Chapter 499 – Creator of History; The Immortals Dare Not Cross West – Part 3

Li Yuan placed the inscribed kite beside the Emperor’s bed.

That handwriting, paired with the swallow kite, held deep meaning.

The kite was the very same style they had flown together, back when Ji Hu was just a boy—when Li Yuan had carried him on his back, running through the wind.

He didn’t even know

why

he did it. Maybe, just maybe, unlike Xie Wei’s cold calculation, he still harbored a trace of warmth for that pitiful, angry child.

The kite couldn’t prove anything. But maybe, just maybe, it would give the boy a little more strength.

Afterward, he retrieved the three fire-colored banners of Wei Huosheng, hiding them away in the secret compartment under Clear Mind Hall..

Then he turned his attention to the Red Sleeve Blade. And as he studied it, he noticed something strange. When he had used it, when it had devoured 10,000 years of his lifespan, the heavens had remained utterly silent.

No thunder. No omen. Not even a ripple.

That could only mean one thing. That massive debt of lifespan...had already been filled almost instantly.

Li Yuan thought hard. There was only one likely explanation.

The blade hadn’t just

used

his lifespan; it had

taken

it. Absorbed it directly into itself. Then, through the force of that sudden deficit—along with the curse sealed inside—it had drained the lifespan of his enemies as well, feeding on them to fill the void.

If the enemy’s lifespan wasn’t enough, then the blade would begin devouring the lifespans of

things

nearby, objects, treasures, and even other spirit artifacts.

That explained why the three fire-colored banners had crumbled to dust, and why the legacy armor had faded, its brilliance drained.

This meant, in truth, this blade was a lifespan-devouring weapon.

You fed it years of your own life, and in return, it tore those same years from your enemies.

But the more Li Yuan thought about it, the more he felt something wasn’t right. There had to be another layer, a hidden mechanism he hadn’t uncovered yet.

Whatever curse the Red Sleeve Blade was under, it was deeper than it looked. He became increasingly wary of it. Still...it was an incredibly useful weapon. In battle, used as a trump card—a one-strike, one-kill spirit artifact—it was nearly perfect.

And now, with that settled, Li Yuan returned to the small cottage in the peach grove.

Inside, Xie Yu was still waiting for him.

˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙

Back in the palace, within the Dragon Roar Hall, the young Emperor sat alone, his eyes still red from crying.

What had happened today had carved a fresh wound into his heart.

His lonely figure sat beneath the towering golden pillars of the palace, looking even smaller, more out of place than ever.

He moved like a ghost, silently approaching his bed. And then, something caught his eye. A kite. Lying quietly beside his pillow.

It was a swallow-shaped kite, the exact kind he had flown in childhood. And on it, written in bold brush strokes, was...

“Strive without ceasing...” His breath caught in his throat.

Since taking the throne, he had often poured over his late father’s writings, trying to remember, to connect. He knew his father’s calligraphy intimately.

And this, this was his father’s hand. But...wasn’t his father dead? Was this some cruel joke? Who would dare place something like this on

his

bed?

And who could even enter the Dragon Roar Hall so easily, undetected?

That was unless...unless his father had never died at all? Was this...was this his way of sending a message?

Yes. That had to be it.

“Then, did Father know what Mother had done? Could he have been watching all along?” Ji Hu muttered to himself. “But wait, what if it hadn’t just been Mother’s doing? What if this whole thing...was something they’d

planned together?"

The more he thought, the more frantic he became, like a drowning man suddenly finding a rope to cling to.

His chest heaved. He clutched the kite tightly and hid it away like a precious treasure.

˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙

Days passed.

Summer faded into autumn. The days turned crisp.

Li Yuan fastened the Red Sleeve Blade to his side and headed south. He had already killed Wei Huosheng. And he’d crushed Mister Mountain.

If he let the Revival Tree God live now, it would be a loose thread. Worse, it would bring no benefit to Yan Yu. So he came, casually, to kill one more god.

But after circling the region with blade in hand, he couldn’t find a trace of the Revival Tree God. Eventually, he arrived at the entrance to Ghost Prison.

Here, his withered flame clashed with the ghost domain, forming a red-and-black barrier. It was strange, trembling, and perfectly still.

Out of the darkness stepped Yan Yu, dressed in flowing black robes, her long skirt trailing behind her like shadows given form.

Li Yuan didn’t waste time. “Yan Yu, I’m here to kill the Revival Tree God. I’ve already taken out the other two envoys up north. He’s next. Where’s he hiding?”

Yan Yu Yan gave him a calm look and replied, “He left a few days ago. Said he had to go. Told me there are ancient gods awakening far off in the Western Extremes. And that they’ve already begun to act. He had no choice...he had to go.”

She smiled, the slightest trace of warmth in her cold eyes. “I was just wondering who those so-called gods might be...and then

you

showed up.”

Li Yuan chuckled, stepped forward, and began recounting to Yan Yu everything that had happened up north, how he had taken down the envoys, his suspicions, and what he planned to do next.

In return, Yan Yu shared all that had occurred in the southern lands during his absence.

While they talked, a flock of crows suddenly swooped in from the distance, carrying a stone table between them. The table was covered in frozen delicacies. One particularly chirpy crow fluttered ahead and chirped, “Papa, come eat with us!”

Li Yuan nodded with a smile.

As usual, the long table was placed between the realms—half in the ghost domain, half in the world of the living. Li Yuan sat on one side, Yan Yu on the other, and Sheng’er sat gleefully between them.

A family of three, eating and chatting across two worlds.

Between bites, Li Yuan learned that Sheng’er was still diligently trying to break through to the second stage of the Heaven Soul Realm. After all, a third rank meat field required ten full years just to start producing precious Heavenly Fire Spirit Stones.

Now that he finally had some breathing room, Li Yuan said, “When I get the chance, I’ll go hang around your tree avatars. With the meat field and my yang Aura nearby, maybe it’ll help speed up your cultivation.”

“Yay! Yay!” the crow cheered, flapping its wings in delight. Then it waddled up to him and added, “There are only four trees right now. But if all four of them become human, then you’ll have

four

more Sheng’ers, Papa!”

˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙

Eastern Sea’s Immortal Domain.

Amid swirling mists, a stately figure stood before a jade altar, gazing silently into the basin of blood.

Each drop bore a name; this was the Soul Registry Altar.

All disciples who reached fourth rank or higher were permitted to leave a drop of blood here. Should they fall in battle outside, this altar could draw from that blood to resurrect them as swiftly as possible.

Not only that, but the blood could be used to replay the final moments of their lives.

The figure watched quietly as flickers of memory flashed within the crimson pool, images of a towering golden giant, over and over again.

Then, his gaze shifted.

One blood pool had already dried up. Blackened. Rotted. Stinking of decay.

The

death replay

had completely failed; there was nothing left to see.

The figure stared at that spoiled blood for a long time. Finally, he spoke in a calm, quiet tone, “Seal the sea routes. No one is to cross into the Mortal Realm without permission.”

As his words fell, golden messenger birds flapped their wings and shot into the sky, crying out across the clouds.

“Order from the Patriarch, seal the sea routes! No one may enter the Mortal Realm without permission!”

From above, the world below looked like a land of scattered towns.

But these were no ordinary towns; they were structured atop spirit-gathering formations, designed to concentrate and circulate spiritual energy. Every cultivator living there trained while steeped in the purest balance of Yin and Yang.

In one such town, a young man was practicing sword forms alone. He paused, raised his head, and watched the golden birds fly overhead, their voices still ringing in the air.

He frowned. “Something must’ve happened over there again... I hope Big Sis and Nian Nian are okay.”