Chapter 1701: Six Paths of Reincarnation (1)

Silently and covered in the dust of travel, Ye Chen returned to Jieming Shan.

Di Huang was already waiting at the mountain peak, along with Ming Di, and the two supreme emperor disciples: Ming Jue and Bai Zhi.

Ye Chen stepped forward and bowed with his hands cupped.

"I have seen you, senior."

"Have you thought it through? Once you enter the Liudao Lunhui, you might lose yourself in the cycle of reincarnation, no different from death," Ming Di said leisurely.

"Even in death, I must go back." Ye Chen's gaze was unyieldingly firm.

"The flow of time in the Liudao Lunhui differs from the Ming Realm. One day in the Ming Realm is a hundred years in the Liudao Lunhui. You must endure the solitude."

"One day in the Ming Realm is a hundred years in the Liudao Lunhui?"

Ye Chen frowned.

"Take this and keep it safe." Di Huang waved his hand, presenting a storage bag. "You may only open it after truly passing through the Liudao Lunhui."

"I understand." Ye Chen sealed it away in his dantian sea.

"The Liudao Lunhui is isolated from the Ming Realm. Even as supreme beings, we cannot reach you there. You'll have to rely on yourself."

"I will not disappoint your expectations." Ye Chen bowed again with his hands cupped.

"Very well, set out!" The two supreme beings each formed a hand seal.

Immediately, the void trembled, revealing a vortex. It was pitch black inside, and just a glance at it made one's mind grow hazy.

"Safe travels." Bai Zhi rarely showed a gentle smile as she spoke.

"I look forward to meeting again and facing you in battle." Ming Jue smiled and patted Ye Chen on the shoulder. The supreme disciple was forthright indeed.

Ye Chen smiled casually and took a step forward, soaring upward.

As he was about to leave, he turned back for a final look at Jieming Shan and the underworld, then turned and stepped into the vortex.

This departure would likely be a permanent farewell, making reunion impossible.

Once he vanished, the black vortex slowly dissipated into nothingness, and the aura emanating from it was wiped clean by Di Huang's wave.

"What do you think his chances of success are?" Ming Di asked with a smile.

"Ten out of ten." Di Huang answered without a second thought.

"Oh?" Ming Di raised an eyebrow. "You have great confidence in him!"

"If he can let go of Chu Ling, what obstacle in this world could he not overcome?" Di Huang smiled slightly.

At the mention of Chu Ling, a graceful figure stumbled up to the mountain peak—it was Chu Ling, her expression sorrowful and her eyes brimming with tears.

"You're too late; he has already left," Bai Zhi said softly.

"Senior, will Ye Chen and I meet again in this life?" Chu Ling asked, her tear-filled eyes gazing hopefully at Di Huang.

"We will." Di Huang smiled warmly. "Our efforts will not be in vain. One day, I will personally explain everything to him."

Chu Ling broke into tears, silently turning away and cradling her lower abdomen, soothing the child she shared with Ye Chen. Her tears would not dry.

After she left, Bai Zhi and Ming Jue both looked at Di Huang with puzzled expressions.

They were no fools. From the conversation between Di Huang and Chu Ling, they seemed to have glimpsed some secret.

"As you suspect." Di Huang turned around, quietly gazing up at the misty expanse, as if he could see through the void to Ye Chen's silhouette.

Behind him, Bai Zhi and Ming Jue exchanged a glance and understood.

This was a grand play, directed by Di Huang and performed by Chu Ling. The so-called Yao Shun was Di Huang himself.

The purpose was to temper Ye Chen, forcing him to undergo nirvana.

The so-called emotional tribulation was to make him let go. Only by releasing Chu Ling could he possibly pass through the Liudao Lunhui.

The two fell silent, their hearts stirred with unrest, like waves crashing.

What a cruel emotional tribulation it was. One could imagine the agony Ye Chen endured during those days—pain that tore at his heart and ripped his soul.

Especially Bai Zhi, who now understood why Ye Chen always painted her with traces of Chu Ling's likeness. Forgetting someone was incredibly difficult.

Once again, facts proved that she was no match for Ye Chen.

Whether in combat prowess or in state of mind, she was utterly outclassed. Her so-called pride was nothing but a joke in front of him.

Ye Chen reappeared on a vast expanse of black scorched earth.

The scorched earth stretched endlessly, vast and boundless. The ground was pitch black, the sky dim, creating an overwhelmingly oppressive atmosphere.

"Is this the Liudao Lunhui?" Ye Chen murmured to himself.

It was deathly silent, like a grave. There were no mountains or rivers, no flowers or trees, no stars or moon, no aura of life. All that met the eye was black scorched earth.

With no clear destination, he simply chose a direction and pressed on.

The scorched earth underfoot was loose, leaving footprints with every step, and half-buried bones could be seen everywhere—remnants from some unknown era, buried for who knows how long.

The wind carried eerie howls, like the wails of vengeful ghosts.

Walking here was like traversing a spatial black hole. There were no people, only desolation and darkness. In this entire world, he was alone.

From a bird's-eye view, he was like a single grain of sand in the vast sea, insignificant as a speck of dust. His figure was isolated, without even a shadow.

One step, two steps... one day, two days... one year, two years.

This journey was incredibly long, and he lost track of how much time had passed.

All he knew was that since entering the Liudao Lunhui, one day had already passed in the Ming Realm.

One day in the Ming Realm meant a hundred years in the Liudao Lunhui, so he had been walking in this place for a full hundred years.

