WYFSDLG Chapter 4

Such familiar words… So familiar that Feng Qingyun could almost hear that man’s teasing tone in his mind. For demons whose real forms were spiritual plants, especially flower demons, it was taboo for anyone other than their Dao companion to ask about their flowers. As for Feng Qingyun, he was an over six hundred-year-old flower demon, long past the age when he should have bloomed. As a matter of fact, he was old enough to hug his first fruit, and yet, there wasn’t even the shadow of a single bud, let alone a flower. For reasons unknown, he had never developed.

 

Even Mu Hanyang hadn’t dared to broach such a private topic in the past, fearing he might offend him. But here he was… Someone not only dared to mention it but also sent a peach blossom hairpin as mockery, teasing him for his inability to bloom despite his old age!

 

Feng Qingyun’s expression turned cold as he clenched the extremely rare Tianshan jade hairpin. And just like that, the poor, priceless artifact was crushed into dust with a single move.

 

Anyone else would be horrified to see him treat such an invaluable treasure with recklessness. But Feng Qingyun simply waved his sleeve dismissively, erasing every trace of the shattered jade. His icy demeanor made it clear.

 

He was furious!

 

Although he tried to refocus on the jade slips waiting on his desk, his thoughts kept straying, replaying that mocking tone and distracting him despite himself. It seemed that Mu Hanyang’s concern was, in fact, not unfounded. The Demon Lord hadn’t even appeared in person, yet that single hairpin managed to occupy Feng Qingyun’s thoughts entirely. He sighed in frustration, forcing himself to concentrate on the work ahead but…

 

… His mind still lingered on that insult! Since his mood was now completely sour, Feng Qingyun put aside the rest of the jade slips and left the pile untouched, an uncharacteristic move for someone who had always prioritized the welfare of the Xiān Gōng Sect. But Feng Qingyun justified it to himself. His anger had to be dealt with first.

 

A short break later, he eventually resumed his tasks, sorting through the remaining correspondence. However, as he worked, he noticed something peculiar. Something that made him forget about any hairpins and whatnot.

 

Amid the mountain of jade slips, there was no news from the Huangquan clan.

 

The Huangquan[mfn]黄泉, Huáng Quán, is the name of the Yellow Springs, the underworld of Chinese mythology[/mfn] clan, born near the Yellow Springs and known for their immortality, relied on rare spiritual plants maintained by the Xiān Gōng Sect for their cultivation. Regular contact between the two groups was essential, yet their silence over the past few days was highly unusual.

 

Feng Qingyun frowned, an uneasy feeling creeping into his heart. He released his divine consciousness, sweeping across the sect’s boundaries and searching for any trace of the Huangquan clan. However, there was nothing but the unchanging, radiant sky above. Feng Qingyun wasn’t sure if it was his illusion or not, but even the tens of thousands-year-old sun in the sky was getting brighter and brighter.

 

Still, he tried to reason with himself. It was not yet time for the Ghost Gate[mfn]in Chinese mythology, July is regarded as the month of ghosts, a period of time when the King of Hell opens the Ghost Gates and allows tormented souls to wander the earth and partake in offerings of sustenance. The fifteenth day is the main day of the Ghost Festival when the Ghost Gate is wide open[/mfn] to open, so perhaps the clan’s silence was explainable… And just like that, he withdrew his consciousness, suppressing the growing sense of unease, and continued working on the jade slips.

 

…………

 

Months passed uneventfully in the cultivation world. Peace prevailed, but the absence of the Huangquan clan still weighed heavily on Feng Qingyun’s mind. Their complete disappearance was unnatural even for a clan with such an elusive nature, and the nagging premonition in his chest refused to dissipate.

 

Finally, the fifteenth day of July arrived, and the Ghost Gate opened to welcome the newcomers. Feng Qingyun seized the moment to release his divine consciousness again, probing for the Huangquan clan’s presence.

 

However, what he found made his heart sink. Not only was the familiar aura of the Huangquan clan completely gone, but… The breath of the entire Underworld disappeared!

 

Starting with the Foundation-Building stage, a cultivator was able to forcibly sense the life forces of others. However, that method was not widely used, because once the divine consciousness was released for inspection, the other party would inevitably feel someone spying on them, which was considered a grave offense.

 

Of course, the reason Feng Qingyun was so familiar with that feeling of getting offended was precisely because a certain Demon Lord had been spying on him for at least a hundred years, not even trying to hide it!

