Chapter 464: Chapter 464

An overwhelming sense of comfort flooded Li Yuan from every direction. He felt as though he had returned to a warm, protective womb. The withered flame wrapped around his soul and the ancestral seal that shielded it.

His physical body—flesh, blood, muscles, and bones—had completely disappeared, leaving behind only a white jade skeleton in the snowy field, a mere shell discarded like a cicada’s molted skin.

The material body was gone. What remained was the primal Yang energy, the very source that gave birth to matter itself, now working to reshape him anew.

But this time, Li Yuan was not being reborn from his mother’s womb. He was being reborn from Heaven and Earth itself. Compared to when he advanced to sixth rank, when his life essence first changed, this was on an entirely different scale—a transformation hundreds, thousands of times greater.

Even the incomplete sixth rank shadow blood techniques used by sixth rank martial artists could extend one’s life by a hundred years. But this technique, which rebirthed him through the power of Heaven and Earth, might grant a lifespan beyond imagining.

Longevity itself meant little to Li Yuan. But for his daughter Sheng'er, it meant everything.

The thought made his heart swell with quiet joy.

At this moment, he simply sat in stillness, sensing the state of his existence.

It was as if his entire being was structured into three concentric circles. From the inside out, they were his soul, ancestral seal, withered flame, and mountain.

The mountain was his soon-to-be new body, formed of Yin and Yang.

For most martial artists in the Great Zhou, however, the structure was closer to the soul, ancestral seal, source blood, and flesh body.

Their ancestral seals generally had three seeds. On the other hand, Li Yuan’s ancestral seal contained 3,888 seeds.

Ordinary martial artists drew their Yang energy from source blood, distilled from the flesh of demonic beasts and cultivated meat. Li Yuan’s source, however, was pure Yang flame itself.

There was no question about it. He had already transcended ordinary martial artists.

And so, in this very instant…Li Yuan could feel, with unparalleled clarity, the overwhelming strength of his life’s structure.

But at the same time, he was deeply, profoundly aware of the fragility of his soul.

Perhaps it was because he had broken through using the withered flame, which gave him an almost impossibly fine, hair-splitting sensitivity, something others could never experience.

Li Yuan realized that if flesh, energy, and power were stripped away, only his bare self would remain, empty, hollow, and untouched. It reminded him of a common theme he’d read about in the stories of his previous life, the Underworld.

Back then, he’d always been puzzled. Many mighty cultivators had been awe-inspiring while alive, yet after death, even when their souls remained in the Underworld, they became frail and powerless, almost indistinguishable from ordinary people.

The same iron chains could bind both a petty village thug and a celestial master worshipped by emperors.

In life, they were worlds apart. In death, they were equals.

Now he understood why. Death stripped away everything, everything but the soul.

A lowly thug’s Yin-Yang energy was weak, while a celestial master’s was vast and mighty. But if both lost them, they became the same.

The withered flame continued dissolving the mountain, reshaping it into a vessel, a body.

Li Yuan lay within this Yang womb, drowsy and adrift, his thoughts wandering.

Why, he wondered, was it that fourth rank martial artists could be reborn from just a single drop of blood? Because normally, death only destroyed the body, but the soul and Yin-Yang energy remained intact and could return to that single drop of prepared blood.

So why was it that Qing Hancheng’s death had been truly irreversible?

It was because the Wither Growth Sword had drained away all of Qing Hancheng’s Yin-Yang energy, completely stripping him bare, leaving only his naked soul behind. Without that life force, there was simply no coming back.

But then…how exactly did that work?

Some kind of fantasy-version of a stellar breath absorption technique?

Li Yuan couldn’t figure it out. He sighed inwardly. Forget it. There must be some secret technique behind it anyway.

His drowsiness deepened. His consciousness dimmed. He could no longer even maintain the soul connection he used to monitor the outside world.

Finally, he yawned, closed his eyes, and drifted into sleep.

The world, however, didn’t stop moving just because Li Yuan did.

People stayed busy. Heaven and Earth went on as they always did.

Another year’s heavy snow blanketed the Cloudpeak Province.

To the west of the province, the local people and the Ice Folk had become increasingly intertwined.

Most of the older generation of Ice Folk had already faded from history, leaving behind a new population largely composed of Cloudpeak Province natives.

The Nine Flames and Tang Sect continued to maintain strong, cordial relations.

Even Meng Xingxian herself, lofty and proud as she was, would send gifts to the Tang Sect during festivals—presents meant for the grand matron behind the scenes, or rather, for the matron’s reclusive sister.

But the gifts were always left quietly outside Tang Nian’s door, never once reaching her hands.

Ever since last June, when Li Yuan had fallen, Tang Nian had carried his skeletal remains back into the Tang Sect’s hidden chamber.

And from the moment she entered, she had barely emerged since.

By now, the Tang Sect’s influence had grown vast.

After Sheng'er entered the Deathless Tomb, the powers once tied to Dawn Manor and Flying Nimbus Group were also absorbed into the Tang Sect’s domain.

