Chapter 2482: The Dao's Game

The night in Chen Tang Guan was peaceful and serene.

Outside the vast mansion, figures lurked in the shadows, all concealing their auras. In the darkness, pairs of weary old eyes gleamed with a cold, sinister light, like demons of the night.

In addition, teahouses and taverns were filled with people sipping tea or drinking wine, occasionally glancing toward the mansion as if waiting for someone to emerge.

Who were they waiting for? Naturally, it was Ye Chen.

That little stone spirit had been inside for four days now, with no sign of coming out, leading people to wonder if he planned to hide forever.

They were truly dedicated, staying awake all night for the sake of the Xuan Tian Shen Tie.

While they went without sleep, Ye Chen did the same.

Bathed in moonlight, the two sat facing each other, the chessboard set but unmoving, as the essence of the Dao already filled the air.

“Your master isn’t straightforward! I came from far away to respond to the calamity, and he didn’t even call me for a chat.”

Ye Chen spoke, lightly placing a piece with a casual air.

“My master has sealed himself away, and I don’t know when he’ll awaken.”

Hun Dun Ti smiled, placing a white piece, his every movement naturally embodying the Dao, which was etched into the stones.

Ye Chen smiled and placed another piece. He had already concluded that the Great Emperor’s self-sealing was aided by the unique powers of the Tian Ming realms, different from the various heavens—a fact he had learned back in the Ming Jie.

Hun Dun Ti smiled faintly and made his move.

The small courtyard was tranquil as a contest of the Dao slowly unfolded.

Who would have thought that the Desolate Ancient Holy Body from the human realm and the Hun Dun Ti from the heavenly realm would meet again in such a scene, playing chess like old friends chatting and laughing?

Yet their game was extraordinary.

The courtyard transformed due to their Dao: sometimes bursting with spring vitality, sometimes blanketed in heavy snow, sometimes with ancient trees withered and decayed, sometimes with lush flowers and grass, cycling through the four seasons.

This was no ordinary contest; the board was like the heavens and earth, the pieces like all things in existence. Black and white rose and fell, each piece a manifestation of the Dao, vying for dominance on the board.

If an outsider were present and caught a glimpse, they would be astonished. This was no mere chessboard—it was like a vast realm, with stars filling the sky, the moon hanging high, bathed in starlight and moonlight. Mountains and rivers stretched out, every flower, tree, blade of grass, and branch vibrant and alive, pulsing with spirituality and threads of Dao essence, outlining the spirits of all creation.

Ye Chen and Hun Dun Ti seemed no longer human but like creators, painting the world and shaping the landscape, turning a simple chessboard into an eternal immortal domain.

Suddenly, snow began to fall across the world, fluttering only in the small courtyard and whitening their hair. As the snow melted, life burst forth again; withered fruit trees sprouted new buds visible to the eye, and fresh flowers bloomed proudly, adding a touch of green to the world.

“This...”

Taiyi Zhenren arrived, stunned by the sight.

Ye Chen and Hun Dun Ti appeared so ethereal that his vision blurred, as if the two playing chess were not of this world but in some illusion. He tried to step forward but was blocked by the Dao.

“What kind of divine beings are these two?”

Taiyi Zhenren gazed from afar, utterly astounded, the supreme Dao pressing down on him until he could barely breathe, nearly forcing him to his knees.

As an immortal of the Heavenly Court, he knew the affairs of the heavenly realm well, yet he didn’t recognize these two. One was a stone spirit of unknown origin, terrifyingly powerful in battle, while the other was even more mysterious, a complete haze of chaos—he still couldn’t discern his true form.

“The heavenly realm truly hides dragons and tigers.”

Taiyi Zhenren took a deep breath. Even their chess game was so profound, enacting all things in existence, and as a quasi-emperor of the upper immortal realm, he didn’t even qualify to approach and watch.

Ye Chen and Hun Dun Ti were unaware of his arrival, their minds fully immersed in the game. Each move was a strike, a manifestation of the Dao, with black and white weaving in and out, evenly matched.

The seasons of spring, autumn, winter, and summer continued to change, while the two remained eternal, unchanging.

This contest of the Dao lasted an unknown time—perhaps three or five days—but in Taiyi Zhenren’s eyes, the small courtyard had cycled through several centuries amid the seasons’ shifts. Even the flowers, grass, ancient trees in the yard were dusted with the passage of time, bearing witness to its relentless flow.

Bathed in moonlight, Hun Dun Ti placed another piece.