 

However, at that moment, Feng Qingyun didn’t care about offending others either. Feeling that panic was about to set in, he expanded his search, using his divine consciousness to sense the presence of other powerful cultivators. But the results were equally grim: the once-vibrant auras of nine powerful Golden Core cultivators had weakened significantly. Some were even on the verge of disappearing entirely, and, out of everyone, only Mu Hanyang and the Demon Lord retained their full strength.

 

And then, before his very eyes, the aura of the Demon Lord all but vanished.

 

Feng Qingyun’s eyes snapped open, his pulse racing. A sharp sound drew an arc in the sky, connecting his divine consciousness to Mu Hanyang, who was currently away from the sect, frolicking somewhere in the wilderness of the Galan Mountains.

 

At the same time, his stern voice resonated across the Xiān Gōng Sect, carrying an unyielding command:

 

“All disciples of the Xiān Gōng Sect, heed my order: guard the Heavenly Gate immediately!”

 

Feng Qingyun rarely displayed such a commanding presence, and for a moment, the disciples of the Xiān Gōng Sect were stunned. It took them a few breaths to realize the source of the instruction, but as soon as they came to their senses, they immediately flew toward the Heavenly Gate.

 

However, the illusion of tranquility between heaven and earth shattered like a fragile veil, revealing the terrifying reality beneath. Destruction came without warning, yet in hindsight, it felt inevitable.

 

First, the earth cracked like a turtle’s shell. Mortals living at the foot of the mountain and beasts without spiritual awareness fell into the abyss before they could even react. Then, turbid yellow floodwaters began seeping out of the fissures, surging upward and engulfing everything in their path as they advanced toward the Heavenly Gate.

 

The disciples of the Xiān Gōng Sect watched in horror. It took them a moment to recover before they scrambled to intervene, flying forward to rescue those at risk. But as soon as their spiritual weapons touched the floodwaters, they turned into ordinary, powerless objects. Some disciples were caught off guard, losing their footing and falling from their flying swords, plunging straight into the deadly waters. And just like that, their life forces vanished instantly.

 

The remaining ones were scared stiff. When they finally turned their eyes to the horizon, they saw a surreal sight: the junction between the murky waters and the sky burned with a blazing red sun, just like the Gods themselves chose to turn their backs on humanity.

 

The scene awakened memories buried deep in the recesses of their souls—ancient, primal fears passed down through generations. Finally, someone shouted, voice trembling with terror:

 

“That’s… Huangquan Water! The Yellow Springs are rising!”

 

A collective gasp swept through the disciples, their faces pallid as the weight of the realization hit them.

 

“Huangquan Water… Isn’t that the boundary of the Underworld?!” Bai Ruolin shouted, her sword already in her hands. “How could it appear here?!”

 

The Huangquan clan, born from death and living by the Yellow Springs, existed outside the Five Elements and the cycle of reincarnation. They were governed by the Underworld Lord and sustained by the waters of the Yellow Springs, known as the sea of the dead. And yet, the flood spilling from the earth was brimming with vitality… A complete reversal of its natural state.

 

The Heavens and Earth had inverted, and life and death were reversed. It was no mere calamity but the harbinger of the collapse of the skies, a catastrophe spoken of only in ancient myths.

 

Feng Qingyun turned his gaze skyward. Just above the Heavenly Gate, the sun blazed unnaturally red, while the celestial canopy next to it cracked like the earth below, revealing a mottled black void.

 

Legends often spoke of the ancient gods who split the heavens and earth, setting the sun and moon in place. But now, heaven and earth were folding in on themselves.

 

Three thousand years after the death of the Heavenly Dao, the judgment of heaven had finally descended.

 

And when the caretaker perished, no matter how abundant the food in the cage, the fate of its captives could only be death. Now, after countless years of turning a blind eye, that destruction arrived.

 

Countless disciples hovered on flying swords or spirit beasts, staring helplessly at the overwhelming flood of the Yellow Springs. They were no different from the mortals and beasts they had sworn to protect. Just mere ants under the wrath of the heavens.

 

“This is the collapse of the heavens…” someone muttered, clutching their sword as their voice wavered. “The Heavenly Gate is falling! Lord Mu isn’t here, and we don’t have the strength to stop this on our own!”

 

“Coward!” Bai Ruolin snapped as she saved yet another mortal from the encroaching flood. Her sword gleamed in the dim light, and her voice was sharp with disdain: “All immortals go against the heavens! Do you think Xiān Gōng Sect exists solely because of the sect leader?! Without him, would you all crumble into useless waste?!”

 

The disciple she rebuked shrank back, clutching his sword tightly and muttering no further complaints. But the doubt in his heart remained. How could Feng Qingyun and Bai Ruolin alone stand against the apocalypse?!

