When spiritual energy is depleted, there's nothing left but death. Jingheng felt a pang of melancholy as he watched Qingluan's spirit slowly fade away. Even after living a new life, he couldn't escape the reality of life and death.
Though he and Qingluan had only known each other for less than a day, he felt a surprising sense of attachment. As the green phoenix mark on his hand faded with Qingluan's spirit, Jingheng stared at his palm, lost in thought. But a drop of water landed on his forehead, its icy touch bringing him back to reality. He wiped his brow and looked out at the vast expanse of the Heavenly Realm.
He knew Qingluan was right. The Celestial Way was indifferent, treating all things like straw dogs. Everything in this world held no special significance to the Celestial Way. But Qingluan, and Jingheng himself, were different from the others in the Heavenly Realm.
They were born with great power, not just to become gods admired from afar.
Jingheng steeled his resolve, taking a deep breath. Thoughts rushed through his mind. Every time he remembered Qingluan's last words, he instinctively tightened his grip on the spirit orb. "A promise is worth a thousand gold coins," he said.
He would keep his word, not just for Qingluan, but for the "Way" in his heart.
The Heavenly Realm was grand and beautiful, like a painted scroll, yet devoid of vitality. Jingheng barely noticed it as he recited the incantation Qingluan had taught him. With his palms pressed together, the spirit orb began to emit a faint glow, but the Heavenly Realm's boundary only trembled slightly. Jingheng unleashed a golden lotus fire, turning it into a golden blade. The blade cut his finger, causing a trace of blood to disperse like mist before adhering to the boundary.
As the Heavenly Realm's boundary began to dissolve, revealing the true state of the world outside, Jingheng was struck with a sense of shock.
He had only thought of himself as the golden lotus left behind by the true god, but he hadn't expected that his blood could break the barrier left by the true god.
The barrier broke, leaving a small opening about half a person's height. However, the harsh sounds emanating from beyond filled Jingheng with fear.
War raged on, chaos reigning.
This was the world the true god's generation had created with their lives, but from a distance, it was no longer the serene world of lush mountains and clear waters. Instead, there was a line of fire, a boundary, burning like a blood-stained scar across the land.
"How could this happen?" Jingheng shook his head. He had often heard stories about the human realm, a place of beauty, from the Clear River Palace's scribe.
Sorrow welled up within him. Jingheng was lost in thought, then turned to glance at the cold Heavenly Realm before leaping through the opening, using the wind to guide him as he descended into the demon realm.
The barrier slowly closed again as the blood dried, darkening the sky like smoke from a battlefield.
A man stood atop the heavenly prison, his posture erect, like a pine tree standing tall amid the frost and snow. He had witnessed everything.
With a casual gesture, a blade of dark energy appeared in his hand. As he struck, the blade sliced through a sinister entity that had emerged behind Jingheng, reducing it to ashes before it could even scream.
He watched Jingheng's billowing robe with a smile, his piercing eyes reflecting a subtle intensity. With a slight lift of his eyebrows, his thin lips parted, and he observed Jingheng's departing figure with intrigue. There was something about Jingheng's gaze, a natural compassion, that felt strangely familiar.
As an eagle cried out from the sky, the man narrowed his eyes and said with a cold voice, "Interesting."