Pain.
Absolute, annihilating pain swallowed Bao Gu whole.
It was worse than the agony of fusing with an artifact. Fusion only tore at the flesh.
This pain… this was a soul being ripped apart and collapsing while still alive.
In that pain were too many threads of reluctance, too many attachments, too much grief, rage, and unwillingness.
He wanted to raise a Heaven-Slaughtering Sword and cut down the very sky, to shield the peace and safety behind him.
To use the sword in his hand to take on a world-consuming war, and buy peace for those who followed him.
But he also feared that these mere seven feet of flesh and blood could not block that endless sea of blood and slaughter.
He watched his own flesh explode into fragments, and in his ears rang the desolate scream of the one he loved most.
He had promised her: one lifetime, one pair.
He had promised her: a chest for her to lean on, a back for her to rely on, that she would never suffer the slightest grievance or the smallest wound.
He was afraid that once he fell, he would never again be able to protect her, never again be able to keep his word.
In a daze, Bao Gu felt her own flesh being blasted apart.
She was terrified that once they killed him, they would go after her.
With the last shred of his strength, he self-detonated and sealed the heavens, turning the Sword Realm into an absolute forbidden zone, dragging them all down to die together—
He saw the moment he first met her.
She was lifting her skirts, feet stepping across a sky full of green lotuses, hopping past with carefree joy.
Emerald lotus leaves, crystal-snow-white lotus blossoms, and a girl in palace dress so beautiful she seemed formed from every color in the world gathered into one.
She fell straight into his eyes.
He knew, in that moment: in this life, there would only be her.
He saw their wedding day.
He wore a scarlet wedding robe; she wore a crimson bridal dress.
He held her hands.
He had never known that once she donned the phoenix coronet and rosy clouds of bridal silk, she would be so dazzling, so breathtaking that she outshone the world.
The mischief and cunning in her eyes, the gentle, slightly coquettish smile, the person who seemed to embody all the spiritual essence of heaven and earth—
that was his wife, Xueqing.
“War God Xuantian, you think you can beat me? I can poke you over with one finger.”
“Heh. Is that so?”
Slender snow-pale fingers lightly poked his chest.
A voice as clear as celestial chimes sounded beside his ear:
“Hurry up and lie down, hmm?”
Those silky, seductive eyes, that intoxicating expression—
invincible War God Xuantian fell with one poke of those jade-white fingers—
Xueqing looked at the smile Bao Gu raised her head with.
That smile was so familiar it made her heart ache.
Xuantian had smiled like that when he died.
For a moment, she seemed to see once more flesh and blood flying apart, see all that flesh and spiritual power merging into the Xuantian Sword, see him using his final strength to tear the sky apart and slay everything before him, see him become a sword that stood upright between heaven and earth—
She rushed forward and wrapped her arms around the kneeling figure, holding on with all her strength.
But what fell into her embrace was not that tall, valiant frame.
It was an armful of soft, delicate body.
By her ear sounded a weak murmur.
“Shimu.”
Xueqing shut her eyes in pain and clutched Bao Gu tightly, holding her like she would never let go.
The searing pain gradually ebbed.
Those indescribable emotions scattered.
But Bao Gu felt as if she had just lived through that ancient battle from tens of thousands of years ago, when the Xuantian Sect had nearly been wiped out and the Founding Patriarch Xuantian had raised his sword against the heavens.
The exhaustion was bone-deep.
Xueqing was squeezing her so tightly that her tears fell one drop after another, soaking into Bao Gu’s body.
For a heartbeat, Bao Gu’s gaze went unfocused.
She understood that what she had just seen, and what she had just felt, was the last remnant of Founding Patriarch Xuantian’s will that had lingered in the Xuantian Sword.
Artifacts had souls.
Swords had sword spirits.
How could a supreme divine blade like the War God’s Sword not have an artifact soul?
And how could Founding Patriarch Xuantian’s life-bound sword possibly lack his aura and imprint?
But now, she could feel something dispersing—
fading like mist into nothing.
Xueqing was holding her and weeping with such desolate grief.
Bao Gu understood that feeling all too well: when you lost the one closest and dearest to you, lost everything, even the sky and earth seemed to collapse.
Bao Gu let Xueqing cling to her and sob, not knowing how to comfort her.
All she could do was turn and hug Xueqing back, gently patting her back.
Then she lifted her head, and what greeted her were Yu Mi’s stunned eyes, and the surrounding cultivators’ gaping faces.
Maybe she hadn’t been able to withstand that pain just now and her domain had collapsed.
She felt dampness at the corner of her eye, raised a hand to wipe away the tear track, and couldn’t get a single word out.
The gazes around them, directed at Bao Gu and Xueqing, were filled with confusion and strangeness.
Zi Tianjun coughed heavily and stepped forward, bowing with clasped fists.
