Am I… dead?
Li Pan—no, Li Heitu—stood alone on a meteorite, staring into the pitch-black, empty deep of space.
He still remembered the nuclear blast that followed after Li Xuehong seized that body. Then his consciousness switched straight into this avatar.
Now Li Heitu was alone here—eyes open, eyes shut, shut then open—yet there was no sun or moon above, and he had no idea how much time had passed.
But whether it was Li Pan, or Li Xuehong, or even Li Qingyun—there was no response from any of them.
The world was silent, solitary, hollow—nothing at all.
Only Li Heitu, crouched in a crater like a reef, looking into the black void.
As if every world, every self, had been nothing but a chaotic dream.
Like a stone that's squatted too long, gone mad and hallucinating a dream.
…
Wait, so all those worlds before were a dream?
…
…
…
Aaaah!
The instant that thought took shape, terror surged through Li Heitu and he loosed a voiceless scream into the empty world.
A beam of golden light erupted from his mouth—brilliant, silent—shearing the ground, cleaving the rock, and even, as if, slashing through the bottomless abyss itself.
It left behind a clearly visible sword mark across a plane where time and space meant nothing.
Yes—a sword mark.
Li Heitu stared dumbly at the nothingness before him; while there was "nothing" in reality, he could nonetheless perceive the clear scar that one sword had left upon this world.
About a finger wide, a rent in the void, a tear in the seams between planes…
Holy crap—wasn't this what novels call—
Sword! Shatters! The Void!
"Ahem, not quite there yet."
Who?!
Li Heitu spun around, but there was no one.
Listen closely… it sounded like his own voice?
Crap! I really am split-personality!
"What split-personality? I'm Fa Gui! Don't you recognize me?!"
Huh? Fa Gui??
Li Heitu glanced down at his belly. This clay body was traced all over with fine silver lines—like branded runes, or the circuit traces of a chip.
And that voice was coming from within him—from the hub of those runes.
Fa Gui… you're that orb—oh, the sword pill?
"Not a sword pill, a sword infant! We crossed the tribulation, remember?"
Crossed the tribulation? Oh—got zapped by lightning, huh…
Only now did Li Heitu realize this body was also at the "Refining Qi, Transforming Spirit" stage—roughly between Sixth and Seventh Turn of Nine Yin. But the cultivation method wasn't exactly the Nine Yin True Canon or the Blood Register Heavenly Tome.
Most obvious of all: the meridians had been reshaped and fused with those silver traces; neither human nor dragon, more like… a tool. No—more like a formation diagram…
"It's the Sword Canon. What, you're a wild-cultivation mutt? Never learned the mountain's sword lineage?"
Sword lineage? Sword canon? What's that? You're a sword? I'm a sword? Where is this? Where did you come from?
…
Hey? Fa Gui? Fa Gui? You still there? Say something, Fa—
"Ugh, you're so noisy! I'm a sword. Have you seen a sword yammer all day? Ask your master if you've got questions!"
Oh—ask Master, huh.
Li Heitu spread his hands to the boundless dark.
Then where is Master?! Where's my master?! Master! Maaaaa—ster—!!!
"Argh—enough! Don't disturb my cultivation! If you get your channels crossed and your guts spilled and your head lopped off, that's your problem! Scram!"
Li Heitu watched his own fist rise and smash him in the face. His vision went black.
He blinked—and Li Qingyun woke up.
Not a dream… good, thank goodness it wasn't a dream…
Li Qingyun rubbed his face, drew a steadying breath, and looked down at the mountain of exam papers on the desk—and the slobbered-on gold brick.
Memories ebbed and surged back into place.
Right—no wonder he'd been stuck as Li Heitu so long with no response: every other body was currently "account cannot log in."
Li Pan? Gravely injured, probably still being resuscitated. He might be a billionaire now, but his personal account had less than thirty thousand; who knew if an EMT squad would brave nukes to reach him, or if the ICU had a bed…
Li Xuehong? Dead. Really dead—vital essence vaporized by the nuke.
The Blood God Child method is powerful, but not invincible. The Blood Register Heavenly Tome spells it out: the art has weak points. For example, while you're using Blood Shadow Possession, you can't use a fleeing art to dodge fate.
Say you've just extinguished the enemy soul and are seizing their body; until you finish refining the new vessel with blood essence, the Blood God Child can't disengage.
If at that moment you're struck by a superior dao-technique—or a nuke-scale, lethal force—the Blood God Child can be blasted into oblivion, the body dissolved.
Which is why someone like Duan Kecheng is so cautious. If the art were truly unbeatable, why cultivate billions of blood avatars and only emerge once you've formed a boundless blood sea?
As for Li Qingyun—he'd been… taking an exam.
Right—quizzes, midterms, big tests, day and night. Li Qingyun's primordial spirit had gone out to sit the monthly exam.
Before the Patriarch you can't cheat; even yin-yang calculus, fate-divination, heaven-wrenching arts are forbidden. No chance to sneak a split-soul out to open-book it.
But once Li Heitu knocked himself out—properly unconscious—Li Qingyun finished his exam and returned. With no anti-cheat aura from Penglai interfering, the link reestablished.
