Chapter 750 - Ancient Halls Draw Near, Mountain Sea Region, the Dao Fruit May Bloom on the Far Shore - Part 2

Truth be told, this version of Yan Yu, her reincarnated self, was rather entertaining.

The monsters plaguing the wilds of the mountain sea region were naturally her handiwork.

And the so-called mountain gods and sea gods mentioned in the tales? All her, too.

Her fragment had been working herself to the bone. She was practically going bald from exhaustion. Not only did she have to reshape the reincarnations of those wicked souls into monstrous new forms, she also had to keep them in check. On top of that, she constantly had to dash around rescuing innocent mortals who accidentally stumbled into these perilous zones.

Unlike the Dragon Vein back in the day, which was anchored in the heart of the Ancestral Land and had a full retinue of ghostly minions, Yan Yu wasn’t even based in the Ancestral Land. In the mortal world, she had to rely on her own powers and a handful of ghost items just to get around.

“I can’t take this anymore...” she sighed dramatically.

Clearly, becoming human again had brought back a good bit of human flair, complete with emotions and exasperation.

Perched on a stone, Yan Yu’s reincarnated self slammed her palms on either side of her hips, her voice full of righteous fury.

“Those idiots! I warned them to stay away! Instead of spreading the word about how dangerous this place is, they went and told even more people to come explore! Now you’ve got folks diving into the forests, sailing off to sea, leading caravans straight into the Great Wasteland...”

She scowled. “I just don’t get it. Do they all have a death wish?”

Li Yuan couldn’t help but smile. It was rare to see this more youthful, naïve side of Yan Yu.

“You’ve worked hard,” he said sincerely.

This shard of Yan Yu’s soul clearly didn’t treat her original self’s husband as an outsider. Then again, they likely shared the same consciousness. It was just that, having reincarnated into the human world, this soul fragment had developed a few quirks and bits of independent thought that hadn’t yet merged back into the whole.

These shards of independent thought made her all the more human.

Perched on the boulder, Yan Yu’s reincarnated self swung her legs angrily. Then, with a huff, she turned sideways and poked Li Yuan in the arm. “Can’t you go talk to my main body? Either tell her to send a few more soul fragments to help, or just let me go back already!”

Li Yuan chuckled. He wasn’t about to take that seriously.

She was just venting. If she truly wanted her main body to know something, all it would take was a single thought.

That shared consciousness was the very reason he still called her Yan Yu, even in this new form.

After a moment’s thought, Li Yuan said, “Then how about this? Why not pick a few of the...let’s say, better-behaved and stronger ones...”

He glanced over at the indescribable abominations lounging nearby, each seemingly plucked straight from the pages of some warped version of the Classic of Mountains and Seas.

“And let them officially serve as your mountain gods and sea gods?”

Yan Yu’s fragment stomped her foot. “I was running secret experiments out here on the fringes! Now the whole Ancestral Land knows! Just wait, those self-righteous cultivators are going to come swarming into the mountain sea region to hunt down my test subjects, all while preaching about

vanquishing evil

and

protecting the Dao

.”

She fumed, cheeks puffed. “It’s infuriating! A hundred years of painstaking effort, all ruined just because I let a few lucky adventurers slip away. And now the rumors keep spreading!”

As she ranted, she lifted her legs again.

Without missing a beat, Li Yuan shifted to the side, letting her rest her legs across his lap. He began gently massaging her calves.

Looking at this adorably

innocent

version of the Primordial Earth Mother, Li Yuan couldn’t help but find the whole situation amusing.

While considering her dilemma, he suddenly reached for the old gourd hanging at his waist and gave it a pat. “How about giving this a try?”

“What is that?”

Curious, Yan Yu leaned in and flicked the gourd with her finger.

Nothing. No sound at all.

It was like tapping on an entire world, or striking the surface of a boundless sea.

To produce even the faintest sound, one might need to hit it with the full force of a peak second rank cultivator.

Li Yuan explained, “There’s a whole world sealed inside, spanning a few hundred kilometers in all directions.”

“Wow. My main body’s husband, you’re amazing,” she said with wide eyes, full of admiration.

Li Yuan burst into laughter.

This

was

Yan Yu—but the memories carried by this soul fragment had given her a different personality altogether.

She immediately tried to snatch the gourd, but it was like trying to uproot a mountain. The thing wouldn’t budge. It felt as if gravity itself had thickened around it.

Li Yuan quickly loosened his spiritual control, letting it go.

She tugged again, and this time, she succeeded but overdid it. With a yelp, she lost her balance and pitched forward.

Li Yuan moved fast, catching her by the waist before she could fall.

“Hey, hey! My main body’s husband, that’s

not

okay. We can’t do that.” She poked him in the forehead with her finger and pushed him away, scolding in a serious tone.

