The figure in the azure monk's robe pressed his palms together, keeping his eyes lowered in silence. He continued his day-after-day ascent, paying no heed to the skeleton's words.
The skeletal figure continued, "Every Illusionist in the world could claim it, yet you alone cannot. You are not one chosen by God; you are a heretic among Illusionists.
"If you are willing to return to the real world, you might still find a way to survive when heaven and earth are overturned in the future. But if you dare covet God's authority, nothing awaits you but destruction. Past Without Traces, you were far more sensible in those days."
Hearing that final remark, Master Wuhen finally lifted his gaze. His voice was heavy as a bell, deep as a drum. "Back then, I retreated only because my cultivation was insufficient. I have endured in silence for twenty years since, solely for today."
"What does enduring for twenty years accomplish? Twenty years ago you were level 9, and twenty years later you are still level 9. What difference is there?" The skeletal figure seemed contemptuous.
Master Wuhen said slowly, "Then why do you fear me?"
These words seemed to provoke the skeleton. The soul fire in its eye sockets flared as it hissed sharply, "Back then, you bunch of rats snuck into the Pantheon and nearly disrupted the balance of the Spirit Realm! Since the curse failed to kill you, you should have stayed hidden. Yet now you come again to steal divine authority! This is the path to ruin—the path to your own death!"
A momentary daze crossed Master Wuhen's expression. "They are already dead, and Ling Tuo has fallen. We were too impatient back then. If we had waited until Ling Tuo and Celestial Master Zhang ascended to demigods, or until Chu Shang digested the authority left behind by the Chu family's ancestor, the outcome would have been different."
Pausing, Master Wuhen's expression turned devoid of joy or sorrow, as though having achieved supreme enlightenment. He said:
"The past is gone.
"I will not die; I will only ascend to demigod. If I occupy that portion of authority, the world will have one fewer Illusion God, and your so-called God will be weakened by a fraction. When the great catastrophe arrives, the Illusionist profession will never achieve completion. Nor is that entity a god—do not defile the word 'god.' I know its true name... Extraterrestrial Demon."
"Insolence!" The skeleton's voice shook the entire world. "You shall not speak God's name!"
Master Wuhen continued, "You cannot stop me. I am an Illusionist, and I am qualified to enter the palace and claim the authority. These are the rules of the Spirit Realm; even your God cannot prevent it."
The skeleton sneered repeatedly. "Since you refuse to embrace your true self and refuse to follow your nature, you will never obtain divine authority. I am quite curious, though: what kept you going for twenty years?"
Master Wuhen suddenly halted. Looking at the palace gatekeeper, he said slowly, "Because I am a member of the Xiaoyao Organization. Our creed is... to prevent the world from being destroyed."
He stepped past two stone stairs in a single stride.
"To protect world peace."
He stepped past another two stairs.
"There is nothing we wouldn't do."
Another two stairs were left behind him.
At this moment, he was less than a meter away from the skeleton, with only two stairs remaining. But Master Wuhen stopped. Those two steps felt like an insurmountable chasm.
The skeleton seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, the soul fire in its eye sockets burning gently once more. "More than twenty years ago, you also stopped at the final two stone steps. Past Without Traces, as I said just now, if you are unwilling to embrace your true nature, how can you ascend to Illusion God? You cannot cross them. The power of an Illusion God will destroy your sanity, turning you into a madman even more depraved than Ling Tuo."
Master Wuhen stood where he was and calmly countered, "So, you believe I returned here twenty years later merely to reminisce?"
The soul fire in the skeleton's eye sockets froze.
Master Wuhen pressed his palms together and murmured a Buddhist chant:
"Amitābha. This old monk sealed himself away for twenty years solely to temper his heart!"
He crossed the final two steps in a single stride.
After more than twenty years, he had finally ascended the staircase and arrived at the place that symbolized the absolute pinnacle of the Illusionist profession.
"You..." The soul fire in the skeleton's eye sockets trembled violently—whether in rage or terror was impossible to tell—and it roared, "Why can't you yield to your nature?! Why don't you embrace your true self?! You are an Illusionist! You are an Illusionist!!"
Master Wuhen did not look at it, merely flicking a finger gently. "Amitābha. The Buddha said you should return to nothingness."
The soul fire in the skeleton's eye sockets went out.
