Chapter 195: Breakthrough
Chapter 195: Breakthrough
While Zuo Meng laid plans in the Yuan Wu World, the Dream Realm underwent earth-shaking changes.
Junyang, who had destroyed the Summer Dynasty, established a new dynasty called Yin atop the ruins. Emperor Junyang of Yin ruled diligently for thirty years, eradicating all regional warlords and achieving true centralized authority—unlike the feudal lords of the Summer Dynasty era. The unified Yin emperor claimed supreme power, declaring himself the “child of destiny” and the heaven-chosen ruler. Under this belief, the people gradually accepted the Yin Dynasty’s legitimacy.
By the ninety-ninth year of the Yin Dynasty, it dominated the Entire World, unchallenged across the seas.
Having achieved this, the founding Emperor Junyang abdicated, passing the inheritance to his successor. The system of abdication was abolished, turning the realm into a “family” dynasty.
“Longevity?”
In the palace, Zuo Meng’s elderly incarnation, Mr. Meng, sat frail. Junyang’s father, Lord Boyang, had died two decades prior. Only the Old Xuan Gui remained unchanged, his appearance untouched by time. Now ninety-nine, Junyang felt death approaching and sought answers from the Old Xuan Gui. The turtle revealed that only one person knew the path to immortality—his teacher. Junyang rushed to Mr. Meng’s residence.
“Teacher, I beg you to guide me,” the aged Junyang pleaded.
Though Mr. Meng seemed decrepit, Junyang knew his teacher’s frailty was a mere disguise.
“If this is your choice…”
The nearly “two-hundred-year-old” Mr. Meng touched Junyang’s forehead, imparting a solution: seek the Taichu Immortal Island among the overseas fairy mountains to gain immortality.
“My gratitude, Teacher!”
Junyang abandoned his throne, departing with loyal followers to search the seas.
Zuo Meng sighed as he watched. Junyang’s life—rising through chaos, ruling the world—remained glorious, yet his true self eluded him. Only fragments of memories surfaced, leaving him as Junyang. The once-disruptive Demon Monk Jie Ming remained lost. Even the great fortune granted by his creator shielded only this life’s wealth and prosperity. Should he die, Jie Ming’s essence would fade beneath Junyang’s identity, never to awaken fully.
“The timing aligns—plans elsewhere near completion.”
In the hall, “Mr. Meng” gazed beyond the world’s barriers into the Dream Realm. His consciousness shifted, main memories fading as his doppelgänger’s returned. Briefly disoriented, the doppelgänger glanced around, sighed, and fell into slumber.
The time difference between the Dream Realm and subordinate worlds had stabilized—roughly tenfold, with minor fluctuations.
A thousand years in the Yuan Wu World equaled a century in the Dream Realm.
Today marked the Yuan Wu World’s thousandth year’s end.
Over six months had passed since the Divine Palace of Xi’s emergence. With Xue Wudi, the Martial Arts Alliance leader, absent, chaos brewed. Ambitious factions rose, assassinating Xue Wudi’s allies. Their deaths signaled opportunity—clans once restrained by Xue Wudi’s rules now preyed on the weak. The Alliance, bereft of its pillar, splintered into warring factions.
The martial world was merciless—six months sufficed to reshape its landscape.
Even Xue Wudi’s disciples exploited his absence, claiming to uphold his legacy while carving their own domains. Greed drove them, aided by scheming masters who’d missed the Divine Palace’s opening. These masters manipulated the Alliance, plotting to control Xue Wudi’s eventual return.
Divine Palace of Xi
In the main hall, five Great Masters studied the divine skill manuals they’d acquired. Each broke through their limits, ascending to unfathomable realms.
“Hah! I, Mo Xiaotian, have surpassed all past sect leaders!”
The once-withered Mo Xiaotian now stood vigorous, hair blackened, aura darker than any Great Master’s. Two others awoke simultaneously, equally rejuvenated and empowered.
“Time to remind the world of Mo Xiaotian’s might!”
He strode out, the others following.
Upon exiting, the palace’s spatial partitions vanished, forcing their paths to cross.
Bang!
No words were exchanged—these former tyrants struck instantly. Their palm forces clashed, the shockwave blasting all three backward.
“Mo Xiaotian?”
“Changqingzi!”
“Zhan Kong!”
Each recognized the others. Zhan Kong sneered, “Weren’t you both dead?” A decade ago, the Demonic Sect had declared Mo Xiaotian’s death; Changqingzi’s “passing” preceded his.
“Likewise,” Mo Xiaotian retorted. All three had faked their deaths.
“To think we entered together,” Changqingzi said coldly, his Taoist roots offering no camaraderie.
“No need for bloodshed now,” Zhan Kong conceded.
“The world is vast enough.”
“Demonic Sect, Changqing Temple, War God Palace—non-interference.”
The pact made, they parted. History held no bonds between them.