Reigning Supreme

Yujing was majestic and vast. Its coarse, weathered walls were pitted and uneven, bearing the mottled imprints left behind by ages of history. "Do you want to go inside and die?" the yellow imperial parasol explicitly warned. "Of course I don't!" Qin Ming had let go long ago, yet the old cloth had still carried him here. He dreaded that in the very next instant, he would find himself inside the city. He was deeply unsettled. Never had he expected to teleport straight to this legendary realm. Sure enough, the old cloth swept him up once more, ascending slowly into the void. During this ascent, Qin Ming profoundly felt his own insignificance, as well as the towering grandeur and boundless majesty of Yujing. It seemed as though it had stood here since the birth of heaven and earth, swallowing all creation. Standing before it, the walls stretched endlessly to either side, disappearing past sight; looking up, the vast outline of the battlements blended seamlessly into the horizon. Yet at occasional moments, the colossal city shuddered faintly. Its form truly became like smoke and mist, drifting and swaying in place, its contours warping—a wondrous spectacle that left one dumbfounded. Every brick and stone in the wall seemed chiseled from an entire mountain. For a place so magnificent to drift like rootless duckweed only made it feel all the more bizarre. Wind whistled past his ears. Qin Ming felt as though he were ascending to heaven. At last, he arrived above the battlements. Looking inward, his mind felt on the verge of tearing apart, and his very body seemed ready to disintegrate. For the entire city was filled with Dao chains, crisscrossing and interweaving, far thicker than any he had ever seen or personally fought against. They were the embodiment of rules, the tangible form of cosmic order. "Brother Cloth, you see it too. This place isn't meant for me..." Qin Ming transmitted his voice. Earlier, he had been the one clinging to the old cloth and refusing to let go; now, the roles were reversed. He could not fathom why this was happening. Had he somehow triggered a rebellious streak in the rag? "Senior Cloth, hold on just a moment, I... Old Cloth!" Enveloped in the faint glow of the exotic-metal cloth, Qin Ming was abruptly swept into the city, unable even to stall for time. The Heaven-Connecting Tower, the Golden Palace, the ten-colored iceberg... Inside the city, it was like a dream, an illusion. Magnificent architecture and unbelievable wonders rushed straight toward his vision. ... Above, Zou Qinghui, the mountain lord of Star Mountain, was heartbroken. He had personally examined his most valued disciple, Xiang Hong, and confirmed that he was indeed ruined. "Five hundred years of Star Mountain's heritage, collapsed in a single day! Our future is grim!" He coughed up a mouthful of blood. Xiang Hong was his true successor. A seven-sun stacker, no matter the place or era, held boundless prospects. Barring any mishaps, when the greater environment allowed and the heavens were reopened, Xiang Hong was bound to become a Heavenly Immortal. "Master, if I switch to the Earth Immortal path, I might still become a Heavenly Immortal in the future." Xiang Hong's Pure Yang consciousness was dim, riddled with cracks from head to toe and dripping with Pure Yang blood. An Earth Immortal had already altered their life form, practically locking in their ceiling. To break through into the realm of Heavenly Immortals was not completely impossible, but the difficulty was like crossing an impassable chasm. How could it be easy? As for becoming an eight-sun stacker, even if Xiang Hong had not been ruined, he would never have dared dream of that legendary level. "Agony! What agony!" In the heavens, several elderly Earth Immortals from another old stronghold, Heavenly God Ridge, growled in anguish. Returning from the nine-colored iceberg, their faces were etched with grief. The venerable senior of their lineage, a living foundation of their heritage, had been exposed to the night mist sea when the iceberg cracked. The last remnants of vitality in his physical body had dried up, extinguishing all hope of revival. At the same time, the old palace master of Thunder Marsh Palace wept. The second coffin in the nine-colored iceberg that had suffered an accident held his great-great-grandfather. "We must teach those wild immortals on the surface a lesson!" an Earth Immortal snapped harshly, trembling with