Chapter 79

Above, the clouds churned wildly. Lightning flashed, thunder roared, and when gods fought—mountains collapsed and the world cracked open. Below, the Immortals and demons were soaked in blood. The ground ran red, layer after layer. Shouts echoed. Fireballs rained down like meteor showers—each one flattening an entire mountain. These weren’t ordinary flames—they were divine fire, immune to water and impossible to extinguish. If they touched a blade of grass, it would blaze endlessly.
In the blink of an eye, wildfire consumed the land. The skies blazed red. The screams of beasts and birds filled the air.
Hearing the chaos outside, Luo Han turned around in alarm—only to find the world had changed beyond recognition. Sorrow and carnage stretched endlessly. It looked like the end of days.
In truth, if those gods above kept fighting, the end of the world would not be far off.
Gritting her teeth, Luo Han pushed her powers to the limit, accelerating time even faster. The Demon God had to die—only then could she focus on stopping the others.
Her body was nearly drained. Ling Qingxiao was a figure of blood.
He’d started in white robes, but they had long been dyed red. As blood dried, more bled through. Layer upon layer, his clothing turned the color of rust—there was hardly a clean patch left.
There was no doubt—this was a battle of pure suffering. The only reason Ling Qingxiao was still standing was due to his unbreakable will and cold, calculating mind.
In one dodge, he sensed a fatal opening. Twisting midair, he stepped off a cliff face, dodging a line of strikes from the Demon God. At the apex, he pivoted—and struck downward with full force.
This strike had no form. No style.
The clouds above still rumbled with thunder. And in that instant, the lightning responded—drawn to Ling Qingxiao’s sword.
Lightning coiled along the blade of Jinxiao, entwining with his spiritual energy into the form of a dragon. It roared and surged forward—charging straight for the Demon God.
This strike followed no sword manual. It had no formal technique. It was pure sword intent—an expression of will forged in battle.
To manifest sword intent meant transcending form and entering the realm of meaning. Techniques could be taught—but intent was unique to the sword-wielder. It marked the crossing of a threshold, where form dissolved, and blade and heart moved as one.
Righteousness of Heaven and Earth. Slayer of demons.
Unstoppable. Kill gods if they stand in the way.
For the first time, Ling Qingxiao’s sword intent formed a visible shape.
The killing intent within resonated with the God-Slaying Formation. The formation trembled violently. The energy surged forward, coalescing into a brilliant beam of light, its sound carrying the roar of a divine dragon, and pierced straight through the Demon God’s chest.
This strike— was to slay the demon, and to slay the god.
Above, the warring gods heard the cry and turned in shock. Below, soldiers looked up at the sky, confused. Xiao Ze, drenched in blood, stood amidst the carnage, staring in disbelief toward the other side of the battlefield.
A dragon’s roar?
Only one man could summon that. Ling Qingxiao.
What had he done?
The Demon God, pierced by that blazing light, seemed to pause midair. Then, slowly—he collapsed backward.
With a thud, he hit the ground.
Even at the moment of death, the Demon God's eyes were wide open.
No matter how he tried to make sense of it, he couldn't believe he had truly died at the hands of two newcomers. And the one who dealt the fatal blow was from the Immortal race—those he had always seen as mere ants.
At the same time, Luo Han could no longer hold herself up. She collapsed from exhaustion. Ling Qingxiao also suddenly fell, stabbing his sword into the ground to support himself.
A god’s power comes from the heavens and the earth, and upon death, returns to them. As the Demon God’s body hit the ground, it quickly began to disintegrate. Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao were so close that they couldn’t avoid being touched by some of the dissipating divine power. While alive, the Demon God's energy had been cruel and domineering, but in death, what remained was the most primal Five Elements force.
Luo Han thought, no reason to let it go to waste, and began absorbing a little. Just as the Demon God's body was nearly gone, a loud boom sounded—his divine core exploded along with the remaining divine power.
Not caring about being exposed, Luo Han hurriedly pulled out a protective artifact to shield herself from the blast. When the shockwave faded, pieces of black-gold fragments floated in the air—shards of the Demon God’s divine core, the very essence that defines a true god.
The God-Slaying Formation had been destroyed. Luo Han, dragging her sore limbs, stumbled toward Ling Qingxiao and, in a panic, tried to help him up. “Are you okay? Were you hurt just now?”
