At the dawn of the primordial chaos, when the heavens and earth first parted, two stones lay deep within the core of the Earth—the Yin Primordial Stone and the Yang Primordial Stone. Touched by the creation and transformation of the cosmos, they awakened with divine consciousness!
Time flew like shooting arrows, and the sun and moon shuttled like weavers' shuttles! After countless eons, guided by the heavens, the Yang Primordial Stone and the Yin Primordial Stone assumed the duties of the sun and moon of the surface world. Radiating continuous light and heat deep within the Geothermal World, they became the true sun and moon of that subterranean realm.
Bathed in the radiance of the sun, moon, and stars, the Geothermal World soon blossomed with all manner of exotic flora and rare fauna. Its breathtaking and splendid scenery was so endlessly magnificent that it momentarily overshadowed the surface world!
Next came the human race—not ordinary mortals, but exalted masters who had attained the Dao through quiet cultivation—alongside the demon, magical, ghostly, and beastly clans.
Whenever an almighty being arose among these various clans, they would establish their own nation. Thus, large and small states dotted the land, locked in endless strife. One day your nation would crush me, the next I would slaughter you. Dynastic transitions were as rapid as the morning-born and evening-dying ephemera, and countries capable of surviving for a century were exceedingly rare.
Only two nations stood forever unshaken: the Underworld governed by the Underworld Emperor, and the Nether Kingdom ruled by the Underworld King Hubalake!
Everyone knew of the Underworld. Headed by the Underworld Emperor, it housed the Ten Kings of Hell, the Judges, and the ghost-catchers. It served as both the final destination and starting point of reincarnation, as well as the dwelling place of wandering souls and ghosts.
The territories governed by the Underworld were boundless yet utterly desolate. The entire Underworld had only a handful of structures: a Ghost Gate, a Naihe Bridge, six Cao official mansions, ten halls of King Yama, twelve departmental official mansions, and eighteen layers of hell.
The Nether Kingdom, however, was rarely known. Legend had it that its founding came about after it destroyed a renowned subterranean state—the Qixian State!
Hubalake possessed a remarkably awkward name. His surname was Hu, yet his given name was Balake. Whether this man had deliberately tried to show off, imitating the literary scholars by playing with ink to give himself a striking name, no one knew. Even now, thoughtful souls would occasionally slip up and call him "Nonsense."
That great war between the Nether Kingdom and the Qixian State could be traced back over four hundred years. Back then, the Nether Kingdom was merely a tiny vassal state within the Qixian State, and Underworld King Hubalake had been forced to pay tribute and send envoys year after year!
The Qixian State possessed a long and illustrious history. Ever since mortals began cultivating immortality and studying the Dao, the state had existed, tracing its origins back thousands of years to the Xia and Shang dynasties. Those cultivators who had just attained the fruit of the Dao but had not yet undergone their heavenly tribulations to ascend were sent into this Qixian State. Here, they continued their cultivation for one hundred thousand heavenly days. If they could comprehend the Great Dao and were fortunate enough to survive the heavenly tribulations sent down by the heavens, they could ascend into the heavenly palace, reaching Yujing—where the thirty-two Heavenly Emperors resided—or Penglai Fairy Isle, or the Kunlun Langyuan where divine immortals gathered, or Mount Gushe where goddess maidens dwelt. There, they would receive official ranks in the immortal realm, bestowed with tallies and seals, free to soar through the heavenly realms.
How could such a magnificent and powerful nation be destroyed?
One day, four hundred years ago, on the day of Awakening of Insects, the weather grew warm and the first spring thunder rolled, rousing the insects hibernating underground.
Inside the council hall of the imperial palace in Lijing, the capital of the Qixian State within the Geothermal World.
Upon the golden-lacquered dragon throne sat the thirty-sixth ruler of the Qixian State, who looked down upon the world with majestic disdain—Dai Qianfan.
The hall was adorned with bell-like flowers. Their calyxes were snowy white, glowing with a translucent, bone-china luster, while the tips of their petals were ringed with varying shades of pale purple, as though dyed by nature itself.
The national flower of the Qixian State—the Zituoman!
The dome of the hall was supported by sandalwood beams, illuminated by crystal and jade wall-lamps, curtained with strings of pearls, and anchored by pure gold pillars. Hanging from the vaulted center of the ceiling was a gigantic pearl of the bright moon, radiating brilliant light like a glowing moon. The floor was paved with white jade inlaid with golden pearls—what magnificent grandeur!
