Chapter Ninety-Two: A Five-Hundred-Year Dream, One Dawn of Ascension to Divinity

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This final period of secluded cultivation was the longest and most desolate I had experienced to date.

A full five hundred years.

Five hundred years was enough to see dynasties rise and fall in the mortal world more than ten times, enough for seas to become mulberry fields.

Yet within the hidden chamber of the Penglai Immortal Palace, time seemed to have been utterly frozen.

My Nascent Soul had long since reached perfect completion, its entire form translucent and radiant, like flawless crystal. I could clearly sense that above it lay an invisible, intangible yet unbreakable shackle of the Heavenly Way.

That was the barrier between the Nascent Soul and Spirit Transformation.

Spirit Transformation—its very essence lay in the word transform.

To cast off the formed soul and refine an formless spirit. It was the process by which one’s existence leapt from the level of matter to a higher dimension of spirit and law.

This required an exceedingly profound comprehension of the Dao.

I did not rush headlong in pursuit of success. Instead, I immersed my mind completely in tracing back and grasping the great principles of the cosmos.

At times my awareness became a star, gazing down upon the birth and death of galaxies; at times it became a grain of dust, quietly observing the myriad forms of the mortal world.

No one knew how long passed before the distinction between self and things, between time and space, vanished from my heart.

Then, in a certain instant, inspiration suddenly dawned, and everything became clear.

I understood.

The so-called shackle of the Heavenly Way was not an external restraint, but something born of my own attachment to self. So long as I remained fixated on my desire to break through, my desire to attain Spirit Transformation, I would never escape that chain.

Only by forgetting the self could one attain Spirit Transformation.

The moment I comprehended this, my Nascent Soul emitted a crisp sound, like crystal shattering.

It did not vanish. Instead, it transformed into countless millions of the purest particles, each shimmering with the light of Dao resonance, and in an instant merged into every limb and bone, every inch of flesh and blood, every cell, and even the deepest depths of my soul.

Boom!

A terrifying aura, far surpassing the Nascent Soul stage by a hundredfold, exploded from within me!

The spiritual energy of the entire Penglai Immortal Island formed a colossal vortex, madly surging back into my chamber!

Under the washing flood of that vast spiritual energy, my body began a transformation to a higher plane. My divine sense extended without limit at that very moment, instantly covering the entire Earth, passing through the atmosphere, touching the moon, and even allowing me to clearly perceive the flames burning across the sun’s surface.

Mountains and rivers were my meridians, streams and seas my blood, wind and clouds my breath.

I was the world.

Spirit Transformation, achieved!

When I slowly opened my eyes, two streaks of golden divine light that could pierce through space flashed and vanished.

At the same time, the stone gates of the other two chambers also swung open with a thunderous roar.

Jiang Xiaobai was the first to emerge. Her aura was powerful yet restrained; she had unmistakably become a great cultivator of the late Nascent Soul stage. Close behind her came Yi Yi, whose entire being naturally resonated with the Dao, and she too had firmly stepped into the late Nascent Soul realm.

The three of us, on this isolated immortal island, had spent nine hundred years in seclusion and undergone a complete rebirth.

When I finally stabilized my realm after the mysteries of Spirit Transformation, an unprecedented sense of mastery filled my mind. My divine sense fused with heaven and earth, and with every breath, it felt as though I could stir the resonance of the laws themselves.

And yet, precisely in this state of deep communion with the world, I clearly sensed a kind of depletion.

I stepped out of the chamber, and Yi Yi and Jiang Xiaobai were already waiting outside. Their faces, too, carried a trace of astonishment and solemnity that they could not hide.

We exchanged a glance and all understood what the others were thinking.

Together, we left the main hall and stood upon the highest viewing terrace of the Penglai Immortal Palace, looking down over what had once been a sacred land of immortals.

What we saw left us silent for a very long time.

The dense spiritual mist that had once curled visibly among the mountains had vanished without a trace. The extraordinary flowers and herbs that used to glitter with spiritual radiance had now lost all their luster, becoming the most ordinary plants and grasses of the mortal world, swaying bleakly in the sea wind.

The spirit springs in the mountain ravines no longer gave off misty rainbow light. Though the water remained clear, it had lost the refreshing vitality that once lifted the spirit.

Even the air had grown thin and heavy.

Nine hundred years of seclusion, and the breakthroughs of the three of us, were like three enormous pumps that had completely drained this immortal island of the final traces of celestial spiritual energy it had accumulated over tens of thousands of years, the last vestige on this planet.

Penglai was no longer an immortal island.

It had become a beautiful, ordinary, isolated mortal island.

“Father…” Yi Yi said softly, a touch of melancholy in her voice. “The spiritual energy… is gone.”

Jiang Xiaobai also nodded silently. In her golden eyes, the lost brilliance of this home was reflected back, revealing a sorrow too deep for words. She had been born here, grown up here; every inch of this island had once been a playground for her laughter.

I raised a hand and gently touched the cold railing, while my divine sense spread out like a tide, enveloping the entire Earth.

I saw Kunlun in China, where the last dragon vein had completely dried up; I saw the holy mountain of Europe, where the power of faith had dissolved like smoke; I saw deep within the Amazon rainforest, those ancient trees that had once possessed a faint trace of spirituality, now returned to ordinariness as well.

Not a single thread of spiritual energy remained in the entire world for cultivation.

An era had truly come to an end.

The Dharma-ending Age was no longer something “about to arrive,” but something that had already descended.

A complicated emotion surged through my heart. It was I who had personally hastened this era’s arrival. Yet that was also an unavoidable inevitability. The Earth’s spiritual energy had always been like duckweed without roots; exhaustion was only a matter of time.

“The end of the old era is the beginning of a new one,” I said slowly. My voice was calm, yet carried unquestionable resolve. “This place is no longer fit for us.”

My gaze turned toward the direction where the Star River Array lay.

“Prepare yourselves. It is time for us to explore an unknown world.”