grief and fury. "In a single day, the skies above the ninth heaven were thrown into chaos! The pure land was breached, a seven-sun stacker was crippled, and even senior patriarchs in suspended animation met with disaster! If we do not punish them with thunderous force, where will the prestige of Yujing's old branches lie?" Above the ninth heaven, the upper echelon had lost all composure. Earlier, they had played chess, sipped tea, and enjoyed wine, leisurely and ethereal, calm and aloof. Now, their faces were ashen, stripped of any otherworldly serenity. Their chests felt tight, their hearts ached with searing pain, as calamities poured in one after another. In Purple Cloud Cave, reclining on a sickbed, the emaciated Zhuo Kun barked, "Are you out of your minds?" The leadership of several old branches—Star Mountain, Thunder Marsh Palace, Heavenly God Ridge, and others—had gathered together, beseeching him to emerge from seclusion to suppress the "lower realm" and purge the wild immortals who dared rebel against the heavens. Zhuo Kun swept his gaze across them and said with a grim face, "Do you wish to betray your forebears? If I step out into the world, my decay will accelerate under heaven and earth's backlash. I will surely die within half a year." Yet before long, he was persuaded and actually nodded in agreement. It was simply because they offered far too much. Zhuo Kun asked, "You actually still have Dao liquid refined from the main taproot of the Great Dao Tree? Did you break the rules and sever its root?" Zou Qinghui, the mountain lord of Star Mountain, said, "Each sect had saved a little in the past. We pooled our reserves together to prepare half a jar for you, Senior. It can guarantee your well-being and even reverse your decay." In addition, he took out the slaughter array diagram and presented it with his own hands, lending it to Zhuo Kun for his campaign and personal protection. The old palace master of Thunder Marsh Palace offered up a Thunder Mace with both hands, outfitting the bedridden elder from head to toe. Furthermore, other old strongholds like Heavenly God Ridge and Misty Peak lent out rare treasures and devastating weapons. The "wild immortals" on the ground were now their common enemy; if they were not subdued, catastrophic trouble would follow. Today, their pride had been stripped away repeatedly, and their losses were catastrophic. Such a grudge had to be avenged immediately. "Senior, we implore you to sweep their strongholds within half a day, ruthlessly execute every rebel, and restore peace to the ground. They must not be allowed to scourge the mortal world any longer." Zhuo Kun nodded and said, "Rest assured. Very soon, the realm will be purged, and peace will return to the world." He drank some Dao liquid. Instantly, his flesh filled out, no longer gaunt and skeletal. A lustrous glow flowed across his skin, and a healthy flush returned to his face. Soon afterward, the crowd saw Zhuo Kun off. ... Freshly stained with the blood of four Earth Immortals, the Heaven-Anchoring Divine Stakes grew ever more dazzling. Even certain unique patterns previously hidden within began to circulate with light. "This set of weapons is truly an extraordinary treasure—the more it fights, the stronger it becomes. It thrives on grand stages, bathing in enemy blood to temper itself. In the distant past, they must have possessed an illustrious reputation. Alas, as history shifted and after being unearthed from the ground, no one in this era remembers their past." The seasoned patriarchs and Earth Immortals knew when to stop and that it was time to withdraw. They immediately landed on the ground, departing swiftly and decisively without looking back. However, they did not disperse just yet. The thirty-six divine stakes were still primed for battle; if any unforeseen contingency arose or enemies tracked them down, they could join forces once more to activate them for a final clash. Someone remarked with regret, "What a pity. Even with our fierce battle out in the void, Yujing remained undisturbed. As expected, it is still in nirvana, completely cut off from the outside." ... Encircled by auspicious clouds, draped in golden divine robes, and treading upon a nine-colored lotus pedestal, Zhuo Kun descended from the high heavens toward the earth. Auspicious omens coiled in the night sky, and a brilliant rain of light scattered down, accompanied by the roars of dragons and cries of phoenixes. The