The Ice Folk, too, now acted almost like private soldiers of the Tang Sect, and when paired with the Tang Sect’s traps, poisons, and mechanical weapons, they were capable of…far more than just defending territory.

As for the Tang Nian herself, her obsession had crystallized into one single pursuit, puppetry.

She was collecting every form of puppet technique, hoarding every rare material needed to create them.

Even after successfully crafting a fifth rank puppet, she did not stop, not even for a moment.

Her initial madness had been poured into developing the Tang Qiu puppet, but once it reached fifth rank, something astonishing happened. It gained the ability to learn.

Now, her focus had shifted entirely. She was going to turn her godfather into a fifth rank puppet.

She was utterly convinced that Li Yuan’s soul still resided within his bones.

She believed she wasn’t creating a new Li Yuan. She was awakening the Li Yuan who was merely…sleeping.

Tang Nian had been with her biological father for the first ten years of her life. In comparison, she had spent the last 35 years with Li Yuan.

When Li Yuan was alive, she could never compare them. But after his death, she came to realize that Li Yuan’s place in her heart had quietly surpassed her blood father’s.

At this moment, her expression was blank, calm, almost cold. With infinite gentleness, she stroked Li Yuan’s bones, then began carefully layering the finest quality soul iron upon them, carving delicate veins into its surface with her flame blade.

In the depths of the labyrinth, the old, hoarse voice trembled in disbelief.

“Wh-what? You… you… you…”

“Old man, what are you stuttering for?” Sheng'er interrupted, impatient. “Spit it out.”

“You, you’re telling me you buried three more crows, and now you’re breaking into the Heaven Soul Realm again?!” The old voice cracked, stunned beyond belief.

Sheng'er dangled her legs casually and snorted. “What’s so hard about that?”

When other people were around, Sheng'er behaved like a quiet, well-mannered little girl. But when no one was watching—or when she’d decided a place belonged to her—she dropped all pretenses and did whatever she pleased.

And right now, in her mind, the Deathless Tomb was her personal territory.

“Alright, enough with the stammering, old man!” She planted her hands on her hips and raised her chin. “Hurry up and tell me how to cultivate the next stage. This young lady wants to know more.”

Then, narrowing her eyes, she lifted her small hand in mock threat. “If you don’t, I’ll flip open every single coffin in this place. And don’t think I don’t know which one you’re hiding in.”

Silence lingered for a long moment.

Then, the old voice sighed deeply, his tone a strange blend of helplessness and…restrained delight. “Ah…Heaven’s will. Heaven’s will indeed…”

“What Heaven’s will?” Sheng'er tilted her head.

The old voice said solemnly, “It must be Heaven’s will that sent a little monster like you into our hands. Since that’s the case…we’ll raise you into the strongest Heaven Soul cultivator this world has ever seen.”

“Oh.” Sheng'er’s response was flat, utterly indifferent.

She couldn’t care less about being the strongest. She wasn’t here for glory. She was here for her father.

Lately, the little sparrow residing in her father’s soul had been unusually dazed and sluggish. Clearly, he was undergoing some kind of breakthrough.

And once her father completed his breakthrough, he’d definitely need the next stages of cultivation.

That was why Sheng'er came to wring the techniques out of this old coot.

Originally, she’d even planned that if he refused, she’d really flip the coffins and drag him out by his nonexistent beard.

Unexpectedly, the old man turned out to be quite cooperative.

And far away, Sheng'er’s third rank great locust tree avatar quietly began practicing the Heaven Soul cultivation technique the old man passed down.

Time slipped by, and before long, April arrived.

The peach blossoms bloomed once more in the ruins of the Temple of the Heavenly Master within the Jade Capital, bursting in full, vivid splendor.

Even within the imperial palace, the blossoms were just as beautiful.

But the Empress had no heart to enjoy them.

She had dismissed her attendants, pacing anxiously behind the Clear Mind Hall deep within the palace gardens, her hands stuffed into her sleeves to hide their trembling.

The Emperor had been in seclusion for nearly a year now.

A whole year, and not once had he shown his face.

The court was buzzing with doubt. Whispers spread like wildfire, rumors claiming the Empress had poisoned the Emperor and seized power for herself.

These stories came creeping from shadowy corners, impossible to trace. At best, if she sent her spies digging, they’d drag back two or three little pawns, nobodies. Nothing solid. Nothing useful.

“Where did you go? Where did you go…” The Empress’s breath came sharp and heavy as she crouched by the door of the Emperor’s secluded cultivation chamber.

She knocked on the door softly at first, then harder, whispering, “Your Majesty… Your Majesty…”

She waited, helpless. Then left, shoulders trembling.

It was the 26th time she had done this.

And now, her endurance was fraying. Read complete versıon only at 𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩•𝗳𝗂𝗋𝖾•𝕟𝕖𝕥

If the Emperor didn’t appear soon, the court’s tensions would spiral out of control. A political collapse was coming.