Volume One, Chapter 32: The Invitation to the Battle of Prodigies Across All Realms

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With a single sweep of his sleeve, the Punishment Envoy—the being feared even by the Lord of All Gods, imprisoned within the “Realm of Supreme Void”—along with the conceptual cage that held him, shattered and disintegrated without a sound, like bubbles beneath the sun. It dissolved into a sky full of the purest points of light, then vanished completely into nothingness.

Not only his body and divine soul, but every trace that he had ever existed, and the life upon which the Pantheon had placed such great hopes, were utterly erased by that one sweep of the sleeve.

The sky returned to its clear, azure blue.

It was as though the Punishment Envoy had never descended at all.

A terrifying disturbance, one capable of unleashing bloodshed and chaos throughout the myriad heavens and realms, had dissipated without a trace amid Gu Changsheng’s sound sleep and a single disdainful glance.

Having disposed of that “eyesore” of an ornament, Gu Changsheng felt refreshed. He rubbed his stomach and realized that he was a little hungry.

“Uncle Fu, what are we having for lunch?”

Ji Ruxue hurried forward and replied softly, “Young Master, the kitchen has prepared your favorites today: Nine-Turn Golden Dragon Marrow and Phoenix Egg Custard.”

“Oh, those again? I suppose they’ll do.” Gu Changsheng answered without much interest and ambled toward the dining hall.

The sunlight was warm, and the breeze gentle.

In the courtyard, Ye Qingxian was watering the sword-path hedge. Ji Ruxue followed behind her young master, preparing to serve the dishes, while Uncle Fu picked up his broom and leisurely continued sweeping the fallen leaves from the ground.

Everything was exactly as it had always been.

After the “scarecrow” from the Upper Realm had been dealt with by a sweep of Uncle Fu’s sleeve, the Gu family’s little courtyard had once again returned to its usual tranquility.

Or rather, it had returned to the sort of tranquility Gu Changsheng was accustomed to.

His mood had been remarkably good these past few days. No blind collateral clansmen had appeared to demand the restoration of the family’s former glory. No self-important divine envoy had summoned thunder overhead. Nor had some nonsensical alliance of transmigrators come along to uphold world peace.

The sunlight remained warm, the reclining chair remained comfortable, and the newly replaced “First Ancestor Pillow” made every sleep deep and sweet.

Ye Qingxian and Ji Ruxue had also gradually adapted to this seemingly uneventful life—a life that, in truth, overturned their understanding of the world with every passing moment.

Ji Ruxue could now fertilize the ordinary greens in the vegetable garden with “Nine Heavens Breath Soil,” which contained the Laws of Life, without so much as blinking, simply because the young master had complained one day that the vegetables were not crisp enough.

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Ye Qingxian, meanwhile, had completely abandoned her former sharp and fierce cultivation of the sword path. Her daily task was now to trim the utterly ordinary hedge surrounding the courtyard with a pair of common scissors.

She discovered that every time she cut through those seemingly ordinary branches, her understanding of the “sword” entered an entirely new realm—one of returning to simplicity and uncovering the essence of things. She was not pruning branches, but arranging cause and effect and severing illusion. The true sword path did not lie in sharpness, but in the tranquility found between “cultivating” and “trimming.”

Uncle Fu continued sweeping the ground and watering the flowers each day, watching everything with a smile. He knew better than anyone that the young master’s present state was the perfect “nourishing” phase preceding the Ancestor’s return. This carefree idleness, in which nothing in the world could trouble his heart, was the finest soil for nourishing the Ancestor’s divine soul.

Yet as steward of the Gu family, Uncle Fu had far more to consider than appearances suggested.

On this particular day, he was wiping down an archaic wooden table. His movements were slow and meticulous, as though every grain in the wood bore the memories of an entire age.

Suddenly, the void before him rippled ever so slightly. A golden invitation, radiant with flowing light and woven from countless runic symbols of the Great Dao, appeared soundlessly and hung suspended in the air.