 

Bai Ruolin ignored him. She turned back to the floodwaters, her blade flashing as she raised it high. Then, her voice rang out, clear and commanding: “By the order of the Xiān Gōng Sect, draw your swords and protect the Heavenly Gate! Behind are the mortals who depend on us for their survival. Retreat and you’ll condemn everyone to death!”

 

The end of the world loomed, yet the goddess with her sword in hand stood tall, embodying the unyielding spirit of long-forgotten immortals.

 

Watching her, Feng Qingyun felt a bittersweet pang. Time had passed so swiftly, and the little girl he had once guided was now a leader in her own right.

 

It looked like Xiān Gōng Sect was in capable hands.

 

“Ruolin,” Feng Qingyun called softly.

 

She turned toward him, her face streaked with blood and eyes filled with determination tinged with confusion. However, she still carried the innocence of youth, despite the harshness of their reality.

 

“From now on, Xiān Gōng Sect is yours to lead,” Feng Qingyun said calmly, his back to her. “Don’t be reckless and always think carefully before you act. Do not let impetuousness cloud your judgment.”

 

Bai Ruolin’s heart clenched. She didn’t understand why he would say such words now, on the brink of destruction. But before she could piece together the meaning behind them, Feng Qingyun moved.

 

No one expected it. After centuries of silence and long since his defeat at the hands of the Demon Lord, Linshuang Sword[mfn]麟霜 Lín Shuāng, where 麟 (Lín) means luster of gem and 霜 (shuāng) means frost[/mfn] was finally drawn from its sheath once more.

 

Under the scorching sun, the floodwaters, dark and ominous like the abyss, surged forward with canine-tooth-like waves. The boundless sky above seemed to collapse under their weight, and countless immortals appeared as insignificant as ants before the scene of impending doom.

 

But suddenly, the piercing sound of a sword echoed through the heavens, shattering the oppressive silence. It was clear and resonant, like a spring striking jade, yet fierce and powerful, reminiscent of a phoenix’s cry.

 

The Yellow Spring waters trembled at the sound, their violent advance stilled as if the entire apocalypse paused. For three breaths, an awe-inspiring silence blanketed the world… A prelude to something extraordinary.

 

The Linshuang Sword emerged boldly from its sheath.

 

With a single strike, the sword froze the surging waters into an endless polar glacier, stretching thousands of miles ahead. The biting cold surged across the land, halting the relentless flood, and ice shards glistened under the fiery sun, refracting dazzling rays that lit the sky.

 

The disciples of Xiān Gōng Sect stared in stunned silence, so shocked they almost fell off their swords. Feng Qingyun used to be as gentle as jade and kind to a fault, to the point where some of his disciples… Didn’t even like him. Yet here he was. With his sword raised against the sky, his figure commanding and resolute.

 

When the ferocious cracks in the canopy of the heavens began to accelerate, threatening to consume everything in their path, every disciple instinctively stepped back, struck by fear.

 

But Feng Qingyun stood firm.

 

He raised his sword, his gaze fixed on the fractured sky. At the moment when collapse seemed inevitable, his power as a mere Foundation-Building cultivator burst forth. The gaping void in the canopy was abruptly restrained, as if a pair of invisible hands were holding it in place.

 

All movement ceased.

 

The momentum emanating from Feng Qingyun in that instant was overwhelming… Even equal to, if not surpassing, the awe-inspiring presence of Mu Hanyang himself.

 

Everyone was utterly dumbfounded. Was this the same Feng Qingyun who had borne the ridicule of the world for his defeat at the hands of the Demon Lord?! The same gentle Second Palace Master who had been criticized for three centuries as unworthy of his title?! How could he now display such unparalleled power?!

 

But before they could recover from their shock, Feng Qingyun’s sword flashed again. The boundless glacier fractured in response, forming an immense, radiant ice path stretching from north to south, running directly to the Heavenly Gate.

 

The shimmering ice road and the fractured void in the sky formed a surreal, haunting picture. A perfect display of the confrontation between humanity’s iron will and the destructive might of the heavens.

 

For a moment, the collapsing heavens and encroaching floodwaters were held at bay and silence reigned.

 

However, the view above the Heavenly Gate was still unsettling. Without the canopy of the sky, the void resembled a house with its roof torn off. Those who had lived their lives mistaking the canopy for the true sky now faced the terrifying reality. There was something behind it, but it was a vast, desolate expanse of darkness.