pitch-black night sky brightened because of his presence, as though the sun and moon had re-emerged and constellations had realigned. Many experts on the ground could not help but look up, instantly feeling a terrifying pressure beneath that sacred aura. The longer they gazed at the firmament, the more their hearts trembled. "Even when the four Earth Immortals, including Nian Songhe and Mu Cangwu, descended to the ground, there was no such terrifying fluctuation of Dao rhythm. Who is that?" In Night Province, on the ground, several ailing grandmasters found it utterly inconceivable. Could there really be a being surpassing an Earth Immortal under the current environmental constraints? From such a vast distance, while the figure was still high in the night sky, he stirred the winds and clouds, shining as brilliantly as a blazing sun that illuminated all things, inspiring deep awe. "The Divine Lord pities all living beings. Awakening from his slumber, he patrols the mortal realm to slay demons and eliminate evil." From the night sky came immortal chants reverberating across the earth. This was undoubtedly a supreme technique of the immortals, far surpassing ordinary sound-based skills, capable of purifying human thoughts. When cultivated to profound levels, even against a massive army or an entire city, one could use this celestial sound to enlighten the masses, washing away all malice and purifying essence, energy, and spirit. Evidently, Zhuo Kun was not descending alone. Behind him followed eight Earth Immortals—a terrifying force sufficient to obliterate any powerhouse or major organization on the surface that dared raise a blade against the heavens. Almost every old stronghold had dispatched a paramount Earth Immortal to assist Zhuo Kun in sweeping across the ground. This time, they were dead serious, intent on unleashing heavenly wrath. Zhuo Kun wore an imperial crown with beaded tassels, looking incomparably majestic. His golden robe, embroidered with heavenly dragons, shone like the sun, while the Thunder Mace hung at his waist, entwined with lightning that crowded the void. Above his head, a slaughter array diagram slowly rotated. He was armed from head to toe with sect-guarding treasures. Even another Earth Immortal, equipped in such fashion, would instantly become a peerless master capable of looking down upon the world. How much more so for Zhuo Kun, who currently emanated a faint pressure transcending the Earth Immortal realm, gazing downward as though he had returned to his peak state. "In an environment like this, a half-step Heavenly God can reign supreme over the world!" he muttered to himself. The sensation was exquisite. His decay was being reversed; this excursion would not only leave him unharmed, but also benefit his origin. Zhuo Kun and the eight Earth Immortals descended upon the imperial capital of Great Rui. In an instant, the entire city was shaken, its sky shrouded in diverse auspicious manifestations. Flood dragons coiled, five-colored phoenixes spread their wings and cried incessantly, and golden lotuses bloomed in the night sky—these were the unique immortal vistas displayed by Earth Immortals. The imperial family of Great Rui immediately knelt in submission. "Where are the demons who dared rebel against the ninth heaven?" That day, wherever Zhuo Kun went, it was like the procession of a divine lord. No one dared disobey; every major organization bowed its head, largely because resistance was futile. All eight Earth Immortals chanted sacred scriptures. Tangible characters materialized in the void, glistening brilliantly. Everyone felt as though they were being purified, and many commoners devoutly kowtowed of their own accord. Using a sect-guarding treasure mirror, Zhuo Kun tracked the group of patriarchs, along with the Dog Sword Immortal, the Sage, and the others, departing from Great Rui and heading toward the borders of Night Province. Along the way, whenever they crossed the sky above a region, countless people prostrated in worship. During this march, they made a point of "purifying" several major sects. Had the high-ranking members of the various paths not prepared well in advance and relocated their direct disciples, this "enlightenment" alone would have severely impaired the spiritual fields of many, causing their minds to sink into awe and submission until they obeyed their every command. For instance, an unaffiliated grandmaster in a certain city was spotted by