The grand Sect Conference concluded about two weeks after Su Min began her nominal seclusion. As the mortal saying goes, all good things must come to an end, and the gathering of powerful cultivators was no exception.
After the competitions and displays of strength came the inevitable, tedious major event, the division of territories and responsibilities. Or, more accurately, the formal delineation of each sect's protective jurisdiction against the emerging threat of the Fallen. These great sects were like rival nations in the mortal world, often clashing over resources and influence. For now, the scattered Fallen lacked the unified strength to openly challenge the entire cultivation world at once.
A true, heartfelt, and unified alliance between the sects was an impossible dream. They were riddled with mutual suspicion, ancient grudges, and generations of bad blood. Human nature, with all its greed and pride, was the same, even in the lofty world of cultivation.
So, the simplest, most pragmatic solution was to draw lines on a map. Each major sect would be responsible for monitoring and defending a specific geographic region. Under the noble, public pretense of "protecting the common people from the demonic scourge," they used this opportunity to formalize their spheres of influence and offload their most troublesome border problems onto others.
Su Min saw through the political farce immediately but could not be bothered to participate in the long, tedious, and hypocritical negotiations. She had already mentally staked out her own domain and made her position clear. As for the more powerful Fallen, some of whom were once mighty Mahayana stage existences, most of the major sects scoffed at the idea that they were a real, immediate threat.
"Those who only half-heartedly severed their cultivation to extend their lives are already spiritually crippled," was the common, arrogant sentiment. "Unless they cut everything, body and soul, like the legendary Yao Xian'er did, they are nothing but inferior remnants, shadows of their former power."
They simply did not care enough to be truly vigilant.
Su Min had warned them of the potential danger, but unless one possessed her foreknowledge of the coming "Dark Blood Era," it was easy to dismiss such concerns. The Fallen were already here, causing isolated incidents, and she alone lacked the power to hunt down and stop them all. All she could do was focus on her own preparations and protect what was hers.
The actual, grueling negotiations over territory were handled by the Nascent Soul stage elders of each sect. A loose, paper-thin alliance was formally declared, though its only real purpose seemed to be to offer empty condolences and performative aid if a sect was ever seriously attacked or, heaven forbid, annihilated.
A full month later, Tian Yinzi came to her secluded courtyard with the final results.
"Grand Elder, the negotiations are complete. The Eastern Mulberry Province and the four adjacent provinces are formally under our protective jurisdiction. Another seven or eight minor, resource-poor provinces to the west were also nominally assigned to us, though I wisely refused to accept formal responsibility for them. We simply do not have the manpower."
Su Min let out a cold, derisive snort. "Cowards. They are just trying to dump their most vulnerable, problematic borders on me under the flimsy guise of shared protection. A larger, more scattered territory means more potential conflict zones with the Fallen. They want us to bleed and expend our resources while they watch safely from their comfortable, well-defended halls. Do I look like a self-sacrificing saint to them?"
Those minor western provinces were not worth the ink used to sign them away. They had no rich spiritual veins, no valuable spirit stone mines. Just barren, rocky land and broken, difficult-to-defend borders. The other major sects had clung greedily to the rich, central territories while tossing the desolate scraps at her, all dressed up in the lofty language of unity and shared burden.
But Su Min had never been one to put faith in paper treaties or hollow alliances. True security came only from personal, overwhelming strength. And her strength was no longer something they could casually dismiss.
She was an anomaly, a variable that is what they called her now in their private councils. Not born of the ancient, established sects. Not bound by their rigid lineages and traditions. And yet she stood defiantly among them, backed by the formidable remnants of the Golden Crow Clan. She was powerful enough to be feared, useful enough to be tolerated, but never truly accepted. None dared move against her openly, but their subtle schemes and political traps lingered around her like thin, sweet incense smoke, pleasant on the surface but poisonous to inhale, and impossible to pin down.
At best, they tried clumsy moral blackmail. Veiled questions in public forums like, "Should not someone of your renowned power and virtue do more for the wider world?"
But Su Min had long stopped pretending she owed anyone, or any sect, anything at all.
"Let us return to our own affairs," she said, her voice flat and final. "From now on, in the face of this threat, everyone fends for themselves. We will protect what is ours, and ours alone."
Tian Yinzi nodded without argument, his expression serious. Even he knew better than to try reasoning with her when her tone turned that cold and decisive.
She sighed inwardly, the weight of recent events and future dread pressing down on her. Divine Transformation stage cultivation, once a distant dream, now felt frustratingly weak for the cataclysmic threats she knew were coming.
Or perhaps, in this vast and dangerous world, nothing was ever truly invincible.
