Chapter 65: The Torrent of Destiny

Wang Ping sprinted the entire way, soon catching sight of Myriad Spirits Valley. It lay hidden among the steep, towering mountains, shrouded in the deepest reaches of a hazy white mist.

A second later, however, he slowed his pace.

"...Something isn't right."

Wang Ping's expression grew grave as he looked up at the dark clouds overhead. The magical battle between Daoist Nun You and that mysterious True Transmission had yet to end, and the torrential rain still raged.

Yet compared to when it first began, the curtain of rain had actually thinned considerably—not because Daoist Nun You and the mysterious True Transmission were nearing the end of their fight. The two were still clashing fiercely. Rather, the result was simply that the closer he got to Myriad Spirits Valley, the lighter the rain seemed to become.

What was going on?

"It's almost as if there's a mastermind behind the scenes, using this heavy rain as a whip to lash me forward and drive me toward Myriad Spirits Valley."

At that thought, Wang Ping stopped walking altogether.

The rain battered his body like hacking swords and slashing sabers. Compared to the very beginning, however, this weakened downpour could no longer threaten him.

'If the real Pingjiangzi were here, he probably still wouldn't be able to hold on.'

'But I'm not Pingjiangzi. Not only have I mastered Cosmic Orbit Respiration, placing my cultivation higher than his, but I've also trained my entire body in hard qigong.'

Wang Ping sat down cross-legged. Billowing qi and blood surged through his body like rushing rivers, eventually manifesting on his skin as a layer of lustrous, gleaming golden light.

Copper Head and Iron Forehead. Arms of a Thousand Jun. Standing Vajra.

Hundred-Step Divine Fist. Monument-Splitting and Rock-Crushing. Steel-Piercing Tread.

Mountain-Sinking Elbow. Bronze Wall Knee. Armor-Hardened Abdomen.

Metal-Piercing Finger. Steel Blade-Locking Throat. Golden Spear Standing Tall.

Steel Sinews and Iron Bones.

A full thirteen Arts of War empowered him, connecting with one another and fusing into a single entity. Ultimately, they formed a brand-new Art of War that enveloped him like an inverted golden bell.

Indestructible Vajra Body!

At the same time, dense raindrops smashed down. Mixed with spiritual energy, each drop felt like a shrunken boulder carrying immense mass.

Wang Ping didn't mind this at all. Instead, he opened his mind to listen to the sounds of rain and thunder filling the world. To better absorb the impact of the downpour, he began adjusting his body. Rather than relying on brute resistance, he used dissolving force—borrowing strength to strike back, redirecting and dispersing the rain that battered his skin.

It was a wondrous process.

At first, he had to use his martial Divine Intent to perceive the threat level of every single raindrop, then allocate the corresponding physical strength to counter it.

Yet, as time flowed on, he gradually stopped consciously reacting. The natural movements of his body slowly began to overlap and synchronize with the torrential downpour and the rolling thunder.

The flow of his qi and blood echoed, mimicking the sound of rain.

His sinews and bones moved in unison, carrying the momentum of thunder.

Wang Ping's mind was completely immersed in this state, oblivious to heaven and earth. If nothing unexpected happened, he could easily hold out like this until the cooldown ended.

'In another two days, the Outer Heavenly Demon should be fully recovered.'

However, if there was any lesson Wang Ping had learned from entering the Immortal Gate three times, it was that in this godforsaken place, avoiding the unexpected was impossible.

...

Myriad Spirits Valley.

Rather than a valley, this place was more of a pit. Surrounded by towering mountains on all sides, the center was sunken. But what was piled up within it wasn't sand, mud, or stone.

It was bones.

Countless bones, almost all of them retaining complete human shapes, expanded outward in concentric rings. Together, they guarded a three-meter-tall altar.

