No spiritual root? I devour the origins of all paths.

The stone palace gates slowly closed behind Ling Chen, and the seal of the Celestial Venerable's legacy sank back into the depths of the mountain. The dark blue sword curtain that stretched across the void was gradually fading away—after the Celestial Venerable's natal sword intent returned to its place, the protective sword array on the outer edge of the mountain lost its energy source that had sustained it for ten thousand years. The sword curtain began to disintegrate from the edges, turning into countless dark blue light spots that dissipated into the turbulent void.

The demon army camp was in chaos. Iron Bone's three hundred expeditionary soldiers pressed forward from the city walls, while Bai Ze's demonic cannon fire precisely shattered the demon cultivator squads attempting to regroup. Xiao Lie and Han Tie combined their swords, tearing a breach several tens of feet wide on the western side of the demon army camp; crimson flames and golden scales intertwined in the void, forming a reaping net. But the Demon Lord himself remained nowhere to be seen. More than three months had passed since the battle at the Conferred God Platform, when he was wounded and fled. No one knew where he was recuperating, nor when he would reappear.

A muffled boom echoed from the depths of the mountains. It came from the direction of the core area of ​​the Heavenly Venerable Sword Formation—directly beneath the stone hall where Ling Chen and Su Qingyuan had just left. A surge of demonic energy, suppressed for months, suddenly erupted from the earth's depths. The concentration of this demonic energy far surpassed that of the battle at the Conferred God Platform, even pushing back the turbulent void hundreds of feet. At the center of the demonic energy, the Demon Lord's figure slowly rose. His black robe was even more tattered than three months ago, and a new scar ran diagonally from his forehead to his jaw on his handsome face—a sword mark left by Ling Chen during the Conferred God Platform battle when he used the Three Swords Resonance. He hadn't healed the scar, as if deliberately leaving it as a reminder—a reminder of the price of underestimating his opponent last time.

"Heavenly Venerable." The Demon Lord's voice remained languid, but it lacked the condescending composure he displayed at the Conferred God Platform. "You have indeed found your innate sword intent. When you sealed me back then, I offered you a deal—release the seal and share control of the Three Realms with me. You refused. Now, though the seal has been reinforced, it is still bound to your life. I will give you one last chance—take your attendants and leave the Three Realms. The boundless void beyond the realms is enough for you to find a new place to live. The Three Realms will belong to me, and all grudges will be settled."

"Ten thousand years have passed, and you still only know this one thing."

The Demon Lord sighed. There was no anger in his sigh, but rather a hint of genuine regret. He raised his hand, and the demonic energy around him condensed into a black blade of light completely different from the previous two—there was no tyrannical demonic pressure, no ferocious demonic illusions, only an extremely thin and narrow blade of light with dark purple spatial cracks along its edges. This blade of light was not formed from demonic energy, but from a rift formed after space itself had been torn apart. The Demon Lord had recovered to the point where he could tear space apart within the Three Realms system. The last time he used this power was ten thousand years ago when he directly confronted the Celestial Venerable's natal sword intent during the Great War of Gods and Demons.

"In my prime, this blade could cleave the barrier between the three realms. Now it can only shatter a mountain. That's enough to deal with you." The Demon Lord casually waved his hand, and the light blade silently swept towards Ling Chen. Wherever it passed, space curled up to both sides like a piece of paper being cut, revealing the dark chaotic currents behind the void.

Ling Chen gripped his sword with both hands, meeting the attack head-on. The gold of the Severing Thoughts, the crimson of the Burning Heaven, and the icy blue of the Frost-Condensing—the resonance of the three swords was pushed to its limit, merging with the chaotic origin of the Myriad Paths Returning to the Void Diagram to form a hundred-zhang-long sword beam of gold, red, and blue. The two forces collided in mid-air, the spatial rift and the sword beam locked in a stalemate, emitting a piercing shriek like metal tearing apart. A small portion of the mountain range collapsed, and several floating reefs were cleaved in two by the shockwave, the debris falling like a meteor shower into the void turbulence and disappearing. After the stalemate lasted for three breaths, the light of the resonating three swords began to gain the upper hand—not because the Demon Lord's power was insufficient, but because the old and new wound on his chest, which had been concealed for months, burst open again at the same moment.