Even in her "first life," her knowledge from the game, the story of this world had never reached a true, definitive conclusion. It was a sandbox, an endless cycle. Her meta-knowledge only extended so far, beyond that precipice, she was now feeling her way forward in the dark, just like everyone else.
But one thing was chillingly certain, hiding forever was not an option. It never had been.
To the Fallen, her unique, ageless body was a walking miracle, a supreme spiritual tonic. As long as she existed, they would sense her, hunt her, and come for her. And so, she could not afford to rest on her laurels. She could not afford to form deep, binding ties that could be used against her. She could not afford to become too well-known, too predictable.
She would inevitably face greater and greater dangers, so she could not afford to pause for even a moment in her pursuit of power. But to walk forward eternally like this, always ascending, meant that everyone else would inevitably be left behind, fading into memory.
And Su Min had already buried enough ghosts in her long, long life.
While the Great Luo Tian Province, under Yao Xian'er's tacit protection, was relatively safe, the outer regions without major sects had suffered terribly. Not only were ordinary people being devoured by the roaming Fallen, but even established cultivator clans and minor sects were being slaughtered en masse. Without large sects to support them, or powerful Nascent Soul experts to lead and protect them, reaching the Golden Core stage was nearly impossible for most in these blighted lands.
Many survivors had already begun a desperate mass migration toward the major, fortified provinces. During the conference, she had noted that most attendees were not proud sect disciples but desperate rogue cultivators and clan leaders seeking any form of refuge. Unfortunately, the great sects were extremely selective and paranoid about taking in outsiders. Unless a cultivator demonstrated absolutely exceptional talent or provided a crucial service, they would not open their gates. Most of these wandering cultivators would never find sanctuary, left to fend for themselves in the wilds.
But at worst, they would just live harder, more desperate, and shorter lives. It was the cruel logic of their world.
"Grand Elder," Tian Yinzi interrupted her somber thoughts, his expression grim. "New reports from our scouts indicate that a Fallen has been spotted in the western reaches of Wei Wu Province. An entire city in the desert region vanished overnight. Tens of thousands of people are just… gone."
Su Min's expression darkened instantly, a sharp, cold surge of killing intent flashing in her eyes before she suppressed it. She could not afford to hunt the Fallen recklessly across the continent, doing so would provoke their collective attention and retaliation. But if they dared encroach on her formally recognized territory, that was a different matter entirely. That was a direct challenge.
Other Fallen, if they heard of it, would likely simply shrug and think, "Serves them right for provoking the wrong person." The world was vast, and remote, poorly defended areas were easy, tempting targets for their kind.
"What did Elder Zhu's investigation find?" she asked, her voice dangerously calm.
"By the time he arrived with a team, it was already too late. There was nothing left but empty streets and lingering resentment. The deaths of over one hundred thousand people… that scale of life force will keep that monster sated and powerful for weeks. Based on its residual energy trail and movement patterns, our diviners believe it will likely strike next in the Southern Borderlands of Wei Wu Province."
Tian Yinzi glanced cautiously at Su Min. They had discreetly investigated her origins after the worlds merged. The remnants of the Great Yong's royal family and its cultivator clans now held slightly higher status and received modest aid within their sect, after all, that nation had been indirectly shaped by her hands centuries ago.
And the Southern Borderlands… that was the specific, storied region where she had fled to in her early, weakest years, where she had truly begun her legendary rise from nothing.
"The Southern Borderlands, huh…" she murmured.
Her distant past whispered through that name like an old, half-forgotten song she had not heard in centuries. It was where she had once fled with nothing but the clothes on her back and a fierce will to live. Where she had fought tooth and nail, using every ounce of her wit and burgeoning power just to survive another day. Where her name had meant nothing to anyone, and then, suddenly, had come to mean everything.
She could still remember the scent of wet bamboo and cool mountain stone after a rain. The cacophonous cries of hawkers in the dusty market streets. The very road where she had once coldly broken a local chieftain's legs for daring to think she would become his concubine.
Everyone from that time was long gone. Even those few who had touched the fringes of cultivation had not lived long enough to see her return in power. Golden Core cultivators were rare in the hinterlands, and fewer than a handful ever reached Nascent Soul.
Her heart, tempered by centuries of solitude, should have been untouched by this news.
It should have been.
But a flicker of memory, vivid and unwelcome, curled beneath her ribs like a slow-burning coal.
