After returning to the cabin, Xiao Yao watched the old man gently touch the painting, as if he feared breaking this beautiful landscape. Xiao Yao nodded in satisfaction, not out of vanity, but because he could see that the old man had a genuine love for art.
He clapped lightly, catching the old man's attention. Knowing what Xiao Yao wanted, the old man nodded to confirm that he knew where the bird was, then went upstairs to search for something.
Seeing this, Xiao Yao smiled broadly. This little bird could help him confirm something, so he was delighted to know it would soon be found.
Two minutes later, Xiao Yao, sitting on a chair, opened his eyes to see that the old man had placed a scroll on the table and was slowly unrolling it: a map.
The map of the world.
But when Xiao Yao looked at it, he immediately frowned, his heart beating irregularly for the first time in years.
Why? Because he didn't recognize anything! It was a new, unknown map to him. The familiar details of continents, seas, and lands were not there. Instead, unexpected landforms spread out before his eyes, as if an alternative reality had been mapped out in front of him.
Before Xiao Yao could think further, the old man took a finely carved wooden quill with a steel tip and circled a large area on the map. Seeing this, Xiao Yao gently placed his hand on the mute old man's hand.
Yes, he was mute. That was why he had never spoken a word. As for Xiao Yao, he did not know all the languages of every region in the vast world of cultivation, especially those of mortals.
For cultivators, dynasties could last tens of thousands of years and dominate large areas of the continent, allowing only a few languages to thrive.
After the old man turned his head towards this young man, still smiling as if nothing could take that smile away, he saw him point to himself, then point to the ground, before making a universally recognized gesture meaning "where?".
Adding it all up, it meant: "Where am I?"
Slightly puzzled, the old man pointed to a green area on the map. Xiao Yao, seeing this, nodded, took the map, and went straight to his room without another word. The old man, undisturbed, sat back down to admire the painting.
In his room, Xiao Yao threw the map on the floor before sitting on the bed. The wind beat against the window, its rhythm synchronized with his thoughts.
The first hypothesis that came to his mind was that a battle between two cultivators had broken the continents and changed the face of this world. But he quickly dismissed this idea. Reaching such a colossal level of power required being at least an Earth Immortal, which was simply impossible.
The reason was simple: Xiao Yao, along with his disciple, Immortal Emperor Li Qiang, had erected a barrier in the Third Epoch. This barrier, of unmatched power, prevented any cultivator in the immortal realm from existing on the Desolate Continent, where the cave he had woken up in was initially located.
Xiao Yao sighed, letting himself fall back on the bed, his thoughts swirling. The barrier, designed to protect and maintain balance, could not be breached by any immortal. So how was it that he found himself in such a strange world, with a map he did not recognize?
He also supposed that this time, he had really slept for a very long time, allowing many eras to pass. But he immediately refuted this idea. If that were the case, the cultivators who had thrived during the Fifth or Sixth Epoch would not have waited for his permission to come and sack his cave.
As he continued to ponder, a sudden idea flashed in Xiao Yao's mind. In his earlier stupor, when he first saw the map, he had overlooked something important.
Abruptly rising from the bed, Xiao Yao took the map and slowly unrolled it. In these now unfamiliar continents, he could see small drawings clearly depicting kingdoms! Even if he couldn't understand any of the writing, even a newborn would know these were cities. He sat on the bed, and a shocking hypothesis began to form in his mind.
Before mentioning this hypothesis, it is crucial to clarify one point. At the end of an era, those affected by the disappearance of the Heavenly Dao are only the cultivators. All cultivators see their power diminish until it completely vanishes, creating an almost philosophical scene on which Xiao Yao had already meditated.
The immortal emperors, the most powerful beings in the Seven Heavens, are the first to die, followed by those below them, and so on.
Why?
An immortal emperor can live for hundreds of thousands of years. If, at the age of fifty thousand years, he becomes an ordinary man again, he will instantly turn into a skeleton. This is where the philosophical aspect comes in. The immortal emperors, meant to protect their dynasty and their people, become a source of curse for the world. Their bones, containing phenomenal power, increase the surrounding spirituality, killing all mortals within a radius of thousands of kilometers around them, as they receive too much energy without being able to cultivate since the Heavenly Dao is no longer present.
One of the reasons why Xiao Yao was not particularly alarmed when he saw mortals in knight armor, despite a slight confusion, was that he was on the Desolate Continent. There, even the most powerful cultivators were inferior to the weakest immortal of the Celestial Dust Continent.
Also knowing that the Desolate Continent was vast, he did not find it particularly strange that some regions lived peacefully. But now, it was different. Cities and kingdoms crowded everywhere on the continent, leaving not even a space where a fly could pass.
The only hypothesis Xiao Yao could think of was that the Heavenly Dao had completely perished!
Even Xiao Yao, an old fossil who had lived for millions of years, took a deep breath, clearly shocked. But after the shock came happiness!
Yes, Xiao Yao was so happy that he couldn't help but perform a famous dance step from the Sacred Flower Sect.
The Heavenly Dao had always been a thorn in his side. During the Second Epoch, he had completed his dao heart when he decided to stand against the Heavenly Dao due to the loss of his loved ones. Of course, he had not stopped cultivating under its tutelage.
But as the years passed, Xiao Yao tried more and more to find a way to cultivate alone without depending on it. Yet, the Heavenly Dao had eyes everywhere. Even though it was commonly said that the Dao was emotionless, Xiao Yao was one of the few to think otherwise.
During the Second Epoch, Xiao Yao despised the idea of taking disciples and focused solely on his own strength. He became an immortal emperor and gained the recognition of the Heavenly Dao after surviving the tribulations it sent.