Sitting cross-legged on the altar was a white-haired old man. His appearance, however, was eerie and bizarre. Half of his body possessed lifelike flesh and blood with clear textures, while the other half was a stark white skeleton. Green ghost-fire burned within his skeletal eye socket, and his long finger bones tapped lightly with a highly rhythmic cadence.

Meanwhile, in the valley below, more than a dozen living people were mixed among the countless skeletons. Their cultivation levels varied, and they were all struggling desperately. One of them was none other than Fairy Yuerou.

Besides her, there was also a handsome young man.

Among the living, his cultivation was the highest, and his aura the most robust. Correspondingly, however, the skeletons surrounding him were also the most numerous.

"Senior Brother Guo, there is no need to struggle."

The old man chuckled softly. "Destiny has long since revealed the outcome. From the moment you stepped into Myriad Spirits Valley, you were doomed to never escape this tribulation."

"How is that possible..."

Senior Brother Guo gritted his teeth at those words, his face full of disbelief. "Soul-Falling Studio Master, a mere blessed-land master of independent cultivator origins—what makes you think you can beat me?"

With that, he tried to stand up and struggle.

But the moment he moved, the world in the eyes of his spiritual sense instantly changed. In a daze, he felt as if he had been thrust into a pitch-black prison.

Heavy shackles locked around his body.

This made his every movement incredibly strenuous, and his breathing grew weak. Yet, once he withdrew his spiritual sense, the sight of the prison vanished.

Everything seemed like an illusion, yet it was tangibly real.

"What kind of spell is this!?"

"Spell?"

The Soul-Falling Studio Master's voice drifted over faintly. "Senior Brother misunderstands. This is no spell... Didn't I just say it? This is destiny."

"I can roughly guess what you saw, so let me tell you... That prison is your ending. It is the end of your destiny. As human livestock, you have no possibility of moving forward. I'm not intentionally speaking in riddles; I am stating an absolute fact."

"There are no possibilities, only results."

"'Guo Huan dies in this place' is a preordained outcome. Therefore, even if you are stronger than me, here and now, you will inevitably suffer a miserable defeat at my hands."

"Do you understand?"

Of course, Guo Huan didn't understand. However, the old man's cryptic rambling gave him a clue. "You... are an independent cultivator from Xuanyi Immortal Peak?"

The Immortal Gate had eight immortal peaks in total.

Each peak held a unique orthodox lineage. For example, Bliss Immortal Peak focused on dual cultivation, while Xuanyi Immortal Peak focused on divination.

The word most often on their lips was 'destiny'.

"Is it a cursing technique?"

Guo Huan's mind raced as he ventured a guess. "You knew all along that I would strike against you, so you secretly cast a curse and laid a trap, waiting for me to throw myself into your net?"

"Senior Brother thinks too highly of me."

The Soul-Falling Studio Master shook his head. "I am a mere independent cultivator. Even if I know a little about divination and can calculate good and bad fortune, how could I curse Senior Brother?"

"It's a magic artifact."

The Soul-Falling Studio Master raised his skeletal hand and smiled. "The Fate-Peering Bone-Slicing Mirror already revealed the destiny of you and these bandit cultivators long ago."

"A magic artifact?"

Guo Huan paused upon hearing this, then sneered. "An independent cultivator is just an independent cultivator—too little experience. Magic artifacts, magic artifacts! Without magic power, how can you wield a magic artifact?"

"If this item is truly a magic artifact, yet it can be wielded by a mere independent cultivator like you, it only proves that the price it demands is even greater than magic power. But what does an independent cultivator like you have that a magic artifact would covet? Probably nothing but that worthless life of yours. From the looks of it, you're the one whose death is truly approaching."

As his voice fell, the Soul-Falling Studio Master's face instantly darkened.

"Absurd! You think you can disturb my Dao Heart?"

With that, the Soul-Falling Studio Master immediately formed a hand seal. Countless skeletons swarmed forward, rapidly submerging Guo Huan and restoring complete silence to the entirety of Myriad Spirits Valley.