"Also, Grand Elder," Tian Yinzi added, sensing her shift in mood, "our reports confirm that a bamboo spirit in the depths of the Southern Borderlands recently broke through to the Nascent Soul stage. It is widely said… that you planted it yourself, centuries ago. That Fallen's primary target might very well be it. The spirit is a unique entity, neither human nor conventional spirit beast, and it is currently the only Nascent Soul level existence in the entire Wei Wu Province. A prime source of pure, potent energy."
"They are still alive?" Her voice was soft, almost a whisper. Not disbelieving, just distant, as if reaching across a vast gulf of time.
She had planted dozens, maybe even hundreds of spiritual bamboo shoots back then, experimenting with her wood-affinity energy. In her past life, she had seen ordinary bamboo groves live for centuries, let alone in this spirit-rich world. For plants to gain true sentience was far rarer than for beasts to transform, but once they did, their natural lifespans were far longer. Even ordinary bamboo could live for centuries under the right conditions.
It had been six or seven hundred years since she left that place. If any of the bamboo spirits she had infused with her energy had survived the tumultuous mergers and natural disasters, reaching the Golden Core stage over such a span was almost expected.
But it seemed only one of them had managed to make the final, difficult leap to Nascent Soul.
More importantly, she had another, more personal and pressing reason to act now.
To obtain the final White Tiger's legacy, the scriptures were clear, there was only one path, kill.
Unlike the other three divine beasts, which valued balance, life, and knowledge, the White Tiger was the sovereign of the west, the embodiment of metallic sharpness, and it thrived on slaughter, war, and conquest. If Su Min wanted its true inheritance, she had to walk a bloody road and prove her mastery over death itself.
But she refused to slaughter innocents or wage war for personal gain. This Fallen, however, a predator that fed on entire cities, was a perfect, morally acceptable target. A worthy offering to the White Tiger's Dao.
And with her current Divine Transformation stage cultivation, traveling across the vast expanse of Wei Wu Province was now an effortless task.
"Understood." That was all she said.
Tian Yinzi said nothing more. He knew Su Min's direct mortal bloodline had been wiped out by the mad Emperor Wei centuries ago. By the time she revealed her true identity and power to the world, no true relatives from that life remained. But this was still her homeland, the soil of her origin. It was impossible not to feel something, some faint echo of connection.
"Keep this intelligence quiet," she ordered, her gaze sharpening. "If that Fallen catches even a whisper that I am coming, it will go to ground, and we will lose our chance."
She activated a simple soundproof barrier around herself with a flick of her wrist. Only Tian Yinzi would know her immediate plans, and she trusted his discretion completely.
As for her safety? There was truly no need for him to worry.
Su Min had already proven beyond doubt that her current combat power could rival, and even overcome, any Half-Step Dao Comprehension expert. That Fallen, based on the energy signatures left behind, was definitely not at the full Dao Comprehension stage.
The Black Serpent in the Weak Water Secret Realm had only recovered to that level because two powerful, late-stage Divine Transformation monks had willingly let it devour them to break its seals. Otherwise, reaching that profound stage so soon after the great merger would have been virtually impossible for any of the Fallen.
And even if, by some misfortune, it were at the Dao Comprehension stage?
She still had one last, precious drop of Xie Yingying's blood essence sealed in a vial. If pushed to the absolute brink, she would use it without a moment's hesitation. She had originally planned to use it as a trump card during the conference's final rounds but found it unnecessary against her opponents.
Though now, with three heavenly treasures integrated into her body, the blood's effects were not as explosively, overwhelmingly transformative as they had been the first time.
~
A few days later, after swift, unimpeded travel, she stood once more on the soil of Wei Wu Province.
The land of her beginning.
When Su Min arrived at the familiar, mist-shrouded edge of the Southern Borderlands, the wind catching the edge of her plain grey sleeves, a strange, quiet ache stirred in a place deep within her chest she thought long buried.
The mountains had changed, their profiles altered by time and cataclysm. The natural borders had been carved open by some immense, past violence. A direct, wide path to Yao Xin Province now cut clean through what were once impenetrable, natural fortresses. Time and the merging of worlds had reshaped the terrain, but the geography could not erase her memories.
Here was where she had lived, nameless and rootless, for the first time.
Here was where she had decided, irrevocably, to become something.
Everyone from that era, every face she briefly knew, was gone.
She had outlived them all. Every single one.
That was the profound irony of her body, her cultivation, her very existence, not a curse placed upon her, but a conscious choice she had made long ago, in another lifetime.
Before all this, she had been just a player, a young woman named Su Min, staring at a glowing screen in a small, quiet room. Just another person trying to escape the grind of a mundane reality with a slow-paced, deeply complex cultivation simulator. Path of Immortality had promised her freedom, intricate strategy, and a sandbox world of endless possibilities. She remembered hesitating for a long time over her character build, finally selecting two legendary-tier talents: [Immortality], a rare passive that made her immune to aging and most poisons, always maintaining her body in its prime; and [Heavenly Dao Insight], an innate divine ability that let her slowly comprehend techniques and laws just by existing beneath the heavens, without formal teachers.