He was just about to call out “Founding Ancestress, Grand… Grand…” to remind the two to pay attention to propriety in public when Bao Gu actually lifted a hand and waved him off.
Zi Tianjun frowned.
The two of them clinging together and weeping like they were being torn apart in life and death really didn’t look great in front of a crowd.
He glanced over at Yu Mi, only to find that Yu Mi was only frowning slightly, eyes full of puzzlement.
Xueqing slowly loosened her hold on Bao Gu, curling in on herself and hugging her own body tight.
Then she transformed into a nine-tailed Celestial Fox, pure white from head to tail, without a speck of impurity, and shot for the sky to tear it open and escape.
Bao Gu spun around and grabbed her hard.
“Shimu!”
She forced Xueqing back down, pinning the struggling Celestial Fox in place.
Xueqing’s strength was too great.
Bao Gu had no choice but to exert her cultivation and suppress her by force just to hold her.
She didn’t know how to persuade Xueqing.
She fully understood Xueqing’s grief and despair; if it were her in that place, she feared she would long since have gone mad.
Seeing that Xueqing had reverted to her original form, Bao Gu knew Xueqing’s emotions had slipped out of control.
If Xueqing ran off like this, who knew what might happen?
She cried out:
“Please don’t be like this. Shizun wouldn’t want you to be in so much pain. The last thing he remembered, with his final wisp of consciousness, was you at your happiest, your most joyful. If it really hurts too much, you can strip the Xuantian Sword out of my body and keep it as something to remember him by.”
The relationship between her Shimu and Founding Patriarch Xuantian made Bao Gu think of herself and Yu Mi.
She felt this kind of grief and hopelessness deep in her bones.
She couldn’t bring back the scattered soul and vanished life of Founding Patriarch Xuantian, but she could at least leave the Xuantian Sword with Shimu.
She could forge herself a new life-bound sword.
Xueqing shook her head hard, tears flying.
Her hoarse voice sounded.
“I’m fine, Bao Gu. Let go of me.”
She said she was fine, but her tears fell in an unbroken chain.
He was gone.
Even the last wisp of consciousness, the last trace of his aura, had dispersed.
She could no longer touch his presence and pretend he was still here, still alive, still at her side.
Not even a last shred of him remained.
The sword was still that sword.
But the swordmaster’s aura had changed owners.
The final breath of Xuantian that had been branded into the Xuantian Sword had already faded away.
It wasn’t that Xueqing couldn’t break free of Bao Gu’s grip.
But that sword intent, so similar to Xuantian’s, left her utterly unable to muster resistance.
And yet the one holding her was no longer Xuantian.
No longer that tall, broad chest.
No longer the harbor that shielded her from every storm.
No longer the man who would give everything to dote on her, to protect her—Xuantian.
No longer the one who, when she was unhappy and changed back into her nine-tailed Celestial Fox form, would scoop her up into his arms, lift her paw to rake across his handsome face, and say:
“I’m in the wrong. Scratch here to vent your anger. The skin’s thin here; it won’t hurt your claws—”
She knew he had been gone for a long time.
She thought she had gotten used to it.
She thought she had accepted the fact of his death.
But to watch with her own eyes as even the last wisp of his aura, the last glimmer of his consciousness, scattered to nothing—
to know that in this vast world, there was no longer even a trace of him she could touch—
The pain in Xueqing’s heart was like being ground in a knife’s edge.
Endless sorrow flooded her completely.
Bao Gu held on tightly to the nine-tailed Little Celestial Fox curled on the ground, sobbing with her body pressed low.
Every so often, a stifled cry like a small beast in grief broke from Xueqing’s throat, and Bao Gu’s own tears flowed uncontrollably.
Her Shimu had been reborn through nirvana more than five hundred years ago.
Five hundred years were enough for mortals to reproduce for dozens of generations.
But for the Nine-Tailed Celestial Fox clan, that was still childhood.
Her size and frame were no different from a spiritual fox; she only looked like a half-grown Little Celestial Fox.
This made Bao Gu feel even worse.
Nirvana, rebirth, a second life—
but the heart was still that heart, the soul still that same soul, while the one she loved most was gone.
How was she supposed to endure the vast remainder of her life?
Longevity was wonderful.
But after losing one’s beloved, the endless years of lonely, hopeless existence were sheer torment.
Yu Mi came to Bao Gu’s side and squatted down.
One arm went around Bao Gu’s waist, the other around the fox lying and weeping on the ground, and she hauled both of them up together.
One was slimmer than the other, but each somehow heavier than the last.
Yu Mi had to exert herself to get them both upright.
Xueqing was emotionally shattered, her body limp and weak—that was manageable.
But when Yu Mi wrapped an arm around Bao Gu’s waist, she realized all Bao Gu’s weight was slumped onto her.