As it fell, the board hummed, and all the pieces, black and white, dissolved into Dao essence, dissipating into the heavens and earth, leaving only faint Dao sounds echoing through the cosmos.

Ye Chen shook his head with a smile, and Hun Dun Ti did the same. In their contest of chess and Dao, neither could overcome the other; the game had reached a stalemate, ending in a draw.

“In the future, we will have another battle.”

Hun Dun Ti rose and walked away, each step fading into illusion, transforming into a swirl of chaos.

Only Ye Chen remained in the courtyard. If anyone from the various heavens were here, they would surely give him a thumbs-up—the tenth emperor of Great Chu, skilled in music, chess, calligraphy, painting, and even deception of all kinds!

“Monsters everywhere you go.”

Ye Chen picked up his wine flask, the contest finished and Hun Dun Ti gone, but he felt unsatisfied. He couldn’t defeat Hun Dun Ti, and Hun Dun Ti couldn’t defeat him.

For a moment, he thought about summoning Zhao Yun and Yao Chi for their own games to see who was stronger and if the contest of the Dao would have a clear victor.

Outside the courtyard, Taiyi Zhenren finally entered. He glanced at the direction where Hun Dun Ti had vanished, then looked at Ye Chen and tentatively asked,

“That person just now, what’s his background?”

“An old friend.”

Ye Chen also stood and walked away, gradually disappearing into the distance.

Taiyi Zhenren didn’t press further, but his gaze toward Ye Chen changed once more, even carrying a hint of reverence. Had this little stone spirit’s comprehension of the Dao reached the ultimate peak? And this was only at the Ling Xu realm—if he became a quasi-emperor one day, he would be invincible in the heavenly realm.

By now, Ye Chen had left the mansion.

His appearance made the eyes of those in the shadows light up. After waiting so many days, he had finally emerged, their gazes burning with intensity, more brilliant than the stars in the sky.

“You’ve all latched onto a real disaster!”

Taiyi Zhenren watched from afar, murmuring to himself. Without even looking, he knew that tonight, the outskirts of Chen Tang Guan would be drenched in blood. With such profound insight into the Dao, and in this realm where cultivations were suppressed, no one in the San Xian world was a match for Ye Chen—all who went after him would be wiped out.

Outside the gates, Ye Chen treaded through the void, strolling leisurely into a mountain range. He knew people were following him and that there were quite a few, but the mountain he entered was one he had carefully selected as a grave for these would-be robbers.

Sure enough, as soon as he stepped into the mountains, figures shot across the sky, blocking his path.

It was a black-robed elder. In Ye Chen’s eyes, his true form was unmistakable—he was the old man from the stone workshop who had tried to buy the Xuan Tian Shen Tie, intent on a kill-and-steal scheme.

“Hand over the divine iron, and I’ll let you leave with your life.”

The elder spoke indifferently.

“A Ling Xu realm cultivator like you dares to touch the Xuan Tian Shen Tie?”

A second voice rang out as seven or eight figures emerged with a rustle, all of them saints without exception.

“A stone that’s turned into a spirit—how interesting.”

More people charged out, all in black robes, their eerie laughter sinister like lingering nightmares, surrounding Ye Chen in the center, ready to strike at any moment and prepared to snatch the divine iron from one another.

“Such a grand lineup—truly flattering for a junior like me.”

Ye Chen chuckled lightly, glancing around. Among them, two or three faces were familiar—they were from the stone workshop.

He understood now. No wonder they insisted gamblers cut stones in the workshop—it was all part of this setup. Once a great treasure appeared, they’d kill and rob. This was nothing but a black market scam!

“Hand over the divine iron.”

The elder opposite him was impatient, lunging with a palm strike from afar. He knew the principle of striking first; he had already planned his escape after grabbing it, for too many eyes were fixed on the divine iron here.

Ye Chen’s gaze was scornful as he dodged in an instant, swinging his staff to knock the elder down. The Jiu Dao Shen Chu burst forth, piercing the elder’s divine sea before he could steady himself, extinguishing him on the spot.

The elder was filled with resentment, his turbid old eyes etched with fear and disbelief. Had he just been instantly killed? By a Ling Xu realm cultivator?

“So strong.”

The surrounding people’s expressions changed dramatically. A saint had been directly slain—what made this little stone spirit so terrifying? No wonder he was so fearless.

“Retreat!”

Without a second thought, the crowd fled in all directions. Ye Chen was too unpredictable; if he could kill the elder outright, he could do the same to them. Pushing on would only lead to a gruesome death.