Chapter 549: The Secret of Reincarnation and the Divine Path

In the midst of violent dizziness, Li Xiao felt his consciousness engulfed by boundless darkness. He kept falling endlessly, as though sinking into an abyss with no bottom.

When he finally awoke from that darkness, he found himself standing upon a vast expanse of white earth.

White gravel stretched endlessly across the land, seeming to merge with the distant horizon.

As confusion filled his eyes, a burst of cheering erupted beside him.

Li Xiao turned to look and saw a group of people shouting excitedly.

“The Netherworld! This is the Netherworld! The legendary Netherworld beneath the eighteenth layer of Kunxu!”

“The Holy Master was right! Reincarnation after death really exists!”

“We can be reborn! We can be reborn!”

Hearing the cries of these Demon Sect followers, Li Xiao slowly came to his senses.

“I’m dead.”

He recalled the scenes at Wanfa University City — Zhang Yu and the others fighting to the death against the Demon Sect’s Gold Core cultivators — and finally, how he was crushed to pieces by Shi Huaiyu.

Yet the anger and pain in his heart flashed only for an instant. The next moment, his expression was filled with excitement and anticipation.

“Life brings no joy, and death no sorrow. After a lifetime of bitter cultivation, why not cast off this body and be reborn anew?”

He loudly recited the Feathering Sect’s creed, then burst out laughing along with the other followers beside him.

“Death is not the end.”

“No wonder! No wonder they wouldn’t let us truly die!”

“They were afraid we’d refuse to live as beasts of burden — afraid we’d rather reincarnate!”

At that moment, Li Xiao’s eyes gleamed with boundless hope. He could already see himself reborn in Kunxu’s fifth layer, the tenth layer — perhaps even as an immortal fetus.

If not this life, then the next, or the one after that.

“One day, I’ll be born with a better background, greater talent, and reach higher peaks on the Immortal Path.”

He thought of Zhang Yu, whose talent outshone his own, of Ji Yuanshu, Gongshu Jin, Ying Xin — those born with advantages he could never match. Li Xiao’s heart surged with longing for the future.

At the same time, lines of glowing text appeared before his eyes.

“The Reincarnation Immortal Emperor, seeing that all living beings suffer and have no hope in this life, made a great vow — to reconstruct the Netherworld and grant all beings a chance at immortality.”

“According to your contract, you may now begin your fifteenth reincarnation.”

In the midst of his excitement, Li Xiao froze slightly at the sight of those words.

Then, lines upon lines of text and numbers appeared before him — a detailed list of his posthumous assets. After deductions for debts, taxes, reincarnation handling fees, and other necessary expenses, the result appeared before him:

“–2.566 Spirit coins.”

Aside from Spirit coins, there were mentions of other currencies and resources — divine powers, immortal artifacts, Dao veins, merits — all precious-sounding beyond measure. But every one of them showed a value of zero.

As for the first-layer currency, it wasn’t even included.

A sinking feeling welled up in Li Xiao’s chest.

Soon, another prompt appeared before him.

“Do you have any additional posthumous assets to declare? Any unregistered property, hidden wealth, unrecorded techniques or knowledge — anything you consider valuable can be entered for review.”

“Warning: There are numerous expenses during the reincarnation process. To ensure a favorable rebirth, please declare your assets thoroughly.”

Li Xiao’s heart turned cold.

He tried entering everything he knew — his cultivation techniques, his knowledge — but none could be assigned any value.

Even when he attempted to sell information about Zhang Yu or the Demon Sect, he gained nothing.

“Is it worthless? Or does the Reincarnation Immortal Emperor simply deem these secrets beneath notice? Or perhaps the higher powers avoid interfering with the living — after all, a dead man’s secrets shouldn’t affect reality?”

Li Xiao never got to confirm his guesses. After several failed attempts, the asset declaration step was skipped, and the reincarnation process officially began.

A flood of options appeared before him.

Which layer of Kunxu to reincarnate into?

He tried to choose a higher layer — but every layer above the first required payment. With his balance in the negative, he had no choice but to select the first layer.

Then came the specifics — where in that layer? Which city? City center or suburbs?

Male or female?

Handsome or plain?

Cultivation aptitude, physical constitution —

Would he have talent in artifact refinement? Martial arts?

A prodigious memory? Exceptional intelligence?

Or perhaps be born with a Divine Spirit Root, an Immortal Spirit Root, even an Innate Saint Body or a Heaven-appointed Immortal Fetus?

Every single choice could be made — legally, through this system — but each one demanded an exorbitant fee.

Next came family background — good or bad?

A mortal household, or corporate parents?

