Fallen Mountain, Lost Trace Forest.
The area is filled with eerie, gigantic trees, jagged rocks, and a foul-smelling mist that pervades the air. Even beasts are reluctant to reside here, with only subterranean reptiles daring to occasionally poke their heads out. From time to time, carrion-eating night-demons screech out their disturbing calls.
Spirit Treasure Celestial was disheveled, his face covered in stubble, a shadow of his former self. Hiding in a cramped, damp cave, he jolted at the cry of a night-demon, burying his head even lower, fearing that he might be discovered by the Eternal Summit.
Ever since the Divine Spirit emerged from the Eternal Summit three thousand years ago, the world of cultivation had turned into a bloodbath.
This Divine Spirit allowed no one to see his face or discuss his name. People could only vaguely refer to him as the Master of the Eternal Summit, or the Divine Ruler.
He was devoid of emotions and mercy. Beneath his feet burned flames that incinerated all living beings, where crimson serpents slithered. Surrounding him were countless Nirvana-red butterflies that blotted out the sky. Wherever he went, rivers ran red with blood, mountains were built from bones, and all was desolation.
This was the darkest, most terrifying era in the world of cultivation. Sects, large and small, were slaughtered—Blood Demon Sect, Moon Concealment Sect, Dragon and Tiger Gate, Spirit Mountain School, Golden Phoenix Manor... Regardless of alignment, sect, status, wealth, or level of cultivation, those targeted by the Eternal Summit faced complete annihilation.
Everyone lived in constant fear, unsure of the criteria the Eternal Summit used to select its victims. All they knew was that when beautiful red clouds appeared in the sky and the Nirvana butterflies began to dance, the Divine Ruler of the Eternal Summit would descend. His chosen prey, whether resisting or surrendering, pleading or fleeing, would fall into the most heartless and horrifying hunt. Some souls even ended up in a hell of eternal despair. Occasionally, there were a few lucky survivors, but they remained traumatized, unclear why they were spared.
Spirit Treasure Celestial's Water Mirror Manor had also been destroyed. Luckily, he wasn't in the sect that day and managed to escape. His cultivation technique was Turtle Concealment, specialized in hiding his aura, with various means of escape. Over the years, he had been in hiding, like a rat scurrying in sewers. He had experienced several close calls, sustaining severe injuries and a significant loss in his cultivation level, leaving him battered and beleaguered.
His suffering was immense, yet the relentless pursuit from the Eternal Summit continued, allowing him just enough room to struggle and resist, appearing only when he thought he was safe. It was like a cat playing with a mouse, keeping him forever on the edge between despair and a sliver of hope, torn between the desire to live and die.
Unable to hold back, Spirit Treasure Celestial cursed under his breath, unable to understand why he was so unlucky to be relentlessly pursued and tormented for thousands of years.
The night-demon bird let out another terrifying cry, as if mocking.
Every bird in this world could be a spy for the Eternal Summit, heralding danger wherever they appeared.
Spirit Treasure Celestial's slightly relaxed body tensed again. He swiftly strengthened the defense formation in the Lost Trace Forest by several layers, thickening the mist and adding decoy puppets in various places, ensuring any pursuers would lose their way, buying himself time to escape.
In the sky, a splendid glow appeared. From it emerged nine gorgeous Xuanming birds, their radiant red tail feathers trailing behind a magnificent golden magic ship. On the ship, numerous mythical birds and beasts sat or stood: the Reborn Phoenix preened, the Blissful Birds sang, while cranes and peacocks danced gracefully, each vying to display their feathers. They looked adoringly and devoutly at the beautiful divine spirit concealed behind layers of pearl curtains, unresentful even when met with indifference.
The magic ship halted above the Lost Trace Forest.
Handmaidens transformed from Lovebirds carefully drew aside layer upon layer of pearl curtains before taking their places on either side, daring neither to speak nor make eye contact.