“Nope! No means no!” she added, pushing him away again and forming a big X with her hands like a schoolteacher laying down the rules.

“...” Li Yuan fell silent, speechless.

She marched a few steps back, hands on her hips, and declared with a dramatic huff, “Hmph! Keep this up and I’ll tell the main body! My main self strictly forbade me from getting cozy with you. She said I’m supposed to focus on my experiments!”

“...”

Yan Yu's soul fragment quickly changed the subject. “Forget that. Let’s go check out the gourd world first.”

Li Yuan nodded. With a flick of his hand, the gourd’s mouth popped open, sucking her inside in a swirl of energy. He followed right after. The old gourd dropped to the ground with a soft

thud

.

Then, without warning, a hand reached out from inside the gourd, grabbed the rim, and pulled it inward.

Pop!

And just like that, the gourd vanished too.

“This is it?”

Arms crossed, Yan Yu stood on a crumbling loess hill, surveying the world around her with no small amount of disappointment. It looked like a massive junkyard, the kind a dragon might leave behind after tearing through a few too many realms.

Trees twisted in chaotic directions, growing wild and crooked. Strange insects with glittering wings buzzed through the air. Pools of water dotted the land like scattered stars, but not a single fish swam in them.

This was a ruined portion of the Outer Region that Li Yuan had casually swept into the gourd long ago.

The earth came from mountains he had shattered. The ponds were once lakes used to quench heavenly fires. The original life here had been all but obliterated. What little remained were eggs and larvae, clinging to survival. But after a hundred years, even those descendants had morphed into bizarre new forms, barely recognizable as insects anymore.

“Come on, be grateful,” Li Yuan said. “Having a whole world just for your experiments? That’s already a pretty sweet deal.”

Yan Yu gave him a look. “Well then, oh mighty husband of my main body, could you make me a

realm vessel

of my own?”

Li Yuan thought for a moment. “I’ll say this upfront: I can’t make another world this big and still have it fit inside a gourd.”

“How big can you manage?”

“Maybe a kilometer or two across.”

“That’s way too small! One flap of a wing and my test subjects will smack into the edge of the world!”

Without another word, Li Yuan handed her the old gourd. “Here. Just use this one.”

“Thank you, main body’s husband!” she said cheerfully, clutching it with delight. Then she gave him a playful jab on the arm. “Since you’re here, help me gather up all these monsters, will you? There are too many, and they’re scattered all over the place.”

But halfway through her request, she started to look troubled again.

Li Yuan asked, “What’s wrong now?”

She shook the gourd gently. “Some of the monsters are

huge

. I’m worried they won’t all fit in one gourd.”

“I’ll forge more realm vessels when I get back,” Li Yuan said. “We can store them separately.”

“Then hurry up!” she urged, giving him a push. “How long will it take?”

“If everything goes well, just a few years. The materials are the tricky part. I’ll need to search the stars for them.”

“Alright, go and come back quickly,” she said, hugging the gourd like it was a priceless treasure. It was clear this thing had just solved a major headache for her.

Before leaving, Li Yuan asked, “Any news on Ping’an?”

“The main body is working on something,” Yan Yu replied. “Once your realm vessels are ready, we should have a clearer idea. If he’s still alive...we just might see him again.”

Li Yuan nodded, then stepped onto his sky-boat and, with another stride, vanished. He reappeared in a region of the voidveil roughly a century’s journey from the Ancestral Land.

He remembered remnants of a shattered world drifting through this starfield. Now, it was time to hunt for a stellar core, one strong enough to forge a new realm vessel.

The starfield stretched on endlessly.

Here, time lost all meaning.

Everything in sight remained still, unchanged.

Li Yuan continued his search in silence. It was monotonous work.

Two years passed before he finally found a star core the size of an adult’s head, likely debris from some long-destroyed celestial body.

As he reached out and grasped the core, intending to store it away, a strange emotion suddenly stirred in his chest. Frowning, he paused and held the object up for a closer look.

The faint, ghostly-blue starlight shimmered over the surface, and the dents and indentations on the star core slowly became more distinct.

Li Yuan studied them carefully, searching for the source of that peculiar feeling.

He ran his fingers slowly across the marks, rotating the sphere this way and that.

Then, all at once, his pupils contracted and his hand froze mid-motion.

He understood now. He knew exactly where that unease had come from.

From this particular angle, the star core looked startlingly like an eye.

An orbital ridge, a faint suggestion of eyelids, and at the center, a perfectly round black pit that looked disturbingly like a pupil.

Li Yuan thought he was imagining it. But no matter how he turned or examined it, the resemblance wouldn’t go away.

Finally, he murmured to himself, “Chaos Path...”

Then he looked up and scanned the countless floating meteorites around him. Suddenly, it all clicked. His expression turned grim.

“This really is a graveyard,” he muttered.