Seeing this, the Soul-Falling Studio Master finally calmed down. He resumed tapping his finger bones, prepared to take his time and slowly refine everyone into nothingness.

Right at that moment, however, his tapping paused.

Immediately after, the Soul-Falling Studio Master raised his brows slightly. "What's going on? We're still missing one... Impossible, how could the Fate-Peering Bone-Slicing Mirror miscalculate?"

Refusing to believe it, he tapped his finger bones once more.

But the result remained unchanged.

So he injected his spiritual sense again, turning to divine the absentee. Soon, that half-skeletal body whispered the answer by his ear:

"Pingjiangzi?"

The Soul-Falling Studio Master froze for a moment. "That independent cultivator I fired—he's actually part of this too? That's not right. One look and you could tell that guy had a cheap fate."

"Why is he missing?"

Destiny was not compulsory. It was a vast ocean formed by the convergence of countless turbulent currents. As people struggled to cross it, most simply drifted with the tide.

Yet, there were always some profound methods that could alter the direction of the turbulence, forcing the flow of certain people and events to converge at a preordained node. This process was a person's fate. Those with tough fates were hard to redirect; those with cheap fates were exceptionally easy to alter.

And in the eyes of the Soul-Falling Studio Master, Pingjiangzi undeniably possessed a cheap fate.

But right now, even Guo Huan—who had the highest cultivation and the toughest fate—had followed the current into Myriad Spirits Valley. So how could a mere Pingjiangzi be missing?

It didn't make sense!

"...No, I must make him come here."

The Soul-Falling Studio Master frowned deeply. In the torrent of destiny, even the slightest change in the flow could lead to a drastically different ending.

He couldn't be sure if missing Pingjiangzi's current of destiny would introduce variables to the preordained outcome, nor did he want any variables to appear.

At that thought, the Soul-Falling Studio Master took a deep breath. Channeling his spiritual sense, he drove the Fate-Peering Bone-Slicing Mirror that occupied half his body. His stark white finger bones slowly formed a hand seal before tapping lightly, as if plunging a hand deep into water and stirring up a series of ripples.

...

"Boom!"

Thunder exploded in the sky, jolting Wang Ping awake. He looked up, only to find that the once-thinning curtain of rain had suddenly intensified.

The thunder grew deafening. The downpour became even more torrential.

This series of sudden changes instantly knocked Wang Ping out of his near Heaven-and-Man-as-One mental state, making it impossible to maintain his enlightenment any longer.

"I knew it...!"

Beneath the monstrous thunderstorm, Wang Ping opened his eyes. A sharp pain lanced through his shoulder as the rain smashed through his Indestructible Vajra Body, drawing a dazzling spray of crimson.

The freezing rain tore into his flesh, chilling him to the bone.

Yet even colder than that was the truth Wang Ping sensed from it. 'This heavy rain... is no accident. It's premeditated. Someone is commanding it!'

The moment he stopped moving in front of Myriad Spirits Valley, the once-thinning downpour intensified once more.

How could there be such a coincidence in this world!

However, he had no way of knowing who the mastermind behind the scenes truly was.

He also couldn't understand what kind of person could force two True Transmissions of the Immortal Gate into a life-and-death struggle, all just to herd a lowly cultivator like him toward a specific place.

But he did know one other thing. And that was:

'I must stall for time.'

Facing the bone-piercing rain, Wang Ping clenched his jaw and stubbornly refused to stand. Although the downpour had grown strong enough to injure him, it still couldn't kill him.

Since that was the case, he still had room to maneuver.

While forcibly enduring the agony of the rain scouring his flesh like death by a thousand cuts, Wang Ping circulated Qi Restriction to rapidly heal his injuries. He refused to move a single step.

He knew this was simply waiting for death, but he was determined to stall!

Soon, time rapidly slipped away.

This anomaly left the Soul-Falling Studio Master inside Myriad Spirits Valley increasingly shocked. "Impossible. I already increased the sacrifice, yet I still can't summon a single independent cultivator?"