It's well-known in the cultivation world that the Divine Ruler of the Eternal Summit has an extreme fondness for cleanliness.
He despises the world's gaze, not allowing anyone to see his face or skin; those who dare are blinded.
He loathes the filthiness of words, forbidding anyone to utter his name or title; those who do find their tongues severed.
For this reason, he's always clad in a snow-feather cloak woven from Icebird feathers and Ice silkworm threads, covering himself entirely from head to toe. Not even a single hair is exposed. He wears gloves made from pristine magical beast skin to prevent contact with anything. A veiled face mask made from merfolk pearls and silk shrouds his stunning beauty, revealing only a pair of emotionless, dark golden phoenix eyes—flames encased in ice, restraint taken to its ultimate extreme.
The birds retracted their feathers, ceased their singing, and bowed their heads.
The Divine Ruler slowly emerged from behind the pearl curtains, disdainfully surveying the world. Despite years of cleansing, ridding it of its filth, he still felt uncomfortable. A nauseating scent pervaded the air, making each breath unbearable.
Enough, time to end this delightful game.
His final prey was already at death's door, neither physically nor mentally worth tormenting any further.
He looked coldly at Spirit Treasure Celestial, who was desperately hiding in the darkness. A brilliant flame ignited in his palm, from which emerged several exquisite Nirvana butterflies. They spread their fiery wings and flew toward that terrified little mouse, hiding in its fetid drain, paralyzed by perpetual fear.
Spirit Treasure Celestial spotted the crimson sky, saw the red butterflies swooping down, realized that even the mist of Lost Trace Forest couldn't stave off impending doom. He struggled to activate the decoy puppets, switching his position in an attempt to flee once more...
But where else could he go? What haven had he not already tried?
Spirit Treasure Celestial came to a sudden halt. He finally realized that there was nowhere left to run, nowhere left to go...
Is this what despair feels like?
During his hesitation, roaring flames burst forth from all directions, engulfing the entire forest and obliterating all the defensive formations. Serpent-like vines writhed in the fire, burrowing into the ground to block any escape, while countless Nirvana butterflies fluttered in the air, weaving an inescapable web of death.
Life had reached its end; there was no more need to run.
A sense of relief washed over Spirit Treasure Celestial. Like a lifeless puppet, he slowly knelt on the ground, resigned to being torn to shreds and consigned to an even worse hell.
The terrifying Divine Ruler descended before him, flanked by crimson butterflies.
Spirit Treasure Celestial looked up, intending to beg for the mercy of a quick death. Suddenly, he sensed something strangely familiar in those barely-visible, dark golden phoenix eyes behind the veil. They seemed to remind him of something from many years ago... He thought for a while, recalling the early sects that were exterminated: Golden Phoenix Manor, Dragon and Tiger Gate, Azure Rainbow Sect, Blood Demon Sect...
These sects, disparate in their territories and modes of conduct, met the same fate...
What was their commonality?
Memories of a mortal youth with similarly dark-golden phoenix eyes started to emerge in his mind. The youth was extraordinarily talented, breathtakingly beautiful, yet defiant. They had broken his bones, clipped his wings, and dragged him into the abyss of lust, treating him like a plaything. They had seen nothing wrong with it; a slave bought with money should naturally serve their masters...
It seemed like that youth was discarded after they grew tired of him, and his new owner disfigured him, driving him to madness.
What was the youth's name?
Spirit Treasure Celestial exclaimed in horror, "Yue Wu..."
Before he could finish, a gloved hand shot out, ruthlessly silencing him, stifling the name that should never have been spoken.
Spirit Treasure Celestial understood everything. Regretful tears flowed. He knew what was to come and harbored no illusions. If only back then...
There are no "ifs" in the real world.
Scorching flames funneled through the hand stifling his mouth, searing his throat and gradually reducing his organs to ashes. His skin withered inch by inch, becoming nourishment for the vines sprouting from the ground.
After his agonizing death, there was no liberation; his sinful soul was extracted and sealed in a specially crafted soul lantern.