Sovereign Dai Qianfan was dressed in a five-colored dragon-embroidered robe. Her sword-like eyebrows slanted up into her temples, and her phoenix eyes radiated authority. Every movement she made exuded a refined and ethereal temperament, making her look from afar like a transcendent being.
At this moment, she was supporting her brow with one hand while resting the other on the armrest of the dragon throne, her brow furrowed in deep worry.
Below her, hundreds of civil and military officials stood in two rows, hands folded and sleeves lowered, arrayed across the grand hall.
A civil official clad in the formal red robes of the five official colors stood in the center of the hall, loudly reading from a memorial: "Your Majesty! The Underworld King Hubalake has swallowed up our northern vassal state, the Myriad Demon Kingdom, expanding his territory by a third. For him to annex other nations with such a grand display—his intentions are thoroughly treasonous! If Your Majesty continues to stand by with folded arms, disaster will surely befall us before long!"
This man possessed a tiger’s back, a bear’s waist, and a dignified appearance, and his voice rang like a bronze bell. He was none other than the head of the three great protectors of the Qixian State—Master Ziwei, Feng Xingteng!
The founding tenet of the Qixian State was to save the world, deliver humanity, and bear witness to the heavenly Dao. The imperial court lacked the dazzling bureaucratic systems of the surface world; instead, distinctions were made solely by one's depth of understanding of the Dao, with no division of social rank or status!
Yet despite those words, for thousands of years, the covert struggles among the various chief protectors, though seemingly as calm as autumn water, were actually churning with undercurrents. Clans were intertwined in complex webs, and none of them were willing to easily reveal their ultimate secret techniques.
The three great protectors, ten chief seats, thirty-six grandmasters, and seventy-two sages appeared outwardly polite, treating one another as equals. In reality, everyone knew that beneath the ruler of the Qixian State were the protectors; beneath the protectors came the chief seats; below the chief seats were the grandmasters; and only beneath them came the sages, scholars, and ordinary cultivators. As for the common folk among the populace, most were merely independent cultivators belonging to no sects or factions.
This increasingly rigid hierarchy grew even more intense under the posthumous-title-bestowing campaign advocated by the thirty-fifth ruler of the Qixian State, Dai Zhengxiong.
Posthumous titles were designations given in the surface world to deceased emperors, imperial concubines, feudal lords, ministers, and other high-ranking individuals based on an evaluation of their life deeds, carrying praise, blame, or neutrality. This practice originated in the Western Zhou dynasty.
The posthumous titles of the Qixian State differed from those of the surface world; they were simply Daoist titles and religious names.
For reasons unknown, Dai Zhengxiong had gotten some wires crossed during his reign and launched many grand movements, the greatest of which was this "bestowing of posthumous titles" campaign. Its original intent was to honor talented individuals who had rendered meritorious service, but as the matter escalated, talented figures across all clans eventually came to regard receiving a posthumous title as an honor and failing to receive one as a disgrace.
Through endless contention, the distribution of posthumous titles eventually transformed into an exclusive honor reserved only for those at the grandmaster level and above in the Qixian State.
There was no other reason: the ultimate pursuit of the citizens of the Qixian State was to attain the Dao and ascend, and those who realized the Great Dao were invariably figures of grandmaster level and above—an unwritten phenomenon over the years.
Just imagine: an exalted master who had reached the level of a mighty being—it would be a wonder if they weren't drafted up into the imperial court.
Naturally, there were exceptions, such as Dai Qianfan's teaching mentor, Shang Baitong, and others.
Dai Qianfan let out a soft hiss, her brow furrowing even tighter!
Her gaze swept over Master Ziwei, and just as she was about to speak, an elderly man with graying hair—though his hair was white, his complexion lacked the rudeness of youth—walked out tremblingly leaning on a Qilin jade staff. With a raspy, old-bull voice, he loudly declared: "A mere little mudfish—what grand waves can it possibly churn up? In this old man's view, the Sevenfold Killing Monarch of Guiyang Palace is the one harboring the most treacherous designs! Your Majesty, this person has mastered the supreme secret technique of the Mysterious Space Flying Star studies—the Seven Star Mysterious Killing Technique. For decades, he has been arrogant and domineering. Though serving as a titular chief seat of our Qixian State, he has never once attended or participated in our nation's various meetings, completely failing to hold our heavenly court in his eyes. He is the true hidden threat to our heavenly realm!"