Their profession, cultivation realm, total assets?

Even personality traits could be adjusted.

For instance, one of his current default traits was “heart devoted to the Immortal Path.” To delete or replace it also required payment.

Below it was a statistic he didn’t understand: Merit.

Since his posthumous assets were negative, his Merit displayed as –326.

He didn’t know what it meant to be born with negative merit, but it certainly couldn’t be good.

As he reviewed each setting — every minor adjustment carrying a cost — Li Xiao’s heart sank deeper and deeper.

He could already see it: in life after life, he would remain poor — trapped at the very bottom of society, struggling for survival, forever.

He began to wonder, “If this continues, wouldn’t the poor just get poorer? Always drifting down toward the first layer of Kunxu?

Then where do the upper-layer people come from?

And what about all those countless demon students at Heavenly Demon University? Are they reincarnated from the upper layers?”

“Or maybe natural births still happen. Perhaps not everyone is a reincarnated soul.”

“Or maybe this reincarnation process is just one part of a vast system — perhaps the procedures differ by layer or social class…”

Then he shook his head. “What’s the point in thinking about that now?”

Right now, the most urgent matter was still — reincarnation.

Suddenly, someone nearby shouted, “Even reincarnation is controlled?!”

Another burst into hysterical laughter and tears. “Heaven and earth, cause and effect, life and death — there’s nothing the immortals don’t control! Nothing they can’t!”

“They’re toying with us! The immortals are playing us! The Feathering Sect lied to us! They’ve made us work for them life after life, milking us dry every time we reincarnate!”

Laughing madly, the man collapsed to the ground, muttering, “I won’t reincarnate. I refuse to be reborn. I won’t live another life of poverty…”

But before long, since he didn’t initiate the process, the system activated automatically. His soul transformed into a streak of rainbow light that soared into the sky — cast into his next life.

Others tried to kill themselves, to truly dissipate their souls, but found they were nothing but spectral ghosts — incapable of dying within this white expanse of the Netherworld.

In the end, they too were dragged into reincarnation, faces filled with despair.

Watching them, Li Xiao turned back to his own options, his heart as still as stagnant water.

“In the next life, I’ll be even poorer — not even a first-layer immortal of Kunxu.”

“And the life after that… poorer still. Life after life…”

The thought of being born again as a penniless wretch, of being eternally trapped in poverty, filled him with unprecedented terror.

He could see no light, no hope — only endless suffering.

In that moment, all he wished for was to die — completely, utterly, and forever.

Amid cries of pain, rage, and despair, Li Xiao turned into a beam of rainbow light and shot into the heavens, beginning yet another cycle of life.

…

Kunxu, Second Layer.

Wanfa University, University City.

Inside Ye Xingli’s laboratory.

When Zhang Yu posed his question, Fu Ji fell silent, deep in thought.

“As expected… this kid Zhang Yu still asked.”

After settling the matter with Feng Yuhan, Zhang Yu had devoted himself wholly to completing the final stages of the Heaven-Sun Radiance Divine Prototype.

But Fu Ji knew — Zhang Yu had not forgotten what he’d heard in the Dark Spirit Realm, nor his conversation with the Evil Gods.

And this time, Fu Ji no longer intended to hide the truth from him.

Perhaps she had been influenced by Zhang Yu.

Or perhaps, in her eyes, Zhang Yu had grown mature enough.

So she spoke plainly.

“The so-called Divine Path is, in essence, another road of cultivation.”

“The most basic form of it is simply the path to becoming a True God — an official employee of the Heavenly Court.”

“A higher form of the Divine Path involves carrying the will of the True Gods from the Spiritual Realm — serving as their vessel, their means of acting upon the material world.”

“And the most extreme form… is likely the path that Zhang Pianpian is walking right now.”

Zhang Yu’s expression grew serious. He listened closely as Fu Ji continued.

“To become the reincarnation of a True God — gradually seizing that god’s authority, resources, and memories.”

“Ordinary True Gods could never achieve this. Only high-ranking deities of the Heavenly Court are capable of such reincarnation.”

“And such a True God would have many reincarnations — numerous vessels competing, devouring one another, until only one remains. That survivor becomes the new god.”

Fu Ji sighed.

“The path Zhang Pianpian walks… is most likely this one.”

“As she grows stronger, she will gradually awaken more of the True God’s memories — until she defeats all her rivals and completely merges with the divine consciousness.”

“Of course, if she fails, she’ll merely become nourishment for another reincarnation.”

“And even if she succeeds, the True God’s memories are vast beyond measure — compared to them, Zhang Pianpian’s own memories would be but a drop in the ocean…”