This gatekeeper, who was meant to be the dungeon boss, sank into eternal extinction.
***
Dream Palace.
Seated upon a golden throne, the First Elder of the Southern Sect suddenly lifted his head, looking toward the unseen supreme heights.
"Cult Master?"
The First Elder stood up, craning his neck to gaze at the sky.
No one answered, but immediately after, the palace shrouded in thick fog began to blur. The pillars supporting the dome vanished, the red carpet vanished, and even the golden throne beneath him began to disappear.
The entire palace seemed like an oil painting fading away. The only figure unaffected was the six-meter-tall cloaked being—the First Elder of the Southern Sect.
Moments later, the palace faded completely, and a new canvas came into being. An azure sky unfolded like a backdrop, and a sun was sketched into place. Then an endless prairie rolled across his vision, stretching to the horizon.
Once the prairie formed, jewel-like lakes bubbled up in hollow depressions.
Next, herds of horses appeared, followed by flocks of birds.
A magnificent prairie landscape was thus drafted, yet in the very next second, the scenery shifted into a desolate stony desert, which then turned into an aquarium-like seabed.
In just over ten seconds, the First Elder experienced seas, prairies, deserts, and forests.
These were both illusions and reality.
Finally, all the scenery receded. A thin veil of dark clouds crept in from the horizon, casting a dim, pallid light. The undulating dark-brown earth was scarred with decaying bones like scabs growing on the land.
This seemed to be an ancient battlefield. Beside human bones lay the remains of massive beasts, some bizarre and monstrous: six legs, three spinal columns, nine tails...
Some bones had cracked and rotted from the erosion of time, while others gleamed brilliantly, rich with spirituality—materials of exceptional quality.
At the center of the land lay a lake of blood. Hovering above the lake was a majestic, ancient palace, and before it stood the figure in the azure monk's robe.
The canvas froze right there.
The First Elder surveyed this world, his gaze ultimately landing on the azure-robed figure.
Dark light flickered continuously beneath his cloak, resembling a rapidly shifting expression. The First Elder blurted out, "Past Without Traces ascended to demigod?!"
A grand, ethereal voice descended from high above:
"Contact Ling Tuo!"
The dark light beneath the cloak flickered again, and he bowed his head at once. "Yes, Cult Master!"
***
September 20th.
Wearing a baseball cap and mask, Zhang Yuanqing stood by the P2 entrance of the underground parking garage, happily waving at the mature woman approaching from the distance.
She wore a white shirt and a black skirt suit, the hem tucked into her waist to outline a graceful, slender waistline. Her lovely hair had soft curls that draped over her shoulders and back.
A pair of black sunglasses rested on her sleek forehead, above an exquisite, sharply defined face.
Dragging a small carry-on suitcase, she ran toward Zhang Yuanqing with a radiant smile, her high heels clicking rhythmically against the floor.
Zhang Yuanqing opened his arms to greet her with a hug. "Mom, I missed you to death! Haven't seen you in a month and you're even younger and prettier. Anyone who didn't know would think you were my sister."
Fu Xue giggled at his flattery. "Keep that sweet mouth of yours to coax Guan Ya. You're not allowed to use it on other women."
Zhang Yuanqing said with an aggrieved look, "Can't I even coax you?"
Fu Xue shot him an affectionate glare.
Zhang Yuanqing attentively took his mother-in-law's suitcase, opened the car door, and invited her in.
He was so attentive for a reason: after the Scholars at the Mechanism R&D Company tightened screws day and night, the first batch of mechanism weapons had been completed, and it was time for delivery.
Delivering them wasn't as simple as money in one hand and goods in the other. Probably aware that Fu Qingyang wasn't around, headquarters had started playing tricks again, raising two demands:
First, they wanted to pay only a deposit first, test the weapons for two months, and then pay the final balance.
Second, they demanded three years of free warranty.
Making it hard to settle project funds was practically a traditional specialty of the official organization.
On top of that, it involved greasing palms in relevant departments, relevant persons-in-charge using the opportunity to demand kickbacks, and so forth. One had to navigate tedious procedures while bickering back and forth with officials.
Xiahou Aotian was definitely incapable of handling something like this.
The protagonist would only slam the table and declare haughtily, "How dare you dogs play tricks instead of obediently handing over the money? Do you seek death?!"