Zhuo Kun and the eight Earth Immortals flying overhead and was "purified" on the spot. Afterward, he knelt in reverence and eagerly volunteered to ascend to the heavens. Zhuo Kun crossed the sky like a blazing sun, with countless people worshipping him. On this day, he looked down upon the myriad mortals, exuding a domain that was impossible to resist. Overbearingly powerful, he was on the verge of hunting his targets right out of Night Province. His illuminating radiance dispelled the darkness along his path like a Heavenly God descending to earth, striking terror into the hearts of all demons. ... Yujing was hazy, as though woven from luminous mist, swaying and drifting. Yet rules capable of suppressing Earth Immortals manifested within it, with divine chains densely interwoven. At first, Qin Ming's heart sank, expecting his body to be ripped apart or bound in shackles, but nothing happened. The old cloth no longer glowed, but it released a layer of mist that enveloped him, seemingly insulating him entirely from the myriad rules and wondrous sights of Yujing. Sweeping forward in a single dash, the old cloth brought Qin Ming directly onto that magnificent sacrificial altar. Sure enough, an exotic-metal cloth was enshrined at the highest point. Only palm-sized, it was plain and unadorned, dim and lusterless, appearing completely ordinary. Yet when Qin Ming opened his Eye of the Newborn, he discovered a staggering sight. This torn scrap of cloth propped open a passageway, from which all manner of smoky, misty "scenery" flowed outward, surging into the city and coalescing into its various wonders. He could hardly contain his shock. The walls, the Heaven-Connecting Tower, the Golden Palace—the entirety of Yujing had actually "flowed" through that passage! What kind of place lay on the other side? What was the situation at its source? Qin Ming knew that without the old cloth's protection, he would have perished the moment he entered the city, pierced and crushed by those divine chains of law, to say nothing of approaching this terrifying passageway—he wouldn't even have made it close. "Old Cloth... Senior, why did you bring me here?" His thoughts were in turmoil, having no idea what to expect. He was facing the true "source" of Yujing; any misstep could bring catastrophic ruin. To his surprise, the rag did not remain silent this time. It actually responded, transmitting a faint, concise, and direct thought: "Identity." Qin Ming froze. What identity did he have? Suddenly, he remembered the journey to the "Earth Moon," where he had obtained the status of "temporary owner" of the old cloth. Could that title actually carry some kind of binding authority? He realized that he had previously looked down on the designation, but it seemed to hold substantial weight. At the very least, when the old cloth came here for a "tryst," it still had to bring him along. Suddenly, the exotic-metal cloth surged toward the passageway on the sacrificial altar. Even though Qin Ming was cloaked in the thin mist, his soul trembled, and his spiritual field felt on the verge of shattering. One could only imagine just how terrifying that passage flowing with Yujing's scenery truly was. "Old Cloth, calm down!" Qin Ming was dragged along passively. He genuinely feared that the exotic-metal cloth would drag him all the way to the other side of the passage—an unfathomable realm, mysterious and dangerously beyond imagination. "Incredible! Let's go see!" Yet the yellow imperial parasol, which had previously warned him and remained sullen the entire way, was no longer anxious upon reaching this place. Instead, it grew thrilled, agitated, and intensely expectant, itching to plunge headfirst into the passageway on its own. ... On that day, the outer realm suddenly convulsed! Even from the ground, one could clearly sense it: the night curtain seemed torn apart as boundless rings of light expanded, casting sacred multicolored radiance that pierced through the dark clouds and mist. Moreover, the hazy outline of Yujing emerged, pressing down like a weight upon everyone's heart. Above the ninth heaven, the leaders of the old strongholds were all aghast. On the ground, Zhuo Kun, who had been reigning supreme over the world, looked up at the sky. His face instantly drained of color. He violently tore off the imperial crown from his head, leaped down from the nine-colored lotus pedestal, fell to his knees with a thud, and could not stop trembling.