All right—whatever it is, at least it isn't split personality…
Though hopping back and forth like this is basically the same, isn't it?
And seriously, could we get a loading screen between bodies? A little progress bar? Don't scare me like that!!
How'd the exam go?
Heh—exactly as expected: last place!
Come on—he only learned to read and cultivate a few months ago; how's he supposed to compete with prodigy dao scions? Barely passing and avoiding a beating is good enough, okay?
Anyway, he'd cleared the cutoff, confirmed the main body wasn't dead, and he wasn't crazy—so Li Qingyun felt refreshed. He shut the books and slipped out to play.
A rare trip down below; Master Xian was still in seclusion with Sect Master Zhou, so why sequester himself in a study all day?
Yes, outside lay a void and the world's end—but Penglai still had scenic spots, flowers and greenery to stroll.
With so many worlds and not one peaceful—who knows when you'll die—why nitpick?
Seize the day.
Li Qingyun shook his sleeves, rode a breeze and auspicious cloud, and drifted among Penglai's immortal peaks and halls, palaces and temples.
Some pavilions blazed with radiance—someone in seclusion. Some were empty—no residents—so not proper to intrude.
Others, where the breeze was mild and clouds in tatters, where on floating peaks birds chattered and flowers flared—seven-colored brilliance, golden mists, occasional shooting stars and rainbows—those were the public grounds: pill halls, libraries, apothecaries—places where true immortals came and went.
He could make a loop there, flash the inner-disciple token, scrounge some food and drink, rub a little oil.
He picked a particularly festive island—clouds piling, gold and jade gleaming—and, wafting down in a swirl of breeze, strolled in with hands clasped behind his back.
Only a few sweeping pages were about—some reborn as azure luan birds, some formed from jade dust. They didn't know this "Qing" generation was dead last; seeing an inner sect immortal, they bowed one after another.
Li Qingyun nodded—good work, comrades, keep it up—and wandered on.
The style here differed from Penglai at large.
The Supreme Dao Sect was orthodox—pure-hearted immortals who kept to themselves. When not refining pills, they solved problems; all immortal poise. Their dwellings were Dao-palaces and temples—spotless, pearled with cloud and breeze, qi spilling everywhere—otherworldly, yet simple.
But this complex was different: red walls, green tiles, carved towers, glittering beams; white jade floors, eaves bristling with gilded auspicious beasts. Like they'd chiseled out an imperial palace from some dynastic capital and hauled it into the sky.
Not one palace—eight, squared into a ring, laid as a bagua, with the center as custom for the Supreme Nine True Mysterious Lady Temple.
He paid respects there first, then went sightseeing.
The palaces weren't locked. He looked up at a hall labeled Taishang Xuanzhen Palace, pushed the door, and peered in.
Inside stood many golden-armored divine generals—each eight zhang tall, three heads and six arms, holding halberds, staves, forks—faces fierce and awe-inspiring, bodies swaddled in astral wind and killing aura. Terrifying to behold—clearly guardian spirits, hall-warding gods.
These were talismans guarding the grounds—palace-anchoring spirit cores—autonomous superior treasures, true gods presiding over local arrays. Li Qingyun bowed quickly.
Recognizing a Penglai token, they withdrew their pressure and will, returning to statue-stillness.
Li Pan offered three sticks of incense, then wandered the hall.
The walls were lined with immortal portraits—but unlike Taishang's plain Daoists, these figures wore gold and gems, sumptuous robes—like dukes and ministers, high nobles—so lifelike they seemed to breathe within the paint.
Below the murals stood rows of racks, crowded with porcelain—bottles and jars…
What are these storing? Some look empty—also artifacts?
Curious, Li Pan picked up a vase and peered inside.
Within, verdant and misting with dao-breath—something sealed below—its glaze a green-blue landscape.
"An immortal graces us—this little god is Boyi. Forgive the lack of welcome."
A thread of gold flashed; from the mural before the vase stepped a brocade-clad noble, bowing to Li Qingyun.
"Oh? Well met, Dao-friend. I am Upper True Li Qingyun, from overseas. May I ask—what treasure is this?"
He just asked outright—already dead last; saving face was pointless.
The divine official Boyi smiled.
"In reply to the immortal: this is Taiji Mengyi Heaven, the Bochi Mountain Blessed Land of Chu Prefecture—the cave-dwelling of Lord Wang (Zhenjun Wang)."
"Cave-dwelling?"
"Indeed. There are thirty-six Taiji heavens; our Supreme Dao Sect holds eight. This hall houses the Xuanzhen lineage. Taiji Mengyi Heaven is among them. All contained herein are the cave-heavens of Xuanzhen inner disciples.
"Lord Wang is currently in seclusion, roaming the void. If it's urgent, please leave a visiting card; this little god will convey it."
Li Qingyun blinked.
"Nothing urgent… Wait—are you saying this vase is a Daoist gate? One could go to the other side—to Taiji Mengyi Heaven?"
Boyi sighed and shook his head.