The moment Ling Chen saw the sword mark shatter, he understood why the Demon Lord had rushed out at any cost to force him to accept the deal just as he was about to reinforce the seal. It wasn't out of arrogance, nor out of greed—it was because time was not on the Demon Lord's side. His injuries from the Conferred God Platform hadn't healed. The backlash from the seal, absorbed by the Myriad Paths Returning to Nothingness Diagram, had been transformed into energy for the Nine Revolutions Demon Sealing Array to restart, yet the Demon Lord still hadn't recovered from his previous injuries. If this dragged on any longer, once the array's foundation was completely stable, even the Demon Lord at his peak wouldn't be able to cause any real trouble.

"Your injury hasn't healed."

The Demon Lord glanced down at his shattered chest, then wiped away the demonic blood seeping from the cracks. He didn't deny it, but his tone suddenly softened. No more drawn-out pronouncements, no more condescension; he was like someone whose sore spot had been touched, finally shedding all pretense.

"Ten thousand years ago, when you sealed me in your previous life, you said something—that demons arise from the heart, and as long as there is resentment, greed, and fear in the Three Realms, I will live forever. At the time, I thought you were just saying that. It wasn't until I was sealed in the Nine Revolutions Demon Sealing Array for these ten thousand years that I slowly realized—you were telling the truth. My demonic energy does indeed originate from the negative will of the Three Realms. But there's one thing you didn't say in your previous life—I devour these negative wills not because I like them, but because I'm hungry. All things in nature have their own way, except for the Chaos Demon Lord. I am not a being derived from the Great Dao, but a consciousness formed from the turbid residue stripped away when the Three Realms were first created. All things have a spirit, except for me—I am just that turbid energy. In your previous life, you asked me if I wanted a different Three Realms, and I didn't answer. Now I tell you, I do, but I have no choice."

Ling Chen's grip on the sword hilt didn't loosen, but his gaze shifted for a moment. He recalled the Heavenly Venerable's inscription on the ancient scroll—the true use of the Myriad Paths Returning to Nothingness Diagram wasn't to devour all things, but to transform cause and effect. He also remembered the Sword Servant saying on the cliff that he wanted to forge a sword that could sever obsessions. The Sword of Severing Obsessions still existed, the character "念" (obsession) on the tassel faded but not fallen off. What the Sword Servant severed back then was obsession, not the master of obsession. The Demon Lord had no spirit, only turbid energy—turbid energy being obsession itself. The Sword of Severing Obsessions never severed people, but obsessions. The Demon Lord wasn't the master of obsessions; he was obsession itself—and obsession can be severed.

"Elder Mo, the Myriad Paths Returning to Ruins Diagram can transform cause and effect. If we separate the turbid energy source within the Demon Body from his consciousness—the turbid energy returning to the Myriad Paths Returning to Ruins Diagram and transforming into the chaotic source, while the consciousness is sent into reincarnation—is that possible?"

Mo Lao's silence was brief, so brief that Ling Chen almost assumed he had already anticipated this. "Yes. But not using the Three Swords Resonance—it's the secret technique recorded on the last page of the 'Myriad Paths' ancient scroll. It's a forbidden technique that the Celestial Venerable deduced ten thousand years ago but never used. It has no name; after the Celestial Venerable finished deducing it, he sealed it on the last page of the ancient scroll and never passed it on to anyone. Because it requires one condition—the caster must simultaneously master the Myriad Paths Returning to Nothingness Diagram, the Three Swords Resonance, the Celestial Venerable's natal sword intent, and—be willing to bear the backlash of the transformation at the cost of their own lifespan."

