Chapter 35

With these thoughts in mind, Sect Master Yu could not help but be stirred by a surge of uncontrollable emotion.

If this were truly the case—if their primordial spirits still persisted—then for even those cultivators who had fallen, there remained a glimmer of hope. Whether through nurturing their spirits or employing profound Daoist arts to reconstruct their physical forms, or even, for those whose spirits were too weak, at the very least, sending them into the cycle of reincarnation—no matter the method, this represented a chance at rebirth for a cultivator who had fallen unexpectedly.

He was stunned for a moment, thinking of his own master, who had been heartbroken and unable to find peace for centuries following the annihilation of the Gong clan. Looking at the primordial spirit of the Gong clan patriarch, who was gazing at his daughter with such tenderness and sorrow, he felt a sharp ache in his heart.

The gratitude he felt for that swirling black light at that moment made his throat tighten. He even raised his hand, reaching out to grasp the spirits of the Gong clansmen. The world of cultivation was filled with infinite wonders. As long as the spirit remained, there was still hope; they were not truly gone. As long as he could bring these remnants back to the sect, there would surely be a way...

But just as he reached out toward the Gong clansmen’s spirits, the patriarch turned his gaze toward him. He offered a faint, blurred smile and shook his head slightly, as if letting out a soft sigh. Once freed from the black light, their spirits began to blur and fade; within mere breaths, they appeared thin and translucent. Yet, despite this, the patriarch kept his gaze fixed solely on Yu Youyou.

"This child is named Youyou; you should call her your great-granddaughter," Sect Master Yu whispered.

The spirits of the Gong clan gathered around the tiny child. The patriarch looked at Sect Master Yu once more, raising his hand to point toward a direction outside the ancestral temple, holding the gesture for a long time. When his hand finally fell, all the Gong spirits bowed to the sorrowful middle-aged man in the portrait.

The figure in the portrait sighed silently and stretched out a phantom hand toward his descendants. The spirits all began to shrink, turning into streams of light that fell into his palm.

At that moment, the buzzing black light—which had hidden who-knows-what—suddenly plunged downward, crashing unexpectedly into the center of the forehead of the toddler, who stood there staring blankly upward.

"Youyou!" Just as he was contemplating whether this turn of events might not be so dangerous, Sect Master Yu saw the black light from beneath the Gong ancestral grounds strike his daughter’s head. His expression immediately crumbled into panic. Even if the black light had protected the Gong spirits, as a father, he could not remain calm in the face of any mishap befalling his beloved daughter.

Chu Xingyun, having just managed to wipe the blood from the corner of his mouth, turned deathly pale upon hearing the cry.

Yet, beyond all this, thunder roared in a frenzy above. Thousands of lightning bolts crashed down, turning the entire Gong estate into a purgatory of thunder. The whole world was shaking, as if the heavens themselves were furious for some unknown reason.

A manifestation of divine wrath. Chu Xingyun had only ever encountered such a theory in a secret chamber he had explored in the past. Legend had it that if one defied the heavens to such an extent that the world could no longer tolerate their existence, the sky would tremble in rage, refusing to allow such an anomaly to remain in the world. This "defying the heavens" was not the simple, common ambition of cultivators seeking immortality. Ascending to godhood invited heavenly lightning, but that was merely a few strikes. But to incur the wrath of the heavens—if the world itself could not tolerate one—then as long as that anomaly existed, the wrath would never cease.

What, then, was the anomaly? Chu Xingyun recalled the sequence of events that had unfolded within the Gong ancestral temple.

As the black light buzzed and merged into Yu Youyou’s forehead, black markings began to appear on the blank-faced child. The lines snaked across her small body, forming strange patterns on her cheeks. In that instant, she shed all the vitality and liveliness they had known; she slowly knelt on the prayer mat, bowing her head.

For a moment, Chu Xingyun felt that he was no longer facing a child, but something far more dangerous, a malevolent entity ready to devour anyone who crossed its path. A terrifying aura began to seep out from the little one, but Chu Xingyun’s fear was not for the danger or the strangeness of the child. It was... whether his little junior sister was still there at all.

In the midst of that fear of losing her, the terrifying thunder and pressure above could not even shake his resolve.

The ancestral temple fell into an eerie silence. Sect Master Yu and his disciple watched the abnormal child in panic. Meanwhile, as the thunder shattered layers of the temple’s restrictions and the light and pressure of the lightning began to bombard the interior, the middle-aged man in the portrait hurriedly gathered the Gong spirits, which were becoming increasingly blurred and scattered by the thunder. His own phantom image was crumbling, but he ignored it, his hands clenched tightly, shielding all the spirits within his palms.

