Fu Xiu rushed to the prefectural yamen and saw Prefect Xia Fenghua packing his travel kit, preparing to flee Youzhou with his family.

Fu Xiu hurried forward to stop Prefect Xia, “Your Honor, the calamity has broken out. We should lead the city’s people away from here.”

Xia Fenghua shoved him aside and snapped, “Lead them? How? You really think this is just a disaster? If we can escape alive, our ancestors should be worshipped with high incense!”

Fu Xiu frowned, then noticed that Xia Fenghua’s family—except for Xia himself—were already in the middle of metamorphosing, so he fell silent.

Xia Fenghua invoked the Land Register to shield his family, then activated a Myriad Soul Banner. The banner stirred, ghost gods whirling within it, lifting his wife and children up.

As Xia Fenghua was about to leave, he glanced back and saw Fu Xiu still standing there, bewildered.

Xia Fenghua felt a sting of pity and threw down another Myriad Soul Banner. “Fu Xiu, how many people you can save depends on your own skill!”

With his family buoyed up, Xia Fenghua waved the banner; the ghost gods supported a gray cloud that tore through the sky and vanished.

Fu Xiu grabbed the banner and felt a little reassured. He dashed straight for the Talisman Master Association, thinking, “A single Myriad Soul Banner can drive ten thousand ghosts and rescue ten thousand people. With this treasure, if I mobilize the talisman masters of the association and raise the Celestial Court token to open the minor heaven, maybe we can evacuate the people of Youzhou!”

His heart blazed.

Because of his contributions in Youzhou, Main Hall Master Yu Tiancheng at the Main Hall had once sent him a Celestial Court token, granting him the freedom to enter the minor heaven. The token was forbidden to hand over to outsiders; bringing outsiders into the minor heaven required an application at the Main Hall. But now was a moment of crisis—he decided he wouldn’t follow Red Mountain Hall Talisman Master Association rules. He would act alone.

He burst into the local branch of the Red Mountain Hall Talisman Master Association and shouted, “Hu Yifang, Li Yu, we have work to do! Hu Yifang—”

His steps slowed as talisman masters came into view one by one.

The talisman masters of Red Mountain Hall wore smiles, but some had backs split open, half their bodies spilling out; others were little more than skin draped over bones; some clung to trees like cicadas.

A chill sank into Fu Xiu’s heart. He didn’t search for anyone else—there might be others alive, but it no longer mattered.

He could do this himself.

He shook the Myriad Soul Banner. Although the banner was obviously a demonic artifact, it could be used to stabilize county and provincial fate, resisting evil spirit invasions.

Now ghost gods streamed from the banner. Under his control, they gathered the nearby people in the process of metamorphosis and transported them into Red Mountain Hall.

He worked alone and quickly filled Red Mountain Hall, inside and out, with metamorphosing people.

“If I open the minor heaven and send them inside, they can avoid the calamity,” Fu Xiu muttered to himself.

He invoked the Celestial Court token to unlock it.

The token emitted a faint glow, but no portal to the minor heaven appeared at the other end.

Unwilling to give up, he followed the secret method taught by the Main Hall and unsealed the token again. Still, the portal failed to open.

Fu Xiu tried again and again. Each time the token flared with light, indicating he had not erred, yet the gate to the minor heaven never opened!

He kept trying until his Dao Heart began to collapse.

Suddenly Fu Xiu fell to his knees and burst into a cry, his body trembling uncontrollably.

Soon, the second wave of metamorphosis began.

Many people crawled on the ground like cicada larvae seeking a higher place to shed their skins.

Fu Xiu remained on his knees, not amidst the crowd.

After a moment, his body shuddered, and the back of his neck made a cracking sound.

He began to metamorphose.

In the Western Capital, the chief official of the Directorate of Astronomy wore a terrified expression as he sprinted toward Wenyuan Pavilion.

Not long after, the thirteen senior ministers of the Cabinet gathered in full, each with a grave face.

Yan Xianzhi sank deeply into his seat, brow tightened.

“How long can Youzhou hold?” he asked abruptly.

“Cataclysm speed varies,” Xia Canghai replied. “The slow kind can last two, three, even ten years. The fast kind could erupt in two or three days. Yinzhou once suffered a cataclysm—an inferno—that lasted a single day. A thousand li burned clean. We still don’t know what type of calamity has struck Youzhou.”

He paused, then said, “No one can come out alive, that’s impossible.”

Yan Xianzhi exhaled heavily. “We cannot let the cataclysm remain alive; it will only cause greater harm. Mobilize Wuying Hall.”

The other twelve ministers said nothing and nodded silently.

Only the Nine Halls of the True King have the power to eliminate a cataclysm now.