How significant will the backlash be?

"The process of transforming turbid energy into the origin of chaos will directly erode the caster's life essence. Losing a hundred years of lifespan is just the beginning; if the turbid energy is too concentrated, the backlash may cause you to fall back to the Qi Gathering Realm on the spot. More precisely, at the moment the transformation is completed, at least a hundred years of your lifespan will be taken away at once, and your cultivation level may also regress. However, after the spell is cast, the Demon Lord's personality will completely disappear, that ball of turbid energy will be purified into the origin of chaos and merged into the Myriad Paths Returning to the Void Diagram, and his fragments of consciousness will be separated from the turbid energy and sent into reincarnation—becoming his first true life. The price is paid by the caster himself with his life; it cannot be transferred to anyone else."

Ling Chen glanced at Su Qingyuan. She was standing at the entrance of the stone hall, desperately using her Frost Condensing Sword to block the remnants of the demonic cultivators who were rushing forward in the chaos. Sensing his gaze, she turned and looked at him. There was no dissuasion in her icy blue eyes, only a quiet trust, just like when she knelt on the Conferred God Platform ten thousand years ago to activate the array base. Then he clenched his Severing Thoughts and made his decision.

"Demon Lord. You said you had no choice. I, as the reincarnation of the Celestial Venerable, will give you a third option. I will use the Myriad Paths Returning to Ruins Diagram to transform the turbid energy within you into the chaotic energy, so that your consciousness will no longer be controlled by the turbid energy. The price is my hundred years of lifespan and a drop in cultivation level of at least one major realm. After the turbid energy is eliminated, you will revert to an ordinary consciousness, and then I will send you to reincarnation—not to seal you, but to give you a chance to start over."

The Demon Lord's smile froze, then turned into an incredulous scrutiny. He stared intently into Ling Chen's eyes, trying to find hypocrisy or hesitation within them. He had witnessed the human heart for ten thousand years—greed, fear, hypocrisy, cowardice—he had seen far too much of each. But he had never seen anything like this—sacrificing one's cultivation and lifespan to save an enemy who had just wanted him dead. This pure, almost foolish, kindness, he had only seen once before, ten thousand years ago. That person, too, stood on the Conferred God Platform, also asking him at the last moment if he wanted to stop. At the time, he thought it was charity, only later realizing that it was the only time he had been treated as a living being with a choice.

"Why? I killed the Sword Servant, forced the Flame Servant to his death, and made the Ice Servant kneel on the Conferred God Platform, exhausting his life force. For ten thousand years, I have devoured the negative will of countless beings—your sect, your fellow disciples, your friends—so many have died at the hands of my demon generals. Don't you hate me?"

"Hate." Ling Chen frankly admitted, "I hate you for killing the Sword Servant, forcing the Flame Servant to his death, and making Su Qingyuan kneel on the Conferred God Platform. But just now, in the Heavenly Venerable's relics, I saw a line of words—the essence of the Myriad Paths Returning to the Void Diagram is to transform cause and effect, not to devour all things. The Heavenly Venerable deduced that forbidden technique ten thousand years ago but didn't use it, not because he couldn't, but because he dared not. Because he was afraid he wouldn't be able to distinguish between saving you and letting you go. I am not him. I know the difference—saving you is because you have the right to use your own will to make a real choice, not because I forgive what you did. You will eventually have to pay for the sins you committed, but the way to pay for them is—to live again after reincarnation."

The Demon Lord withdrew his hand, opened his mouth, and laughed loudly, looking up at the sky. It wasn't mockery, nor madness—it was a laugh of liberation after ten thousand years of suppression. The laughter lacked the composure he displayed at the Conferred God Platform, and the somber tone of the negotiations. He lowered his head, tucked the spatial rift blade into his sleeve, and gently tapped his chest with two fingers, splitting his demonic core in two.

