A Pawn's Passage

The Great Witches of Ancient Wuism possessed two signature cosmic arts—the Spatial Arts governed space, while the Temporal Arts governed time. The Staff of Merit was the product of these arts.

No matter how powerful the Five Innate Tais, none could escape the current of time itself. After all, it was the passage of time that allowed the five cosmic stages of world formation.

The mortal world now existed in the Taiji era, when chaos gained structure.

Thus, the residual power of the Taiyi Supreme Technique was also frozen in time.

As the spellcaster, Wu Luo was the first to break free from the stasis. She raised her hand once more, calling out to her long-dead sisters, begging them to lend her strength.

This was Wu Luo’s true specialty—the Spirit Arts.

Each of the Eleven Great Witches possessed different divine abilities, and each had their own mastery. Though Wu Luo knew the Spatial Arts and Temporal Arts, she was most proficient in the Spirit Arts.

The other ten Great Witches could also use the Spirit Arts, but none reached Wu Luo’s level of mastery.

The Spirit Arts were originally meant to communicate with the dead. Over time, it evolved into two branches—one focusing on communication with the netherworld, while the other focused on the soul.

Through this art, Wu Luo had once forged her divine kingdom in the mortal realm. Those who believed in her could cross a spiritual bridge and enter her kingdom through their dreams. This was the second use of the Spirit Arts.

However, at this moment, Wu Luo was invoking its first use to communicate with the netherworld and find the lingering traces of the dead within the unseen void, drawing upon them for temporary use.

Those capable of leaving such marks upon heaven and earth were almost always Immortals, who, in life, had already transcended the mundane. Even in death, parts of their essence refused to fade, persisting through time and becoming unseen imprints that lingered long after the body was gone.

In a sense, these remnants were not conscious. They were lifeless on their own, devoid of memories or will, like a formation drawn on the ground. But once infused with earth energy, it could activate according to its inherent pattern and exert power.

Such imprints could not ascend, but they were also rejected by the mortal realm. Thus, they gradually sank into the netherworld.

What Wu Luo sought were these traces and imprints recorded by heaven and earth. By communicating with the netherworld, she could summon them, allowing them to briefly manifest in the mortal realm.

The power of the dead no longer came from what they once were in life. Instead, it flowed from the netherworld itself. This was known as Nether Communing.

However, this art carried one limitation. Once an imprint sank into the netherworld, finding it again was almost impossible. Only someone intimately bound to the deceased through deep understanding or karmic ties could locate this imprint amid the endless void. Thus, Wu Luo could only call upon the traces of her sister and fellow Great Witches, not those of the Daoist Immortals.

Moreover, any Godly Immortal who had not completely perished, or one who had already ascended, would leave behind no trace at all.

Among the Eleven Great Witches, Wu Xian and Wu Yang had not yet perished. That left eight other Great Witches whose marks Wu Luo could summon.

As Wu Luo’s call echoed through the void, the Temporal Spell faded, and a towering figure slowly emerged. It was a great witch with white hair, white robes, and skin as pale as snow. Her arrival brought on an endless blizzard, transforming the land into a world of ice and snow, which she seamlessly blended into.

She was none other than Wu Xiang, one of the Eleven Great Witches.

Wu Xiang lowered her gaze. Her hands were pressed together in front of her chest, looking like a Bodhisattva carved of ice. She walked barefoot upon the snow, and with every step, a white lotus bloomed beneath her feet, only to fade into translucence and vanish as she moved on.

As she advanced, frost filled every corner of the air, freezing all that it touched.

Wu Xiang personally wielded the Ice Arts, far surpassing Wu Luo in its mastery. With a single gesture, she swept away the lingering shockwaves of the Taiyi Supreme Technique’s second stage. Though the chaotic power of the Taiyi Supreme Technique could dissolve almost anything, it was too small in quantity. Thus, it could only dissolve part of the chilling aura before it was utterly spent.

Even so, Great Sage Lan did not panic. A black lantern appeared in his hand, its flames as tiny as a bean. This light did not illuminate. Instead, it devoured all light around it.

The nearer one drew to the lantern, the darker the world became.

Thus, when Great Sage Lan raised the lantern, his face was not lit. It vanished into the darkness.

Within the Daoist Order, there were three lanterns that were considered immortal objects, each with its own power.

The Guizang Lantern, also known as the Heavenly Lantern, could pierce through the veil of time and reveal the future.

The Eight Scenes Lantern, also known as the Manly Lantern, could record the divine powers of eight other Immortals, allowing its bearer to wield the strength of many.

The Nether Passage Lantern, also known as the Earthly Lantern, could summon fleeting shadows of the dead, including fallen immortals. The higher the wielder’s cultivation, the longer those phantoms could linger.

The immortal object in Great Sage Lan’s hand was none other than the Nether Passage Lantern.