“With our cultivation, bringing Wuying Hall to Youzhou would take two days of flight,” Xia Canghai said.

“Using the Upper Realm, we could be in Youzhou within a short span,” another added.

Yan Xianzhi hesitated, then shook his head. “Do not use the Upper Realm. The Upper Realm is our last card against Despair Slope and the Celestial True God. I’ll take Wuying Hall with Xia Canghai to Youzhou and purge the calamity. The rest of you will remain to oversee state affairs. Western Ox New Continent must not be destabilized.”

He rose and walked out.

Xia Canghai followed him.

Wuying Hall rose slowly from the Western Capital, radiating enchanting immortal light as it headed toward Youzhou.

Yan Xianzhi and Xia Canghai stood before the hall’s gate, looking into the distance in silence.

“The last time a cataclysm occurred was a thousand years ago, wasn’t it?” Yan Xianzhi said.

“I think so,” Xia Canghai replied. “Someone stole into a tomb, opened a great burial chamber, and disturbed the interred. That triggered a calamity.”

Xia Canghai nodded. “Wenyuan Hall had to be used then. After counting the dead, that calamity killed millions; an entire province was nearly wiped out. Since then, cataclysm-level events haven’t appeared.”

Yan Xianzhi frowned. “Now they have.”

Xia Canghai sighed. “A few days ago, night came a quarter moment earlier.”

Yan Xianzhi’s frown deepened. “I always feel that these catastrophes relate to changes in the True God. This may not be the only cataclysm—there could be a second, a third right after. Do you know how many cataclysms broke out in the years before the end of the True King Era?”

“I have read a little of that era’s history, though the Xia family records are sparse,” Xia Canghai said.

“Most records from the end of the True King Era were deliberately destroyed,” Yan Xianzhi said. “When I went to the Upper Realm and saw our ancestral masters, one of them mentioned it in passing.”

He paused and added, “He said thirty-seven cataclysms occurred near the True King Era’s end. Countless people died. The True King had to forge nine immortal halls to suppress the disasters.”

Xia Canghai trembled slightly and fell silent for a moment. “If this is only a precursor, then another thirty or so cataclysms may follow.”

Yan Xianzhi sighed. “But in the end, the True King era was destroyed by one calamitous transformation.”

They lapsed into silence.

Suddenly Xia Canghai asked, “What level is that woman near Chen Shi now?”

“Cataclysm-level,” Yan Xianzhi replied. “She should have been crippled; she’s not much of a threat. But she’s strange.”

“How is she strange?” Xia Canghai asked.

“She’s humanoid.”

Yan Xianzhi said, “The prehistoric cataclysms in records were usually aberrant shapes, like underworld demonic hordes. She is different—human. Maybe that’s why the True King didn’t kill her but instead sealed her at Qixia Taoist Temple.”

They fell silent again.

Xia Canghai broke the quiet, “We enter the cataclysm domain, find the calamity, and then do what?”

“Follow the Nine Halls’ ritual,” Yan Xianzhi said. “Locate the calamity, raise Wuying Hall, blast it—end of story.”

Xia Canghai nodded lightly.

At that moment, a streak of light tore through the sky at tremendous speed, leaving Wuying Hall far behind.

The ministers looked up in surprise, straining to see, but the light raced so fast they could not discern what it was.

“Seems to be headed for Youzhou,” Xia Canghai said.

Yan Xianzhi nodded. “To Youzhou.”

“Who could be so fast? Faster than an immortal hall?” Xia Canghai wondered.

Yan Xianzhi hesitated and said nothing.

Below Tai Hua Mountain, Blue Goat staggered forward carrying Chen Shi and Black Pot, both of them heavily wounded. The cataclysm’s outbreak had affected the mountain’s gods; many could no longer resist and had succumbed to metamorphosis, so Blue Goat could procure less and less divine power to borrow.

He wanted to stop, to turn back, to head toward the place where Jinghong the elder hung suspended.

The cataclysm warped his cognition, making him think the location of Jinghong was an immortal sanctuary. A voice inside him called him there, promising ascension.

But Blue Goat pushed away the temptation and continued trudging forward.

On the mountain trail, many crawled like cicadas, moving toward where Jinghong hung.

Blue Goat walked against the flow. Each step cost him dearly; after walking an untold distance, he still could not leave Tai Hua Mountain.

He suddenly halted, froze on the mountain road, and stood motionless.

He began to molt.

He could no longer resist the cataclysm’s influence.

After a moment, Blue Goat shed a layer of skin. He picked up Chen Shi and Black Pot from the ground and continued moving against the crowd.

The cataclysm affected him, but his will still governed his body, steering it away from the disaster’s epicenter.

