Chapter 754 – A Thousand Years of Bloodshed Beyond the Sky, A Gourd of Beasts at His Waist, Ah Ting Returns - Part 1

For a wandering soul with no place to call home, every day felt like a torment, dragging on with no end in sight.

But for one who had settled down with a heart unburdened, with loved ones by their side, the years passed in a blink.

To Li Yuan, three hundred years slipped by almost like a fleeting breath.

In his household lived ten women, Xue Ning, Cui Huayin, Jing Shuixiang, Yao Jue, Snow, Xie Yu, Xie Wei, Lady Yu, Li Youning, and Luo Lietong.

Each one had shared memories and ties with him. Though time had softened those memories, they never faded. Instead, they had seeped into his soul, becoming an inseparable part of him.

These ten women, along with Sheng’er, Zhen’er, Naran, Yan Yu, and Ji Hu made up the human anchors that kept Li Yuan grounded in his long life.

Together, they were his home.

He did roam from time to time, exploring the mountains, wandering the world, even shape-shifting into different guises to experience the mortal world. But never alone, there was always a wife by his side.

Though beauty was abundant in the world, he never sought more.

From the endless river of flowers, a single ladle was enough.

He once posed as an innkeeper at the famed Yellow Crane, which Xue Ning and Li Youning managed. There, he received countless guests, watching poets and scholars from the golden Tang Dynasty leave verses on the walls, their spirits high. And in years of famine, he spent lavishly, shipping endless supplies of grain and clothing to those in need.

He also posed as a poet, joining the mysterious Lady Huayin at the Ink Square. Playing to her interests, he became her favored companion, envied by many. Yet he soon revealed his unrestrained side, drinking and singing wildly, riding like the wind, composing 300 poems in one drunken spree on a bustling street.

Once, he was a humble farmer, living with a pretty village girl named Xie Yu. They sowed in spring and harvested in autumn, working hard by day and cuddling early at night. They shared a shy, slow-burning countryside love.

Then he returned to the jianghu, clad in white with a blade on his back, galloping through rivers and mountains with Luo Lietong as his companion. Their travels eventually entangled them in a feud with the high and mighty head of the Sword Sect, an affair that ended with his disappearance. Some said the sect master killed him. Others claimed he offended someone he shouldn’t have.

He took on the guise of a scholar, heading to the capital for the imperial exam, always accompanied by a well-educated and graceful young lady.

He cultivated atop high peaks with Jing Shuixiang. He wandered through the wilderness with Snow in search of Naran, only to lose himself in nature and passion.

He studied strange mystical arts with Lady Yu at his side.

He resumed his identity as the Ancestor of the Everpeak and brought back a chubby boy surnamed An from the bustling city. someone deeply favored by the Emperor. No one understood why the venerable ancestor would personally descend the mountain to bring him back, except perhaps Wu Mei, now head of the Everpeak. She had her suspicions...for she, too, had once been brought up the mountain in the same inexplicable way. And that mystery had lingered over her entire life.

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Three hundred years...had passed far, far too quickly.

During this time, Li Yuan also began mending the gaps in his cultivation, skills he had long overlooked.

Alchemy. puppetry, entire fields he’d once ignored, he now tackled head-on with grit and resolve. And not just tackled, he pushed every single one to the peak of second rank.

Along the way, mysterious memories from allocating his skill points surfaced again.

Before reaching second rank, he had only glimpsed scattered fragments of history, shattered echoes of the past. But once he broke through to the pinnacle, once his mastery in these profound arts reached their zenith, he saw only one thing.

That was people attempting to patch the Heavens.

There was no escaping the Great Shattering.

It was the Great Shattering that had ushered in this age of decay.

It was decay that led to the starkin devouring one another in desperation, that brought chaos to the heart of every star, that turned the galaxy into a vast graveyard, and left the Ancestral Land the universe’s last lonely sentinel.

Li Yuan watched those memories unfold again and again. He couldn’t help but wonder what if the Great Shattering had never happened? What kind of world would this have been? How much more vibrant, more alive, could it have become?

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In the 301st year, Li Yuan took a great leap beyond the second rank’s peak.

He made a formal offering to the stars.

From that moment on, as long as the stars remained, his power, aligned with Heaven itself, would remain unshaken. Even if dynasties rose and fell, even if the rivers changed course and the mountains shifted, it would never affect him.

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Then came the 313th year, and with it, the start of an era of slaughter.

After centuries of peace and recovery, the mortal world had birthed a new generation of powerhouses.

And among them, ambition stirred.

Some turned to the Primordial Earth mother, offering prayers while quietly dreaming of overturning Heaven’s order.

At first, it was just a test. They performed divinations and saw

great fortune

.

That was all the excuse they needed.

Restlessness spread like wildfire.

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In the blink of an eye, 30 years passed.

The Great Tang Empire began to fracture.

The sect masters of the Sword Sect and Enigma Sect sat high above the fray, motionless, untouchable.

However, their disciples were already knee-deep in the conflict.

The Everpeak Sect descended the mountain, intent on quelling the growing unrest, unaware that this chaos was Heaven’s will itself.

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Another 10 years passed.

And from that festering ground of turmoil came disaster. The Church of Light’s teachings were no longer honored. Unauthorized bestowal ceremonies were performed. And the land of the Great Tang Empire was carved up like spoils of war.

These rebellious cultivators had planned their uprising for decades. They had labored tirelessly to lay the groundwork for

a realm ruled by clans

, a world where power, not law, held sway.

The provinces no longer acknowledged the Emperor’s authority, but bent only to the might of those who held them in thrall.

And so, bestowal ceremonies and dividing the land became all too easy.

The newly crowned Tang Emperor had enjoyed just a few peaceful months on the throne before the hammer fell.

He was young, impatient, and furious.

When he discovered that three of the Nine Provinces across the empire had already slipped beyond his control, he launched a swift, aggressive campaign to stamp out the defiance. Imperial edicts were dispatched on fast horses, ordering the replacement of top officials in those rogue regions.

That act was like striking a hornet’s nest with a sword.

The rebellion of the three provinces began with a bold declaration. The young emperor was surrounded by traitors and sycophants. They claimed they would

cleanse the court

and restore glory to the Tang.

What followed was chaos.

The realm was thrown into war. Armies clashed. Cities burned. Blood flowed like rivers.

The Church of Light intervened, trying to stem the tide.

But their hope was short-lived. When their Pontiff fell in battle, they finally realized just how terrifyingly strong the rebel forces had become.

And by then, it was far too late.

The rebel armies merged and surged southward like a tidal wave, aiming straight for the Cloud Capital.

Everywhere, fire and famine. The people suffered. Entire regions became wastelands.

So many cultivators, once revered as legends, were dying by the hour, as easily as chickens in a slaughterhouse.

And then, as if prompted by some hidden sage, the young emperor suddenly led a party toward Ink Square. With passion in his heart and hope in his stride, he went to seek a reclusive master, someone who could save the nation.

But when he arrived, he found the mysterious Ink Square, unchanged for centuries, completely empty.

Stunned, the young emperor stood there, then erupted in fury. Despite the desperate pleas of his courtiers, he ordered the entire Ink Square burned to the ground.

Then, wrapped in heavy furs, flanked by soldiers, he fled eastward through a snowstorm, his face pale with fear.

As he passed the Yellow Crane teahouse, he recalled its long-standing ties to the Ink Square. On impulse, he commanded that this ancient building, once a beacon of Tang prosperity, be reduced to ash.