"In the past, yes. But Taiji Mengyi Heaven has since been swallowed by the Abyss—shattered and dissolved.
"This bottle merely uses the art of Sumeru-in-a-Mustard-Seed, sleeve-world alchemy, to collect a portion of land and shelter a million refugees. It can scarcely be called a 'world' anymore."
"A million?" Li Qingyun stared at the vase. "You don't literally mean a million people in there… that's a figure of speech, right?"
Boyi hesitated.
"This… I have not counted precisely. But Bochi Mountain's domain spans a thousand li—tens of thousands of mu of fields, thousands of hamlets. Even if not a million, hundreds of thousands would not be far off."
Li Qingyun was even more shocked.
"What realm is your Lord Wang, to shelter a world and keep hundreds of thousands alive?"
Boyi glanced at the token on Li's waist.
"He… should be in seclusion above Transforming Spirit. Immortal, when disciples of our Taishang Dao Sect are admitted to the inner gate, they may—by mountain-moving and sea-shifting—bring their home-world's cultivation grounds, dao-companions, and clans together into Penglai.
"Just notify the pages, borrow a treasure, requisition some breath-soil and a ladle of Weak Water, then find a spot in an empty hall."
Hey! Don't make "saving a world" sound like setting a vase on a shelf!
Li Qingyun quelled his thumping heart and carefully put the vase back—best not to drop it and "kill" a hundred thousand.
"May I ask if any senior has time to let me enter this mustard-seed space—to take a look?"
"Yes. Please wait…" Boyi turned to gold and slipped back into the mural, returning moments later. "Thank you for waiting. Lord Sun (Zhenjun Sun) is at leisure. This way, immortal."
Boyi produced a little mutton-fat jade flask, murmured a spell, and tossed it skyward.
Its mouth cast a mysterious light onto the painted wall. The immortals in the mural stepped aside, and a door of light formed.
"This is Jiang Prefecture's Yuanchen Mountain Blessed Land. Please enter; Lord Sun awaits you."
Boyi bowed and returned to the wall.
Li Qingyun shook his sleeves, imitated Boyi, and walked straight toward the inner wall.
The rainbow-painted surface parted like cloud to sun—vapors coiling—as if the scroll unfurled to admit him.
As with stepping through the gate to Penglai, he passed in an instant; the view opened wide.
Green hills and clear water, blue skies and white clouds, sunlight over a great land.
It was bright spring, yet Li Qingyun frowned.
Stuffy. Oppressive. Like…
Having your head stuck in a bottle…
He looked at his hands. This wasn't a church-style illusion; he had entered in the flesh.
The problem was him—his cultivation was too high. With Master Xian he was a fire-tending page, but among mortals, the dao-breath naturally exuded from every pore like a cloud.
As his true power spilled, it stirred heaven and earth: five-colored radiance unfurled over his crown, piercing the clouds; a massive auspicious cloud billowed up. Rills sprang; fine rains fell, watering the hills; with each step, grasses revived and flowers burst—an immortal's creation scene.
He was startled, then thought it through, fingers ticking calculations, and understood.
So that's "from frugal to extravagant is easy; from extravagant to frugal is hard."
This bottled cave-heaven wasn't "bad"—a whole spiritual mountain and leyline cut and carried here; the qi was several grades richer than 0791.
But still, it was the mortal realm.
How could a mortal realm compare with Penglai's peaks or the Void-Star Sea's outer-immortal lands?
This body of Li Qingyun's had been born in the void, raised in the immortal domain—a half-god. Dropping to the human realm, after just two steps he felt out of place. For ordinary people, though, this was plenty.
Think of Li Pan—raised on a trash heap—still bouncing around. Though right now some rando beat him half to death… sigh, don't mention it; the more you compare, the sadder it gets…
Li Qingyun breathed, moderated his dao-breath, and deliberately suppressed the auspicious pageantry—otherwise they'd think he'd come to challenge the gate.
Indeed, sensing the anomaly, the master of this place noticed his arrival. In a blink, a sapphire radiance fell from the horizon, folding like silk. From it refracted a cultivator in Penglai's blue Dao robes.
"Rare to have a visiting friend. Xuanzhen Sun Chuantao, at your service."
"Upper True Li Qingyun. Greetings, senior brother."
Hearing a "Qing"-generation call him senior, the man's brows rose; a quick calculation later, they smoothed. Warmly, he said:
"So—a true-transmission Dao-Child under the Patriarch! Jade in form, gold in marrow—imposing and gifted! I'm truly delighted.
"Since you've deigned to visit my grounds, senior brother must be a proper host. Please, junior brother—share a few cups!"
Wow… these immortals are good at this—pleasant words and gracious manners. Much easier to deal with than the science-side punks whose every other word is an f-bomb.
"Many thanks, senior brother. I've been curious about your blessed mountain—so I'll impose."
The two immortals laughed, "senior brother, junior brother," and with much "please, please," arm in arm, riding cloud and mist, they set off to tour the cave-heaven.
.
.
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⚠️ 30 CHAPTERS AHEAD — I'm Not a Cyberpsycho ⚠️
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