Ling Qingxiao shook his head. “No. My dragon scales protected me. I'm fine.”
The other gods, abandoning the battle in the skies, descended to the ground. It wasn't until they saw the divine core fragments that they finally realized—it was real. The Demon God, one of the strongest among them, had just been killed right before their eyes.
And his killers were two newcomers—one of whom wasn’t even a god, but an Immortal.
Apart from Xi Heng, all the gods were too shocked to speak. How could this be possible? It was as absurd as a toddler killing its own parents, or a believer destroying their deity’s idol. Yet, it had happened—right in front of them.
One god, furious, glared at Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao. Luo Han was still a young deity, yet had aided an outsider. To him, that was treachery. Luo Han was too young for him to act against, but Ling Qingxiao—an outsider? He was fair game.
The god raised his hand and struck toward Ling Qingxiao. Both Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao were heavily wounded and had no strength to dodge. Just as the attack was about to land, it was blocked by a powerful external spell.
He Xu stood nearby, supporting Rong Cheng. They appeared to have just arrived. Rong Cheng, after casting that spell, coughed several times before lifting his head and scolding, “Enough. Look at yourselves—what are you doing? Are gods meant to bring disaster to the world?”
Rong Cheng was among the oldest of the gods, and hearing his voice, the others instinctively turned around. As they looked around, they finally saw it—raging wildfires, mountains collapsing, the world in ruins.
This destruction...might be even worse than when Nuwa patched the heavens.
Many gods were dazed. They had been too caught up in the fighting to notice. Was this what the world had become? Back in the most difficult days of creation, they had stood united against outside threats. Yet now, their unchecked spells had become the very force destroying the world.
They had become the very beings they once detested—the ones they had sworn to resist.
Flames roared. No one spoke. Only the crackle of spreading wildfire filled the silence.
Then, through the stillness, a sigh echoed across rivers, mountains, and sky—soft and ancient:
“Enough. This has gone on too long. It should have ended long ago.”
Luo Han and the other gods all looked up in shock. “The Earth Empress?”
Nuwa—half-human, half-snake—appeared at the edge of the sky. She seemed impossibly far, yet with a blink, she stood before them.
Suspended midair, Nuwa surveyed the devastation around her and sighed deeply. “This is my fault. If not for my indecision, how could the world have suffered such catastrophe? Stop now. You have strayed for far too long.”
With her arrival, the gods who had been at each other’s throats finally calmed down. The Plague God frowned and pointed at the black-gold fragments on the ground. “Earth Sovereign, you’ve come at the right time. She just killed the Demon God. What punishment should be given?”
Luo Han tensed, and Ling Qingxiao, sensing it, quietly held her hand. “It was me,” he said.
His hand was still stained with blood—whose, no one could tell. His fingers brushed hers, and instantly, her hand was reddened. Realizing this, Luo Han quickly said, “I was the one who triggered the time technique. I was the one who revealed the secrets of the heavens. I’ll take responsibility—it has nothing to do with him.”
In truth, the slaying of the Demon God couldn’t have happened without both of them. It wasn’t that their power alone could kill him, but rather that the Demon God had already been weakened. Without Luo Han manipulating time, Ling Qingxiao couldn’t have stood a chance. And without Ling Qingxiao’s final attack, even with the weakening, the Demon God wouldn’t have been finished.
Both roles were indispensable. But now, they each tried to take the blame to shield the other. To slay a god—even a hated one—was a dangerous title. Especially in front of all the others. Whoever admitted it would become the focus of their ire.
Ling Qingxiao opened his mouth to speak again, but Nuwa raised her hand and said, “Enough. I will decide what is right and wrong.”
Both Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao fell silent.
The Plague God quickly pressed the attack: “Earth Sovereign, you are kind, compassionate, and just above all. We all trust your fairness. Please, uphold justice for the Demon God.”
Nuwa floated in the air, long hair cascading behind her, her robe billowing in the wind. Her face was calm and expressionless. She shook her head. “This was a personal grievance. I will not judge it. The Demon God once schemed against her. She retaliated. This is karma.”
Luo Han quietly exhaled in relief. With Nuwa’s words, even if someone tried to come after her later, she had a shield. And it was only fair—hadn’t the Demon God tried to kill her twice before? Was she not allowed to strike back? He failed before. She succeeded now.
Nuwa had made it clear: it was personal. The Demon God lost. That was fate.