 

Amidst the stunned silence of the disciples, only Feng Qingyun understood the grim truth. His strength alone, even if joined by the other nine Golden Core cultivators, could only delay the inevitable for a brief moment.

 

And yet, he knew better. When he had just swung his sword, there was a force in the shadows aiding him silently.

 

…Was it Senior Brother?

 

No. Feng Qingyun quickly dismissed the idea. After all, his cultivation shared the same origin as Mu Hanyang’s, and if he had acted, Feng Qingyun would have unmistakably sensed his presence, even at such a distance.

 

That person was not Mu Hanyang.

 

Feng Qingyun frowned, brushing the blood from the corner of his lips, with his gaze fixed on the dark void beyond the Heavenly Gate. After a brief, stunned silence, the crowd behind him began to stir, as relief swept through them like a wave. For now, they had narrowly escaped the disaster.

 

One bold disciple even stepped forward and exclaimed: “Congratulations to the Second Palace Master for advancing his cultivation!” The others quickly followed, eager to echo the praise. But before they could utter another word, Feng Qingyun flicked his sleeve. An overwhelming wave of spiritual energy enveloped the entire assembly, silencing them.

 

In the next instant, everyone, from immortal disciples to mundane beasts, was swept away along the icy path created by the glacier. Landing in a disoriented heap, they soon realized that what they deemed as true strength was meaningless in the face of true calamity…

 

…And the faint disdain many of them had once held for Feng Qingyun now seemed laughable, even shameful. A hot flush of embarrassment rose on their faces, and the weight of failure left the crowd hushed. Only Bai Ruolin seemed to understand Feng Qingyun’s intent, her voice rising in alarm: “Brother! What are you doing?!”

 

Before she could finish, a single letter floated into her hands.

 

“Deliver this to Senior Brother,” Feng Qingyun instructed calmly. Then, without hesitation, he turned with his sword and strode toward the Heavenly Gate, the void looming ominously ahead.

 

He could sense it. The Heavenly Dao, severed and silent for thousands of years, now stirred faintly as the world fractured.

 

Life always persisted, even in the void.

 

Feng Qingyun knew the journey ahead meant certain death but for cultivators like him… It was enough to hear the Dao in the morning, even if death followed by evening.

 

As Bai Ruolin’s cries echoed behind him, he summoned his spiritual power. And just like that, the entrance to the glacier was sealed shut with a resonant hum, silencing everything beyond. In the vast expanse, it seemed as if only Feng Qingyun and his sword remained.

 

He stood for a moment, gazing at the dreadful void others dared not approach. Then, with deliberate steps, he entered the Heavenly Gate, an unknown realm beyond even the imagination of immortals.

 

The closer he drew to the heart of the collapse, the more oppressive the scorching winds became. They howled violently, carrying with them the weight of obliteration, and even time itself seemed to blur. The Yellow Springs churned behind him, breaking through the frozen barriers, yet Feng Qingyun pressed forward until a strange sight stopped him—a cave at the edge of the boundless darkness.

 

Feng Qingyun’s frown deepened. In over 500 years of overseeing the Xiān Gōng Sect, he had never heard of a cave lying beyond the Heavenly Gate.

 

By now, his outer robes were tattered, eroded by the relentless winds. Beneath them, snow-white inner garments clung to his frame, revealing faint scars across his abdomen.

 

But here, alone, even such things seemed trivial.

 

With a wave of his sword, he froze the surging murky waters behind him, sealing the way once more. Then, he stepped into the cave’s shadowed depths.

 

The cave was pitch black, save for faint flickers of light ahead. Soon enough, he started noticing faint carvings on the stone walls, but the details were lost, eroded by the ruthless winds.

 

However, Feng Qingyun still chose to advance. The winds clawed at him, baring more of his collarbone and arms as his garments frayed. At last, he reached the end of the cave.

 

But what he found there was beyond anything he could have expected.

 

A figure stood amidst the desolation, a presence that seemed to encompass every corner of heaven and earth. The moment Feng Qingyun recognized him, his eyes widened, and the grip on the hilt of his sword tightened, prompting his fingertips to turn white.

 

In the depths of despair and at the edge of annihilation, that figure dared to smile. A low, mocking laugh broke the oppressive silence.

 

“Long time no see,” the man drawled, his voice filled with unsettling amusement. He then fixed his gaze on Feng Qingyun, as though thoroughly entertained by the encounter, before continuing: “Little Palace Master.”

 

Feng Qingyun’s expression darkened, his voice cold and sharp as he enunciated the name.

 

“…Long Yin!”

 

……………………..

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