A moment later she sensed Bao Gu’s aura in utter chaos, her internal energy completely disordered.
Cultivators feared nothing more than inner energy in disarray.
The most direct damage from qi deviation was exactly that: internal energy running wild, light cases resulting in severe injury, severe ones in instant death on the spot.
Yu Mi immediately spoke sharply by sound transmission.
“Bao Gu, calm your mind. Don’t circulate your qi.”
Earlier she’d seen Bao Gu set up a sword domain, sealing off a small patch of land for herself.
But the next instant, the sword domain had shattered, and Xueqing and Bao Gu were kneeling and clinging to each other, weeping.
That sudden scene had stunned her senseless.
It wasn’t until Xueqing reverted to her true form and tried to leave, and Bao Gu held her down and called out that word “Shimu,” that Yu Mi snapped back to herself.
She could tell something was seriously wrong with both of them, but hadn’t expected things to be this bad.
She turned her head and shouted:
“Little Martial Aunt, Jade Shura, get over here and help!”
She really couldn’t support one person and one fox by herself.
Zi Yunshu and Jade Shura rushed to Yu Mi’s side, then both froze, not sure who to help first.
They only hesitated for a heartbeat, then each went to one.
Zi Yunshu moved to help Yu Mi support Bao Gu.
There was no way she dared lay hands on the Founding Ancestress in her true form.
Jade Shura had never lacked for nerve.
This figure from the demon domain was someone she didn’t even have the qualifications to see ordinarily, yet now Yu Mi was asking her to help?
She hurried to seize the chance for a hug.
But this person’s background was too great, her aura too powerful.
The pressure pouring off Xueqing was suffocating; Jade Shura was almost unable to breathe, her heart pounding with a mix of nerves and excitement.
She reached out and wrapped her arms around Xueqing, who in her true form looked about the size of Ling’er.
The moment she lifted her, Jade Shura felt that this body was far too heavy to be made of mere flesh and blood.
Then an overwhelming force smashed into her chest.
Before she could even react, she spat out a mouthful of blood and flew backward, crashing to the ground.
Her head spun, her vision went crimson and blurry, her ears and nose went sticky with blood—
Then she knew nothing.
Qu Yirou saw Jade Shura’s hand just brush Xueqing when a layer of protective qi suddenly flared around Xueqing’s body.
She didn’t even have time to shout a warning before Jade Shura was blasted away and knocked unconscious on the ground.
Startled out of her wits, Qu Yirou darted straight over to Jade Shura’s side to save her.
Yu Mi was also badly shocked by this sudden turn.
She could only just manage to catch Xueqing to keep her from being flung to the ground when Jade Shura went flying.
Xueqing, shaken from her grief by the commotion, slowly came back to herself in Yu Mi’s arms.
She lifted her head, a trace of clarity returning to her eyes.
Just now she’d felt an unfamiliar aura draw near, and her instincts had repelled it, erupting in protective qi.
Then that foreign aura had flown away from her.
Following the direction that aura had vanished in, Xueqing saw Jade Shura lying on the ground, blood leaking from all seven orifices, with Qu Yirou supporting her.
Xueqing rarely intervened in the affairs of the cultivation world, but she knew its great and small matters as clearly as anyone.
Because of Ling’er and Yu Mi, these two from the Soul Chasing Pavilion counted as half-acquaintances to her.
She stared for a moment, then understood.
She hadn’t meant to harm anyone, but the gap in cultivation between them was too vast, and she hadn’t deliberately reined in her aura or protective qi.
Jade Shura reaching out to hug her was bound to get hurt.
Xueqing twisted her body, slipped out of Yu Mi’s arms, landed lightly on the ground, and shifted back into human form.
She took out a jade bottle, poured a few drops of healing dew into Jade Shura’s mouth, and gave Qu Yirou—who was both feeding medicine and circulating qi to heal Jade Shura—an apologetic glance.
“She’ll be fine.”
Then she turned and walked back to Bao Gu’s side.
“Your master’s last wisp of aura in the Xuantian Sword has dispersed. From now on, you can start cultivating a sword soul. He’s gone; he can’t protect you anymore. The road ahead, you’ll have to walk by yourself.”
With that, she turned to leave.
“Shimu!”
Bao Gu called out to her.
She looked at Xueqing.
“I beg Shimu to stay a few more days. There’s something important I have to discuss with you.”
The qi within her was a complete mess, rampaging wildly and causing her intense pain.
It was as if, with the disappearance of Founding Patriarch Xuantian’s last wisp of will, some power inside her had lost its suppression and was erupting uncontrollably.
Suddenly, she understood why nothing had ever gone wrong before, even though she’d cultivated recklessly, swallowed pills like candy, and devoured spirit stones.
Why she’d never gone into qi deviation and exploded, and why huge amounts of spiritual power had always seemed to vanish into nowhere.
