does the Sect Master know about this?”
Chu Mingwei recalled how Ling Xiaozi had hesitated to speak several times after his breakthrough and nodded. “He should know.”
“Then why didn’t he warn you?” Xiao Lingyu asked.
Before Chu Mingwei could answer, Qing Ming snorted. “The path of cultivation is full of danger—death can come at any moment. Should one fear cultivation simply because the end is destruction by heaven? Even without reaching the Nascent Soul stage, cultivators still face death when their lifespan runs out. What difference does it make?”
Chu Mingwei agreed. “Senior is right. Once one chooses this path, one must not fear danger. Besides, reaching the peak of the Nascent Soul stage takes an unknown number of years. Even if one ultimately dies by heavenly destruction, it is better than living a mediocre life, trapped at a low level.”
These words mirrored Ling Xiaozi’s thoughts exactly. When he first met Chu Mingwei, he had rejoiced at his talent, knowing he would one day reach the Nascent Soul stage. But thinking of its consequences, he had hesitated. In the end, seeing Chu Mingwei’s determination, and believing it would take centuries to reach that stage—far exceeding a mortal lifespan—he chose to guide him onto the path.
What he had not expected was that Chu Mingwei would reach it so quickly… because of Xiao Lingyu.
—
After three full hours, Qing Ming finally finished explaining everything—from ancient times to the present.
Though deeply shaken, Chu Mingwei wished to meet Ling Xiaozi as soon as possible. A part of him still hoped Qing Ming had exaggerated—that the lower realm was not truly so close to destruction.
As for Qing Ming’s offer to shelter them in the Chu Tian Secret Realm, Chu Mingwei was grateful—but thinking of the countless lives in the lower realm, he could not help but feel uneasy. He still hoped for a way to avert such a catastrophe.
Meanwhile, Old Ghost Head was busy dragging Xiao Lingyu through the Tianlan Domain, sorting through treasures.
“This one for you, this one I’ll keep—this one for you—this, this, and this too.”
Xiao Lingyu accepted without hesitation, selecting items for his master, Meng Fan, and others. If the world truly collapsed, these might prove useful.
Seeing them take more and more, Qing Ming smiled faintly and waved his sleeve. A delicate white jade palace flew out—it was the core of the Tianlan Domain’s formation, used to control the entire secret realm.
With a light tap, countless lights flared across the realm—each representing a cultivator. Qing Ming tapped the palace repeatedly, and one by one, the lights extinguished as all cultivators were sent out.
Finally, a great beam of light rose beneath their feet.
Chu Mingwei stepped in first. Xiao Lingyu quickly grabbed Old Ghost Head and followed. They had already agreed to return to the Yun Tian Sect together. Qing Ming, meanwhile, wished to see Jing Zhan in the sect’s back mountain.
Just as the light intensified, a figure rushed forward, forcing its way in.
“Cang Ye!”
A small child clung to Qing Ming, panic on his face. “Daddy was taken away by this light—I’m going to find Daddy!”
Earlier, Cang Ye had been pestering Luo Shaohan for a story. Desperate, Luo Shaohan had recalled rumors about his senior and junior brothers and told a random tale. Just as he reached the part where they became Dao companions, the light appeared. Realizing it was the exit, Luo Shaohan was overjoyed.
Cang Ye sensed something was wrong. When he tried to follow, he found himself unable to enter the light. Watching Luo Shaohan disappear, he panicked, tore open space, and chased after him.
Now, seeing Cang Ye clinging to Qing Ming, Xiao Lingyu and Chu Mingwei could not help but feel a headache on Luo Shaohan’s behalf.
After a moment, Qing Ming sighed and stepped into the light with Cang Ye.
Old Ghost Head suddenly asked, “I forgot to ask—why is Cang Ye like this?”
Qing Ming stroked the child’s head. “After he died in the ancient war, I brought his body to the burial grounds. Along with it was a fragment of the Heavenly Mechanism Disk I had found. Over time, for reasons unknown, he revived—but as a child, with no memories. His powers, however, remain intact. It is likely related to the disk fragment.”
With just a few sentences, they arrived in the Wilderness.
Voices erupted all around them.
“Senior Brother Gu!”
“Junior Sister!”
“Martial Uncle Yang!”
Though only a few days had passed, Xiao Lingyu felt as if ages had gone by.
Though they emerged last, no one paid them much attention. Everyone was busy searching for companions—except for a few who were drawn to Old Ghost Head’s appearance, only to retreat under Qing Ming’s cold gaze.
A brilliant sword light rose in the southeast. Xiao Lingyu and Chu Mingwei both brightened.
Just as they were about to head over—
“Daddy!”
Cang Ye dashed left.
A child in a secret realm drew instant attention. Following the voice, everyone saw Cang Ye tightly clinging to Luo Shaohan’s neck.
Luo Shaohan’s handsome face was flushed red.
His expression… utterly miserable.