Although the Soul-Falling Studio Master was an independent cultivator himself, in his own eyes, as someone who commanded a blessed land and stood only a step away from passing the Human Tribulation and refining magic power, he could no longer be considered one. His spirit had already reached the Realm of an Immortal Gate disciple; it was only his cultivation that lacked the final kick.

Therefore, at this moment, he was also at his most furious.

"A mere independent cultivator..." The Soul-Falling Studio Master took a deep breath before pouring in his spiritual sense once more, churning up even larger ripples within the torrent of destiny.

Meanwhile, Wang Ping's sensations grew increasingly distinct.

Before long, the thunderstorm worsened. A few other cultivators who were also seeking shelter from the rain appeared, and before entering Myriad Spirits Valley, they didn't forget to call out to him:

"Daoist Brother, why are you hiding out here?"

"There's no rain inside. Come on in."

While speaking, the sheltering cultivators stepped in and out of Myriad Spirits Valley several times, completely unharmed. Yet Wang Ping turned a deaf ear to it all.

Until the sun set over the western mountains, the heavy rain only grew more and more violent.

Exposed to the downpour, Wang Ping's body was riddled with a thousand holes. Blood flowed like a fountain, and his life force flickered like a candle in the wind... Yet he remained completely motionless.

The second day.

Sunrise, breakfast, mid-morning, noon, early afternoon, dinner, dusk... Time ticked away just like the falling rain, and Wang Ping had lost all signs of life.

At the brink of life and death, his life began flashing before his eyes like a revolving lantern, past memories welling up in his heart—but the moment this thought arose, a sequence of memories leaped up in his sea of consciousness ahead of his own. Yet they weren't his. They were the memories belonging to 'Pingjiangzi', erupting suddenly like a flash flood!

'No!'

Horror gripped Wang Ping's heart. 'I've mastered martial Divine Intent, subduing the Mind Monkey and reining in the horse of the will. Even if I'm about to die, it's absolutely impossible for me to experience my life flashing before my eyes.'

It was that mastermind behind the scenes again!

Seeing that physical methods were useless, they were resorting to mental attacks?

In the center of his sea of consciousness, Wang Ping watched with cold detachment. He quietly observed 'Pingjiangzi's' life flashing by, the revolving memories gradually giving birth to a single thought.

[Live].

Pingjiangzi did not want to die. Spurred by this budding will to survive, Wang Ping's body finally moved, stumbling step by step toward Myriad Spirits Valley.

Wherever he passed, the heavy rain poured relentlessly.

Rainwater flowed beneath his feet. Mixed with spiritual energy, every drop was as heavy as a mountain, pressing down on his back and shoulders, leaving him no way to escape. He could only drift with the tide.

And so, step by step, following the current, he walked into Myriad Spirits Valley.

Almost at the exact same moment, the Soul-Falling Studio Master on the altar in Myriad Spirits Valley stood up. He shook off his flesh and blood; two-thirds of his body had already turned into a skeleton.

This was the price he paid to summon Wang Ping.

Yet he felt no regret over this at all. Instead, his heart was filled with joy. After all, despite the steep price, the currents needed to guide destiny were finally fully assembled.

"Good, good!"

The Soul-Falling Studio Master threw his head back and laughed. Stepping down from the altar, he said, "The conditions are ripe! It seems today is the serendipitous moment for me to pass the Human Tribulation and refine magic power!"

Hearing this, Pingjiangzi looked bewildered, seemingly still immersed in the revolving memories of his life, unable to pull himself out.

However, Wang Ping, who had been sitting back and watching this unfold all along, finally breathed a sigh of relief. With a thought, his consciousness instantly sank into the space of the Taiping Sutra.

Upon the towering tome, the scripture scroll marked as the Outer Heavenly Demon was glowing brilliantly.

The cooldown had ended.