Chapter 2067: Becoming an Immortal Through the Dao

The sky was overcast and gray, with blood mist drifting above, and the ground littered with corpses. The only one still standing was Ye Chen, holding his bloodstained Xuanlei Jian, as he walked toward Zhuxian Zhen.

The gates of Zhuxian Zhen were wide open, and the townspeople, regardless of age or gender, poured out to welcome the hero home. Their eyes were filled with gratitude and awe. If they hadn't seen it with their own eyes, they never would have believed that such a powerful person existed in the world—one who single-handedly defeated an army of a hundred thousand, a feat unmatched in history, with no one likely to surpass it.

In that moment, everyone stood tall and straight. With this unparalleled war god on their side, who would dare disturb the peace of Zhuxian Zhen again? The defeat of Qi Wang's heir was a bloody lesson.

Ye Chen smiled but said nothing, quietly entering the town.

This time, he had shown restraint. If he had fought without holding back, that army of a hundred thousand, including Qi Wang's heir, would have been completely wiped out.

As they watched his retreating figure, the townspeople erupted in cheers, overcome with excitement.

"This time, let's see who still doesn't learn their lesson."

Yang Xuan couldn't help but laugh.

"From today on, Zhuxian Zhen will become a haven far from the world's troubles." Ling Feng smiled. An army of a hundred thousand had been defeated—who would dare provoke this fearsome figure? Just as Ye Chen had said before, peace was best; if anyone sought trouble, they would only have themselves to blame.

Cheers echoed on one side, while on the other, the sounds of battle raged.

After Tong Pass fell, Zhao Guo's forces advanced like a raging torrent, capturing over thirty cities in Qi Guo. Other feudal states joined in to exploit the chaos, attacking Qi Guo's borders without prior coordination.

Months later, the flames of war ignited once more, with the feudal kings uniting in attack. The difference was that this time, Qi Guo was the one under siege.

"Damn it all." In the Qi Guo palace, Qi Wang was furious, his insides twisting in agony as he spat out a mouthful of fresh blood and nearly collapsed.

After Yan Wang's defeat, he had become the most powerful feudal king on this land, the one with the greatest chance of unifying the realm. But before his grand ambitions could even begin, this disaster struck, shattering his magnificent plans in an instant.

It was all thanks to his so-called good son, who had squandered a winning hand. Now, forget about unifying the realm—whether he could even hold onto Qi Guo was uncertain.

"Father, your son is guilty!" A voice filled with wailing and regret came from outside the hall—it was Qi Wang's heir, crawling into the audience chamber. He was lucky to have escaped with the remnants of his defeated army, surviving nine deaths out of ten, but of the hundred thousand troops, fewer than ten thousand remained, and more than half were severely wounded.

"Drag him out and execute him by Lingchi." Qi Wang roared in rage, his eyes bloodshot and his face twisted in ferocity.

This command made all the generals shudder. A father ordering the Lingchi execution of his own son—how deep must the hatred be? But upon reflection, they understood Qi Wang's intent. The soldiers of Qi Guo harbored intense resentment toward his heir. As their king, Qi Wang needed to use his son's death to rally their spirits and reignite their will to fight. Only then could the army unite and possibly repel the enemy; otherwise, Qi Guo's destruction was inevitable.

No one dared disobey Qi Wang's order. His heir was dragged away on the spot.

"Father, I am your son!" Qi Wang's heir cried out in plea, but all he received was his father's turned back.

In that instant, he finally understood regret—regretting not heeding warnings, regretting provoking Ye Chen, leading to this fate of being executed by Lingchi, with the order coming from his own father. His mind shattered in despair.

The scene of the Lingchi execution was gruesomely bloody, but the Qi Guo soldiers watched with grim satisfaction. If not for this incompetent heir, how would their nation have fallen into such calamity?

Indeed, his death did boost morale. Qi Wang, in a fit of determination, donned his armor and led the troops into battle himself to face the enemy.

The fighting raged for three full days before they finally repelled the invaders, but at a terrible cost. Qi Guo lost nine-tenths of its territory, and its army was nearly annihilated. It could no longer be considered a major feudal state, and its eventual absorption by other lords was only a matter of time. One could say Qi Wang's heir had brought utter ruin upon them.

After the war, the territories were divided without dispute. Since no alliances had been formed beforehand, each victor kept what they had seized.

The conflict came quickly and ended just as fast.

The world settled into temporary peace, but the battle at Zhuxian Zhen caused a massive uproar, shocking the martial arts world. The martial arts legend had displayed his might, single-handedly battling a hundred thousand soldiers and leaving Qi Guo's forces in rivers of blood. Jianghu warriors held him in even greater reverence, and the various feudal kings no longer underestimated the martial arts community. For this reason, many kings secretly sent envoys to Zhuxian Zhen, their purpose clear: to invite Ye Chen to join their ranks. A man who could defeat a hundred thousand soldiers single-handedly was a priceless asset; with him on their side, unifying the realm would be within reach.

Zhuxian Zhen remained as peaceful as ever.