It had been a min-maxer's dream build. A guaranteed late-game bloomer, slow to start but eventually unstoppable.
She had clicked "Confirm," entered her name, and then… she never logged out again.
There was no tutorial. No reset button.
Just this vast, breathing world, its rules now binding her flesh and spirit alike. Her chosen talents were not virtual buffs, they were etched into the very core of her being.
And the cost? The one resource the game could not simulate accurately? Time. Everyone else moved forward, loved, fought, and died, while she stayed, eternally seventeen-eighteen in appearance. Seasons changed, dynasties fell, sects rose and crumbled into dust, but she endured. The girl who once min-maxed for endgame strength now found herself watching the game board rot and renew itself beneath her immortal feet.
Yes, she was eternal.
But eternity, she had learned, was in the end, a kind of profound silence.
Not because of a external curse, but because she had lived long enough to learn that deep sentiment was a luxury she could not afford. Bonds inevitably became graves. Affection only invited future grief. So, she had long, long ago stopped reaching out, methodically closing herself off behind ever-deeper layers of cultivation, cold logic, and emotional detachment.
Only one person, one stubborn, possessive, moonlight-drenched woman, had ever managed to slip past those fortified walls.
And that connection felt more dangerous, in its own way, than any Fallen.
Su Min did not want to care about this place anymore. She should not care.
But the moment her eyes found the familiar, towering bamboo groves rising through the morning mist, and she felt the faint, steady pressure of a Nascent Soul cultivation base radiating from their heart like a quiet, green heartbeat, something in her, something ancient and hardened, softened just a fraction.
One of her plants, a living relic of her past, had survived the centuries.
Only one.
But in that moment, one felt like it was enough.
"That Fallen will not pass up such a concentrated, unique source of energy," she murmured to herself, her voice barely a whisper. "But I will not reveal myself prematurely. The fewer who know the plan, the better its chance of success. Let us see what you are truly capable of, you wretched parasite."
The Southern Borderlands' Minshan Mountains were nothing like she remembered. After the worlds merged, this remote region had become the unstable frontline bordering the wilds of Yao Xin Province. Natural barriers that once seemed insurmountable to a mortal, or even a low-level cultivator, had been forcibly breached and flattened by the cataclysm.
The people now lived in relative peace under the bamboo spirit's benevolent protection. Before leaving this region centuries ago, Su Min had entrusted her nascent spirit plants to the care of the local villages. Nurtured by centuries of genuine worship and spiritual feedback, the surviving bamboo spirit had become spiritually inseparable from the locals. Even the bureaucrats of the Great Yong court would not provoke them as long as they paid their nominal taxes and pledged superficial allegiance.
But what truly baffled Su Min as she scanned the area with her divine sense was the state of her old, dilapidated house.
"My old house is still standing? And it has been maintained? Wait… why is it a… a tourist attraction now?!"
Her former residence had not only been preserved but had been meticulously restored, expanded with a grand temple built right beside it, and the whole area had been turned into a bustling historical site and pilgrimage destination.
Disguised as an ordinary, unremarkable Body Refining stage cultivator, her face hidden behind a simple, featureless wooden mask, she paid the small entrance fee and walked up to the main gate to read the ornate, newly carved plaque.
[The Former Abode of the Danxian, Su Min — Founder of the Great Yong, Savior of the People, and Living Legend of the Cultivation World. Here, she spent decades watching the tides of fate, laughing at the rise and fall of mortal dynasties. With her peerless pills, she saved countless heroes from despair and paved the path for a new era.]
Reading the flowery, exaggerated words, Su Min could not help but chuckle wryly behind her mask. The reality had been far grittier and involved significantly more running for her life.
"Ahead lies the Danxian's personal pill refining chamber, preserved exactly as she left it, and just beyond, the sacred bamboo grove that miraculously birthed the Green Bamboo Immortal who protects our lands…" a young guide was saying enthusiastically to a group of wide-eyed tourist cultivators.
"Huh. So this is what it feels like," Su Min muttered to herself, a complex mix of amusement and surreal discomfort settling over her.
Seeing her own humble, often chaotic, former home turned into a pristine, sanitized tourist attraction was a uniquely strange and disorienting experience.
As for the secret of how she traveled between the sealed worlds before the great merger, that knowledge was now public, a curiosity for the history books, no longer a secret she needed to guard.