This old man was Gui Taishou, the prime minister of the Qixian State. He was estimated to be nearly a thousand years old and was a veteran minister who had served three reigns.
A veteran minister of three reigns—the title sounded imposing enough, but everyone knew in their hearts: the previous two rulers had attained the Dao and ascended, yet he still lingered in the grand hall every single day, wheezing away as he pointed out the direction of the realm. To put it bluntly, wasn't it simply because his cultivation had hit a bottleneck and his lifespan was about to run out?
Master Ziwei and he had always been in a state of mutual hostility: out of sight they ignored each other, but the moment they met they clashed. Hearing these words, Master Ziwei instantly widened his eyes in anger and rebuked sternly: "Gui Taishou, the Sevenfold Killing Monarch is merely in seclusion for cultivation, imparting the Dao and spreading teachings, leaving him no time or energy for other matters! Do not measure the heart of a gentleman with the yardstick of a petty person and frame a loyal official!"
Gui Taishou shook his withered-branch-like claws and thumped his cane hard against the ground three times, locking horns tit for tat: "That Nether Kingdom is merely complying with the grand trend, incorporating those stubborn little nations for unified governance! Day after day you clamor for troops, troops, and more troops—what is your hidden motive?"
The two of them traded barbs, preparing to open another round of verbal warfare, when Dai Qianfan waved her hand and hurriedly cut them off: "This matter shall be discussed another day. Do Your Excellencies have any other business?"
Her sharp gaze fell upon the Left Protector, Hermit Xianyun Wu Hongwen, and she asked, "Is there any news of Princess Daiyue?"
Hermit Xianyun Wu Hongwen practiced the art of talismans and possessed deep attainments in astrology and formations. He had always come and gone like the wind, accustomed to a life like a free cloud and wild crane. Yet now he was forced to attend court every day because the thirty-seventh destined successor of the Qixian State—Princess Daiyue—had gone missing.
This was a matter of utmost gravity, and Wu Hongwen had been specially appointed to take full charge of it. Despite his usual detachment from worldly trifles, he could not help breaking out in cold sweat, his spine feeling thoroughly chilled.
He stepped out of the ranks, stood in the center of the grand hall, and bowed: "Reporting to Your Majesty, this subject has observed the astral charts by night. The Ziwei star representing Her Royal Highness the Princess is bright and lustrous, truly indicating peace and well-being in her blessed body. As for why this subject has yet to pinpoint the Princess's specific location, it must be because Her Highness was momentarily caught up in play and concealed herself within some kind of barrier. By this subject's estimation, once Her Highness has had her fill of experiencing the world outside, she will naturally return of her own accord to make her humble apologies before long!"
His words were spoken with absolute certainty, yet they choked Dai Qianfan to the point where her heart and lungs twisted and her blood pressure soared right up.
Dai Qianfan forced herself to close her eyes and remain motionless like an old monk in meditation, though the restless hostility between her brows was about to burst right across her face. After pondering for a moment, she looked toward the Right Protector on the other side, Lord Doumu Mo Qiyan, and said, "Lord Mo, is there any progress on your Morning Dew White Lotus?"
Though Mo Qiyan was also dressed in the formal red robes of the five official colors, she could not conceal her slender and delicately charming figure. She and Dai Qianfan were both striking beauties, yet their styles were diametrically opposed: the former was soft and gentle like a babbling spring, every frown and smile laden with enchanting allure, while the latter was as cold and aloof as the bright moon hanging high in the sky, admirable yet out of reach.
Legend had it that Lord Doumu was the reincarnation of a flower fairy, highly proficient in the language of flowers. In her Daoist temple grew a Morning Dew White Lotus that radiated a brilliant white light day and night, capable of communicating with all flora between heaven and earth. Wherever flowers bloomed, there was no news it did not know.
Mo Qiyan stepped forward gracefully, offered a low bow, and said, "Reporting to Your Majesty, this subject is terrified; no news has been received as of yet!"
A wisp of green smoke vaguely rose from the top of Dai Qianfan's head, and her complexion instantly turned as pale as gold foil. Her body trembled slightly as she finally reached her breaking point and screamed inwardly: A bunch of trash!
Yet it was merely a scream in her heart. A moment later, she pulled herself together, swept aside her emotions like a revolving lantern, and with a transcendent expression assumed a proper posture and declared: "Enough, court is dismissed!"