He held one belief: he must get Little Ten out.

He must send this child out of the cataclysm’s domain!

He was Chen Yindu’s grandson. The brothers had risked their lives to rescue this child—Blue Goat had even died during the rescue. This was a life he had saved with his own death; he had to deliver him out.

“Uncle Goat, kill me, release the cataclysm,” Chen Shi whispered, voice threadbare.

Blue Goat either did not hear him or ignored him, his gaze fixed ahead.

Chen Shi struggled, trying to roll off his shoulders. With the last of his strength he said, “Uncle Goat, kill me, use the cataclysm inside my body to attack him—maybe there’s still a chance…”

Blue Goat clutched him tightly and kept moving.

Chen Shi still struggled, and accidentally saw Blue Goat’s face. He froze. Blue Goat’s eyes had turned a pale white—he was undergoing the second metamorphosis—but he still mechanically plodded forward. All his will seemed focused on resisting the cataclysm’s sway; he could not hear Chen Shi.

Chen Shi attempted to rally his qi; his body felt like a sieve as blood poured from many wounds.

He had intended to use his cultivation to cast a spell of self-destruction, but seeing the situation, he let go of that plan.

“So death is this simple,” he thought and continued to push his blood.

Warm blood seeped from him; his body grew hot, then slowly chilled.

Chen Shi felt death draw near; soon he would be a cold corpse.

“At that time, that courteous cataclysm will likely occupy my body,” he thought.

Two outcomes might follow: worse, both cataclysms erupt together, killing countless people; or the two beasts will fight, and perhaps the scholar’s cataclysm will eliminate Jinghong.

This was his most helpless plan, his last resort.

Either destruction or survival.

His body cooled and his vision dimmed; the sky seemed veiled in gray mist.

He turned his head with difficulty toward Tai Hua Mountain and saw thick tendrils hanging in the sky, piercing the void and suspending Jinghong in midair.

Stone Ji Your Ladyship was still battering Jinghong, but Jinghong’s body only grew larger; the cataclysm continued.

Chen Shi’s eyelids grew heavy; death pressed closer.

Then a beam of light entered his sight.

The beam came from afar and struck the suspended Jinghong.

The light halted and a young man appeared.

Chen Shi’s consciousness was dull; he could only make out the young, blurry figure and the peculiar light around him—a strange halo behind him.

Within that halo sat a Primordial Spirit a thousand zhang tall, and behind the light stood a miniature shrine.

From the shrine came a peculiar rhythm that resonated with the world’s Dao.

Chen Shi’s head wound throbbed as if it might split open again.

He strained to open his eyes wide and saw the young silhouette fuse with the thousand-zhang Primordial Spirit, the Realm of Emptiness projection, and that unfathomable Divine Embryo, emitting staggering presence. Then the young man thrust a finger forward.

Tears rolled from Chen Shi’s eyes as he kept them open, trying to see the man’s face.

At that moment, Jinghong in metamorphosis seemed to sense a fatal threat. Countless flesh-and-blood tendrils withdrew from the void, whirled through the sky, and swept toward the young man!

Faced with a mortal enemy, he had to pause the cataclysm’s spread. His aura surged as he tried to slay the young man first!

“Pfft!”

His occiput exploded; blood and brain matter sprayed. Jinghong dragged the countless tendrils and was flung back, crashing onto a mountain peak with a thud.

The cataclysm’s influence vanished abruptly.

All the crawling people halted, standing dumbly in place, bewildered.

Blue Goat, who had been plodding forward, stopped; the pallor in his eyes faded and a spark of life returned.

He regained consciousness and looked upward.

The young man who had slain Jinghong was separating his merged forms; the Primordial Spirit, the projection, and the Divine Embryo were disjoining.

Blue Goat stared at that unfathomable Divine Embryo and went momentarily mute. Then he roared, his wounds snapping open as blood gushed!

Enraged, eyes blazing, he tore off his horns.

“Don’t go, Uncle Goat—” Chen Shi barely managed to grab his goat beard, voice faint, “Don’t go, you’ll die…”

Chen Shi’s words faltered; he exhaled his last and died.

“That is your Innate Dao Embryo!”

“Little Ten, your uncle will avenge you today and reclaim the Innate Dao Embryo that belongs to you!”

Blue Goat set Chen Shi and Black Pot down, hefted his horn-blades, and, dragging his grievously wounded body, strode toward the young man’s direction.

At that moment, a hand caught his shoulder.

Blue Goat turned and paused slightly.

Chen Shi—somehow—had risen and stood behind him. He wore a gentle smile and said softly, “You Blue Goat, why don’t you listen to advice? My sovereign told you not to go, yet you insist on going. Your stubbornness is exactly like your parents’.”