The words “Myriad Heavens” were branded upon it. The aura it emitted was enough to make any Immortal King tremble. It had not arrived through a teleportation array or by tearing through space. Instead, it had been delivered here with perfect precision through the most fundamental laws underlying the myriad heavens and realms.

This was the invitation to the “Myriad Realms’ Prodigy Battle.”

Held once every million years by several of the most exalted Eternal Dynasties and Immortal Traditions, the event sought to select the most outstanding young talents of the age, divide the blessings of destiny among them, and proclaim its majesty.

As the nominal “guardian” spanning every dimension, the Gu family invariably received an invitation of the highest rank.

Throughout the countless ages of the past, the Gu family had always ignored such invitations. The game of a group of children playing house held no interest for them—not even enough to warrant a second glance.

Uncle Fu reached out with two fingers and took the invitation as casually as one might pick up a scrap of wastepaper.

He had intended to toss it into the stove as kindling.

But then his gaze happened to drift toward Gu Changsheng, who was lying in the reclining chair not far away.

The young master had just woken up and was staring listlessly at the sky. A blade of foxtail grass, pulled from who knew where, dangled from his mouth. His clear eyes held neither focus nor emotion, only the emptiness and weariness of one who had seen through everything.

This was not the “boredom” of a mortal.

It was the “fatigue” of a god.

Uncle Fu’s heart stirred faintly.

He suddenly recalled that before the Ancestor had transformed into the myriad Great Daos, what he had loved most was wandering among the mortal world, observing the joys and sorrows of its living beings and experiencing the novel and amusing “struggles” that seemed so fascinating to him.

“The Ancestor’s Dao is non-action and a return to simplicity. But if the young master remains immersed in such absolute serenity for too long, might he… be lacking a little worldly warmth?” Uncle Fu began his characteristically elaborate conjecturing.

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“Yes, that must be it. I understand now. Although the young master has enjoyed peace and purity of late, perhaps deep within his divine soul he longs for a touch of ‘liveliness’ as a change of pace. This is not a return to mortal desires, but a search for the perfect balance between ‘transcending the world’ and ‘entering the world,’ thereby strengthening the supreme Dao-heart of the Ancestor.”

“Flies have been coming to the door one after another recently, disturbing the young master’s peace. That means the karmic ties of this mortal domain have grown somewhat muddled. Rather than passively waiting for trouble to come knocking, it would be better to take the initiative and venture out, allowing those so-called prodigies of the myriad heavens and realms to experience firsthand what ‘Heaven’ truly means. In doing so, I can also clear away certain unnecessary hidden dangers and preserve the young master’s peace in the future.”

“Hmm. Although this so-called ‘Myriad Realms’ Prodigy Battle’ is somewhat beneath our standards, it should still barely qualify as an amusement park where the young master can relax.”

The more Uncle Fu thought about it, the more brilliant his decision seemed. He was certain that he had perfectly grasped the Ancestor’s “highest directive.”

Holding the invitation, he respectfully walked over to Gu Changsheng.

“Young Master.”

“Hmm? What is it?” Gu Changsheng responded lazily, too listless even to raise his eyelids.

“Some juniors from the myriad heavens and realms are holding a martial tournament. They claim it is the liveliest grand gathering of the age.” Uncle Fu carefully chose his words, doing his best to make them plain and easy to understand. “This old servant thought you might be interested, so I accepted on your behalf.”

“A martial tournament?” At last, Gu Changsheng opened his eyes. He glanced at the golden invitation in Uncle Fu’s hand. Its brilliant light flashed so brightly that it hurt his eyes.

He frowned, his face filled with resistance.

“I’m not going.”

Two words, crisp and decisive.

What kind of joke was this? A martial tournament? And he had to leave the house? How troublesome would that be? With that time, wouldn’t it be better to stay home and sleep a little longer?

“How annoying. Don’t bother me with things like this.” Gu Changsheng waved his hand and turned his face away, preparing to summon sleep once more.

Uncle Fu had expected this. His smile did not fade as he continued respectfully, “The young master is absolutely right. Naturally, such a trivial matter is not worthy of your personal journey. However, the invitation has already been accepted. If you do not go, I fear it may damage your reputation.”

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