After that battle, the new ruler was far more reliable than Qi Wang's heir. Not only did they not demand tribute grain, but they even sent supplies. What's more, they frequently visited Ye Chen, always bringing gifts, ostensibly for fortune-telling but actually to extend invitations. They couldn't afford to let other feudal kings poach him from their domain—this was crucial for their unification ambitions.

However, it was all in vain. No matter who came, it was useless. Ye Chen preferred fortune-telling and had made it clear that he wanted a peaceful life: do not provoke me, and I will not provoke you.

His words carried more weight than any imperial decree. No one dared target Zhuxian Zhen again; otherwise, Qi Guo was a perfect example. The martial arts legend's refusal to align with any side was actually good news, sparing the nations from further anxiety.

"This guy has become famous, and it's really something else." Looking at the pile of rare treasures on Ye Chen's table, Yang Ge Lao couldn't help but sigh. Every day, people brought gifts—from the various feudal kings, the townspeople of Zhuxian Zhen, and even Jianghu figures.

"Come on, share the spoils with us."

Yang Xuan and Shangguan Jiu were the bold ones, picking out the most valuable items without a hint of awkwardness.

Ye Chen didn't mind at all—whatever they liked, they could take.

It was another night with stars filling the sky. Ye Chen sat alone on the rooftop, holding a wine flask and quietly drinking, gazing up at the stars.

Suddenly, a gentle breeze blew by, carrying a woman's fragrance, though no one was visible.

Ye Chen frowned, knowing someone had dreamed of him again, and it was the same person as before. He could clearly sense her leaning on his shoulder.

"Dao friend, you've dreamed of me twice now, so we must know each other." Ye Chen smiled. "Since we're old acquaintances, why not come to Zhuxian Zhen for a meeting? There's no need for these illusory dreams."

Unfortunately, his words received no response. Or perhaps the woman replied, but he couldn't hear it—because he was real, and she was in a dream; one was tangible, the other not, so they couldn't communicate.

As the night deepened, the woman in the dream dispersed once more, just like last time, leaving a single illusory tear. Ye Chen caught it in his hand and stared in a daze, feeling an growing ache in his heart. He was certain he knew this woman, but regrettably, he couldn't recall who she was.

Slowly composing himself, Ye Chen descended from the roof and summoned his peach wood sword with a wave. He closed his eyes and began practicing sword forms in the garden. His movements were slow, yet they contained myriad changes. As he practiced, his state of mind gradually transformed.

He practiced his sword for nine full days.

During this time, Yang Ge Lao and the others visited several times, waiting for him to tell fortunes, and naturally came to check on him when they couldn't find him.

Seeing Ye Chen practicing with his eyes closed, they didn't interrupt but watched quietly. From his swordplay, they glimpsed endless variations and a profound Dao essence, which excited these martial arts practitioners. They could learn much from it—a rare honor to witness the martial arts legend in action.

And so, they stayed. Ye Chen practiced his sword, and they observed; sometimes, they even tried to imitate a few moves. However, they could only mimic the forms, not the deeper essence—falling short by a vast distance in terms of intent.

In the blink of an eye, another nine days passed.

Ye Chen, still practicing with his eyes closed, was unaware of Yang Xuan and the others' visits. He focused solely on sensing the great Dao of the world. The forces of heaven and earth moved with him: sunlight bathed him during the day, refining his spirit; starlight fell upon him at night, tempering his body; even the winds of the world swirled around him.

His state of mind elevated and transformed repeatedly, quietly pushing his cultivation toward a critical peak—the ultimate limit of mortality.

Under the moonlight, he finally transcended the boundaries of mortality, achieving immortality in the mortal world—a half-immortal without spiritual energy.

Only then did he open his eyes. His deep gaze resembled the starry sky, with Dao essence evolving within, each speck of starlight a crystallization of the Dao.

He smiled, his eyes full of enlightenment, having gained a deeper understanding of the great Dao.

All along, he had been trapped in a misconception about cultivation: that without spiritual energy, immortality was impossible.

But now, he had broken free from that limitation. Even without spiritual energy in the world, one could still achieve immortality. True advancement wasn't about accumulating energy but transforming through the Dao. Achieving immortality through the Dao was the true principle.

"In the mortal world, he has truly achieved immortality." On the peak of Jie Ming Mountain, Ming Di sighed with emotion, having watched Ye Chen the entire time.

"Achieving immortality through the Dao is indeed a unique path." Di Huang smiled slightly, feeling even more proud of this junior. The young man named Ye Chen was destined to surpass all predecessors.

"He's here again." As Di Huang reflected, Ming Di suddenly spoke up.

Di Huang looked up, peering across the boundaries of the human and nether realms, fixing his gaze on Ye Chen's small garden.

It was that woman again, dreaming of Ye Chen. Ye Chen couldn't see her, but these two supreme beings could ignore the barriers between reality and illusion, seeing her clearly.

"Still can't trace her origin. That Ren Wang fellow—where on earth did he send her?" Ming Di coughed awkwardly. As a great emperor, it was embarrassing that he could see the woman in the dream but not find her true form. In that moment, he wondered if his own cultivation was lacking or if Ren Wang's methods were simply too profound, eluding even an emperor's insight.

If even he couldn't discern it, Di Huang, a Dacheng Sheng Ti whose power rivaled a great emperor's but whose vision fell short, was even less able to.