Zhang Yuanqing wasn't suited for it either. Though skilled at socializing, he couldn't stand people abusing power for personal gain and lining their own pockets.
If he handled it, he would probably end up on trial again.
After thinking it through, only his mother-in-law—who had top-tier social skills, top-tier business acumen, and was also a shareholder in the company—could take care of it.
So Zhang Yuanqing had called her, announcing that the three-year term had expired and asking Dragon King Fu to return to her throne.
As the car drove out of the airport, Fu Xue sat elegantly in her seat, opening a compact mirror to touch up her makeup. She asked casually, "Why didn't that wretched girl come to pick me up?"
"Tired. Sleeping."
"Tired?" Fu Xue paused her powder puff, turning her head to scrutinize her son-in-law. A few seconds later, seasoned veteran that she was, she understood.
The mother-in-law clicked her tongue. "As expected of a Night Walker. Truly boundless energy."
Zhang Yuanqing gave a scoff. "No matter how energetic I am, your daughter is still an untouchable beauty. Have you found a Dominator-rank Knight yet?"
The smile on Fu Xue's face slowly faded. "Sigh, it's all Mom's fault. I was too impulsive back then and shouldn't have made Guan Ya swear that oath."
Zhang Yuanqing seized the opportunity to guilt-trip her: "Forget it. Mom, just handle the company's affairs. At any rate, the oath expires at the end of the year anyway."
***
Songhai, Chaomen District.
In a certain residential community, a man wearing a baseball cap knocked on a dark-red security door.
The door was answered by an elderly woman with graying hair and a face lined with wrinkles. Around sixty years old, she was dressed neither plainly nor lavishly.
"Who are you looking for?" The old woman spoke standard Mandarin with clear enunciation, lacking the typical Songhai accent common to women of her age.
The man in the baseball cap was expressionless, even rather solemn. Pulling out his credentials, he spoke up, "Is this the home of Yao Yilin? I am an officer from the Chaomen District Second Police Station. I have some questions for him."
Hearing that he was a police officer, the old woman did not react with exaggerated anxiety like ordinary civilians. She calmly stepped aside and said, "Come in. He's home today. Comrade, what do you need him for?"
"We need his assistance with a case." The man in the baseball cap entered the apartment, the corner of his mouth curving slightly. "Don't worry, it's just an inquiry. It has nothing to do with him."
The old woman led him to sit on the sofa in the living room, poured a cup of tea, and called out toward the bedroom, "Old Yao, a police officer is here to see you."
Though she was up in years, her voice was still quite clear and loud.
The man in the baseball cap swept his gaze across the living room. The decor and furniture of this home, much like their owners, showed noticeable age.
Only the two elderly people likely lived here, as he saw no items used by young people.
An old man walked out of the bedroom. His silver hair had grown somewhat sparse, and his back was slightly hunched. Deep nasolabial folds accentuated the drooping corners of his eyes, giving him a stern, unsmiling appearance.
A pair of reading glasses hung around his neck.
"Comrade officer?" The old man sat down across from the man in the baseball cap, studying him curiously. "What is this about?"
Instead of answering, the man in the baseball cap stared at the old man and asked, "Yao Yilin, retired teacher, formerly employed at Songhai Kangyang Middle School, retired two years ago. Correct?"
The old man nodded. The old woman beside him couldn't help chiming in, "Actually, he took early retirement four years ago because of health issues. He wasn't happy about it at the time; all he wanted was to teach. Luckily he did retire. If he had waited a few more years, he would've worked himself into the grave—what retirement would there be to enjoy?"
Ignoring her complaints, the man in the baseball cap looked at the old man and said, "We are investigating a theft case. We suspect the suspect once attended Kangyang Middle School, but none of the current teachers and students at the school remember this person, so we had no choice but to disturb you."
As he spoke, he took out his phone, opened a photo, and handed it to the old man.
Yao Yilin was the sixteenth retired middle school teacher he had investigated, and there were many more like Yao Yilin on the list.
So far, the investigation into Yuanshi Tianzun had yielded nothing, and Sect Master Chunyang's patience was wearing thin.
He only hoped to pin down Yuanshi Tianzun's identity as quickly as possible.
The old man took the phone and studied the young man in the photo closely. After straining his memory for a long time, his eyes suddenly lit up:
"I remember him. Yes, he really was a student at our Kangyang Middle School."
Chapter 620