As the Gong spirits were tucked safely into his grasp, lightning snakes raged overhead. Amidst the roars of dragons, the massive Azure Dragon could no longer withstand the terrible thunder. Its ten-thousand-foot body was drenched in blood, which fell from the sky like rain. It looked up, struggling to hold its body aloft, attempting to shield those it wished to protect. But the lightning was endless, slamming into its frame.

Another, more violent dragon roar echoed as a vast, golden dragon silhouette—so large it seemed to blot out the sun—charged into the lightning, as if to tear the sky asunder. This provoked the lightning further, and even more bolts descended.

"No! You must leave quickly!" The Azure Dragon looked up, its vertical pupils fixed on the golden silhouette tossing in the lightning, but it could not spare them any attention. A weary, weakened projection of its spirit descended into the ancestral temple.

The projection took the form of a handsome man in green robes. Ao Qing, blood at the corner of his mouth, landed weakly and commanded the people of lower cultivation in the temple, "Take the child and go! This Gong clan is bizarre."

As soon as his projection landed, he noticed the strange silence in the temple. The thunder leaking in had been provoked by the man in the portrait and was on the verge of a violent outburst. But what truly made Ao Qing’s spirit shudder was Yu Youyou, who was still kneeling on the prayer mat, head bowed, silent and motionless, as if she had lost her soul.

It seemed his sudden appearance startled her. The child, who had been sitting quietly with her head bowed, slowly looked up at him.

It was just a simple, ordinary glance. Yet, Ao Qing felt a chill run down his spine; his entire consciousness was locked in place by that gaze, unable to move. She was so small, so fragile and pitiful, yet inexplicably, the moment one looked at her, one forgot everything else in existence.

He met a pair of eyes that defied description. They could not be captured by human emotion, nor did they contain any trace of it. As she looked at him, every sensation he felt reminded him of a word he had once heard from the black dragon Ao Xin, a word he had paid no mind to at the time:

...Demon Lord.

Ao Qing stood there, unable to move, as if frozen in place. Then, just as the child’s gaze toward him grew even more dangerous, voices came from both sides.

"Youyou."

"Little Junior Sister."

These two calls made the child’s small body, which had been beginning to fixate on Ao Qing, struggle.

The little one lowered her small head, clutching it as if in great pain. At that moment, even though Sect Master Yu knew the child was dangerous, terrifying, and could cause him harm, he rushed forward and pulled her into his arms.

"Daddy is here."

Nestled in her father’s arms, the child began to tremble again. Chu Xingyun, though his clothes were in tatters, reached out and gently took her small hand.

"Little Junior Sister, Master and I are both here," he said softly.

He saw her look up again. The black markings faded and vanished rapidly, her aura returned to normal, and he saw a pair of pitiful, teary eyes. His little junior sister’s eyes.

"My Youyou." As Chu Xingyun smiled instinctively at the toddler, Sect Master Yu felt a surge of relief. His Youyou was still by his side.

"...Help me." Just as Ao Qing felt his body loosen and the sense of crisis fade, the middle-aged man in the portrait, still clutching the Gong spirits tightly, spoke for the first time.

Chu Xingyun was surprised that the ancestor in the portrait could speak, but Yu Youyou was simply stunned. The little one had no idea why she had just "blacked out." Perhaps she had drunk too much milk and gotten "milk-drunk" before coming to pay respects to the ancestors, but she had been quite muddled.

When she opened her eyes, she was startled.

"Eek!"

What a miserable ancestral temple. Thunder was crashing and blood was raining down. The toddler looked up to see a tattered Azure Dragon above. Looking forward, she saw her father and senior brother in such a sorry state, and the portrait that had just bullied her father was also weakening, being struck by lightning.

"Good heavens," Youyou thought.

She had only come to bow to the ancestors; why was there lightning involved? Seeing the Azure Dragon swaying precariously above and the state of the temple, all caused by those relentless, roaring lightning snakes, she felt a massive surge of anger rising from the depths of her heart. This anger was far more intense than when she had seen the portrait bully her elders.

A buzzing sound echoed in her mind, and in an instant, she understood how to vent the anger that arose from her very soul. Something was telling her what to do when she was angry.

"Bad!" Carefully pushing her father and senior brother aside, she climbed to an empty spot, pointed a finger at the sky, and began to scold it.

She had been taught to respect her father, her senior brother, her grand-uncle, and the ancestor in the portrait... and now, they were being attacked.

Yes, the heavenly lightning had started it!

The toddler tilted her head back, opened her little mouth toward the sky, puffed out her belly, and took a deep breath.

The countless lightning bolts paused for a fraction of a second, then, as if drawn by a terrifying suction force, they instantly converged into a single beam, rushing down in a frenzy to be swallowed into her mouth.