Unfortunately, knowing that the end of the era would bring him back to zero once again and the thought that he would lose his hard-earned cultivation, he desperately wanted to find a higher level, a level where he would be completely independent of the Heavenly Dao, but he failed.
He also failed during the next two epochs, but deep down, he was slowly accumulating knowledge. Thanks to his great patience, these long years allowed him to master many fields and discover different ideas, always giving him inspiration to get closer to his goal.
Each failure was a lesson, each tribulation a test that forged his character and determination. Xiao Yao explored obscure and unknown paths, ancient techniques forgotten by time, and esoteric philosophies that had never been integrated into the common practices of cultivation.
His relentless research led him to surprising discoveries, moments of revelation that illuminated his path. But despite everything, he still felt the heavy influence of the Heavenly Dao, like an omnipresent shadow that hindered his ultimate progress.
But now, he assumed that the Heavenly Dao had disappeared. The surprise had been too sudden, but this meant he could cultivate sooner than expected.
Suddenly, some priorities had changed.
He, who was once uninterested in what happened on the Desolate Continent and the pathetic lives of mortals, became suddenly very curious. He had a method to quickly learn the local language and writing, and thinking about it, a sinister smile formed on his face.
As for the duration of his sleep, he could estimate it by discovering the history of this world.
How would a world develop without the Heavenly Dao for a long period ? Xiao Yao suspected that his original world might have even been duplicated.
Thinking about this, a wave of nostalgia for his homeland swept over him. However, a small event from his mind, making him frown.
Yesterday, while he was out to get his feet muddy and search for herbs to heal his injuries, something strange happened. Upon opening the door, he noticed that the old man was about to climb the stairs. Not wanting to wait, Xiao Yao used a martial arts movement he had learned in a mortal city long ago while searching for disciples.
The old man had heard the door open and close. The distance between the door and the staircase was about five meters, and Xiao Yao had crossed it in a second. Yet, the old man showed no alarming reaction.
Yesterday, Xiao Yao simply thought the old man knew his identity as a cultivator, but with his recent assumption, he began to doubt.
"Could they have discovered a different system of cultivation ?" he wondered.
Pondering this, he chose to go downstairs. He observed the old man still admiring his painting and slightly moved his destiny rune. A few strands of spirituality clung to his fingers.
The mute old man, still captivated by the painting, suddenly saw pink petals floating in front of him. Turning his head, he saw this young man with a noble demeanor crossing his fingers, around him the luminous and ethereal petals danced softly in the air, casting silver reflections like shooting stars across a night sky.
The old man, captivated by the scenery around which Xiao Yao seemed to emerge, let his mind wander. He turned his eyes back to the painting, unwilling to look at anything else but it.
"Then he was a wind mage." he thought inwardly, letting out a slight laugh. The scenery was enchanting with petals dancing in the wind. "Perhaps I should paint it with my beloved." he thought with a hint of nostalgia. Then, a thought crossed his mind: "Wait, pink petals in this forest region ?"
Before he could grasp the answer to his own question, the pink petals began to cling to him, floating delicately without touching the ground. They enveloped his hands, his chest, his back, a strange and almost magical sensation.
As he was alerted by this inexplicable phenomenon, an extraordinary sensation swept over the old man. He felt a thrill of life coursing through his body as his vitality seemed to regenerate before his amazed eyes. Deep wrinkles on his face gradually smoothed out, once immaculately white hair took on a darker, more vibrant hue, and his stiffened joints regained youthful flexibility.
His strength, lost with age, returned; his once cloudy eyes cleared.
"How is this possible ?" he murmured, incredulous.
"Wait, you said 'murmured,' not 'thought,'" the old man straightened suddenly, a trembling hand reaching to his throat.
His voice, once lost, had returned! He was no longer mute.
"How could such a thing happen in this world ? Could it be because of these pink petals ?" the old man said, his voice still tinged with disbelief.
Luckily, his heart had also improved, or else, due to this shock, he would have been on the verge of death.
"Wait, petals ? Ah yes, the young man !" the middle-aged man suddenly thought. He turned hastily, searching for the cabin once inhabited by the shameless young man.
But the cabin was empty.
Quickly climbing the stairs, he opened the bedroom door. It too was deserted. The only trace of the presence of this mysterious young man was the bloodstains on the bed, at foot level.
Taking a deep breath, he rushed to the cabin door and opened it, hoping to catch a last glimpse of the young man's face.
No. Of that divine being !
Opening the door, a desolate landscape unfolded before him. The forest, once full of greenery and life, now looked like a cursed region. Trees were bare, their skeletal branches reaching toward the sky like pleading hands. The ground, once rich in vegetation, was now covered in ash and barren soil. No flower, no blade of grass survived this desolation, and a deathly silence reigned where once birdsong and rustling leaves were omnipresent.
Far away, on the forest path, Xiao Yao walked with a map in hand and shoes on his feet. He had "borrowed" them from the old man in the cabin. Thinking of him, a smile spread across his face.
"From his reaction, he knew the supernatural phenomena of this world." Xiao Yao thought. "But the shock he experienced witnessing that spell shows that cultivators have truly disappeared long ago."
He chuckled softly. "It was predictable. How many immortals like me have sought to escape the influence of the Celestial Dao, creating all sorts of methods ?"
The spell he had used came from the Seven Sins sects in the third era. It allowed stealing life energy from those around him to prolong the bearer's lifespan. This spell had caused quite a stir in the cultivation world at the time.
Lowering his gaze to the map, Xiao Yao noticed that the marked spot where this incident occurred was far to the south, on the same continent where several kingdoms were depicted.
"Let our journey begin." he murmured, determined, before setting off towards this new destination.