Turbid energy surged from the depths of the demonic core, its dense negative will transforming into countless twisted black streams that flowed into the Myriad Dao Returning to Ruins Diagram, guided by sword intent. Ling Chen activated the forbidden technique at the cost of his own lifespan, his life force rapidly draining away under the corrosive influence of the turbid energy. A hundred years of lifespan slipped through his fingers like grains of sand in an hourglass, and his cultivation level plummeted from the Condensation Realm back to the peak of Qi Gathering under the backlash. The chaotic vortex in his dantian was shattered by the erosion of the turbid energy, but the Myriad Dao Returning to Ruins Diagram remained steadily unfolding above his head, meticulously transforming the turbid energy into pure chaotic origin.

After the last wisp of turbid energy was transformed, the consciousness extracted from the demonic core was no longer dark red. It was a very faint, almost transparent golden dot, no bigger than a fist, yet it felt heavier than any demonic energy—it was the remnant soul left behind after the demon lord was stripped of his turbid energy, containing only the most basic consciousness and memories, clean and pure, without even a trace of shadow.

Ling Chen bit his fingertip and drew ancient seal script for reincarnation in the void. The golden light trembled slightly, drifted half an inch closer to Ling Chen, and then stopped, as if waiting for him to say something.

"I've said it before, you will eventually have to pay for the sins you've committed, but instead of being sealed away for ten thousand years, you will be reborn. When you get to the other side, you will go through the cycle of reincarnation on your own and see for yourself what the human world you devoured was like. If you are reincarnated with fragments of memories from this life, when you remember them then—you will slowly repay what you owe them."

Golden specks of light drifted slowly into the cycle of reincarnation. In the final instant before the passage closed, Ling Chen heard an extremely soft and faint voice. Hoarse and weary, it wasn't the Demon Lord's usual languid tone, nor was it a flippant provocation—it was simply the most sincere farewell from a consciousness stripped of all power and obsession before dissipating. It said—

"...Thank you. Tell the Ice Servant that the Sword Servant has been waiting over there for far too long, and so has the Flame Servant. Don't make them wait another ten thousand years."

The cycle of reincarnation slowly closed. The golden light dissipated into the void, leaving only silence. The Demon Lord was no longer a wisp of turbid energy, no longer a demon who destroyed the three realms—he was simply a life beginning anew at the end of the cycle of reincarnation. And that life would personally traverse the path of good and evil karma in the long journey of reincarnation, repaying, stroke by stroke, the mortal realm he had devoured.

Su Qingyuan sheathed her Frost Condensation Sword and walked to Ling Chen's side, placing her hand on his back—the aftershocks of the backlash had not yet dissipated, and his meridians had been mostly dried up after being eroded by the turbid energy, causing his cultivation to plummet back to the peak of the Qi Gathering stage. She channeled her pure ice-type spiritual energy into his meridians, no longer sharing his pain, but simply stabilizing the remaining chaotic essence within his body to prevent it from collapsing again in the aftershocks of the backlash.

"My cultivation level has dropped back to the peak of Qi Gathering."

"I saw it. Is it worth exchanging a hundred years of lifespan for the Demon Lord's reincarnation?"

Ling Chen lowered his head and sheathed the Broken Thought, extinguishing the flames of Burning Heaven back along the sword's spine. Finally, he took the Frost Condensation Sword she offered and hung it back in its original place at his waist. Then he raised his head and looked in the direction where the Demon Lord had vanished, his voice calm yet resolute.

"It's worth it. But next time, let someone else do it. It's easy to get used to shortening your lifespan too often—the enemies of the Three Realms are not just the Demon Lord, and there are even stronger beings in the outer void. Once you break through to the Mahayana Realm, we'll get our revenge together."

Su Qingyuan gently flicked the second ice crystal pendant newly added to the Frost Condensation Sword tassel, and the pendant rang out in the air with a crisp, wind-chime-like sound. "Then hurry up and cultivate. A hundred years of lifespan—I'll be waiting for you."