The Divine Ruler glanced down, noticing some ash smudges on his pristine white gloves. He frowned in displeasure and extended his hand toward the Lovebirds at his side.
Named Xiao Zuo and Xiao You, these Lovebird demons were born on the Kunyu Tree in the Spirit Sea and had little contact with the outside world. Their hearts were pure, and since the birth of the Divine Ruler, they had volunteered to be his personal handmaidens.
Xiao Zuo carefully removed his soiled gloves, incinerating them without a trace. Xiao You swiftly retrieved a golden box containing clean new gloves and presented it to the Divine Ruler for his selection.
After a meticulous inspection, the Divine Ruler donned a new pair of gloves and ascended into the sky.
Blood King Vines emerged from the ground, coiling around the soul lantern.
The crimson glow faded, the Nirvana butterflies vanished, and the magic ship finally left the forest, now reduced to ruins.
...
At the Summit of Immortality, outside the Divine Temple.
The Divine Ruler carefully placed the newly acquired soul lantern on the cliffside, ensuring that the soul within could endure the eternal flames of the Summit. A spell was cast to muffle its agonized wails, preserving the sanctity of the area.
He took pleasure in collecting soul lanterns of irredeemable sinners.
Over three millennia, the collection grew from two to hundreds of thousands of lanterns, illuminating the cliffs each night like a sea of stars—mesmerizingly beautiful.
That person had once said, in the Nine-Tiered Tower, that the lights were beautiful, as were the memories they conjured.
Should that person return, they would undoubtedly find joy in these luminous sights.
Together, they could sit in the Golden Tower, revel in wine and laughter, and enjoy the nightly lights, savoring once more the sweetness of yore.
The thought alone filled him with unparalleled joy.
...
Named the "Phoenix Pavilion," the Golden Tower was adorned with the world's most beautiful gemstones. It was a forbidden sanctuary within the Summit of Immortality and a love nest he had prepared exclusively for that person—trespassers would be put to death.
Twelve layers of beaded curtains and countless protective barriers shielded the inside from prying eyes and worldly impurities. Fragrant herbs burned in every corner, resembling the unique scent of that person, bringing slight comfort to his breaths.
Crossing the barriers, the Divine Ruler removed his veil and took deep breaths of the herb-infused air. He discarded his snow-feather cloak and stepped into a bath, meticulously cleansing himself. Although his celestial body, since reincarnation, remained perpetually clean, he couldn't forget that person's advice: "The air is full of invisible germs; frequent cleaning is essential."
He was thorough in his cleansing.
He had tormented a soul named Zhao Qian countless times, unable to locate that strange system. He analyzed the requirements and wiped away all past traces, ensuring the wrong name would vanish from the world.
He intended to become the correct answer so that when that person returned to fulfill their mission, he could propose anew and unite as Dao companions.
His body was now impeccably clean and perfect; it had not touched any filth.
He would not make mistakes again.
Emerging from the bath, his slightly curled, wet hair trailed down to his heels. A magnificent red phoenix tattoo unfurled across his back, its long tail feathers sliding across his slender waist. Dressed in a red ice-silk robe, he slowly approached the mirror and disdainfully touched the increasingly alluring red teardrop mole beneath his left eye—an indelible mark that persistently reminded him of his insatiable desires.
He had tasted the pinnacle of delight and could no longer suppress his yearning.
He craved sweet, tender kisses, the gaze of clear eyes, the touch of smooth skin, the frenzied entanglement of passion—he ached for that person, insatiably so.
Every night he is tormented by desire and agony; each morning he awakens engulfed in despair and loneliness, contemplating death daily.
But he dares not die...
He fears that if the one he waits for returns and finds him gone, that person would abandon him.
That scenario is more terrifying than death itself.
Huddled in the darkness, he clutches a white pebble tightly, kissing it over and over again, as he whimpers a prayer:
"Qing Shi, I miss you…"