Many gods lowered their eyes, their thoughts unreadable. Only the gods on the demon side were visibly furious.
The Plague God, at least, did not dare to act out in front of Nuwa. He swallowed his anger and pointed at the shards. “Fine then. He lost fair and square. A wager is a wager—he’s dead, so whatever debts he owed are settled. In that case, the fragments of his divine core should be returned now, shouldn’t they?”
A god’s divine core is their very essence. Once shattered, it can never return to its original form. However, with secret arts, the fragments can be preserved and left in the world to slowly accumulate power again. Given enough time, a new god will be born from the remnants. Though not the same god as before, a part of the former will live on.
Hearing this, Luo Han frowned. Absolutely not. She had gone through so much just to kill the Demon God—how could she risk allowing him to return? Who knew what chaos he might cause in the future? With his vindictive nature, she couldn’t afford to leave behind such a ticking time bomb.
Luo Han immediately said, “We cannot allow it. He’s inherently bloodthirsty, narrow-minded, vicious and hateful. If we leave these fragments be, and a new god inherits even a sliver of his darkness in the future, we’re only inviting future disaster. The monstrous Taotie was sealed because of its menace, and the Demon God has done far worse than Taotie. Naturally, he should be treated the same—sealed permanently and never released.”
The Plague God was stunned. “What are you saying?”
“Did I say anything wrong?” Luo Han stood firm, her eyes unwavering. “This war was provoked by the Demon God for his own selfish interests. So many lives were lost because of him—do they not matter compared to a single god? Or are you suggesting that just because the Demon God is divine and others are immortal, demon, human, beast, bird, flower, or tree, that their lives are expendable?”
When the dragon’s roar had sounded earlier, everyone on the battlefield had slowly stopped fighting, silently standing among the fallen, watching from afar. After the Demon God dissolved and Nuwa appeared, a vast army remained, yet not a single soul spoke.
Now, though Luo Han’s voice wasn’t loud, it echoed clearly across the battlefield. Immortal and demon soldiers alike remained silent. No one responded, but many faces showed quiet agreement, and even more were filled with grief.
She was right. Did their lives not count? Were they somehow less worthy because they were not gods? Were their fallen comrades, friends, parents, siblings, and children all meaningless?
After Luo Han spoke, silence reigned on both sides.
At that moment, the silence was deafening. The gods felt as though struck by lightning. A vast, invisible chasm had appeared between them and their followers.
They were no longer revered as they once were. The water that carries a boat can also capsize it. No words could describe it better.
The Demon God's fate...was the gods’ fate.
Nuwa sighed lightly. She slowly spread her arms. A green light flowed from her palms, drifting gently in all directions, gathering the Demon God's scattered fragments piece by piece.
“She is right,” Nuwa said softly. “No one can escape the judgment of the cycle. If you have erred, then you must accept punishment. Not even a god is exempt. If you cannot trust others, then let me handle it.”
The green light wrapped around the black-gold fragments, forming a large cocoon. Then it turned into dark green threads that sealed themselves into a slender silver bottle. Nuwa marked it with an ancient seal in front of everyone, then tucked it into her sleeve.
With Nuwa personally sealing and safeguarding it, no one could protest.
In truth, the Demon God was not the only culprit in this war—everyone present bore some responsibility. But he had been the most visible, the most outspoken. Nuwa’s sealing of him in front of all was meant as a warning to others. It was both an internal deterrent to the gods and a gesture of reassurance to the immortals and demons.
After all, the majority of this world’s population is not made up of gods. The future of the world no longer belongs to the gods.
The Plague God watched helplessly as the Demon God faded, fell, and was sealed. In the fragments of his fallen comrade, he saw his own inevitable end.
Filled with fear and resentment, his emotions clouded his judgment. He couldn’t stop himself from blurting out: “Earth Empress, you’re too biased.”
Nuwa was just about to leave when she froze.
Some gods frowned. Some tried to stop him. But most stood silently, tacitly allowing the Plague God to speak his mind.
“You clearly favor the human race you created. The immortals are docile and constantly assist humanity, which pleases you, and so you favor them as well. But have you ever asked yourself why? Immortals live in the sky, feed on pure qi, and have no conflicts with humans. Of course they help humanity. But humans and demons both live on the earth. Under your favoritism, humanity has flourished and encroached upon lands that once belonged to demons. The Demon Realm lacks resources and dares not offend your favored children. So they had no choice but to go to war with the immortals. You say those who do wrong must be punished—but whose judgment defines what is wrong?”