It had to be because there was still that shred of Founding Patriarch Xuantian’s consciousness within her body, using the Xuantian Sword as a sword soul to safeguard her.
All those times she had focused on cultivation and trying to comprehend sword intent, and had seen a figure practicing sword forms, teaching her swordsmanship—
that must also have been tied to that wisp of his consciousness.
Ba hadn’t killed her the moment she’d tricked it into the void; that too was likely because of that shred of will protecting her.
And long ago, when she’d first obtained the Xuantian Sword and placed it in her dantian, Little Martial Aunt’s flying swords had kept getting kicked out—
The fact that she was still alive today, that she’d made it this far, was not because she’d just been lucky.
It was because her master had always been silently shielding her, clearing the way for her.
And just now, her master had completely… gone.
Bao Gu’s chest ached so much it was hard to breathe.
She understood all too well why Xueqing’s grief cut this deep—because she felt the same.
She still had her senior sister to stay by her side, to hold her.
But what about Shimu?
Xueqing saw Bao Gu sink into a daze and said:
“Don’t let your thoughts wander. Your emotions were shaken just now and your qi flow went astray. Go regulate your breathing at once!”
In truth, what Bao Gu was suffering from was the sudden loss of the Xuantian Sword’s sword soul.
Without that protection, the immense power within the sword was surging out of control inside her.
But with so many cultivators watching, Xueqing couldn’t exactly tell them Bao Gu was on the brink of collapse and desperately needed to go into seclusion and reforge a sword soul.
Bao Gu snapped back to herself and knew she couldn’t afford any delay.
She turned to Yu Mi.
“Senior Sister, take care of Shimu. Help me back to my quarters.”
She hesitated, then took out a command token forged from divine metal.
It looked almost identical to the Chopping Blade Order, but held its own internal space and hidden mysteries.
She handed it to Yu Mi.
“This is the military order for the three hundred thousand troops. Keep it safe. While I’m in seclusion, I’ll leave everything to you. If anything happens, you have full authority to act.”
She added in a quiet sound transmission:
“The token holds the soul plaques and blood oaths of those three hundred thousand cultivators. They’re all bound to it. With this in your hand, you’ll be even more effective than me. I’m going into seclusion to reforge the Xuantian Sword’s sword soul this time. I don’t know how long it will take.”
She was placing her entire life and foundation in Yu Mi’s hands.
Yu Mi knew that Bao Gu’s return had stirred up huge waves.
The entire cultivation world was watching.
Now, of all times, such a change had occurred.
Without some strong deterrent and protection, chaos would be inevitable.
She nodded and put Bao Gu’s token away carefully.
“Where’s Qingying?” she asked.
Bao Gu understood Yu Mi’s worry—that in her absence, Qingying might cause trouble or take advantage of her condition.
“Qingying is fine. If anything comes up that you can’t handle, go to her. She’s more effective than those three hundred thousand troops.”
She did not lower her voice.
Every cultivator present heard her words clearly.
Bao Gu’s meaning couldn’t have been more straightforward.
If anyone stirred up trouble, the three hundred thousand troops outside the city and Ba would come crashing down together.
Those three hundred thousand alone were already a terrifying force.
Add Ba to that…
It was naked, undisguised threat.
No one made a sound, but everyone was speculating.
Bao Gu had drawn her blade the moment she returned, clearly planning something major.
But before she could announce anything, Xueqing had appeared, throwing everything into chaos.
Even now, no one knew what exactly she intended.
They could only guess.
Zi Tianjun and Zi Yunshu, of course, knew Bao Gu meant to act on the Five Elements Immortal Stones.
There was no way they’d breathe a word of it.
If the news leaked, they could guarantee that the moment they turned around, the Immortal Stone Palace would be robbed clean—or the stones would simply vanish.
Ascending to the Upper Realm was a distant prospect.
Without reaching the Great Ascension stage, building an Ascension Platform was useless.
Guarding the Five Elements Immortal Stones and using them to raise their cultivation was the most practical benefit.
Once they reached Great Ascension, it still wouldn’t be too late to build an Ascension Platform.
If they built it early and lost that supreme cultivation ground, and as a result never managed to break through to Great Ascension, then no matter how beautiful the dream of becoming immortals might be, it would all be nothing but an illusion.
It wasn’t as if Bao Gu could pat her chest and guarantee that she’d definitely make them all immortals and carry them up to the Upper Realm with her.
After the Void Tearing stage, everything in cultivation depended on enlightenment.
No one could help another become an immortal.
In the end, it all depended on oneself.
Yu Mi nodded.
Seeing Bao Gu unsteady on her feet, she scooped Bao Gu up into her arms and strode quickly toward the rear palace.
She spent one month here every year.
Everything in the bedchamber—from daily necessities to defensive formations—was fully in place.