Although only one day had passed in the Ming Realm, he had to endure every second of those hundred years here.

He never stopped, braving the winds of time across the dark scorched earth, walking in isolation until even his footprints were eroded by the wind.

Yet, the path ahead remained endless, with no end in sight.

After a hundred years, even his vigorous sacred body grew weary. His hair was disheveled, and his clothes were caked in dust.

"Is the Liudao Lunhui nothing but endless solitude?" he murmured. It was the only sound in this world. No one responded, no one spoke. The silence was terrifying.

As Ming Di had said, he truly needed to endure the loneliness.

Time flowed on, years slipped by, and he lost track of how long it had been.

Until, ahead of him, a massive barrier stretching for countless miles came into view, and only then did he pause slightly.

For a hundred years in the Liudao Lunhui, this was the first time he stopped, quietly gazing at it.

The barrier was towering and immense, making him feel like an ant standing beneath it. It was cold and lifeless, having stood for who knows how many ages.

In front of the barrier sat two stone statues of ghosts, like mountains or peaks, fierce and menacing, like guardian deities standing unmoving.

Carved on the barrier were three blood-red characters: Diyu Dao.

Ye Chen stopped and looked up at the three characters of Diyu Dao. Each one loomed like a massive mountain, exuding a majestic aura that made it hard for him to breathe.

Diyu Dao was the first gate in the Liudao Lunhui.

Thinking this, he took a step forward and entered the barrier.

With that step, it was as if he had truly stepped into hell. Thunder raged above, lightning bolts crashing down and piercing through heaven and earth.

Below, a black sea of fire surged, rolling with terrifying waves, each one capable of devouring the sky and destroying the earth.

In a daze, he was swallowed by the roaring sea of fire.

He formed his hand into a blade and cleaved through the flames, bursting out.

But heavenly thunder struck him down, sending him flying, his sacred body torn and bloody. Before he could fall, he was engulfed by the sea of fire again.

This thunder and fire were extraordinarily strange—the fire burned his body, and the thunder struck his primordial spirit.

His sacred body, from limbs and bones to organs and meridians, even every drop of blood, was scorched.

His primordial spirit was constantly torn apart, moment by moment.

Even he, who had undergone body refining and soul refining, found it hard to withstand this tearing pain for a time, roaring and howling involuntarily.

"The Diyu Dao of the Liudao Lunhui: a hundred years of body forging torment."

In the void, a cold voice echoed through the Diyu Dao.

A hundred years? Ye Chen's eyes turned blood-red. Just a dozen breaths had already caused him pain that ripped his heart and soul—how much more for a hundred years?

"Is the first gate of the Liudao Lunhui this terrifying?"

Ye Chen gritted his teeth and struggled forward. Every step was agony to his bones and soul, nearly unbearable.

At the peak of Jieming Shan, Ming Di and Di Huang stood quietly.

Before them hung a watery screen, displaying scenes from the Diyu Dao of the Liudao Lunhui.

Beside them, Ming Jue and Bai Zhi's faces had turned pale.

Every second, Ye Chen's sacred body was being torn apart; every second, his primordial spirit was being ripped to shreds.

This sight was painful to watch, let alone endure.

And it would last a hundred years—was it meant to torture someone to death? This was only the first gate; what would come next would be even more dreadful.

"Master, is the limit exactly a hundred years? Is there any way to break through early?" Ming Jue and Bai Zhi looked toward Ming Di and Di Huang.

"Not a moment more, not a moment less. Only if he survives a hundred years without dying will he pass the gate," Ming Di said leisurely.

As he spoke, Ming Di glanced subtly at Di Huang.

Di Huang had passed through this gate before, so he knew better than anyone the terror of the Diyu Dao. That kind of pain was beyond description.

Di Huang said nothing, only watched quietly, his divine eyes as still as an ancient well.

In the past, he had made it through, so he firmly believed Ye Chen could too. He never doubted the descendants of the sacred body.

If even the Diyu Dao couldn't be overcome, that would be a disgrace to the sacred body's reputation. A man who had slain two emperors in his lifetime feared no path ahead.

In the Diyu Dao, Ye Chen's legs trembled as he continued to struggle forward.

In the time it took for Bai Zhi and the others to exchange a few words, years had already passed in the Diyu Dao. The thunder and flames had ravaged Ye Chen beyond recognition.

Every bolt of thunder left scars on his primordial spirit; every flame caused his sacred body to shatter.

Time passed, day by day, year by year.

He staggered on, his ancient sacred body incinerated countless times, his primordial spirit extinguished repeatedly.

Yet, he still stood, his legs bent, rebirth through forging.

The Diyu Dao was empty, with no living beings, only thunder and flames.

While enduring the physical torment, he also had to fight against a hundred years of solitude. If his will were eroded, he would fail.

After who knows many years, his eyes became dull and vacant, devoid of any emotion, like a walking corpse.

He had hurt so much that he no longer felt pain, day after day, year after year, growing accustomed to the agony under the thunder and flames.

A powerful obsession sustained him: to go home.

Yes, to go home, even in death. His homeland was waiting for him.

Through the long years, every second was like a carving knife, etching him full of wounds, riddled with scars.

When the black flames finally extinguished and the heavenly thunder ceased, that hundred years truly reached its end.

He emerged, having endured the hundred years of body forging torment in the Diyu Dao.

Before him was again an endless scorched earth, still filled with desolation. Like an ant, he set out once more.

Behind him, the Diyu Dao collapsed with a boom, turning into endless historical dust, as if it had never existed at all.