Every word was barbed. Even Luo Han couldn’t help but glance at Nuwa with sympathy. It was a ruthless condemnation, striking at the heart.
Nuwa hovered in the sky for a long time. Perhaps she never expected that the other gods saw her in this light.
Rong Cheng couldn’t bear it. He was just about to speak up when suddenly, a voice—ancient and solemn—echoed across the heavens.
“Dao that is Dao is not the constant Dao. From this day forward, all shall walk separate paths.”
Even Nuwa was startled. All who heard it were stunned. “Father God…”
“There’s no need to speak further. My decision is made.”
Pangu’s voice was deep and eternal, brushing across land, rivers, forests, and mountains. As his words fell, the wildfires were extinguished. Withered trees revived. Charred fields sprouted green. Dry springs flowed anew. The scarred land ravaged by war began to breathe again.
“My bones became mountains and forests. My blood became rivers and seas. My hair became grass and trees. From Buzhou Mountain to the Great Wilderness, let the Milky Way be the boundary—immortals and demons shall never again cross paths. Demons, humans, and monsters shall share the earth. Let Huai River be the boundary. Demonic qi shall rise in the east, monster qi in the west, and the center shall be neutral, belonging to the human race. All souls that perish become ghosts, and shall dwell underground, never to see the light of day. Gods shall carve out their own realm, separate from the other five. From now on, gods, immortals, demons, monsters, humans, and ghosts shall each keep to their place. No more crossing of boundaries.”
As Pangu’s voice faded into the distance, a spring suddenly burst forth from Buzhou Mountain. A gentle stream gathered into a river, the river grew wider and deeper until it transformed into the vast expanse of the Milky Way. Starting at Buzhou Mountain, it surged down the boundary between heaven and earth, dividing the north and south in an instant, and eventually disappeared into the distant Great Wilderness.
At the same time, the geography of the land began to shift. Under an invisible pull, demonic qi flowed eastward, while monstrous qi drifted west—just like in the ancient times when the heavens and earth first separated into clarity and murk. Now again, the demon and monster energies split, flowing toward opposite poles.
Since the beginning of the world, Pangu had remained in a deep slumber from exhaustion. Rare were the times he awakened. No one expected that this time he would rise, and using the last of his strength, turn his body into mountains and rivers to carve the borders between the six realms. He merged the final traces of his divine power with his blood and sweat, transforming them into nourishing rain to rejuvenate the world.
Having completed this final act, Pangu's life force was spent. He faded entirely into the river of time.
Tears welled up in many gods' eyes. They cried out in grief, “Father God…”
Even Nuwa’s eyes glistened with sorrow. She let out a long sigh and released her own divine power, fusing it into Pangu’s lingering essence. Together, they became rainfall that poured down upon the six realms.
The rain fell upon everyone. All water-repelling spells failed—gods, immortals, demons, all were drenched. Luo Han’s hair was soaked, clinging awkwardly to her face. She looked up toward the gray skies, watching the endless rain pour down indiscriminately on every living being. Wherever the rain touched, scorched lands turned fertile, withered trees turned green again, and injured beasts slowly stood back up.
The ancient war was finally over—at the cost of two gods’ deaths.
This, it turned out, was the truth behind Nuwa's call for peace and Pangu’s sacrifice. This was the origin of the six realms' structure in later generations.
The rain poured harder. Raindrops clung to Luo Han’s lashes, blurring her vision. She raised a hand to wipe her eyes, only to find the rain suddenly lessening above her. Looking up, she saw Ling Qingxiao holding his hand above her head, shielding her from the downpour.
He too was soaked. Rain streamed down his face, gathered at his jawline, and trembled at the tip—on the verge of falling, but not quite.
Luo Han grew anxious seeing that, but before she could react, Ling Qingxiao reached out and gently smoothed a lock of hair sticking to her cheek, tucking it behind her ear.
She blinked in surprise, finally realizing—oh, it was raining, her hair stuck to one side, making her asymmetrical.
What a strange compulsion.
The two stood quietly in the rain for a long time. Others slowly dispersed. With the war over and no one to give orders, the soldiers looked around in confusion before retreating to their respective camps.