Great Sage Lan exhaled softly toward the bean-sized flame, and the tiny light flickered like a candle in a storm, swaying precariously, looking like it might be extinguished at any moment. Around that faint flame, reality itself warped, forming a strange and eerie scene.

Beyond it lay Wu Luo’s divine kingdom and Wu Xiang’s world of ice. But at the center of it all was a vortex of swirling darkness, and within that abyss, the lone tiny flame illuminated a small circle of light.

From afar, Great Sage Lan’s entire body had already been swallowed by darkness. Only his hand holding the lantern remained faintly visible in the glow.

Then, the light cast a shadow, which swiftly condensed into a human form.

The figure wore purple robes, a golden crown atop his head, and a jade belt at his waist, looking like a noble.

This was a well-known fallen immortal within the Daoist Order—Song Zheng. He had once been the leader of the Western Daoist Sect and the husband of Tantai Yun. Back then, he had joined the Deposed Heavenly Preceptor to lead a rebellion, only to be slain by the Holy Xuan.

Great Sage Lan had never known this Daoist elder in life. But through the lantern’s divine power, he could summon an imprint of the man.

Once the former leader of the Western Daoist Sect appeared, he made no move. But countless talismans began to gather around him, each one vanishing silently into the void.

Song Zheng’s body began to expand, swelling until he stood about 60 meters tall.

Since Wu Luo’s divine kingdom had already expanded the bounds of space, Song Zheng’s gargantuan form was not confined by the underground hall. He grew larger, his illusory body phasing through ice and snow, through Great Sage Lan himself,

and even through the blood lake, until he loomed taller than Wu Luo’s red-robed Bodhisattva statue. Then, he extended his hand toward Wu Xiang.

At the same time, the talismans Song Zheng had planted earlier reappeared, each bursting into blinding lines of light, interlacing into a birdcage that trapped Wu Xiang within.

Song Zheng lifted the birdcage before his face. His enormous eyes, which were as vast as the sun and moon, stared unblinkingly at the witch held captive within.

Then, black yin fire shot out from those pupils, condensing into countless demonic blades that sliced toward Wu Xiang from every direction, leaving her nowhere to flee or hide.

But in that instant, Wu Xiang’s body radiated overwhelming frost. The birdcage froze solid, and intricate patterns surfaced. These patterns were not the typical Daoist ones but from the Ancient Wuist totems. The mysterious ice became impenetrable, and the demonic blades shattered harmlessly against it.

Then, a subtle shift rippled through Wu Luo’s divine kingdom. Amid the sea of crimson light that defined it, a faint streak of black and white appeared.

The black and white hues gradually spread outward, forming a distinct divide. Above was ashen white, like a sullen sky before a storm. Below was dark grey, barren, and lifeless, like a wasteland of death. Yet, amidst that desolation and deathly stillness, a white lotus bloomed.

The lotus grew larger, expanding until it was as vast as a palace. Its petals slowly unfolded, transforming into a lotus throne.

A colossal figure took form on the lotus throne, growing clearer by the moment.

It was a white-robed Buddha, seated serenely atop the lotus throne. Its presence perfectly mirrored the red-robed Bodhisattva that stood over the blood lake.

Strangely, no one knew by what divine art this white-robed Buddha had appeared. He came silently, so much so that even Great Sage Lan had not sensed the Buddha’s arrival until it was too late.

The Buddha smiled faintly, holding a flower that bloomed and withered in an endless cycle between his fingers. Then, he pointed a single finger toward Great Sage Lan.

In that instant, Great Sage Lan, who had his back to the Buddha, felt his heart shatter. His face flushed red in agony.

At the same time, a large symbol appeared beneath his feet. At its center was an eye formed of the sun and moon, its black and white light intertwining like the boundless night sky.

Great Sage Lan spun around, his eyes wide with shock and fury. “True Lord Siming?!”

The white-robed Buddha slowly opened his eyes. In his left eye was a blazing white sun, and his right eye held a black moon.

Wu Luo raised her fifth arm, stretching it toward Great Sage Lan. “Lan Hexu, you shall remain here today.”

Facing an impending death, Great Sage Lan did not hesitate to unleash his life-saving method. He spread his fingers, and from his palm, a black speck no bigger than a grain of rice leaped out. In the blink of an eye, the bead expanded to the size of an egg, spinning like a miniature vortex, devouring all surrounding light with terrifying hunger.

This was the third stage of the Taiyi Supreme Technique.

Great Sage Lan pressed the black egg firmly to the ground beneath his feet.

A shockwave of pure blackness erupted outward, rippling across hundreds of meters in an instant, too fast for anyone to react or escape.

When the Primordial Chaos passed, Wu Luo’s divine kingdom and True Lord Siming’s symbols dissolved into nothingness, returning to the void from which they came.