So much had happened that day. Everyone was exhausted. No one came to disturb them. After standing in the rain for a while, Luo Han shivered and said, “Let’s go too.”
“Alright.”
After returning to the camp, no one ever brought up the events of that final battle again. Though the war had ended, its wounds remained.
Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao’s joint slaying of a god, Pangu’s passing, and the gods' great parting—these became unspoken scars etched in everyone’s hearts.
Although the war had concluded, the division of interests took a very long time to finalize. In the blink of an eye, three years passed. Luo Han followed the others to the banks of the Milky Way, watching as Xi Heng placed demon-suppressing stones one by one along the immortal-demon border.
After the final battle, Nuwa completely withdrew from worldly affairs. Rong Cheng was still recovering, and He Xu was buried under post-war cleanup. With no one else available to supervise the sealing of the border, the task fell to Xi Heng.
Three years of negotiation led to this moment. Immortals and demons stood on opposite banks of the river, watching as the last of the stones was buried. At that moment, demonic qi surged like a stampede back into the demon realm.
This had been one of the hard-won agreements: a divine being would place sealing stones at the boundary. From then on, demonic qi would no longer seep into the immortal realm, nor spiritual energy into the demon realm—a mutual vow of non-aggression and separation.
It was a surreal sight. Just years ago, they had been bitter enemies. Now they stood in silence, face to face across the river, as if they were strangers rather than foes.
Perhaps it was the only moment in history when both sides truly shared one goal: to part ways peacefully today, and avoid any more chaos.
Yet, as if on cue, something went wrong. Xi Heng had reached the far western point when he suddenly paused, frowning at the river below.
The immortals’ hearts nearly stopped. Su Zongshi flew over instantly. Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao exchanged a glance and followed close behind.
Luo Han descended lightly onto a cloud and asked, “Senior Xi Heng, what’s wrong?”
“We’re one stone short,” Xi Heng replied with a frown. “It doesn’t make sense. There should have been exactly enough—how could we be missing the last one?”
A strange feeling stirred in Luo Han’s heart. She glanced down at her storage ring, discreetly pulled out a demon-suppressing stone, and held it out under her sleeve. “Senior, will this one work?”
Xi Heng saw the stone in her hand and breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes.”
Taking it with solemn reverence, he cast the final sealing spell, embedding the last stone into the border.
The Milky Way flowed vast and deep. As the wind swept across the banks, Luo Han tucked back her wind-blown hair and, sensing something, looked over her shoulder.
Pointing toward the misty expanse beyond, she asked, “What’s the name of that body of water?”
Su Zongshi, relieved that the crisis had passed, turned to look west and said, “It has no name yet. Why do you ask, Lady Luo Han?”
“No reason,” she smiled lightly. “Just curious.”
Ling Qingxiao cast her a quiet glance. “When the time comes, someone will name it.”
He was right. Luo Han knew that many years later, a terrifying beast known as the Devourer would emerge. A descendant of Taotie, it would be gluttonous and troublesome, causing endless chaos. Still later, a dragon emperor named Mingwu would ascend the throne, become the new Celestial Emperor, and finally seal the Devourer Beast in a lake near the Milky Way—bestowing upon it the name: Western Sea.
Many, many years later, due to geological shifts, the last demon-suppressing stone was drawn into the sea and eventually dug up and swallowed by the beast. By that time, the Heavenly Palace had changed hands through multiple dynasties. The current emperor was furious and issued an imperial edict commanding all clans to send their elites to Western Sea to restore order.
One such edict crossed thousands of mountains and layers of clouds before arriving at Zhong Mountain. A young woman, newly ascended to the immortal realm, was practicing light-body techniques when the Heavenly Palace’s summoning decree arrived. All formations failed under its authority, and due to her lack of skill, she nearly fell.
Luo Han snapped back to the present, realizing she was still standing on the Milky Way. Not long ago, she had just handed the final demon-suppressing stone to Xi Heng. Xi Heng, Su Zongshi, and the others had already left to attend other matters. She stood in the wind, long sleeves billowing. Ling Qingxiao had been standing beside her for a while and softly said, “Let’s go.”
“Okay.”
Luo Han followed Ling Qingxiao back to the Heavenly Realm. As she was about to leave, she couldn’t help turning back for one last look at the sea.
Who belonged to the past? Who to the future?
The moment one returns to the past, everything becomes inevitable.
We will meet again.